Don't Tell Daddy (19 page)

Only when Jordan slightly backed up with a slight frown did Pamela realize her snappy tone. She had meant what she said, but not to sound as if he had done something wrong.

“I still like you, Pamela. You don’t need to get all defensive. I didn’t even know you had it before I kissed you.”

“I don’t make it a habit to just display it to every person I meet. When I’m ready for people to know it’s pierced, then I’ll let them see it.”

Jordan did notice that Pamela’s lips opened a little more when she spoke now than in their initial meetings.

He took her hands in his and looked at her. “Don’t you like me too, Pamela?” he asked, a slight wrinkle in his forehead, his eyes locked on hers.

“I want to,” she admitted.

“So that means that you don’t.” His eyes lowered to their feet, his grip on her hands loosening as he digested that.

“It’s not you, Jordan. You’re an amazing guy. But I told you, I’m already kinda seeing someone and just because my father doesn’t know that, doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Jordan didn’t care about who she was seeing. If he was so important to her, her father would know it. He would’ve been at that barbecue. She wouldn’t be sitting here in this boat with him. Her mother wouldn’t have been so eager to help him get Pamela appropriately dressed.

“Well, I’m going to make sure you like me,” he told her confidently. “Seriously, whoever it is you’re with is a loser. If he was anything worth your time, why doesn’t your father know him? Why didn’t he spend the holiday with you?”

“I told you—”

“Some bullshit that he was busy. I would never be too busy for you, Pamela. Don’t you think you deserve a man who will drop everything he is doing to come and be with you? Especially during a holiday, of all days.”

“Jordan—”

“No, Pamela, I mean it and I’m serious.”

“Why are you chasing me when there are girls who would love to have you?” she inquired,  “Why me? If you walk around the City, there will be a woman even more beautiful than me.”

“There’s a problem with that.”

“What?”

“She’s not Pamela Torres.”

Flattered and frustrated, Pamela fought the smile playing on her lips while simultaneously rolling her eyes. She had to give the man credit, he was persistent and pursued what he wanted with very little care of obstacles.

“You don’t know Pamela Torres.”

“I would really like to.”

Jordan felt like he did know Pamela. Between Jada and Jonta, he’d heard all types of things about her. When he saw her, though, he was taken immediately. He ran into pretty women all the time, but there was a certain charm to Pamela, a connection he felt the moment they had bumped into each other. He wanted his own stories to tell about Pamela, he wanted his own memories to keep and hold onto that were between only the two of them. He knew that he was everything her father would ever want for her.

Pamela couldn’t find the words to counter his. She was sure that he believed he wanted to know her, but she wouldn’t want to give him her deepest secret, and she knew she could never be with anyone who she had to keep that part of herself from. Her affair with Bryan was going to continue and she knew it. What fair was that to Jordan when she wasn’t going to let him all the way in so that she could play co-captain to Heather?

Jordan pushed Pamela’s hair off of her face and he leaned in for another kiss. He hesitated to see whether she would accept it. Unconsciously, she licked her lips and let them part slightly. Jordan leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, pulling her close to his hard body, his hands combing through her soft hair.

Her eyes closed, Pamela allowed Jordan to part her lips, one leg slightly wrapped around him, one hand resting on his side and the other on his neck.

Almost as if she had been shocked, Pamela gasped and pulled away from Jordan, staring up at him, her chest heaving with her labored breath.

“I need to get home,” she said around a lump in her throat.

Get it together, Pamela,
she told herself.
Give the man a chance. Your padres like him He’s great.

He was a sweet guy who had his shit together and who was an appropriate age for her. Her heart just cried out for Bryan, a man who would never be hers although she continually devoted herself to being his. 

“Pamela—”

“Please, just take me home.”

Reluctantly, Jordan began to row the boat back to shore, his forehead wrinkled, his mouth turned down, and his eyes staring over Pamela’s shoulder off into the distance. 

When they were in the car, she turned away from him, looking out of the window at the animals scurrying in the night. She wanted to appreciate Jordan’s crush and reciprocate it. It was just that she was too stuck.

                                                 What’s Done in the Dark

The weeks passed, and Pamela had called and called and called Bryan, but he hadn’t come to see her. She’d heard him and Jonta discussing him taking a trip with Heather for the hell of it. But what about her? What was she supposed to do? She’d told herself to call Jordan, but, as sinfully sexy as he was, he wasn’t
her
sin.

When Bryan and Pamela were at work, he seemed so distracted when she spoke. He would give her brief answers. She’d ask him to come over, and Heather had some
thing
for them to do each and every night. Pamela lied alone every night and masturbated before she cried herself to sleep.

She was feeling funny, and she had missed a period, so she went to see a gynecologist during her lunch. She was told that she was six weeks pregnant. Which meant it could only be Bryan.

She called Bryan’s cell, and when he answered, it was snappily. “I have to talk to you,” she said, holding back tears.

“About what?”

“It’s important.”

“Look, I’m having lunch with—”

She hung up then. Bryan called back, and she was wiping tears away. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry, Pamela. I haven’t been that great to you lately,” he said, his tone apologetic. “I’ll come over tonight. Okay?”

“Okay.”

When they were back in the office, Bryan could tell that Pamela had been crying. He sat beside her and pulled her into his lap. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him right then that she was expecting. She just wanted to be held and soothed.

Bryan kissed her neck, moving his hands under her skirt, hoping to love the pain away. She moaned softly, her eyes closed as his thick fingers flirted with the fabric of her flimsy panties, teasing her wet lips, gently brushing over her hard jewel.

