Scream For me

DAPHNE

Weston’s breathing is deep and slow, his arm lying heavy on top of me as his body wraps around me.

I stare at the clock, trying to shut off my brain so I can fall asleep, but his words from earlier keep echoing through my head. Is this real or is this all part of his fantasy? He told me he was reminding me who I belonged to that night at the bar and tonight again he asked if I was his. Is that what he wants? Or is this part of the control, the idea of having me all to himself to play with and use?

I feel a knot form in my stomach. Tonight at the jazz club was exciting but I’m still confused about his comment about my birth control. Did I hear him correctly? Between the music and being completely lost in what he was doing to me, I’m sure I misunderstood.

The same feelings of guilt are threatening to bubble up. I know what I’m feeling for Weston and it’s not just a fantasy. It’s real and if I’m not careful, I risk losing much more than just my job; I risk losing a man I’m falling in love with all over again.

I toss and turn, eventually falling asleep on and off for another three hours. It’s just after four. The sun still isn’t up but I’m worried about Daisy walking in and seeing this. I don’t want to confuse her or make her feel like her mother is being replaced. I hold my breath as I slowly slide my body out from under Weston’s arm. I grab my bra and panties, realizing that I’m going to have to do the walk of shame in the dress and heels I wore to the club last night.

After tiptoeing to the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. I look tired. I open a few drawers and find a comb, trying my best to make myself look as presentable as possible with very little success. I get dressed, opting to cover my cocktail dress with one of Weston’s Oxfords before grabbing my shoes and purse and sneaking downstairs. I open my rideshare app, praying there’s a driver nearby. Just my luck, there’s one less than two minutes away.

I slip into the back of the car, pulling up my texts to send one to Weston explaining my absence when he wakes… or at least part of why I left.

Me: Good morning. Apologies for slipping out before you woke but wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to get ready for work. Hope you have a great day.

I close my eyes for the remainder of the trip home, Weston’s lingering cologne on the shirt I took pulling images of last night from my brain. The way his eyes bored into mine as he whispered into my ear how beautiful I was, the way his lips trailed across every single inch of my body, exploring me in ways no man ever has.

“DON’T FORGET, students, we will be making fall crafts tomorrow and decorating our classroom. We might even have some special fall treats!” My students gasp in excitement, their little faces lighting up as the dismissal chime sounds, alerting us to the end of the day.

I speak to a few parents, smiling and telling the students that I’ll see them tomorrow. I glance at my phone, surprised that it’s the end of the day and I still haven’t received a response from Weston regarding my text after I left his place this morning. I was tempted to sign it with X’s and O’s or maybe a flirty emoji, but I’m still unsure what this even is between us.

“Yay, Daddy!” Daisy’s chipper voice makes my heart stop for a second. I look up from the papers I’m sorting on my desk just as Weston walks into my classroom.

Oh my God, how does he look even better every time I see him? Something coils in my lower belly as he walks slowly through the room toward Daisy. He’s wearing gray suit pants that fit like a glove, his usual white Oxford with an extra button undone today, and his dark chest hair just visible.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He reaches down to rub his hand over her hair, his eyes slowly drifting from her toward me with a look that says I’m in serious trouble.

Shit.

“Why don’t you go play in the reading corner for a moment so I can speak with Miss Flowers, okay?”

“Okay.” She leaves her bag at her desk, running over to the beanbags in the far corner of the room, then plopping down and grabbing a book.

I try to swallow as he approaches my desk, but my throat feels like there’s a vise on it, squeezing it closed.

“Afternoon, Miss Flowers.” He says my name slowly as he stops in front of my desk.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Vaughn.” I smile sweetly, saying his name a little slowly, hoping the quiver in my voice isn’t noticeable.

“Can you tell me why I’m upset right now?” His eyes narrow as he settles his gaze on me.

