I know that look.
I see it every time I leave the house. Every time a woman so much as looks at me.
But it’s never meant anything to me, not until today. Until right fucking now.
It’s hard to look away from her eyes, that angel’s face, but her curves are pulsing in tune with her breath under her thin white tee and slightly ratty white skirt.
The vacuum and other tools on either side of her do give her away, but I want her to be an intruder.
I want her to be here for something other than cleaning.
I want her to be bad, so I can teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.
Sniffing my clothes counts, right?
I groan audibly, watching her thick nipples poke out like searching missiles. Reaching out for me.
“I’m-” she starts to say until a piercing, screeching cry comes from the thumping sound along the hallway before we’re joined by a face I recognize.
Cleaner. Malibu Barbie, from the agency.
“Ashleeeee? What are you doin’? I told you not to… Oh! Mr.… Fon-ta-na…” she sighs, wheezing another breath in as she straightens her hair with both hands and sticks out her chest. Her eyes flutter like they’re full of something she’s just dusted.
“Ashlee,” I growl again, taking a step towards her, ignoring Barbie. Freshly annoyed that she’s not completely alone.
Yet.
“We were told you were away,” Barbie stutters, but I’m studying Ashlee’s hips now, torn between her hips and that full chest.
Both are perfect for squeezing and holding, as well as child bearing.
“Ashlee, I told you not to… what are you doing with Mr. Fontana’s-” the older woman starts to hiss, but I silence her with one glance as my eyes dart to meet hers.
“She’s mine!” I hear myself growl, taking another step towards Ashlee, nothing but confusion registering on Barbie’s face.
Ashlee mews softly, barely loud enough for me to hear but I do.
“I mean, she’s sorting my laundry,” I add, softening my approach a little and giving a smile in Ashlee’s direction.
I want this other woman out of here, and I know from experience a little charm goes a lot further than barking like a mad dog. Plus Barbie looks a little stabby, like she could go bat shit at any moment.
It can’t be her real mother.
“I was due to leave for Europe, but my flight has been delayed,” I continue, unable to shift my gaze from Ashlee now that I’m a few feet closer, now that I have a name for the feeling she’s generated in me.
“I’m Stacy,” Barbie says, sounding harder by the second, “Ashlee’s mom, we’re both from the agency, cleaners,” she persists, punching her words out as her eyes narrow, registering my gaze return to her daughter.
Her mother… Really?
Ashlee must have her father’s good looks. Thank fuck for that.
CHAPTER THREE
Ashlee
“I was just sorting some clothes,” I squeak, almost hearing my arms and hands creak as I tear them away from my body, still not wanting to let go of his clothes. Not wanting to let go of anything to do with him.
It’s like he’s either stepped out of a dream or I’ve just walked into one. Good old mom though, she’s steamrolled herself right in here before I can even get a proper word in with Tony. I can hardly speak. He's made me so breathless.
Tony.
God, just hearing his name in my mind. It’s like it’s already replaced every beat of my pounding heart with it.
Tony… Tony… Tony…
I’ll say his name in my head forever now, I know I will.
He looks from me to my mom once she tells him she’s my mom. A strange glance.
But not one I haven’t seen before.
People look at me and then my mom. They don’t believe I could really be her daughter.
She’s so… well. She’s not built like me, to put it that way.
Mom’s got big hair, big boobs, bigger lips and a tiny everything else. Oh, and she’s got a big mouth too.
Me? I’m just big everywhere. Except in the mouth department. More like mouse department. Mom usually speaks for both of us, especially when it comes to work, even though I’m plenty old enough to handle myself now.
It looks for a second like Tony Fontana might be checking my mom out, but those steely, sultry eyes fall back on me again, making me shiver on the spot.
He wouldn’t be interested in me, right. He could have any woman he wants.
He makes another low sound, which vibrates through the air, seeming to find its way right up my skirt and into my pulsing mound as I feel a thick line of moisture forming there.
I shudder a breath in and it seems clear what’s taking place.
Tony Fontana is a man who knows what he wants, and for once in my mom’s life, she’s not on the menu.
He couldn’t be… could he? I ask myself again, losing myself in this feeling, in those eyes and watching his strong hands as they flex as he takes another step closer, so close I can feel something inside me ready to burst.
I can hear my mom drawing a breath in too, getting ready to say something, when the chime of her cell phone cuts through the air like a knife, making me jump but Tony only looks more determined.
She takes her call, giving me a salty look before she turns and heads back out into the hall. It sounds like the agency calling, her work voice bubbles back up over her icy tone and echoes down the hall.
“That’ll be your agency,” Tony says huskily, matter of fact.
“My manager would have called them, ordering you out… hoping you’d be gone before I got back… I like to be alone,” he adds and I feel a pain in my heart.
“You... you want me to go?” I hear myself croak, my fingers knotting into the shirt I’m still holding.
It feels like this dream is ending, turning nightmarish real quick.
He can’t send me away… The way he just looked at me… his eyes…
Before I can say
