Travis
When we get back to my house, I have my butler bring Caitlin’s bags up to her room.
“Go ahead and put your things away and get changed. We’re going out to lunch, sweetheart. I’m starved.”
“Sure,” she nods. “How long do I have?”
“No more than twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be back.”
Caitlin disappears upstairs. Meanwhile, I settle on the couch in my den while I wait. Buster is at my feet gnawing at a new chew toy and he looks up before bobbing his head at me. It’s as if he approves of the new resident in our home.
Less than twenty minutes later, the curvy girl is back downstairs wearing a short yellow sundress, and she’s stunning. The neck is in a u-shape, hinting at her luscious décolletage, and her long legs are bare and creamy. I’d love to press a kiss to them right now, but instead, I merely nod.
“You look amazing,” I growl. Shit, my voice doesn’t sound quite normal, but she just giggles.
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure about the sundresses at first, but Tessa insisted.”
“It’s perfect, and that saleslady deserves a raise. Are you ready for lunch?”
“Yes, I’m starving!” she laughs.
We take the same car to a restaurant in downtown Medina. I have four others to choose from, but the McLaren is my personal favorite because of its gull-wing doors. Don’t tell my other vehicles.
I pull up in front of Oleggo’s and hand my keys to the valet while heading around to Caitlin’s side. But once the door is open, she merely sits there, her cheeks rosy.
“Travis, I can’t go in there! I’m not dressed appropriately. My sundress is way too casual.”
I shake my head.
“No honey, you look great. It’s not fancy during lunchtime. Look at me. I’m in jeans and a t-shirt.”
Caitlin studies my outfit for a second before sighing and swinging her legs out of the car. She’s wearing yellow high-heeled sandals and again, I’d love to press my lips to those delectable thighs. But this isn’t the time. Instead, we walk inside and immediately, the song and dance routine begins.
“Welcome to Oleggo’s!” the maître d’ sings. “Mr. Simpson, it’s always good to see you again. Your usual table?”
“Yes, that would be great. Thank you, Chester.”
As we follow the man to a table, Cait elbows me and hisses, “Do you come here a lot?”
I laugh. “Yeah, sometimes. I bring a lot of executives here for business lunches. It’s a nice enough restaurant to impress them but not so fancy that they’re intimidated.”
My usual table is perfect, which is why I always sit here. It’s a corner booth, and has a great view of the whole restaurant, which has a Greek / Mediterranean vibe. It’s also slightly separated from the lunch crowd, which is crucial because I want to be able to hear the person I’m with over the din of the restaurant.
“Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Simpson,” Chester bows. Meanwhile, a waiter comes over with menus.
“Drinks, sir?” he asks. “I can recommend a particularly fine Bordeaux if you’re interested.”
Hmm, that sounds excellent. I order a glass of wine while Caitlin gets an iced tea. Good. I like my girls innocent, although Caitlin is certainly allowed to have a sip or two of my Bordeaux.
“What do you usually eat here?” Caitlin asks after the waiter leaves to get our drinks. “I have no idea what to order because honestly, I’m not even sure how to pronounce some of these entrees.”
I merely chuckle.
“I’d go with a gyro.”
“Oh, is that how you say it? With a y-sound and not a g-sound?” Her question is so innocent and unassuming that I chuckle again.
“Do you trust me to order for you, sweetheart?”
Caitlin nods. “Yes, please. I don’t like onions, so that’s my only no-no.”
“Perfect.”
When the waiter returns, I order Caitlin a chicken gyro without onions, while I go with a traditional lamb gyro. Pita bread and a Greek salad to share complete the meal. But once we’re alone again, I lean forward.
“So, tell me more about yourself,” is my low invitation. She flushes a bit, and I watch as the red spreads down her chest and into her décolletage. I’d love to squeeze those big breasts right now, but now is not the time.
“What do you want to know?” she asks in a low voice.
I shrug. “You told me a bit about your stepmother last night. Is your father around?”
Caitlin’s face drops. “No. Brian died when I was child. Car accident.”
I put my hand over hers on the table. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry to hear that. So it’s just been you and your stepmom all this time?”
She nods.
“Yes, and it’s been really hard, to put it mildly. Fiona never liked me, and without my dad around, things went from bad to worse.”
I nod. This stepmom person is clearly a piece of shit, taking advantage of an orphan like that. How can anyone be so cruel, especially to a girl like this? It’s clear the woman in front of me would never hurt a fly. Caitlin is gentle and kind, and would give the clothes off her back to another human being in need. I couldn’t even get her to spend my money without some serious prodding!
