lucyxfowler

[lucyxfowler]

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         scanning her face with a furrowed brow he tried to conjure up what kind of dirt this teenager could have found. who was this girl, he thought she was the sweet respectful kid that was recommended to them by a member of their community. watching her slide the phone towards him, his eyes darted back to her sweet face - when dana’s name slipped from her cotton candy lips he heart lurked. how had this little slut, was it wrong to call a child a slut? how did this little bitch, find her way into his study and on his computer to dig up his dirty obsession. unable to think, to reason - he pressed play and watched as dana spread herself out in front of the webcam, calling his name in repetition. his hand slammed down on the marble, his eyes pulled away to look at lucy. “how fucking dare you.” rarely had he felt rage like this, it was a mix of fear of being caught and being played like a fool with nothing to do but comply.

         taking the girls phone in his hand, he paused the private scene that was playing out - intended for his eyes only. dropping the phone back to the marble top, not carrying if it was damaged his hands plunged into his hair, head low and eyes closed. “what do you want?” taking a deep breath trying to conceal his desperatity for resolution.

         a twisted smirk gnarled her cherried pout as dana’s siren calls filled the kitchen, bounced from the walls. jake, jake, jake... when mr wescott looked up at her again, his eyes had been drained of warmth. instead stood two beaded jewels of rage, glinting at her like she was a target. something stirred in the pit of her abdomen. she’d never seen him be anything but your average, suburban, white dad. and here he was before her looking like he wanted to break her in two. butterflies formed in her stomach, flurrying until she was practically sick with excitement. who knew he could be so sexy? ❝ quiet now. wouldn’t want to wake your family, ❞ she soothed, taking back her phone in case he decided he wanted to destroy the evidence. she’d have to remember to make copies once she got home. jacob relented to her, hands pulling through sanded tresses, admitting solemn defeat. she frowned, almost disappointed he hadn’t thrown her up against a wall and threatened her right back. ❝ a fatter pay check. that’s all, for now. i’ve got big dreams, you know. and when i have enough money to get out of this place i’ll take your secret with me. ❞

[lucyxfowler]

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smiling lightly as kate cached past him - jacob thanked the uber driver again and casually apologized for his wife’s behavior. after a few glasses of vino, kate took on an alternate personal - sex kitten. after ten years of marriage, he had come accustom to this act of sorts and knew exactly how it would play out. they would enter the house, she would walk straight to the bedroom dropping clothing in her wake and would be waiting for him in only her heels. she was perfect, even after having their son kate kept up with herself and he took full advantage of this alter persona when he could - other wise it was mrs. vanilla.

she was waiting at the threshold of their home, swaying unsteadily atop her stilettos. approaching her he dug his keys from his blazers interior pocket and slide past her, quickly unlocking the door and allowing her entrance. he had a short span of time where she would be ready to rattle his bones and it wasn’t an opportunity he had the luxuries of missing. brushing past him her hand rested on the seat of his denim giving his a vigorous grab as a serendipity giggle escaped her full rose colored lips. his hand found her chin before placing a quick peck in the door way “mrs. wescott, naughty naughty.” a boyish grin spread across his lips before his hands found her hips pushing her thru their large wooden door into the foyer. closing the door behind them and locking the handle lock, he escorted his wife into the home - counting down the moments before he could bury himself in her.

turning the corner he flashes a wide intoxicated grin at the young blonde in his kitchen. lucy was a sweet girl from what he could tell, he’d had small interaction with her - seeing how kate took care of ordeals dealing with their son, mark. looking over at kate, it wasn’t until they were in the bright lights of their kitchen that he could see exactly how drunk she had become. a hand resting at the small of her back his eyes traveled back to the petite teenager. “a grand time, apparently a little more then some of us can handle.” a slight smirk creased his lips as he leaned into his wife’s ear gently encouraging her to find her way to the bedroom. her head jerked back, her eyeing hardly focusing on him while she offered an expecting smile. shaking her head she groaned “i have to pay her,” her hand raising as it waved in the air pointing to lucy, her head turning to the young girl sporting a sloppy smile. the moment was undoubtable comical, however jacob worried that his wife was seconds from making a fool of them both and he didn’t want to add any further embarrassment to the scene that was playing out in front of their babysitter. glancing apologetically to the young blonde jacob excused them “hang here for one second? i’ll be right back to pay you.” looping his arm around his delirious wife’s waist he usher her towards the bedroom, looking over his shoulder with a reluctant smile.

