Dirty Seduction

LAINE

“SO? What the hell, Laine? Who’s the Mercedes guy?”

Kelly Anne won’t let up, and it’s annoying. It makes me feel awkward and uneasy like she’s poking at something too private to be shared.

“That’s Nick,” I tell her like my answer stands a hope in hell of cutting it. “The guy who rescued me.”

“Nick,” she says. “And what’s the deal with Nick?”

“He’s looking after me.” I try to outpace her but she’s having none of it.

“Looking after you how?”

“I’m staying with him… while my house gets sorted… you know, the house you gave the key away to, the house that got invaded by a load

of deadbeats from a shitty club while I was stranded in the rain.” She looks so horrified, and I’m glad.

I nod my head. “Yeah, Kels, that house.”

“Jeez, Laine, I’m sorry. Mum saw Mrs Barnes from down your street yesterday, and sad your house got all fucked up. I’m a total fucking ass.”

I don’t reply in the affirmative, even though I probably should. “Nick’s letting me stay at his. He sorted me out with some clothes. Brought me to college.”

She stares at the lunchbox I’m still clutching to my chest. “Made you sandwiches…”

“Yeah, made me sandwiches.”

She tugs at my elbow, but I don’t let her see inside the box. “Don’t you think that’s a little…”

“A little what?”

She pulls a strange expression. “I dunno, a little creepy? Some random guy rescues you, buys you dresses, and packs you a lunchbox. That’s a bit creepy, no?”

I shrug. “He’s not creepy. He’s nice.”

“He could be a serial killer. Ted Bundy was a nice guy, you know.”

I laugh. “You’ve been watching too much CSI.”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Yeah, and you’re really sweet. Too sweet. Like, take advantage of sweet.”

She’d be the one to know. If only I was bitch enough to point that out.

“I may not be worldly-wise like you, but I’m not stupid. He’s a nice guy. I like him.”

And I guess I say like him with a little too much conviction because her eyes widen and she gives me that look. The interrogation look.

“You like him?! Like really like him? Like, want his dick like him?”

I sigh, back myself into the wall to let some people pass. “Yeah, I like him. I like him like that.” And now I’ve said it I feel it all over again. The tickles and the flutters. That feeling of burning up. The memory of his body against mine.

Kelly Anne’s mouth is open, and she looks so shocked. The most shocked I’ve ever seen her look.

“But he’s… he’s…”

“He’s what?”

She struggles for words, which is totally unlike her. “He’s like… old.

Like an old guy.”

“He’s not an old guy.” I laugh, and it sounds so high-pitched. “He’s forty-two, that’s not old.”

“My dad’s forty next summer, Laine. Forty. And he’s an old guy.” She sighs. “This Nick guy’s old enough to be your dad, Laine. Isn’t that weird?”

She screws her face up. “Gross.”

The thought makes my heart pound, as though she’ll know. Know the dirty thoughts I want to keep all to myself.

“I haven’t thought about it like that,” I lie. “I just like him.”

“And does he like you?” Her eyes are right on mine, and I can’t lie. I don’t know where to look. “Has he… tried anything?” I shake my head. “No… it wasn’t him… it was…”

“It was what?”

I feel my cheeks burning, and I put my finger over my lips until another crowd of students passes us by. “It was me…” I whisper. “I… I tried something…”

The grin spreads right across her face. “You tried something?! For real?”

I nod. “Yeah, and it was stupid, alright? I made a fool of myself.”

She’s trying not to laugh, I can tell. “I’m sure you didn’t…”

“Yes,” I say. “I did.”

“And what did he do?” she’s smiling so brightly.

“He… he told me I didn’t have to say thank you that way.”

“And you don’t, Laine. Using sex for that is skanky.”

I don’t even try and work out where Kelly Anne’s rules on skanky sit. In her world, it’s ok to put it about anyone who looks hot after a couple of tequila, but clearly not to express gratitude that way. It’s ok to ditch a friend to go running after a piece of random dick, but not ok to fancy someone old enough to be your dad.

“Well, he didn’t take it.”

“I’ll bet he wanted to, though.” She nudges me in the arm. “He must like you, Laine. Cute little blonde thing like you. I bet he’s jerking off to the thought every five minutes. Dirty old man.” Her laugh cuts right through me. “Seriously, though,” she says, “you should come stay with me, not some random old guy.”

The thought fills me with dread. “I’m good,” I tell her. “I like it with Nick.”

“Daddy Nick, making your sandwiches and buying you dresses. Very cute.”

Daddy Nick. The thought has me burning up, and my heart keeps pounding and my mouth is all dry.

I barely register the fact she’s still talking.

“So, where do you sleep? In his room? Please tell me it’s not in his room…”

I shake my head. “In his daughter’s room.” I focus on a safer topic, tell her about Jane’s lovely things, the writing on her wall, and how great it feels there.

Kelly Anne doesn’t look impressed, at all. Her eyes screw up and she looks at me like I’m some kind of crazy.

“You’re staying in his kid’s daughter’s room? With pink curtains and a mad hatter tea set?”

I shake my head. “It’s not his kid’s daughter’s room now. She’s all grown up. She doesn’t live there anymore.”

Kelly tips her head to the side, and she’s thinking. It makes me feel uneasy, and I’m glad class is starting soon.

“So… if she’s not his kid daughter… then she’s an adult now, right?”

I nod. “Yeah, I guess so. Probably moved away.”

“So… if she’s grown up… why is her room still like some kiddie shrine? I mean, where’s all her teenage shit? Surely she’d have Backstreet Boys posters up, or some other crap like that. Maybe some makeup… some grown-up kid shit…”

“Maybe she liked it that way… the way it was…” My answer is lame, and it’s because I don’t have one. Because I haven’t even thought about it.

Haven’t thought about the fact Jane’s room is still like she’s five or six years old, even though she doesn’t live there anymore, hasn’t lived there for a long time.

“Maybe she lived with her mother…” I ponder aloud. “Maybe she didn’t live in there… not all the time…”

“Still,” Kelly Anne says. “She’d still have some grown-up shit, Laine. I mean, who wants a fairy castle when they’re at high school?”

Me, I think, but I daren’t say it.

“I’ll ask him,” I tell her. “About Jane. I’m sure maybe there’s another room she had or something. Or maybe she didn’t live there…”

Kelly Anne pulls a spooky face and wiggles her fingers like a ghost. “Or maybe she didn’t exist… oh… maybe he’s like the guy from Psycho and you’ll find his dead mother in his cellar…”

That thought does make me laugh. “You’re an idiot,” I tell her.

“You have been watching too much CSI.”

I brush past her to make my way to class, and she follows, and drugs ashrugshrugs me that when you realize he’s some freaky pervert and you’re running barefoot to my house as he chases you with his imaginary daughter’s dildo or something.”

“You’re gross,” I tell her, but I’m grinning.

“No,” she says. “You’re gross. I’m not the dirty little bitch with a creepy daddy fetish.”

I laugh at her words but I’m not sure what she means. I mean, she doesn’t know Nick. Doesn’t know how he saved me, how he cares for me.

Doesn’t know how safe I feel when I’m with him.

“He’d make a really good daddy,” I say.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Tell him that while he takes your V card,

Laine. That’ll get him off. Dirty old pervert.”

I don’t reply. I can’t reply. In my mind, I’m sitting on his lap, my arms around his neck as he… “Laine?”

I snap back to reality, and the heat in my face betrays me.

“I’m worried about you,” she says.

But I’m not worried at all.