Ken remembered the day he met her- it had been a long, hard day, and his clients had proven particularly annoying, even more so than usual. Mrs. Clements, for instance, was something Ken liked to refer to as "first rate bitch." Her voice had a habit of piercing his skull and echoing like the aggravated caw of a crow, and she had been particularly shrill that day. Nothing would ever be enough for her- the rich cunt- no matter how generous her ex-husband might be.
Briefcase in hand, his mind on a few cold beers, Ken walked into the kitchen and saw his wife, Helen, seated at the table with a stunning blonde girl. At the time, she- the girl- was only sixteen, but even then, Ken was struck by her beauty: the sun gleaming through her golden curls; her fair, unblemished skin; her cold blue eyes.
Behind her eyes was something else that attracted him, something not easily put into words, something he mistook for intelligence and maturity.
"We have a new babysitter," Helen explained, noticing Ken in the doorway. Her smile demonstrated just how impressed Helen was by the girl. It spread from ear-to-ear. Ken knew that smile well if only for its rarity. Helen must have been very pleased with her find.
"Angelica," the girl said and held out her hand. That was her name. "Angel, for short."
Two and a half years later, it had become something of a routine for Ken to come home and fuck Angelica, Angel, for short.
Today, however, he meant to end it.
The girl had become attached. Maybe this was partially Ken's fault, but what was the girl thinking? As if this 'relationship' could go anywhere. Helen worked P.R. for the mayor. Angelica was fresh out of high school. Put two-and-two together: if he pissed Helen off, she would smear him all across town. Ken could kiss his career goodbye. He'd be known as a horny, cheating, thirty-something pedophile. The fact that Angelica was over eighteen wouldn't make a difference. She had just finished high school. That would be close enough to the line for most people in town.
Yes, but Ken had told the girl that he loved her. This was mostly just to keep a good thing going. How many men wouldn't do the same when faced with a temptation like Angelica? Maybe this made him a scumbag, but he was a lawyer. He had heard that scumbag thing before.
Ken gathered himself at the front door. The metal of the door latch in his hand felt hot. It had baked in the late spring sun all day, and Ken didn't wait long before he pulled it down and entered the cool interior of his home.
Sunlight streamed through the windows and cast square patterns of yellow onto the carpet. The overhead fan whirred and circled above him. The sun from the skylights filtered through the fan's blades, creating a flickering strobe-light effect.
Inside, Angel waited for him. She wore a short, red-and-black-checkered skirt with a matching tie over a crisp, white blouse. The blouse was unbuttoned to expose a generous portion of the girl's swelling bosom. Her long legs were tanned and muscular. She had played tennis on the high school team before graduation. Angel's rich blonde hair was pulled back into ponytails, and her pouting lips were red with lipstick.
"Welcome home, honey," she purred.
Ken felt beads of sweat peppering his forehead, and he knew it was not all due to the May heat.
Despite his best intentions to suppress it, Ken felt a swelling at his groin.
"Uh... hi," he croaked. Everything he had planned to say was suddenly lost to him.
***
She guided him upstairs, her hand on the bulge of his pants. Ken wanted to open his mouth to stop her; tell her it was all over, explain that this must not happen.
But he didn't.
Watching from a haze- dizzy and lightheaded-, Ken felt a certain sense of detachment as Angelica went to her knees before him. Spears of bright, orange light criss-crossed through the half-closed blinds, and he was struck by the blue clarity of her eyes, the perfect smoothness of her ivory skin. The cool air of the fan above rustled his hair, and heat emanated from his body, balancing each other like yin-and-yang; but the warmth was slowly and steadily winning out.
The girl unlatched his leather belt, unbuttoned the crotch of his trousers, and slid out Ken's engorged cock with expert ease. She exhibited none of Helen's hesitant inhibitions. Her slender fingers wrapped around his fleshy girth and began stroking him.
Shivers scurried up Ken's spine, and Angelica must have already known the answer when she asked with a sultry whisper, "Is this what you've wanted all day?"
Ken gave a low moan from the back of his throat.
Accepting this answer, Angelica slipped her lips over the hood of his erect cock. Her mouth was warm and wet. Ken sighed. He watched- again feeling detached, voyeuristic, as if this wasn't happening to him but to some other person, memorizing the details, half wondering if this was the very last time- as her red lips moved up and down the length of his shaft; his cock twitched as he watched her pigtails bob and her tongue lap at the swell of his balls.
Ken tired of waiting. Foreplay was not his forte. He took Angelica by the shoulders and tossed her on the bed. Her pigtails bounced. Her breasts heaved under the tight fabric of her uniform. Savagely, Ken threw up the girl's skirt, gripped her panties at the waist and ripped them off her legs.
