The Red Wing Mansion

Chapter Twenty-Three

We both watch as the girls recline by the water or jump in with Claudius and splash around with him for a bit, play fighting for a brief moment.

Pam starts googling, no, not with her eyes – on her phone.

The detective in her is always on point.

"He is a major sponsor of the Clue Gymnastics Female Elites... some of them have been in the Olympics and everything, I don't think he is a coach, just a sponsor," Pam explains.

"So he pays for pussy a lot, doesn't he," I hiss very quietly.

"Oh, come on, he's just... investing," Pam tries to palm it off as nothing. She puts down her phone as she noticies me hiding under the fern, "What are you doing? Don't hide. Be a boss bitch and go down there and say hi boss, what's up? I dare you."

"Why would I do that – I don't even know –"

"Pussy –"

"Pam, I don't even... like... n-no," I stutter.

"Chicken as fuck, pussy, bitch," Pam grins the pinker I get. I'm not blushing, I am manning up. I slowly sit up, clenching my fists, "Ooo, she's gonna do it, she's gonna do it!"

"You bet I am, you think a bunch of hoes are gonna scare me off from saying what's up?" I fire back, "Pssh, you have to be kidding me," I stand up and I smooth out my oversized white shirt, and mini short shorts that had a couple of holes along the trim, but it's not like anyone cared on a holiday – you wore what was comfortable, right?

I borrow a hair tie off Pam and roughly tie my hair up, then before she can tell me to fix it – since she looks worried by my attempt, I skip down the makeshift stairs to the pool area next to our ridge.

My heart is racing as I prove Pam I'm not some little bitch.

I grin up at her as I jump down the last steps. My bare foot hits slick mud, and immediately my ankle twists to the left. I slip toward the puddle and almost fall into it directly, but I somehow save myself from making contact with the ground at the last nanosecond and I spring back up after my palms slammed into the dirt.

I turn around to Pam with a very sore ankle, but my clothes are not dirty. She has her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh, while I give her two thumbs up, then I turn around and trudge my way toward Claudius Fontaine and his gymnastics club.

As I get closer, I hadn't been looking for him too much, rather I look intently at my toes as I try to ignore the pain in my ankle.

Say, hi.

How easy is that?

I finally reach the edge of the pool and his general location.

When I get the courage to look for him, three girls sit off to Fontaine's right on a natural rock bench in the clear pool, another six on the other side – and one casually sitting on his lap, crossing her legs, she's petite enough in stature to somehow fit so elegantly on him like that. It annoys me how perfect she looks just sitting on my boss.

The women all turn to look at me, and all immediately look completely non-threatened after they see my appearance.

As they stare, the power of their combined looks, somehow loosens my hair dramatically and the hair tie slips out and bounces into the water.

I ignore it, and fluff out my brown hair, all floofed up from the humidity. I hope it looks natural.

Fontaine finally notices that I'm present and he looks slightly surprised when he sees me standing right behind him, looking down at him.