Chapter 19
Roger
I got back to my suite as quickly as I could, and found Maggie curled on the couch with a book, having already finished her homework. I told her I would be interviewing a new candidate for the nanny position, and asked that she wait in her room until I got a feel of what this new woman was like. Part of this was merely practicality, but I think a deep part of me worried that the lady was a little bit bananas. There was that strange, pressing, over-eager way she’d insisted she be interviewed tonight… I sat myself down at the dining room table and waited.
A few minutes later, I heard the ding of the private elevator arriving. I jumped to my feet, and went over to the door to let her in.
“Whoa,” was the first thing I said upon seeing her. It was all I could think of to say. She was young and pretty, as I had predicted, but what I had not expected was her to show up wearing what she was.
She wasn’t dressed like any nanny I had ever seen.
A skin tight black dress, zippered up the front, highlighted the natural curves of her body and ended high up on her thighs to show healthy and strong skin. Her stockings ended in visible garters, her high heels were long enough to skewer a full shish kabob, and her face was so painted with dark make-up she could have been clubbing.
No, she certainly wasn’t dressed like a nanny. She was dressed like an escort.
“Hello, Roger,” she purred in a deep and intentionally sexy voice. Then, without invitation, she swept inside. I could smell her perfume – strong and musky – following after her like a train.
“I prefer ‘Mr. Clifton,” I said, following after and feeling distinctly uncomfortable. She turned and offered me a wink.
“Alright,” she said. “Mr. Clifton. Sir.”
She played with the final word on her tongue like one would a soft candy. Then, she proceeded right into the living room, and I had no choice but to follow.
“What’s your name?” I demanded as she settled down on my couch. Now that she was sitting, I could tell that the silken material of her dress would barely cover her lady-parts.
And I mean barely.
“Is that really important?” She asked. As she spoke, her hands went to the silver zipper at the top of her bust. Very slowly, she began pulling downward. Chink, chink, chink. I swear, I could hear each individual hook separating.
“Yes, it is important! If you are going to be my daughter’s nanny, we’ll need to know your name!”
“Oh, Roger,” she chuckled. “You still think this is about the nanny position?”
Zip! She pulled harder on her dress, and the zipper opened down the middle to reveal a gossamer black bra. I could see her nipples through the black fabric, red and hard.
I stared at her, and did not bother answering her question. It would have been stupid. Of course this wasn’t about the nanny position. Not now.
“Who are you?” I breathed.
The girl smiled, then slithered, with all the disturbing grace of a python, from the couch onto her knees. She was feet from me, and while my heart thundered in nervousness, I nonetheless felt a stirring in my loins. I fought it back and repeated my question.
“You can call me whatever you’d like,” the girl whispered. She was now inches from the crook of my pants. “But my friends call me Vee.”
Vee? Vee? Why did that name sound so familiar? But I couldn’t think about that. All I could focus on was her hand rising, reaching for the button of my slacks, and her mouth opening in a perfect little “o”…
“Enough!” I barked. I reached down, grabbed her by both shoulders, and then heaved her upward, slamming her against the wall. My body pressed against hers, but it was not sexual. No, I was seething with anger. And confusion.
“What do you want with me?” I demanded.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Even as I held her there, her hand snaked down between my legs, questing.
Vee…Vee…
“Veronica! You’re Danielle’s friend!”
“And an infinitely better lay, I can assure you.” Her hand found something hard and squeezed.
“No!” I grabbed her again, yanking her forward and slamming her back into the wall. A second later, my fingers landed on her throat. I did not squeeze, but I did not need to. My mastery over her was now complete.
I leaned close, my face millimeters from her own.
“Why would you do this?” I growled. “Why would you try to hurt your friend like this?”
She opened her mouth…and kissed me.
“Argh!” I jerked away in disgust. She tasted of cheap cherry cough syrup, smelt of smoke. But she could have tasted like the finest dish in the world, and I still would have been disgusted. I did not want to kiss this crazy woman. Danielle was the only one for me.
That’s when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye.
Danielle.
“Roger?” She whimpered. “Veronica?” There she was, standing in the doorway, staring at her friend and her boyfriend pressed up against each other on the wall.
I released Veronica. She fell to the ground, rubbing at her neck and grinning.
“Danielle,” I said, “Danielle, it’s not what it looks like…”
“Whoo-he!” Croaked Veronica. “I know why you like him, Danielle! What a fuck!”
Danielle’s eyes darted from me down to Veronica, glistening like a wounded animal’s. A tear fell, rolling down her cheek, pale with horror.
“Goodbye Veronica,” she said. “Goodbye, Roger. We’re through.”
With a swallowed sob, she bolted from the apartment.
“Danielle! No! Please!” I called, trying to chase after her, but she got a head start, and the elevator was closing by the time I got to the door. The last thing I saw of her was a single eye, glaring at me in rage even as it streamed with tears. Her glance shot through me like a spear, rooting me to the spot, and all I could do was watch as the elevator doors closed, and she went downward – for the last time.
Seething, I marched back into my living room. Veronica was there, zipping up her dress like a showgirl after a performance.
“This really is nice apartment,” she said. “What a shame.”
My composure broke. I lunched at her, my fingers outstretched into claws. I did not know what I planned to do. I had never hit a woman before, but in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to make her suffer –
“Daddy?”
It was Maggie, framed by the hallway to her room. She glanced at Veronica, dressed like a slut, and my, my face a pounding red, my hands trembling.
“Daddy, is everything okay? What’s going on? Where’s Danielle?”
I gazed at my daughter, so pure and tiny and innocent, and found I was able to swallow my anger.
“Everything’s fine,” I said. Then, I turned to Veronica. “Get out. And if I ever see you in this hotel again, I swear to god I’ll have you arrested.”
“Trust me,” Veronica said. “You won’t.”
And she sauntered out the door, her stupid high heels click-clacking all the way.
After she left, all my anger seemed to leave with her, leaving me with nothing but a hollow sort of grief. It was a familiar feeling – almost like the one I’d had when my wife had died.
“Daddy? Daddy, what happened?” Maggie begged to know. But I couldn’t answer her. All I could do was sag down onto my couch, cover my eyes, and breathe.
Just breathe, I told myself over and over. Just breathe.