Girls Playing With Fire 2 Read online

  My Best Friend’s Dad

  Winter Holiday Erotic Romance

  GIRLS PLAYING WITH FIRE

  MARISSA BLUSH

  © Copyright Marissa Blush October 2019

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – Winter Holidays in Aspen

  Chapter 2- December 23rd

  Chapter 3 – Christmas Eve

  Chapter 4 - Christmas Day

  Chapter 5 – Christmas Evening

  Chapter 6 – New Year’s Eve

  Chapter 7 – New Year’s Celebration

  To be continued…

  Next

  Author notes

  Chapter 1 – Winter Holidays in Aspen

  “You can bring someone if you want,” my mother said. “Just tell me to know the headcount.”

  I rolled my eyes so hard, she should be able to hear it over the phone.

  “No, mom, I’m still not dating anyone.”

  “Well, why not?” she asked.

  She had a point. I had been at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago for several months and I hardly dated anyone. There had been a few casual encounters, but nothing close to the boyfriend-who-could-be-taken-home-for-Christmas stage.

  “Because we’re 75% females?” I offered as a possible explanation.

  It was my turn to hear my mother rolling her eyes.

  “You’re in Chicago. I’m sure there must be single men outside the school.”

  “Do you want me to bring someone? Is the cabin somewhere secluded and we need a guy to chop trees for the fire or something?”

  “It’s Aspen, Sarah, not the North Pole.”

  Aspen was nice. All the cabins, villas and chalets we rented there over the years had any creature comforts we might want. Skiing wasn’t my thing, but the view and the crisp air made up for the amount of pretexts I had to come up with to avoid the slopes.

  “Ok, mom. I’m not a plus one. Gotta run.”

  “Love you,” she said.

  “Love you, too.”

  My skin crawled when I remembered what was my next class.

  At the start of the year I had stupidly flirted with Professor Anderson. And he had flirted back. When he moved up from flirting, I realized I wasn’t attracted to him. Letting him down gently hadn’t worked. When he turned up the pressure, I had to choose between giving in, filing a complaint or making it painfully clear that I was not and would never be interested.

  The first option was a no-go for me. I wasn’t a saint, but I could not sleep with a man for any other reason than wanting to sleep with him.

  A complaint would stir too much attention, and with me having flirted with him, my conscience wasn’t all that clear.

  Option three felt right.

  I was so pumped up after that conversation, I called Diane and unloaded the whole story.

  “You should have seen me! I used words I didn’t know I knew.”

  “Don’t tell me that prim little you dropped f-bombs.”

  I stopped to think. That whole encounter had been so adrenaline-driven, I didn’t remember many details.

  “That would’ve kind of defeated the purpose,” I said. “But I’m sure I said something like ‘keep your grubby little hands off me or I’m going to slice off your fingers with a rusty knife’. I wanted to say that line about cutting his heart out with a spoon, but that always makes me laugh and I didn’t want to ruin the effect of the threat.”

  On the other end of the phone, Diane guffawed so much, I worried she might pass out. When she calmed down, the future lawyer in her took over.

  “Be careful with this guy,” she said. “If he gives you any shit, you have to talk to people.”

  I dismissed her concern then. But it turned out she was right to warn me. My grades in Anderson’s class slipped. He nearly failed me at the midterms.

  He was so intent in his persecution, I felt a mixture of pity and amusement for him. How petty can you be to try to victimize someone for not having sex with you? It started to get to me when he sometimes gave me a good grade, or paid me a compliment, and then slammed my next five assignments in a row.

  It really got to me when I realized he was on the verge of flunking me. My outrage manifested in a doodle. I stared at him with rapt attention during class, and made it clear I was using him as a model. At the end of the class, I let him get a good look of the drawing before neatly folding the paper. It was his hand, on a chopping block, with his pinky and ring fingers detached, and a meat cleaver stuck in the second knuckle of his middle finger.

  My grades improved. Barely.

  Maybe because it was the last class before the Christmas break, Anderson didn’t do anything to piss me off. Or maybe my mood was too good. Either way, I kept me new gory masterpiece in my sketchbook. If I kept up drawing gruesome tableaus to express my irritation, I could look into a career as a comic book artist. With that happy thought, I sauntered into my favorite coffee shop.

  The drop-dead gorgeous barista gave me a warm smile and drew a heart in the foam. I smiled back, feeling a little guilty. I always made sure to wear my cutest outfits and I stood by the window with a coffee for about an hour, never talking to anyone, never studying or reading like all the other college students. How would a hot twenty-something guy like him imagine that I wasn’t there for him?

  He couldn’t tell, and I hoped that no one else could tell, that I was there for that spot by the window from which I could see the park. A guy in his forties was jogging there every day from 7 to 8 in the morning, and this coffee shop was the only one open so early. Watching him was the only solace I had for my intense longing for Mr. Sinclair.

  I missed him like crazy but if Diane even mentioned him, I changed the subject. I didn’t want to know anything about him. I did not want to hear the news that he was dating. Remarrying. Having a child. All these things were bound to happen and I knew that my heart would break in a million pieces when I found out.

