Daddy's Dirty Boss

I could give the university a testimonial on her industry experience and talents, and how she was already a skilled student for their antiques and collectibles degree course. I could offer some expertise free of charge to their education services, as an incentive to them helping, and financial assistance in a sponsorship capacity as an additional incentive on top of all that, should I need to.

It was an extended hand to help my beautiful girl step up onto her own ladder ahead. For her benefit, not for mine, and certainly not her father’s. It wasn’t some precursor to a magical universe where we could miraculously be accepted as a couple by her parents and the wider world. But that was ok. It had to be.

My motivations for everything in my world right now were solely for her, not for me.

My Friday evening turned into a work from home Saturday, which slowly morphed from that into a looming Saturday evening. I had an impending sense of doom as I showered and dressed myself in one of my casual suits for the night, certainly not looking forward to sharing a dining table with Erica and the poor people whose friendship I’d been betraying like a prick of late.

I picked up some flowers and a bottle of wine en route and ended up pressing the doorbell at their place with a glittering false smile, feeling extremely awkward as Diane opened the door with a grin on the entirely opposite side of the spectrum.

Hers was genuine. Genuine and thoroughly pleased to see me.

It only made me feel even more of a Judas.

“Miles!” she gushed. “So glad you could make it!”

She leaned in for cheek kisses, and let out a very polite thank you as I handed her the roses. I hung my coat on the rack, then gave her the wine bottle, and she read the name out loud as we headed on through to the dining room.

I could have cursed aloud to find Erica was already there and seated, her fingers wrapped tightly around her glass stem as she raised it to me. Holy fuck, it had been a while since I’d had to socialise with her outside of the office.

I was already relishing the prospect of being able to bail home for the night.

“So lovely to see you,” she sneered, acting like such a fucking superstar in her posh little dress with her posh little jacket.

I played ignorant, casting her a token smile as I took my seat beside her. Her perfume was strong and reeking of violets, always so heady. It reminded me of her moans in the bedroom, and my gut did a lurch at the disgust of the memories. The disgust of her.

I genuinely had no idea what had kept me indulging in her bullshit for so fucking long. Or so I thought for one solitary second.

Because I did know. I knew exactly what had kept me indulging in her bullshit for so fucking long.

I put up with her bullshit, because I was so convinced of my own. My own bullshit. My own sordid nature. My own disgust at myself.

But a little girl with a beautiful heart had changed all that.

Changed me.

I shot my eyes around the room, but that beautiful girl was nowhere to be seen, and it didn’t look like she was going to be.

There were four places laid, which didn’t really surprise me. Not once had I ever seen Faith included as part of the grown up’s social activities in her parents’ house. She was still their little girl, upstairs for an early bedtime most likely.

I only wished I could be upstairs joining her. Yet again it felt such a fucking travesty to have to hide so fucking much.

Erica raised her glass again as Colin headed on through with his. The easiness at which he grinned at her showed full well how long he’d been working in the property office. He was oblivious to every little crap of disdain we’d been growing between us, smiling across at us like we were some loved up couple over for a double date.

“Really great that you’re here,” he said, and Diane came to pour me a glass of wine to match theirs.

We held them up, for a great to see you toast, and the whole thing was such a shitty charade when all I really wanted to do was confess everything. My sins. My betrayal. My love for the woman upstairs.

Instead we spoke about the office. About Jim from the rentals team and how he had a new puppy. About politics and the crap going on with Brexit for the five hundredth year in a row and whether we were ever going to resolve it.

We ate a delicious shepherd’s pie and talked the regular chatter, and it was nice enough, but still all I wanted was that girl upstairs.