CHAPTER TWENTY
BRAD
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Caylee was twenty-sixwhen she started working for me.I often wonder what she looked like as a young girl.Long socks leading the eye up her lean legs.Short skirts teasing the cock as they lifted in the wind.
Her small breasts still growing, untouched.
Still, as much as I fantasized, I’ve only ever looked.It’s the images and fantasy that gets me hard as fuck and allows me to get off.
How I have children, I don’t know.
I married my wife because she fit the bill, so to speak.She went to a good college, grew up in a good family, wanted to have a family and marriage like I was expected to have, and was beautiful.
She still is.
But I hate fucking her.
It’s a chore, like mowing the goddamn lawns.I’m almost certain she’s fucking the gardener, and honestly, I gave him a huge bonus last Christmas.
He probably thinks I’m an idiot.
Seriously, thank you very much, Mr.Green Fingers, for pleasuring my wife and reducing the nights I have to fuck my wife down to three times a month.
Priceless.
I can get it down to two if I feign a health issue on one of those weekends.
So, that’s how I have children.Obligation.Expectation.
Surely, Cindy knows this is not a normal marriage nor lifestyle given she’s a stay-at-home mom.The kids are too young to wonder where the money comes from for all the spoils we enjoy.A month’s holiday in Italy or another exclusive location every year, an enormous six-bedroom, five-bathroom house with a tennis court, swimming pool and sauna.
Dentists earn well, but not that fucking well.
Amy calls out down the hall, saying goodnight.
“Night, Amy.Please lock the door,” I reply.Our usual night routine.
When I see the lights in the hall dim and hear the click, I pull open my satchel and tug out my laptop.
My laptop.