"Yes, yes, take me," she beckoned.
Positioning himself over her, Ken guided his throbbing cock with his right hand and groped at the girl's breasts with his left. Then, gritting his teeth and uttering a barbaric grunt, he impaled her with an arcing thrust.
So much for ending it.
The world quickened on its axis. Time became fluid.
Ken became lost in the pumping and gnashing and sweating and the flexing of her abdomen and the heavy sighing of the young, perky flesh under him.
Just before he came, she pulled free of him, and he fell backwards on the flowery bed spread.
She moved on top of him, riding him slow, leaning back, his hands on her hips and his eyes greedily suckling the sight of her. The skirt of her uniform brushed against his thighs. The orbs of her breasts went up and down and up and down, her nipples: pink, protruding pleasures.
She faked her orgasm admirably. Angelica would have made a perfect porn starlet. She had just the right mixture of innocent looks and deviant sleaziness. As she pretended to cum, she nibbled her bottom lip, gyrated, and squealed. Ken assumed he'd given her another satisfactory ride.
He pushed her off and then gripped her skirt as he bent her over the bed, watching her ass ripple as he proceeded to pump and plow and spank. Her head flung back, her pigtails swaying and swinging like braided whips.
Then his cock- throbbing and jerking in electric, liquid spasms- flung jets of white, hot cum across the curve of her back, and Ken felt the world tilt, twirl, and stop.
***
Afterward, Ken felt as though he could think straight again. The girl was a drug; she made it hard to concentrate beyond the fix. Consequences were ironically of no consequence when she was alone in the room with him. You felt high when you were on her, and then you came crashing down to reality when she was done with you. While with her, nothing mattered except the feel of her, the taste of her, and the scent of her.
He looked up at the ceiling. Everything seemed hyper-real. Underneath the cool sheets, Ken felt sweat drying over his naked body. His penis felt both sticky and crusty. A hanging chain from the ceiling fan twirled slowly. Ken felt drained but aware, and now the consequences of what he had done- yet again- began stacking up on his chest like stones. It was only a matter of time before they crushed him.
"Angel," he said in a breathless voice.
She turned towards him in the bed. Light blue sheets bundled her torso. They were in the guest bedroom. Ken wasn't yet dumb enough to chance having blonde hairs or unexplainable stains found in the master bedroom by Helen. Angelica propped her head up on her hand and gave him a questioning look, her eyebrows arched. Her messy hair framed the gentle contours of her face.
"You know this can't go on, don't you?" Ken said. There. He had put it out in the open, into concrete words. Already, he felt a few of the stones lift from his chest.
Angelica's face was expressionless. She stared at him, perhaps waiting for an explanation. Ken squirmed under her gaze despite the fact that he had almost twenty years on her.
"You're.... you're a beautiful girl. But I'm married. With kids," he said. His mouth felt dry. He leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed a glass of water. The ice had melted within it, and beads of condensation gleamed. The water tasted cool, and Ken was thankful for the break.
He thumped the glass to the stand and blew a sigh. He turned back to the girl. She hadn't moved. He felt like withering under the girl's cold blue eyes.
"You have your whole life, and my life is, well, it's already here. This is it. I can't start over. I just can't. It's not fair to either of us to keep this going," he said. Mentally, Ken thought he had articulated the point quite well. He just wished he could have said all this before Angelica and he had...
"But you love me," Angelica said. Her expression didn't change. She spoke the words as cold, hard fact. Her unreadable eyes bore holes through Ken's patronizing monologue.
The chain from the ceiling fan rattled and bumped against the shade. Ken's mouth already felt dry, and when he turned to the glass, he realized that he had drained it the first time. Angelica's hand crept over his bicep, gripped, and turned him gently to face her.
"You love me," she repeated. Ken looked into her eyes, and he didn't know what was there: not intelligence, or maturity, or even menace. Faced with his own words (more importantly, his own lies), Ken felt backed into a corner. The two of them had been equals moments before in bed; now Ken drew his trump card, age and experience, and wrapped them over him like a fortified defense. He set his features into a stern expression.
"I love Helen," he said. The words hung between them like a challenge.
The baby started crying in the other room. It was the first time Ken had even thought about him since coming home. With this realization, guilt seeped in, thick and heavy.
Ken glanced at the alarm clock next to his empty glass and said, "Jenny will be home from school soon. I have to go back to the office and pick some stuff up. We'll talk about this later."
***
The sun sank, and shadows lengthened. Hours passed.