“What does Fiona do for a living?” I ask mildly.
Caitlin takes a deep breath.
“She’s a bank teller. But according to her, she’d tell you she’s a professional fashion designer. It’s complicated. She tried to launch a design company after my dad died using his life insurance money, but she’s had to take out a million loans to keep it afloat. The only way it even exists today is because she’s subsidizing it with her salary from the bank.”
“Wow.”
Cait shakes her head.
“I know, right? Even worse, she and I should get along because we have a lot of the same interests. I’m also interested in fashion design, so that should be something to bond over, but instead, it just makes her … I don’t know, jealous or something.”
I sit back, puzzled.
“You like fashion design? Don’t take this the wrong way, but that surprises me because you seemed so nervous at the boutique today.”
Caitlin smiles shyly. “I know, and it’s because I was. I’m used to having to recycle or upcycle clothes. I know how to make myself look good with scraps of fabric, and maybe a stray button or two. But buying expensive designer duds? That’s a whole different story.”
That makes sense to me. The two worlds are vastly different.
“But can’t your stepmother partner with you? You must be talented, sweetheart. Maybe you could put your heads together and come up with something that works for both of you.”
Caitlin sighs. “No, because Fiona’s always been jealous of my talent when it comes to design. Deep inside, she knows she can’t conceptualize, much less draw, sew or cut. So she takes it out on me instead. I think subconsciously, she knows that she has no talent, and uses me as a punching bag for her frustrations.”
I snort with disbelief. “That’s a fucking shame. She should be encouraging you, not putting you down.”
Cait smiles sadly.
“I know, right? But remember, this is my evil stepmother we’re talking about. Fiona doesn’t encourage anyone. I had a sewing machine that my dad bought for me when I was a little girl, but after Dad died, the sewing machine started breaking mysteriously all the time. I’m pretty sure Fiona was trying to sabotage me.”
I frown. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Fiona hated me and she wasn’t shy about letting me know it. Finally, I gave up and put the sewing machine in the closet, relying instead on the ones they had at school. But of course, that came to a stop after graduation because Medina High couldn’t exactly let someone who wasn’t a student use their equipment. Now, I just draw.”
I shake my head. This is such a fucking travesty and this beautiful girl doesn’t deserve the hand she’s been dealt.
“You’ll have to show me your drawings sometime, honey. I’m sure they’re masterpieces.”
Caitlin giggles.
“Hardly, but I do try.”
We’re silent for a moment, but then I speak with a low intensity to my words.
“You know, I know what it’s like to be unwanted too.”
She cocks her head curiously at me.
“What do you mean?”
I think for a moment before speaking because I don’t tell a lot of people about my home life as a kid. It’s not a secret, but it’s not something I advertise either. It makes for great press, and magazines love to harp on the “rags to riches” aspect, but at the same time, I don’t love talking about it because what’s done is done.
“I grew up in a group home,” I finally acknowledge.
She cocks her head at me.
“Really? I had no idea.”
“Yup. My parents were addicts and they couldn’t take care of me, so I bounced from foster home to foster home until finally landing at the group home when I was a freshman in high school.”
“Oh my gosh,” breathes Caitlin. “I’m so sorry.” I nod again.
“It was bad, and a teacher at school saved me. I started taking auto shop as a freshman, and Mr. Plano thought I had real talent. He got me a job at an auto body shop, just something to do on weekends and after school. To be honest, I needed the money and was grateful. I worked there for four years until I started Simpson Auto Parts at nineteen.”
Caitlin blinks. “Wow, Travis. That’s incredible. You have a real rags to riches story.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose I do. Now, Simpson is a massive distributor of car parts all over the US. I even sponsor a NASCAR team, if you can believe it.”
Caitlin nods. “Of course I believe it.”
I sigh. “It would be easy to feel sorry for myself, but in some ways, I developed grit because of my difficult upbringing. I think the same can be said about you.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“When I asked you about hobbies, you didn’t mention fashion design, sweetheart. You said something about jogging and keeping in shape?”
Caitlin blushes. “Well, jogging takes time! It’s exercise and a great way to stay healthy. Besides, I’m kind of embarrassed. I’ve obviously never done anything with my designs. I wore some of the clothes I made in high school and sometimes my friend Cammie would wear them too, but that’s it.”