soon kate was in her favorite pair of pajamas and tucked into bed, despite her protest of him having to do the ‘dirty’ with her. jacob was into many things but sex with his comatose wife wasn’t a leader on the list. pulling the door closed softly behind him, he inched down the hall careful to not wake his sleeping wife or son. before entering the kitchen he took a minute to gather himself, unlike his sweet wife - jacob was well aquatinted with spirits and pulling himself together to portray sober mindedness. meeting the blondes eyes he shrugged “sorry, the wine flowed a little to easily at dinner tonight. what do i owe you?”

       lucy eyed mrs wescott curiously; the sloppy curve of her spine as she fumbled to balance on the countertop, the heaviness of her eyelids, the slur in her speech. a small grin fell upon lucinda’s lips as she passed glances between the wife and her husband, who tossed a nervous glance her way. a soft lull of pity swept through her abdomen for mrs wescott. oh darling, if only you knew. but she wouldn’t tell her what her husband had been getting up to - she had much better, much more beneficial uses for her newly acquired knowledge. she shook her head, waving her hand dismissively. ❝ i’ll be waiting. ❞ jacob hasped kate’s shoulders beneath his thickset limb and ushered her from the kitchen. lucy rushed back to his office to steal back the wine glass from behind the curtain, rinse it in the kitchen sink and return it to the cabinet. by the time jacob had reemerged downstairs, she was propped atop a kitchen stool, legs absently swinging, scrolling through the evidence she’d collected on her phone. he brushed off the discrepancies of his wife with a shrug, inquiring about her payment. lucy paused for a moment to consider, then concluded, why beat around the bush? she opened up the video she’d taken of dana on her phone and placed the device flat on the marble countertop. ❝ maybe a little more than usual if you want me to keep your dirty little secret. ❞ with two fingers, she urged the mobile across the distance between them, leaving it to sit silently before him on the breakfast island. ❝ go ahead, press play. i bet dana would be upset if she knew you’d missed out on her little show earlier. ❞

[lucyxfowler]

       a somber warmth settled over the kitchen - a wash of deep amber light pooled through the blinds from the street lamps outside, cutting through the darkness like the edges of a guillotine. lucy’s spine arced, elbows propped atop the breakfast island, a glass of red wine balanced between her fingers. she wasn’t supposed to drink on the job, much less pick and choose from their wine cabinet, but what did they know? nannying got indescribably dull after a certain hour - witching hour, when the moon cast a low silver over the skeletal branches scraping the skyline and only silence caught on the wind whistling through empty streets. this part of town was always mellow. only the rich lived here - the proper, the nice and the good american dreams, the cookie - cutter families who never had to worry over how much they spend on lunch and if it means they can only afford to eat stockpiled tinned soup the next day. so they wouldn’t miss a glass of wine or two. weren’t they too old now to pretend to be enjoying life anymore, anyway? she was practically doing them a favour.       bare feet coasted over plush carpet, the muffled sound of the television thrumming through the walls. she gazed over the wescott’s family photos. she noted how jacob seemed to be standing just a centimetre or two further from his wife, kate, with each passing year they’d neatly packed into the frozen second of an image. he was far too handsome for lucy to ever truly behave around him - but he seemed stiff as a board most nights. occasionally he’d come home after having a few too many and would be a little more talkative, but that was right before he sent her on her way with a handful of cash and a cab waiting outside and a sense that she’d missed something he’d been dangling right in front of her. but more often than not, he was a closed book she couldn’t quite pry open. she hovered outside his office for a moment - only a moment - before she repressed the faint tinge of what if i get caught? and slipped inside anyway. it was pristine; as though the last time he’d dusted and polished was just minutes before he’d left the house. she rolled her eyes, TYPICAL, and ran her fingers along the spines of books she thought looked so boring she’d rather claw her eyes out than attempt to read them.        a wicked smile fell upon her face as she sank into his plush leather desk chair. she swivelled in it merrily, the red wine almost teeming over the rim, when something caught her eye that caused her to pause. she squinted at a small tuft of white poking out between two books, as though it hadn’t been tucked away quite right. perhaps in a hurry. she stood and pulled it from between the spines. a crumpled slip of paper sat between her fingers. she furrowed her brow, unfolding it and smoothing out the creases. scrawled, bleeding ink read a complicated website address and underneath: BLUEDEVILS02. her heart bloomed, wreathing wicked vines through her ribs. what had she stumbled across? she sat at his desk and opened up his laptop, blinking blandly at the screen requesting a password. she tried the one written on the paper, but to no avail. it only took to the bottom of her wine glass for her to guess it. MARK2011. his sons name & birth year. the desktop unfolded like a prize to be won before her. her eyes glinted, finger quickly dashing across the mousepad to open up his browser. she checked his history, delicately screwing the button of her nose at the monotonous, abhorrently predictable results. it was sterile: random things probably to do with his job that she didn’t understand, a pretty in - depth search into a video game mark probably wanted, facebook, facebook, facebook. she glanced to the slip of paper and typed out the site address sloppily written on it. her eyes grew immense.       CAM GIRLS - we do what your wife won’t. a bark of a laugh leaped from her chest. she slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes aimlessly darting to the ceiling as though she’d be able to sense mark stirring should he rise. ❝ no fucking way. ❞ lucy almost began to feel a twinge of sorrow for the man. it must get so lonely up there on his pedestal - and so very, v e r y sexless. she shook her head sadly, scrolling through the pages of young girls with their legs spread, on all fours, pinned against a wall with a gag secured between swollen lips. her body flushed. perhaps he wasn’t so bland after all? a swill of unholy ideations filtered through her mind until her body radiated a slight warmth. but it was mr wescott. she’d never gone that old before. her stomach flurried, butterflies turning to small sparks, fizzling in the acid. she quickly did the math. he was only 16 years older than her. only sixteen. eventually she came across a page: archives. PASSWORD REQUIRED. her heart yammered, battering against its cage. she typed it out - BLUEDEVILS02. a plethora of filth spilled over the screen. and it was the same woman, over and over. dana. a thick sepal slipped between her teeth. she eagerly chewed upon it, her eyes scouring the dirty messages passed between the two. lucy was almost giggling with delight. ❝ oh you bad, bad boy mr wescott. ❞ a giddy ember began to flicker between her thighs. she erected her spine, lowering the laptop screen. ❝ or maybe i’m the bad one, ❞ she whispered hoarsely, shaking her head. perhaps the wine was getting to her. a thought barely had chance to emerge before she’d fished her phone from her jean shorts pocket and took countless pictures of the archived perversions littered upon the screen. a small green symbol illuminated in the right hand corner, catching her eye. her heart almost stopped. 

