Then he sweet-talked my kids, mostly Gabe, with the hockey bullshit. And then, the crème de la crème was him grinding his fucking cock into me while I was bending over. I swear I almost raised myself up on my tippy toes to get him to slide in.
Since Sunday, I’ve masturbated every single night with him starring in all my dreams. He wants me to quit. Well, fuck that! I’m going to make him regret he made this stupid rule, even if I give myself blue balls, or a blue vagina, or whatever.
I grab my yoga pants, because nothing molds to a woman’s body quite like yoga pants. I pair them with my blue off-the-shoulder sweater that stops just above my waist and gives a little peek of my stomach, but not too much. I wear a blue lace bra underneath it, which is the same color as the sweater. It’s a mom outfit, but a sexy mom outfit, or at least I hope it is.
I text Kaleigh right before I go downstairs.
Hope you’re feeling better and that Mom isn’t making you want to commit suicide.
She responds right away.
It’s Noah, she’s with me. I’ll take good care of her.
I look down at my phone, confused.
I thought she was staying with my parents?
She was until she walked in on them playing Tarzan and Jane. Your mom looks hot in a loincloth, BTW.
Ewwww! You’re a sick man. Off to the arena with Austin. Tell her to text me later.
He finally got over that ‘don’t shit where you eat’ bullshit?
No. I answer him right away and then throw out, Know anyone hiring?
You can come work for me. I definitely won’t want to have sex with you.
Funny guy. Okay, well, if you have a real suggestion, let me know.
I’m serious. I need a PA to keep my shit in order, and I heard you're the best. Think about it. Let me know. That way, Austin’s balls won’t get swollen again. BTW I will never ask you to get me coffee or food.
“Mom! Come on, let’s go!” Gabe yells from the bottom of the stairs. I take in my appearance. Yup, sexy yet still conservative.
“Coming,” I shout as I start walking down the stairs. I see Austin taking me in from my feet to my shoulders, his eyes lingering on the lace bra strap. “Okay, are we all ready to go?” I smile big at him, while he tries to adjust himself discreetly. Score one for me.
We all pile into the minivan, and I throw the keys to Austin, since I have no idea where I’m going.
We pull into an otherwise empty parking lot. “Maybe it’s closed,” I contemplate, looking around.
“No, I have the key.” I’ve practiced here since I was three, so the owner just gave me a key when I turned sixteen. I called Craig to let him know I was going to be here so he knew. He only uses it on Saturdays and Sundays at this point.
We walk in, and Austin turns on the light. The cement walls are lined with pictures of kids. I walk along the wall, while Austin walks behind the counter, getting a key out of the drawer.
Walking to another door, he opens it up. “Okay, let’s see what we got. Rachel, what size do you wear?” he asks her.
“Twenty-eight,” she replies, having no idea and just throwing any number out. He comes out of the room and looks down at her with a grin and his hands on his hips.
“She’s a three, Gabe is a five, and I’m a six and a half,” I tell him.
He comes back with three pairs of skates. Handing Gabe his first, then me mine, and then Rachel hers. “There are no girl skates, sorry, kiddo,” he apologizes to Rachel as she sits down and he starts to tie her skates. I’m surprised when I see that Gabe has already tied his skates. “I’m ready,” he informs us.
Austin looks at him. “Go into that room. There are some helmets and gloves.” He motions over his shoulder to the room he just came out of.
Gabe goes in and comes back out with helmets for him and Rachel. “Can I get on the ice?” Gabe asks, and Austin nods his head while he finishes tying Rachel’s skates and then calls me over.
“I think I can tie my own skates, Austin.” I sit in front of him, while he is on his knees, readying the skate for my foot as I lean forward a bit, shifting my shoulder so my shirt slips a little, giving him a glimpse of the sheer lace bra under my shirt. I know right away that he’s seen it when he groans loudly. I smile innocently at him. “Oops! Sorry about that.” I hold my shirt up.
When my skates are tied, he takes his out of his bag and puts them on. It takes him a couple of minutes until he’s done.
We make our way to the ice. Rachel, who ran to join Gabe as soon as she was ready, isn’t skating. She is attempting to make snow angels on the ice.
Gabe, on the other hand, is skating like he was born to do it.
“I thought you said he hasn’t skated,” Austin says.
“He hasn’t, really, just maybe once or twice.” I watch him zig-zag from one end of the rink to the other.
“Kid’s a natural,” he comments, getting onto the ice, holding out his hand for me. “Let’s play,” he invites.
I grab his hand, put one foot on the ice, and slip right away. I grab onto Austin with my