“Well, would you like to pursue it?”
She cocks her head at me again.
“How so?”
I chuckle.
“Sweetheart, I have seven spare bedrooms. We can turn one into a sewing room for you, if you like.” She blushes but her eyes sparkle.
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. I think you should pursue fashion design if it’s truly something you’re passionate about.”
She sits back in her chair, her look pensive.
“I don’t know, Travis. Fashion design is a pipe dream for me. I appreciate your support, but I have no formal training, and who would buy the clothes? I was giving my outfits to Cammie for free.”
I merely take her hand in my own.
“That doesn’t mean you should give up.”
Caitlin considers this for a second. “Maybe. I don’t know. Can I think more about it?”
I give her hand a squeeze. “Of course, honey, but I’m going to buy you a sewing machine regardless. I’m at work during the day, so you’ll have time to putter away to your heart’s content while I’m gone.”
“Thank you, Travis.”
At that moment, the waiter returns with our gyros and Caitlin looks at the meat with excitement before taking a huge bite. She gasps as the flavors hit her tongue.
“Oh my goodness, this is incredible!”
“I’m glad you like it,” I say with a grin.
She takes another big bite, moaning melodically as she swallows. That’s another thing I like about Caitlin. She’s not shy about food, unlike all those twig-thin women who order only a salad and don’t even eat it. I hate it when women pick at their meals. It makes me uncomfortable, and then I feel like I have to hold back from eating as well.
Suddenly, Caitlin’s phone buzzes on the table. Without missing a beat, she silences it and digs back into her gyro while letting out another ecstatic moan of pleasure.
“It’s okay if you need to answer that,” I say with a grin.
Caitlin swallows while patting her lips with a napkin.
“No, it’s just my best friend, Cammie. I told her that I was staying with you and now she’s freaking out. My phone is blowing up.”
I chuckle.
“Sounds like she’s a good friend.”
“Oh, she’s the best. I’m lucky to know her.”
“Were you going to stay with her if I didn’t come around?”
Caitlin thinks for a moment. “Cammie offered, but she has three siblings. They live with her parents in a cramped two-bedroom apartment, so realistically, there was no space for me. The Forsters are really nice and would have found a way, but I didn’t want to put them out.”
“Wow.”
Cait nods.
“Yeah. Cammie always came to my house for a reprieve from the chaos of her home, and I always went to her place when my stepmom got to be too much. It’s okay.”
I put down my fork for a moment. “Well, you know that we have plenty of space. You could invite her over for a visit.”
Caitlin shakes her head furiously. “Oh no, I don’t want to impose. It’s your mansion, and your private space. It’s too much to ask.”
I grin. “Honey, you saw all the extra space I have. And I’m at work all day too. Your friend is welcome to come over. I’ll even lift the lingerie rule, so you can be clothed like a normal person. Is that what was holding you back?”
She brightens and then giggles.
“Yeah, sort of. I mean, Cammie and I are good friends, but she doesn’t want to see me in my bra and panties. We don’t have that kind of a relationship.”
I laugh but then her phone buzzes again. “Maybe you should invite her for dinner tonight. After all, it seems like she’s freaking out and won’t stop calling,” I say while eyeing the phone meaningfully.
“Really? Is that okay?” Cait says, her eyes bright.
“Yeah definitely. I don’t want your friends to think you’re chained up in the basement or something. Although we can do that, if you’re interested.”
Cait merely giggles.
“Oh you!” But then she quickly picks up, squeals as she greets her friend, and invites her over before nodding and hanging up.
“It’s done!” she announces. “You’ll be meeting Cammie later this week. She can’t wait either.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Did you tell your friend about our arrangement?”
“I did. I mentioned it in a text this morning. Is that okay?”
“Of course. There are no secrets between us. Being discreet is different from having secrets, sweetheart. You know that.”
Cait nods.
“I know, I know, and Cammie’s not the judgmental type anyways. If anything, she’s really excited for me because she always thought I was way too boring and repressed. If anything, this is a huge step in the right direction.”
I merely laugh, and to my surprise, my heart is light. It’s nice being here with Cait, enjoying a meal like a regular couple and sharing stories of ourselves. In fact, this feels a lot like a date.
But then I stop myself. We’re not dating. This is a transaction, and not a genuine, traditional relationship. I brought Caitlin home specifically to satisfy my sexual needs, and I haven’t even done that yet. But looking across the table at the delectable girl, I vow to remedy that as soon as possible.