The Handyman (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]

8: In Which She Wants Her Toy

8: In Which She Wants Her Toy

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His name was Richard and he finished the shower in one day.

Tall, bald and in his early fifties, he was both efficient and quiet, barely even grunting out a hello in my direction. Jack apparently knew him and they had a few drinks in the dining room when he was done.

"I just can't understand what was taking young Parker so long." Jack made the flippant comment to the older man.

"Beats me," Richard replied as Jack patted him on the back.

I retreated to my room and cried.

I was thirty-eight, for God's sake. Thirty-eight. Vaughn was about eleven years my junior, which meant that when I was starting high school, he was just saying his first word. Why on earth am I crying over him?

It just didn't make any sense.

When I finally crept downstairs, puffy-eyed and gloomy, I discovered that Richard had left and Jack was taking a dip in the pool. Holly was in the kitchen, making an early dinner.

"Are you ill?" she asked, concern filling her voice.

I certainly looked like hell. "I'm fine. Just a runny nose, I think."

"Oh, then you must stay in bed, Mrs. Harrington," she chided like a mother hen, ushering me out the kitchen. "I'll bring you a nice cup of lemon tea."

Feeling like a child, I listened to her and returned to bed, pulling the covers over my head.

You are being stupid, Sofia, my conscience scolded, wagging her manicured finger. Utterly and completely stupid. Are you really bawling over a boy toy that's jilted you?

Maybe that wasn't the reason I was crying. Maybe it was because I'd had a taste of freedom and hadn't wanted it to come to an end. Maybe it was because Vaughn made me feel human and showed me that there was more to life than...well, than being me.

But it had been stupid of me to begin the affair in the first place.

 ***

"Home, sweet home," Jack proclaimed, depositing his bags on the floor of our bedroom.

"Finally," I sighed, flopping back onto our bed, kicking my legs in the air. The road trip back home had been hell.

"Still feeling sick?" Jack managed a little concern in his tone as he looked down at me.

"No, I'm great," I said, forcing myself to sound like it. I started to remove the straps of my dress and gave him a seductive look. "Why don't you come here?"

"Now, Sofia?" he said reluctantly, but I could see the bulge in his trousers.

"Yes, Jack." I pulled him down on top of me and tried to stifle the brief moment of disgust at what I was doing.

But this time, he was gentle. Jack was a gentle person – when he wasn't angry. The only real problem I had was that when we ever had sex, his only concern was himself. He never cared whether I climaxed or not, as long as he did. Lying on top of me and thrusting inside, I felt his entire body stiffen and then relax as he spilled himself inside of me, his groans escaping into the air.

Sex was supposed to bring you closer to a person but I just felt empty and lonely inside.

***

The days following our return back to our little town of Northgate were filled with nothing for me. Jack went back to work, a little more tan than before, while I returned to my shopping and mindless chatter with my best friend, Daniella.