  Every time I called Diane, I had a cheat sheet with the subjects I could bring up if I sensed her getting close to talking about her dad.

  Today I had just stopped by for coffee and a chat with Diane. I held little hope to see my substitute Mr. Sinclair running in the biting Chicago winter at in the afternoon. The man was like a machine, he always jogged same time, no matter if it was freezing cold or still dark outside. Out of habit, I went to my usual seat and stared out the window, irrationally hoping to see him.

  He wasn’t there. I shook myself and took a long sip of coffee. The sugar, spices and most of all caffeine got to work and stirred my brain out of day dreams.

  Right. Time to call my bestie. I opened the list and set my phone where I could peek at it during the conversation and flipped open the laptop.

  She had been invited to her boyfriend’s parents for Christmas I should have been happy for her. I was happy for her, but I couldn’t stop missing her anyway. At least we managed to have coffee together when we both went home for Thanksgiving.

  I put on a brave face and opened the chat. It would be our last long conversation until we got back to school in January.

  Good thing my parents had decided to spend the winter holidays in Aspen. Christmas in Connecticut without Diane would be dreadful.

  #

  “Are you sure you have everything?” dad asked dryly, lugging my two large suitcases.

  “Now that you mention it, if we can stop in town, I could use a new-”

  He shot me an unamused look over his shoulder which killed my joke.

  Honestly, I had only packed clothes for ten days. It wasn’t my fault that winter clothes and footwear were bulky. When we got in the car, he relaxed.

  “Actually, your mother already scheduled a shopping spree tomorrow.”

  “Oh?”

  “Last-minute presents,” he explained. “We have a few friends over, and we’ll need something to put under the tree.”

  “A few?” I asked, with a sinking feeling.

  “A few families,” he said.

  Now it made sense why mom was so interested if I was bringing someone over. I had thought she was being nosier than usual, but she needed a literal headcount to decide what room I got, since we didn’t have the chalet all to ourselves.

  “Please tell me I don’t have to share my room with anyone,” I said.

  “Oh, no. The other children are younger than you.”

  I huffed. Children. This was getting better and better. I could already see myself at the kids’ table, surrounded by snuffling ten-year-olds I had to babysit while the grown-ups were having fun.

  I tried to sulk for the rest of the ride. Despite myself, my mood picked up as I looked out the window at the magnificent scene unfolding in front of my eyes.

  “Wow,” I whispered when I got out of the car and saw the chalet in its full splendor. It looked even better than in the pictures from their website. Under the pristine blanket of snow, it put me in mind of a fairytale house, but scaled up. More like a fairytale palace.

  The snowball hit me in the back of the knee. I turned around outraged and I saw one of my favorite faces in the world.

  “Danny!”

  I ran to hug him, but I couldn’t pick him up like I used to. He hugged me back at first, then disentangled himself from my arms like the cool young man he was. He rushed past me to help my dad with the suitcases and I looked around bursting out of my skin with happiness. Diane had played a trick on me and she was here with Danny,
to spend Christmas with us.

  My smile crumbled when I saw him.

  I hadn’t seen Mr. Sinclair since we got back from the Bahamas. After we had sex on the beach on the last night of our vacation, I hadn’t dared to talk to him.

  He came toward me carrying two pairs of skis on his shoulder. So, he had Danny for Christmas this year. A few families, my father had said. I looked past Mr. Sinclair, steeling myself to see the woman he must have brought along.

  A frown appeared between his brows, and he shot a glance over his shoulder, to see what I was looking at.

  “Hi, Sarah.”

  “H-hi,” I said, and cleared my throat. “Hi, Mr. Sinclair.”

  “Call me Paul,” he said, knocking the air out of my lungs with three simple words. “Your parents insist Danny calls them by their first names,” he explained.

  “Oh, ok,” I said, fully intending to never-ever call him Paul in public.

  The best I could do was to stop calling him Mr. Sinclair, but to say his name… No. That way madness lied.

  I turned my back to him, and followed Danny and my dad inside the chalet. I kept my cool until I was alone in my room. I locked the door and sat down hard on the edge of the bed.

  How long did I have to be there? December 23 to January 1. Ten days. And nine nights. Nine long winter nights.

  Chapter 2- December 23rd

  Mr. Sinclair was here.

  He was here and I had to act as if that hadn’t blown up my composure. At least I had my own room and I could deal with the aftermath of being around him.

  Around Paul.

  “You’re not calling him that,” I told myself sternly. “If you want to keep your dirty little secret, you are not going to say that name.”

  Paul.

  I had only said that name aloud twice in my life, while he was inside me. For him, that had been a drunken fuck. For me… my deepest shame and my most wonderful experience.

  Would he drink again tonight? Should I try my luck with him again?

  Oh, god, I had no shame. With my parents around, and a house full of strangers and their kids, I was planning to have a snoop around for a place where I could drag Paul if he got drunk again.

  It took me a full hour to calm down enough to get out of my room. The plan was to do my utmost best to stay away from him.