He sat her on the couch, pulling her skirt up, her panties down, and lowering his head. Pamela reached for his head, her fingers caressing the waves with each pleasant flick of his tongue against her warm skin. She could feel the mixture of her wetness and his saliva coating her lips, the sticky liquid running down her thighs and the crack of her ass, leaking onto the sofa.

Both were so entangled in what they were doing that neither noticed Heather standing there silently in the door just watching in utter disgust. She couldn’t let herself be angry or hurt. If this man she had professed to love the last thirty-four years was worth that, he wouldn’t be doing this. Not that she didn’t feel angry and hurt. She was going to take her silent revenge.

“Mm,” Pamela moaned with her eyes closed, rubbing Bryan’s waves. “Ay, Papi. Don’t stop.”

“No, please don’t. Not on my behalf,” Heather spit from the door, and Pamela’s eyes popped open. She stared at Heather in the doorway while Bryan, who hadn’t seemed to hear his wife, continued eating Pamela. She wanted to tell him, but the battle between conscienceness and flesh was lost to her flesh.

“Bryan—” she started to tell him, but all she could do was moan and Heather left the office, her face contorted in disgust, but her eyes holding in tears.

Bryan came up and kissed Pamela softly on her lips. She tried to speak, but he just shushed her, gently massaging her body.

He unzipped his slacks and climbed atop her, grinding in and out of her, and back in again. She held onto him, his wife pushed away from her mind. This was that calm, cozy lovemaking again. She knew this was her pacifier. But what about his wife?

“Mmm, Bryan,” she whispered, grinding her hips in time to his slow, deep rhythm as he kissed her neck.

Arching her back, she wanted to meet him thrust for thrust. Feeling him deep inside her, she held onto him for dear life, feeling his quick breaths against the soft skin of her shoulder.

“I love you, Pamela.”

“I love you too.”

Bryan sped up his strokes, got a little rougher. Pamela gasped for breath, almost shocked at the knock against her walls. Masturbation had nothing on Bryan.

“Oh! Bryan, oh. God, God. Oh,” she called out. “Oh, daddy… I’m cumming, baby,” she whispered.

“Cum for daddy, Mela.”

She squeezed him, pulling him further inside her warm tunnel. She felt him in every fiber of her body, connecting with him deeper with each thrust into her.

Her juices trickled down her legs onto the sofa as her thigh rubbed up against the skin of his torso, air rushing from her lungs.

He pulled her into his lap. “Ride, baby,” he ordered.

Sliding from under Bryan, Pamela moved over to straddle her lover, pressing her chest against his, gliding up and down his shaft, her arms around him.

“Ooh, baby, yeah,” he groaned, holding her hips. “Did you miss me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she moaned, burying her face in his neck, breathing in his scent. He caressed the small of her back.

“Did you save it for me?”

“Oh yes, daddy. It’s yours.” She moved to kiss his lips and he moved a hand to hold her chin.

He looked up at her face, and her eyes were closed. Her pussy muscles were contracting, and he could tell she was on the edge of cumming again. “Ooh, Papi.”

“Look at me, Pamela,” he ordered. She did as she was told, and he captured her lips in hot kisses.

She watched his beautiful green eyes looking into hers, and she just wanted him for her own. Even knowing that wasn’t possible.

Coming down from her high, Pamela fixed her clothes, and she sat on the other side of the couch, her knees to her chest, her eyes cast towards the floor. Bryan moved closer, reaching a hand out for her. “Baby—”

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?” he asked, stopping short.

“Yes. I went to see a gynecologist. I’m six weeks along.”

Just then, the door opened, and from the look on Jonta’s face, he’d heard it all. He didn’t say but one thing, “All this time I trusted you, and you been fucking my daughter?” with anger and betrayal covering his face.

Pamela hopped off the couch and stood in front of her father, trying to prevent the two men from fighting; but he backhanded her so hard, she fell to the floor.

She stayed there, feeling her nose as it began bleeding. The salty liquid trickled to her lips, and she watched the two men going blow-for-blow. Security came into the room and broke the men up.

Jonta looked down at his daughter in disappointment. “I didn’t raise you this way, Pamela. Never mind that he’s twice your age. Never mind that he’s your godfather, even. He’s married, and I didn’t raise a slut. So I don’t know who I’m looking at right now.”

Jonta brushed the security officers off him, giving Bryan a disgusted look. Pamela sat on the floor crying, her legs in her chest, and her head in her knees. Her own father had called her a slut, and the way she’d been conducting herself the past few months, it wasn’t an untruth.

Bryan, bloody mouth and all, sat beside Pamela, attempting to comfort her. She moved away. “I need to go home,” she decided. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Pamela—”

“It’s just… I have to go.”

She ran out of the office and when she saw her car, it was keyed up, and her tires were all four flattened. She slid down it, just ready for the earth to open up and swallow her whole. Jordan was passing on his way to lunch, he’d been in with Jonta, and he heard her crying. “Pamela?” he asked.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“Well, you’re crying, and from the looks of things, you could use a lift home,” he said, reaching out a hand to help her up. She wiped blood and tears off her face. “Why is your nose bleeding?”

“I do coke,” she said, shrugging.

“Okay, save the bad jokes. Really.”

“I was slapped.”

“By Mr. Valdez?”

“No. By Mr. Torres.”

He looked at her, puzzled. “That would be your father, correct?”

“I don’t have any brothers.”