An Unexpected Visitor

Chapter 3

My father, Steven, was kind of a man whore. It all began when he ran into a twenty-five-year-old when I was in high school; she didn't want to steal him from my mom, but she wanted to join the relationship. She ended up asking my father if he would propose the question of an open marriage to my mother, which became the downfall of Steven and Michelle very quickly. My mother was appalled that he would ask such a question and when he came home the next day from meeting with his new lady friend for new ways to get her to agree to an open marriage, she met him with divorce papers instead of dinner.

Ever since then, my father has been a part of many orgies, and thruples, and all kinds of weird relationships. It did however put a strain on our own relationship, because I saw how devastated my mother was after the end of their relationship. They had decided to remain friends for my sake, and it got better after a while, but it was hard seeing them lonely and yearning for each other for so long. That's why I like Charles, he makes my mother happy and makes it easier for her to just stay home instead of working.

My mother could definitely be classified as a trophy wife, and she's perfectly okay with that. She gets to stay at home and plant things all day, and she spends most of her day with Charles as well, unless he's golfing, which was almost every day if he could. Charles was looking for someone to spend the rest of his life with after his late wife died of cancer. Charles and my mother are more like really close friends than husband and wife. He takes care of her needs, and she keeps him company.

My father on the other hand has only had a handful of meaningful relationships since my mother, and while I waited for him to confirm his latest one, he went around the room and hugged my friends and stopped at my mother so he could look in her eyes while he held her hands. "How are you doing, Michelle? I apologize for stopping unannounced, but we got off the plane late and I wanted to see everyone before we settled in for the night," he chortled at her as a puzzled look painted its way onto her face.

"We?" she looked at him with utter amazement; she had finally reached the same conclusion as me as to why my father had come into town sooner than he normally did. He had a new woman on his arm. As a playful smile spread out across my father's mouth another shadow came out from behind Deacon, who everyone seemed to have forgotten about since my father's sudden appearance. He sort of put his head down and ducked out of the doorway in case someone decided to pop in around him. Luckily, I had gotten his number on our date; after watching his door close, a message popped up across my phone screen. 'Good luck with all of that, and goodnight beautiful. I will be by tomorrow morning with some coffee.'

My attention went back to what was unfolding in front of me, and I walked over and closed the front door, so that things could be more private. As I spun back around, I was met by a very petite, painted hand. "Hi, I'm Meagan, and you must be Elise, it's very nice to meet you," her voice was tiny, and high pitched.

"Are you the child my father is dating?" I retorted a little spicier than I expected.

"Now, Elise," that was my father. Meagan shook her head and quietly chuckled as she took back her hand after I refused to take it.

"No, actually, I'm the child that he's marrying," she said as she backhanded me with that response. She then linked her arm through my father's, knowing she had won, she smirked. I looked over at my mother who looked pretty disappointed that this is who my father decided to settle down with in the end. After a while we asked my father and his new child bride to go back to their house a block over, then asked my mother and Charles if they would like to come over the following morning.

After everyone had left the girls pounced on me like a herd of lions. All of them started on their questions about Deacon and wouldn't let up, and after they were content about the answers they received, they went up the stairs to their beds. I looked down at the phone in my hand, the message was still on the screen that he had sent, so I opened it. I sent him a selfie along with a message, 'coffee in the morning sounds delectable, especially served by you,' accompanied with a saucy winky face with a kiss.

I headed up to my room where the girls made it look like it always had when I unpacked the room. On the dresser was a note, probably from my mother, telling me how proud she was that I've almost finished school and had achieved my dream of becoming a doctor. I tucked the note in the drawer where she had left notes every time we came to visit.

~

I woke up to the warmth of the sun shining down on my back; groggily and warm I rolled over. I was met with Deacon looking around my room, still holding both of our cups of coffee; I guess one of the girls let him in the door this morning. After a few seconds, Deacon had realized I had woken up, and turned to me with a tantalizing smirk, "good morning, gorgeous," he cooed at me as he handed me a cup with my name scrawled across it with a winky face.

"I take it one of the girls let you through the door," I asked with sleep still in my voice, "also, how long have you been in here?" I took the cup into my hands and could feel that it was still warm, so it couldn't have been too long. He chuckled at me as he sat on the bed, then he took my hand as he looked into my eyes; I could tell he was longing for a kiss but didn't know how to initiate it. I got lost in his green eyes that looked like a beautiful, luscious, and ferociously green jungle. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that I was thrown back into the present.

"So, if you're up to it, I was thinking I'll take you on an actual date, planned by me of course, and not something planned on a whim," he sounded proud of himself.

"And what did you have in mind, good sir," I asked playfully. He stood up and pulled me with him out of the bed, then pulled me into him so that I was looking up into his eyes with a pout. I gasped softly when I landed into his arms and began melting all over again like when I first spotted him. At this moment I realized I was still in the pajamas I went to bed in last night, and the cartoon characters adorned all over me made me blush a little and pull away from Deacon.

Deacon must have guessed that I felt a little underdressed as he turned towards the rest of the room and away from me. I pulled my dresser open, and as I reached for a skirt, Deacon piped up. "Oh, make sure you wear jeans, because my bike is very unforgiving when she lays down," he said. I put the skirt back down and opened the drawer below it and grabbed my best pair of skinny jeans. I picked out a nice crop top, so that I could start on my summer tanning, and began undressing. As I bent down to pull my jeans onto my legs, I felt his heat behind me. I didn't exactly kick him out of the room for my own devious reasons, but I was still surprised when his warm, rough hands turned me around and back into him.

As I wrapped my legs around him, he sat back onto my bed, landing with me in his lap. Our lips locked as if we were meant for each other, and I could still taste his cherry ChapStick that he must have put on before he got here. With each kiss, I could feel myself melting into him as he caused my back to arch. The sensations I felt coursed through my body, and even though I knew this was too new for me to be so comfortable, I gave into it anyway. I wrapped myself around him and pushed him lower into the bed. His fingers slid up from my back sending more sensations along my spine, then he tangled his finger through my hair, and I could feel an ever so slight tug.

Deacon then caught himself, and sat us up, "oh, I'm sorry, I think I should let you finish getting dressed," he sounded embarrassed of himself, "I don't know what came over me, but you're beautiful." His fingers lingered on my arm as if longing for a few more minutes of connection. I then collected myself, and pulled myself off of him and the bed, then continued starting the process that I had begun before our spicy moment had occurred - not that I was complaining.