Chapter Eight –
“Are you okay, Sandra? You look kinda sweaty.”
Sandra choked, drops of iced tea sputtering from her lips as she set her glass on Coraline's bedside table. Coraline tilted her head, rumpling her brow, studying Sandra's strange, twitchy behavior – there was a flushed glow to her cheeks, her hair was freshly brushed, and her plait neatly braided, yet the violet ribbon was missing. Her eyes narrowed, stripping a yellow blob of wax from the back of her dress.
“What's this?” inquired Coraline, rolling the wax into a ball with her fingertips.
“Oh, that's nothing,” muttered Sandra, flicking the wax out of Coraline's fingers.
“Okay,” said Coraline, her eyebrows raised, “Where'd you go, anyway? You missed KewlCat – it was the episode where they go fight a team of cow ninjas!”
“Darn,” grinned Sandra, swinging her fist theatrically, “That does sound like a good episode. Maybe I'll catch the replay.”
“Maybe,” shrugged Coraline, flopping down on her stomach, flinging her legs in the air. She lifted the remote towards the screen, turning up the volume, “If it shows again.”
“So tell me – how'd your tryouts for the Little League go?”
Coraline jumped up excitedly, tucking her legs beneath her. She grinned gleefully, announcing proudly, “I made the team! And it was awesome – there's this other girl named Amanda, she watches KewlCat too! I'm gonna go over to her house next week for our first play date, and guess what? She doesn't even own a barbie!”
Sandra beamed, basking in the little girl's newfound enthusiasm, “I'm so happy, Coraline, I –”
Coraline reached towards her and clamped Sandra's hand with her small, warm fingers, “And it's all 'cause of you, Sandra. Thanks a lot for convincing Dad to let me drop out of ballet class. I was miserable there.”
“Aw, Coraline, I –”
“You're never leaving, right?”
Sandra's mouth dropped open, breathing heavily, “I'm –”
“Sandra, can I speak with you? Hey, Coraline.”
Tate shambled into Coraline's room, his usually dapper hair falling over his tired, narrowed eyes. He cleared his throat, waiting as Sandra and Coraline gaped at the hollowed expression on his face, fixing his collar as he attempted to improve his haggard appearance. Sandra rose from the bed, stroking Coraline's hair affectionately.
“I'll be right back, yeah? Tell me all about what KewlCat gets up to in this episode later.”
“Sure, Sandra. Bye, Dad.”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
Sandra followed Tate to his study, closing the door behind her. She jerked backwards, wincing, as he hurled his fist against his door, leaving an indented crack in the wood. He swore under his breath, rubbing his stinging fist furiously against the side of his crinkled dress shirt, bloody track marks leaching through the polar white fabric. Sandra scooted past his menacing, seething build, towards his collection of premium bottled hard liquors and clear, crystal glasses. Her fingers hovered over the indistinguishable bottles unsurely, finally settling on one which she deemed had the fanciest label. She corked open the bottle of liquor and poured it into a glass, handing it to Tate.
“Thanks,” muttered Tate, accepting the glass from Sandra, and chugged it dry.
“Would you like another one?”
“No,” growled Tate, pacing across his room.
He reached into his pocket, propelling a fleeting blur of silver towards his desk. It bounced off onto the ground, silently clattering by Sandra's toes. It was Renee's engagement ring. She picked it up and placed it gingerly upon his desk. She rested her folded arms on her stomach, waiting.
“That lying cunt – five fucking years down the drain,” grumbled Tate, pulling up his swiveling chair. He cradled his head in his hands, continuing, “How could I have been so blind –”
“If it makes you feel any better,” said Sandra softly, gnawing on her bottom lip, “Hindsight's always twenty-twenty.”
Tate shriveled in his chair, sighing deeply. He glanced up at Sandra with reddening eyes, his age and immortality shining through for the first time. He lamented, running his hands through his hair, “It's not even about the money. If she wanted fucking money, she could've simply asked. It's the lying, the deceit – I've been through enough to know better. It's no one's fault but my own.”
Sandra took a deep breath, ready to unleash the riveting speech she had conjured up in her head. She wanted to debilitate Renee's name further, drenching it across mud and dirt, to tell him he was far better off without the leeching succubus in his life. Instead she blinked, biting her tongue, peering into the crushed defeat exuding through his dimmed green eyes. She knew exactly what he needed. Tate watched in silence, confounded, as Sandra disappeared behind his bookcase. His forehead crinkled, peering into the darkness. After long, agonizing beats of impatience, she emerged from the shadows. He breathed out his mouth, gripping the armrests of his chair.
Sandra crawled towards him, completely naked, her plait dangling off the side of her shoulder. His eyes zoomed in on the glinting, studded collar around her neck, a long, leather leash trailing behind her. The tip of his moistening cock began to tickle his zipper, unable to tear his eyes away from her innocently devious eyes. She bent further down, the plump mounds of her breasts and her ample stomach grazing against the dark wood of the floor, closing in on the medallion tips of his dress shoes. She looked up at him, peering intently into his eyes, licking her luscious red lips.
“I'll be your toy, Daddy Donahue. Your wish is my command.”
THE END
Stepbrother Romance
By: Amanda Bolton