dana: hey baby. you didn’t tell me you were coming online tonight. i thought i wouldn’t get to talk to you again until monday. 

     ❝ oh, this is just too fucking good, ❞ she murmured, opening the chat. she typed quickly. wife out on last minute business flight. i’m all yours. she hit send. a moment later, a message bubble popped up indicating dana was typing back. lucy laughed, shaking her head. she pattered quickly to the kitchen to pour herself another glass of wine, the first still astringent on her tongue, tinging the corners of her mouth a bruised purple. she nestled back into his desk chair to find a video chat request. her thumb slipped over the webcam and she accepted, unveiling a lingerie - clad blonde strewn over a twin size mattress. thing for blondes, mr wescott? her thoughts prattled. dana’s brow furrowed, her low voice beginning to rasp through the speakers: ❝ why can’t i see you, babe? ❞ she mewled. lucy nestled her phone between her cleavage and pressed record to document the chat in a video of her own. she began typing. son in the next room. can i just watch you? i’ve missed you like crazy. lucy watched dana read the message and smile, her fingers sliding a bra strap from her slim shoulder. lucy smiled back, to herself, to her wickedness stirring something vile in her head. ❝ oh, you wanna watch me, huh? we haven’t done that in a while. enjoy, babe. try not to get so hard you can’t hide it from your boy. ❞ lucy almost laughed aloud until she reminded herself the other woman could hear her. she sat back in her seat, thumb secured over the camera, sipping upon rich merlot and letting her phone archive the whole ordeal. she placed the glass on the desk and typed with her free hand. make sure you say my name. and the woman obeyed - jake, jake, J A K E . . . lucy watched with wide eyes, flushed at the sound of his name being called so throatily, so heavily laced with lust. her heart ceased for a moment and she snapped the laptop lid shut. her hands fell upon the desk, breathing heavily, overcome suddenly with an odd sense of... guilt? no... fear? no, POWER. she stopped her phone from recording and slipped it into her pocket, kneeling before his chest of drawers. all of them were locked.       a key rattled somewhere in the distance. lucy leaped from her broken stance. ❝ oh, fuck. fuck. ❞ she swallowed the remainder of her beverage in one mouthful and tucked the empty glass behind heavy, dark curtains. ❝ no, no, no, no. ❞ the back of her hand desperately wiped her wine - stained pout as she hurried to the kitchen to slip the bottle back into the cabinet. the couple emerged, slightly disheveled ( likely from drinking ). a pleasant smile, trembling slightly at the corners, twisted lucy’s mouth upward. ❝ hey guys, good night? ❞ she cooed, resting her elbows atop the marble breakfast island, buxom chest urging between her biceps. ❝ sure looks like it. ❞

[lucyxfowler]

— ｡✧ tag drop .