Ginger Fox Part 2
And that was it. After he said goodbye and left my apartment, I found myself reading about the job opening in Norfolk. They were looking for a companion to take care of a thirteen-year-old boy for the summer. There wasn't much information beyond that, just a generous pay rate and no experience required. My first job in life was babysitting when I turned fifteen, so I could buy my own makeup kit. Until I finished high school, that was how I spent my teenage years. Maybe taking care of a boy wouldn't be as bad as spending the whole summer watching my mother have her dream wedding. With that idea, my father's words, a push given with the help of two glasses of wine and almost swearing that it wouldn't work out, I applied, sending a short video presentation.
The next day, after spending the whole morning locked inside the apartment and refusing to answer my mother's calls, when I opened my email inbox, I was surprised by the bold letters in the reply.
Hired.
In less than a week, I had sorted out all the formalities, received the ticket, which was paid for by the boy's family, and talked to Tom via video call. I had worn sexy lingerie under my robe to show him.
"Did you like it? I bought it the other day when I thought about you. — I smiled, sliding my fingers over my lacy bra. — If you want, you can even get a striptease.
Tom laughed in response, shaking his head.
"Take care of yourself, Gim. And we'll leave that for live.
"Take care of yourself too. I love you...
He simply hung up, without a goodnight kiss or an "I miss you so much." He could have even said, "I masturbated thinking about you the other day," but nothing, absolutely nothing came out of his lips other than "take care."
With makeup on, longing for sex, and frustrated, I opened the messaging app and saw the photo he had sent me last night, inside his room. I masturbated imagining hot sex with him, like I always did. Tom wasn't the heartthrob type, but I loved his cock, which always filled me up, even though I had never seen any other cocks besides his in person, only in adult videos. Tom was handsome, tall, with broad shoulders. His square face had a masculine shape, something unique to him. His light complexion, with brown hair and brown eyes were my downfall, and I always thought of him fucking me somewhere where someone would catch us, where we would fuck hard and rough. And that was how I had come with the help of my imagination lately, until my legs went weak. But it was always just that, just my imagination. I lifted the device to turn it off, but my eyes were caught on the small colorful detail that appeared in the reflection of the mirror behind Tom's bed. My finger zoomed in on the photo, seeing a distant red blur, which looked like a dress arranged on a hanger and hanging on his door. I discarded the idea that it could be a dress, maybe it was one of Tom's roommate's clothes. The next day I was boarding a flight to Norfolk, following my father's advice, me and my backpack. And when she returned she would be the perfect and beautiful wife of Tom Daver, the promising future anchor of the seven o'clock news.
“Hope you haven’t regretted it,” says the tall woman with a slender neck, standing out in her Chanel cut, looking at me.
When the taxi arrived at the grand estate, dropping me off at the main entrance of the imposing mansion with walls covered in greenery, giving it a dark and beautiful appearance, after a long flight and two hours on a ferry to get to the island, I still wasn’t sure if I was at the right address. But before I could even check the location on my phone, the large red wooden door opened, and Mrs. Lorane Roy, as she introduced herself, said she had been expecting me. She looked me up and down and didn’t hide her surprise, which I assumed was due to seeing a Black woman standing at the entrance of her home.
I had to grip the strap of my backpack, feeling embarrassed, after extending my fingers to her and only seeing her turn her body, calling me inside, making me feel lost as I looked at the interior of the majestic residence. Lorane, in her slim figure, walked ahead of me in her pinstripe dress and golden heels, strutting with elegant steps until she stopped in the mansion’s foyer. I stood in silence, taking in the entire place, dragging my wheeled suitcase in one hand and holding my backpack in the other. I didn’t expect the place to be so refined and certainly didn’t expect to be in a mansion that must be larger than the neighborhood I live in Columbia.
“As you can see, Norfolk doesn’t have many attractions besides the beaches. For someone your age, it might be boring.”
“No, actually, I like it.” I set the suitcase next to my leg, tightening the grip on my backpack, lifting it onto my shoulders.
I think, in the end, opting for a casual outfit with jeans, a tank top, and sneakers wasn’t a good idea. She assessed me from top to bottom, remained silent for a moment, before continuing to walk. I exhaled, took a deep breath, ran my fingers through my hair, and adjusted the unruly curls behind my ear, which insisted on escaping from the bun. I dragged my suitcase once again.
“As described in the email we sent, Jon spends his vacations in Norfolk. Sometimes we don’t have much time for him, so Jon ends up being alone. Normally, I choose his companions, but Roy thought it would be better for him to decide this year.”
“I’m sure we’ll get along well.” She turned briefly, looking at me as if calculating the odds of my words coming true.
“You’ll notice that Jon is a bit different from boys his age, which makes him less inclined to engage in conversations with others.” I looked toward the white marble staircase where she stopped, holding onto the railing. I can already imagine the struggle of hauling this old suitcase up. “Jon usually goes to bed early, so when it’s eight o’clock at night, you can leave with him. Meals will be taken with you and him normally, only dinner is with the family or when he decides to join us. Jon tends to spend his afternoons in the library reading, and in the mornings he likes to sleep in.”
“He must be quite studious to spend his summer in the library.” I smiled, trying to break the ice, with no success due to her serious expression. “I don’t judge him; I spent my summers like that too, though it was in the city’s public library.”
“Jon doesn’t like the sun; he prefers to stay inside the mansion.”
“Basically a bookworm,” the young man at the top of the stairs said, making us both look up.