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“Why don’t you go play in the reading corner for a moment so I can speak with Miss Flowers, okay?”
“Okay.” She leaves her bag at her desk, running over to the beanbags in the far corner of the room, then plopping down and grabbing a book.
I try to swallow as he approaches my desk, but my throat feels like there’s a vise on it, squeezing it closed.
“Afternoon, Miss Flowers.” He says my name slowly as he stops in front of my desk.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Vaughn.” I smile sweetly, saying his name a little slowly, hoping the quiver in my voice isn’t noticeable.
“Can you tell me why I’m upset right now?” His eyes narrow as he settles his gaze on me.
I glance around the room as a few other parents wave at me before leaving us completely alone. I clear my throat, trying to buy myself a little time. “If I had to guess, I’d sa?—”
“Tsk, tsk.” He clicks his tongue at me as he shakes his head. “Now, Miss Flowers, we both know you don’t need to guess. You know why I’m upset. So I’ll ask you again, can you tell me why?”
“For leaving before you woke up?” Once again, I try to flash my sweetest grin but it doesn’t seem to do any good.
“Very good. Do you think that was something you should have done?”
“Well, I told you I needed to get to my apartment in time to change for work. I didn’t want to risk being late.”
“Now I don’t tolerate being lied to, Daphne.” He slowly slips his hands into pockets, drawing my attention to the way the material goes taut across his crotch.
“Look.” I stiffen my shoulders a little and lean forward, lowering my voice. “I didn’t think it was appropriate for Daisy to see me in your home.”
“And I recall telling you to let me handle it, didn’t I?” He doesn’t give me time to respond. “I also recall we’ve had a conversation previously about you attempting to insinuate how I should parent my child and I let you know how I felt about that.”
My mouth falls open a little. “That was not my intention.”
“Intention or not, that’s how I took it and I think what needs to happen is an apology”—he tilts his head down a little—“from your knees.”
I glance past him at Daisy, making sure she’s still preoccupied and didn’t hear him. “I don’t think that kind of talk is appropriate and I won’t tolerate it in my classroom, Mr. Vaughn.” I say his name sharply, letting him know that I’m serious.
He laughs, removing his hands from his pockets and leaning forward to plant them on my desk so that his eyes are level with mine. “What I find cute, downright adorable actually, is that you think you’re safe behind this desk—even after last night, you still think I give a fuck about rules?” I swallow nervously, excitedly as I watch his exposed forearms flex under his weight as he slowly drags his eyes over me. “You look good behind this desk, Daphne, but we both know you look far better bent over it.”
He winks at me, standing back up. “Daisy, let’s head home, sweetheart. Tell Miss Flowers goodbye.”
She jumps up from where she’s been sitting, running across the room to where her dad is standing with her backpack. “Bye, Miss Flowers! I’ll miss you!” I can’t help but feel a tug at my heart at how entangled I’ve become with this little girl. Her smile stretches from ear to ear as she waves at me enthusiastically.
“Bye, Daisy, see you tomorrow. I’ll miss you too.”
“Oh, one more thing,” he says, halfway out the door. “You can keep the shirt, as long as I get to take it off of you… again.” Warmth travels up my neck, remembering the way he took the last one off me on his yacht.
I turn my attention back to my desk, organizing a few things before I head home, a cheesy grin plastered across my face.
“It’s Daphne, right?” I lift my head, surprised to see Natalie walking through my door.
“Yes, it is and you’re Natalie.” I return her warm smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Well…” She hikes one hip up and sits on the edge of my desk, her cream shift dress rising up her thin, tanned leg. “First, I just want to say that I’ve heard wonderful things about you as the newest teacher here at Crestwood; truly, you have a glowing reputation here.”
“Thank you, I really love it here.” I’m being sincere but I’m not naïve. This feels like there’s a big fat ‘but’ coming next.
“That being said, I wanted to talk to you… you know, woman to woman. Sisterhood and all that.”
And here it is.
“I know firsthand”—she emphasizes the word by tapping my desk with her long acrylic nails—“just how fun and exciting and downright satisfying riding the Weston Vaughn roller coaster can be, but I want you to understand that it’s not a very long ride. Before you even realize it, he’ll be on to a newer, younger, prettier attraction and you’ll be left standing on the platform.” She gives me an Oscar worthy performance of sincerity, but I know it’s not coming from a good place.