I glance around the room as a few other parents wave at me before leaving us completely alone. I clear my throat, trying to buy myself a little time. “If I had to guess, I’d say-”Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Tsk, tsk.” He clicks his tongue at me as he shakes his head. “Now, Miss Flowers, we both know you don’t need to guess. You know why I’m upset. So I’ll ask you again, can you tell me why?”

“For leaving before you woke up?” Once again, I try to flash my sweetest grin but it doesn’t seem to do any good.

“Very good. Do you think that was something you should have done?”

“Well, I told you I needed to get to my apartment in time to change for work. I didn’t want to risk being late.”

“Now I don’t tolerate being lied to, Daphne.” He slowly slips his hands into his pockets, drawing my attention to the way the material goes taut across his crotch.

“Look.” I stiffen my shoulders a little and lean forward, lowering my voice. “I didn’t think it was appropriate for Daisy to see me in your home.”

“And I recall telling you to let me handle it, didn’t I?” He doesn’t give me time to respond. “I also recall we’ve had a conversation previously about you attempting to insinuate how I should parent my child and I let you know how I felt about that.”

My mouth falls open a little. “That was not my intention.”

“Intention or not, that’s how I took it and I think what needs to happen is an apology”-he tilts his head down a little-“from your knees.”

I glance past him at Daisy, making sure she’s still preoccupied and didn’t hear him. “I don’t think that kind of talk is appropriate and I won’t tolerate it in my classroom, Mr. Vaughn,” I say his name sharply, letting him know that I’m serious.

He laughs, removing his hands from his pockets and leaning forward to plant them on my desk so that his eyes are level with mine. “What I find cute, downright adorable, is that you think you’re safe behind this desk-even after last night, you still think I give a fuck about rules?” I swallow nervously, excitedly as I watch his exposed forearms flex under his weight as he slowly drags his eyes over me. “You look good behind this desk, Daphne, but we both know you look far better bent over it.”

He winks at me, standing back up. “Daisy, let’s head home, sweetheart. Tell Miss Flowers goodbye.”

She jumps up from where she’s been sitting, running across the room to where her dad is standing with her backpack. “Bye, Miss Flowers! I’ll miss you!” I can’t help but feel a tug at my heart at how entangled I’ve become with this little girl. Her smile stretches from ear to ear as she waves at me enthusiastically.

“Bye, Daisy, see you tomorrow. I’ll miss you too.”

“Oh, one more thing,” he says, halfway out the door. “You can keep the shirt, as long as I get to take it off of you… again.” Warmth travels up my neck, remembering the way he took the last one off me on his yacht.

I turn my attention back to my desk, organizing a few things before I head home, a cheesy grin plastered across my face.

“It’s Daphne, right?” I lift my head, surprised to see Natalie walking through my door.

“Yes, it is and you’re Natalie.” I return her warm smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Well…” She hikes one hip up and sits on the edge of my desk, her cream-shift dress raising her thin, tanned leg. “First, I just want to say that I’ve heard wonderful things about you as the newest teacher here at Crestwood; truly, you have a glowing reputation here.”

“Thank you, I love it here.” I’m being sincere but I’m not naive.

This feels like there’s a big fat ‘but’ coming next.

“That being said, I wanted to talk to you… you know, woman to woman. Sisterhood and all that.” And here it is.

“I know firsthand”-she emphasizes the word by tapping my desk with her long acrylic nails-“just how fun and exciting and downright satisfying riding the Weston Vaughn roller coaster can be, but I want you to understand that it’s not a very long ride. Before you even realize it, he’ll be on to a newer, younger, prettier attraction and you’ll be left standing on the platform.” She gives me an Oscar-worthy performance of sincerity, but I know it’s not coming from a good place.

“Um, sorry. I think I got a little lost in the stretching of the analogy there-” I scrunch my face up in confusion.

“Oh,” she gasps and touches her chest. “Let me guess, he didn’t tell you that we were a thing, did he?” She pooches out her bottom lip and I feel my stomach roll.

I think back to that nagging feeling I had when his parents brought her up in the Bahamas. The way he seemed to quickly deflect and shut it down.