  For one thing, I shouldn’t be at the same table as him, surrounded by people who might pick up on body language I couldn’t control. As much as I tried to control my reactions, I was sure that my desire would broadcast itself loud and clear.

  My mother was shocked when I suggested that I should sit with the kids. I had never manifested an interest in babysitting before. When Diane started taking babysitting jobs, I stayed at home and worked on my drawing.

  Except for us and the Sinclairs, the other families at the chalet were business partners I didn’t know well. My parents would have only to gain if the parents could relax and enjoy their dinner, without having to look after kids.

  “Are you sure?” she said. “There’s plenty of room with us.”

  “You’re making it very difficult for me to do a good deed,” I told her. “And I need some last-minute good points on Santa’s list.”

  She looked at me suspiciously.

  “I’ll send you the link,” I said. “I checked and it’s in stock. If you say yes, I’ll call them to hold it for tomorrow.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What I need,” I stressed the word, “is a dress. I only packed one formal outfit for New Year’s. But if we’re having a fancy Christmas dinner tomorrow…”

  “Your babysitting rates are outrageous,” she said.

  “I may be an artist, but I was raised by savvy business people.”

  She hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks.

  “Ok, artist, you have a deal.”

  As it turned out, the kids weren’t excessively annoying. Danny being there helped a lot. He didn’t know any of the others, but he was a natural at making friends. Despite my misgivings, I loosened up and ended up having fun with them. When we finished eating, we went to the games room, and a couple of hours later, we moved to the pool.

  By 9.30pm they were pretty tuckered out. When their mothers showed up to take them to bed, they didn’t put up much of a fight to stay up. If they were anything like me and Diane, they’d be in and out of each other’s rooms until the morning.

  I wrapped myself in a towel on top of my bathing suit, but I was relieved that Mr. Sinclair wasn’t with them. My mom was the one who called out for Danny.

  Since Diane and I left home, my parents had spent a lot of time with the kid. I bit my tongue to stop from asking where Danny’s father was.

  “Everyone is in the lounge,” mom said while Danny was getting dressed. “Come have a night cap with us.”

  “A night cap, huh? That’s like… grown-up talk.”

  “Neither your father nor I will be shocked to see you have a glass of wine.”

  “If you insist,” I said. “I’ll have a few more laps first.”

  Swimming on my own turned up to be boring. I got out of the pool after the first lap. On the website, they said that there was a sauna, and that sounded like a good place to stall going into the living room with… everyone else.

  Outside the sauna, I worked under the big white towel to take off my bathing suit. Cotton was fine in a Swedish style sauna, but I couldn’t stand the feel of lycra on my skin in that heat. The wet fabric landed with a squelching sound on the tiles. I nudged it with my foot close to the wall, to be as inconspicuous as possible before stepping inside.

  I dripped a ladle of water on the hot stones and turned the little hourglass upside down. A ten minutes hourglass. Knowing my limits, the most I could stay was two full hourglasses.

  The dry heat was undoing knots I hadn’t noticed existed in my muscles. I let myself lie down flat along one of the wooden benches. I rarely had the luxury of being alone in a sauna, and I considered unwrapping the towel. The light filtering from its corner box made for a restful shadowy ambiance. Besides, what were the chances of anyone else showing up?

  The door opened just as I was reaching for the top of my towel. I started and looked toward the intruder.

  “Were you hiding?” Mr. Sinclair asked.

  Of course! It just had to be him. Goodbye peaceful mood.

  “N-no.”

  I sat up again, clutching at my towel, afraid it might slip off me. What the hell was he doing here?

  “I went for a run,” he said as if he was answering my unspoken question. “It’s freezing cold outside,” he added, shivering as he spoke.

  “No kidding! This isn’t running weather.”

  For a sane person, I didn’t say aloud.

  “It’s no Bahamas for sure.”

  That shut me up. I didn’t need any reminders to know that we weren’t in the beach paradise where we had last seen each other. I checked out the hourglass. Half of the sand was in the lower bulb. I was tempted to pretend I’d been in for fifteen minutes instead of five, and leave.

  Five minutes. I could stay five minutes in the same room as him. In a small, hot room with Mr. Sinclair wearing less clothes than on the beach in Bahamas. Who was I fooling? I should leave.

  “How have you been?” he asked, making himself comfortable on the bench to my right.

  Even in the dimness of the sauna, I couldn’t help notice his confident posture. His strong thighs were slightly parted under his towel. His mercifully big and fluffy towel. Last thing I wanted was to see the outline of his…

  “Fine,” I said in a high-pitched voice, but I soldiered on. “School stuff keeps me busy. Umm, you?”

  He shrugged. I was employing all my looking without appearing to be looking skills to enjoy the way his pectoral muscles and his abs moved under his skin.

  “Nothing new.”

  Think, Sarah, think!

  I wanted him to keep talking. He could read the instructions for assembling a bed from IKEA, I didn’t care what he was saying. All I wanted was to keep hearing his voice.

  Do they even have words in their instructions? I remember there were pictures.

  “IKEA,” I said aloud.

  “What did you say?”