Maisy

Chapter 11: Jon

Interview days.  One of my favorite.  We got to travel around the different cities Maisy played, do a little sight seeing from the car.  Mary was always well read on the towns and their inner workings, their most special and secret spots.  Occasionally she, Tim and Caleb would run out to quickly explore something, leaving Maisy and I alone.  

But today, I sat in a small bus with dark, tinted windows and a driver. Holland was escorting Maisy and her family from the hotel to the bus, giving him more responsibility in a trial.  I sat waiting for them, gazing at the back of the drivers head, as I bitterly straightened my tie. 

When they came out the back door, I surveyed the area but settled on Maisy.  With every step on the pavement she demanded power, it was like everyone could sense it as they turned to look in her direction.  And this little young lady walked on, like she didn't notice, like she didn't realize her own power. Or if she did she knew how to not use it, because it wasn't always worth dispensing.

I stared on through the bluish hue of the window and wondered what gave me any right to watch her?  To want to touch her? What gave me any right to want to press in her baggy clothes and feel her curves.  To imagine her generous breasts under my hands, her supple skin beneath my fingers, her delicate mouth inside my own?

I shook my head, aching to snap out of it, but when she entered the bus her presence settled over me like a warm blanket, and I came to think, this is it.  This is all I need. To be near her.

"Good morning," she said as she came to her rightful spot, in front of me.

"Good morning," I replied as she turned to me and smiled.  Her mom had gotten on the bus and was chatting with the driver, while everyone else lingered outside for a moment.

With her this close and me so far away I remembered how she'd knocked this morning, on our shared door.  She knocked a few quiet knocks, then a few louder, just before I was to leave the room. I'd ached to answer.  I ached to tell her now, I wanted to. But I knew it would have ended badly. I was as hard then as I was now, I shifted a bit in my seat and willed my mind to ease but her hair was up and I could see her neck, a tiny swoop of flesh at the top of her spine, a little crescent shape of exposure provided by the vast breadth of her sweatshirt. 

"I like your hair," I said, heavier than I'd intended, and I tried to backpedal with my eyes but she was already looking at me and smiling so sheepishly I could do nothing but smile back as the rest of the crew filed into their seats.

Caleb came to sit beside Maisy, and I noticed she kept stroking her neck, as if beckoning me to look.