He stood in his garden smoking a joint, wearing jeans and sneakers. His black, curly hair still wet from his dip in the pool earlier today and his sculpted chest was on full display to my curious eyes, watching him through my window for the hour he spent talking on his phone. Three words described him. 𝕯𝖗𝖔𝖕 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖌𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖔𝖚𝖘.
I'm Maylene Parker, 18 and living with my parents Amy and Josh in California. I was a high school senior attending Amador Valley High, studying on the weekdays, partying my ass off on the weekends. Life and money was good, my next door neighbor was even better.
With a three year old daughter, an ex wife obsessed with gambling and a 10 million dollar business, 32 year old Cameron Benett was the centrepiece of my dreams. I've been his neighbor for two years and he never noticed me. It was that or he just chose to ignore me.
I mean, what would a 32 year old millionaire see in an 18 year old high school senior? I ask myself. Every time I passed his house I'd see him taking a swim, smoking, playing with Maggie or just sitting there, his head in his hands.
Several times I found myself picturing that head in between my thighs, eating me out like chocolate truffles. He was so hot with his impressive looking biceps, six pack and rippling shoulder muscles. The sight of his glorious body made me wetter than the Mississippi river.
"Maylene you bad girl, touching yourself in public. Young lady you ought be ashamed of yourself," Mr Benett whispered slapping my ass.
"What I do in public is none of your business," I said defiantly.
"Oh but it is. Touching yourself in front of me? That's not nice little girl," he replied.
I smirked and leaned my hip against the wall, a daring look in my opal eyes. "What are you going to do about it Mr Benett?"
He smirked right back. "Are you challenging me Maylene?"
"If the shoe fits, wear it," I said sweetly.
"Flirting with old men, what a naughty little kitten you are,"
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"Attract a lot of attention, huh beautiful?" His voice hit me like a wall, absurdly catching me off guard. It was deep, sensual, something any girl (or boy) could melt over. I was sort of speechless, yet trying my best to appear unafflicted.
"Only the wrong ones." That was definitely drunken me talking, as I didn't usually have that much confidence. His lips twitched up into a smirk, expressing that he understood my comment.
"Does that mean that I'm in that category?"
My palms began to grow sweaty and my heart rate picked up, but otherwise my body remained relaxed, appearing completely fine. It similar to when you're on autopilot, completely withdrawn due to intoxication.
"I suppose not," I crossed my arms, putting on this seductive persona just for him. This fueled his smirk, about to murmur another comment before I cut him off. "You'll have to show me, though."
***
Amelia Hollis was a 23-year-old writer at one of the local publishing companies, assisting a very handsome man and writing articles left and right. Her and her best friend, Aviary, lived together in a cute little apartment off the central part of the city, yearning to create new memories and important moments. Amelia always lived for the moments, taking in every little detail and savoring it like it was her favorite meal. She was an optimist, hoping to change peoples lives with her dreams.
James Vallette was a 34-year-old CEO, building his company from dirt with the help of his brother. He was a realist, not really having time to deal with dreams or even love. He knew this the night he laid eyes on Amelia.
It was only casual; what harm could a one-night stand do? Oh yeah, he's her dad's boss.