Daddy's Dirty Boss

There was a strange innocence in my own reaction to hers. Something fresh and new and so removed from the jaded cynicism I’d been feeling for decades.

I’d been long convinced that the enthusiasm of any two people first pursuing a relationship was always just ridiculous optimism, based on nothing more than idiotic ideals. Unrealistic. Pointless to give any meaning to.

I’d been caught up in those idiotic ideals myself in my younger years. That’s how I’d felt about Erica, back in the day, when we’d had even a glimmer of hope we’d find anything that counted for shit between us. That’s how I’d felt about several various conquests along the way, with their short-term little dallies into love.

But this was different.

My feelings for Faith as a young woman were so very different to anything I’d encountered before. Fuck knows where they were heading, but they were definitely heading somewhere.

The thought was both captivating and terrifying.

“Hi,” she said, with rosy cheeks burning bright as she stepped on in. “I got your email.”

I let her come closer before indicating to the chair opposite. There was a flutter of eyelashes as she tried to keep her stare seeming natural, dropping into the seat and pressing her knees together in a semblance of modesty, even though I’d pounded her asshole raw the day previous.

It was another thing I loved her for. Her manners. Always such beautiful manners.

“Are you having a good morning?” I quizzed, and she nodded.

Her yes, thanks reply came quick, but it was unsteady. Too unsteady.

“You don’t sound all that convinced,” I pushed, and her eyes leapt up to meet mine.

Again, she was unsure. Hiding something. Clearly.

“Faith, is something bothering you?” I asked, and my tone was firm this time.

She started in the seat, and her back straightened. “No, not really,” she said, but again didn’t sound convinced. I held my tongue until she sighed and relaxed just a little on an out breath. “Yeah, ok, just something… but nothing much,” she said, more casually this time. “I just haven’t been doing so well this morning. I want to be doing better. Be more professional. I messed up a bit.”

The truth in her words was gorgeous. Her craving for her own professionalism was enough to make my heart swell.

“Care to elaborate?” I asked, but she shook her head.

“Nah, thanks. I can handle it. I’m just cursing my stupid idiot mistakes and chewing them over.”

“You are an exceptionally professional young woman,” I told her, reinforcing what I’d already been saying to her father that morning. “You don’t have anything to be worrying about on the stupid idiot mistake front. Of that score, I’m certain.”

She didn’t look convinced, but shot me a smile anyway.

“Thanks, Mr Lindon.”

“Miles,” I said. “We’re out of earshot for the time being at least.”

Her smile widened. “Thank you, Miles. That means a lot.”

It was my turn to shoot a smile across the desk. “I had your father in here earlier. He said you were very enthusiastic about your car last night.”

Her nod was so fucking cute, her eyes lighting right up at me. “I was. I love it! Dad not so much… He doesn’t think I need a car. Or to pass my test yet. Or to stay out in the evening past seven p.m., or be allowed to leave even one spring of broccoli uneaten.”

She was joking, but only on a surface level.

“Yes, he told me that too. Assured me you didn’t need independent transport until your university days were finished.”

She shook her head and her words came out sharp this time. “I don’t even want to be going to crappy university. I don’t even want to be a stupid crappy accountant. The least I can be doing is driving a car around the place if I want to.”

This wasn’t even slightly the conversation I had in mind when summoning her on in here. She folded her arms across her chest, and turned her stare to my office plant off to the left, and she was bristling. I could feel her frustration like static.

“You are already fully signed up to Warwick university, yes?” I confirmed. “For next term?”

She nodded. “Yeah. All signed, sealed and pretty much delivered.”

But she wasn’t delivered. Not yet. Nowhere near.

It wasn’t my place for questioning, not even close, but I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t help the way my ribs tightened with the thought of helping her make sense of her road ahead. Her actual road ahead. The one she truly wanted.

“Warwick university will have a variety of degree options. Nothing can surely be set in stone.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been tick boxed into the finance route forever and a day, just going along with the sensible option. Just like Dad did. Just like he wants me to. Always so sensible.”

Her eyes came back to me.