Tennis Instructor (A.K.)

Chapter 32: Shirley Temple

    "I'm sorry Awsten."

   "I've told you I understand."

   "I would cry if you went on a date with another girl."

   "Well no one is making me do that, Owen. I'd cry if you did this willingly."

    "I'm so sorry."

    "It's not your fault," he sighed, looking up from his paperwork to the guilty girl crawling in his lap. "I hate Liza, not you."

    "You can hate me," Owen pouted. "I deserve it."

    "Never," he replied, his eyes peering up from under his glasses. Awsten truly could never hate her when she looked that good in nothing but his shirt and some cotton panties. He'd let her kill him.

    "I shouldn't be so weak."

    "Liza shouldn't be a manipulative bitch," Awsten corrected, setting his papers aside to wrap arms around Owen's waist. The feeling of her plush thighs squeezing around his lap made his fingertips ache to touch her, but he resisted and listened to her incessant worrying. If there were a real issue he wouldn't feel the need to fuck it out, but when it was a stupid dinner, all he truly wanted to do was pound his frustrations away, deep into the pretty girl falling all over him.

   Owen looked at him with a defeated look, knowing that no matter how badly she fret, he wouldn't ever blame her. As much as she appreciated him, it only made her guilt worse. She needed to apologize to him, but he refused to accept it.

    Awsten did want an apology, and he wanted Owen to receive one too. If Liza pushed him, Awsten was going to force one out of her. There was something so painful about watching the love of your life get pushed around by people who supposedly care about her. He adored his girl, and he would keep his mouth shut if it made her happy, but sooner or later he wouldn't be able to respect her wishes.

   "What are you gonna wear?" He asked curiously. "I wanna see you get dolled up."

   "For another man?"

    "You're going to wind up in my bed no matter what," he smirked. He watched with pride as the pale skin of Owen's neck flushed, crawling up her face and reddening her ears.

   "You can be so silly," she pathetically replied, trying to push off his comment.

   "Gonna wear a cute skirt?" He grinned, grabbing one of her soft thighs. "Make it easy on me when you get home?"

    "You can be such a creep," Owen giggled, pushing at his hands. She pretended to take it lightly, but in reality, she was noticing how damp his words made her underwear. He was always great at working her up, so good that Owen was humiliated at times.

    "Seriously, though," he smiled fondly, resting his hands on her lower back. "What's my pretty girl gonna wear? I need this boy to want you."

"Why would you want that, Awsten?" Owen questioned in shock.

    "So you can crush his heart when you tell him you had a terrible time and you're far from interested." He explained proudly. Owen narrowed her eyes at his fantasy, scoffing before climbing off his lap. "Don't go!"

    "I'm getting dressed," Owen dismissed, walking towards the exit of his office. She hung around the door, eyeing his amused smile. "I'll wear a skirt though."

•••

    Awsten wasn't necessarily a liar. He might have avoided disclosing certain information, but he rationalized it when he recalled that no one asked. If Owen had bothered to query 'And what are you going to do tonight?' then maybe he would have come clean.