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Wondering
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2024-09-02 14:47:50Just a glimpse... Barbara noticed a faint twitch of the man's eyebrows, and in that instant Abihirt had placed a hand on the line of her shoulder. Almost squeezing, but not really.
"I don't know which Moreau's perfume you're referring to." It was said very convincingly. Barbara pursed her lips instinctively. Her husband's calm demeanor never seemed to cross the line. They began to step into the house after Abihirt took over the grip on the suitcase to follow every inch of their steps. "The perfume I gave her. There's still a sample of it in our room, maybe you accidentally wore it?" Shallow memories unexpectedly filled in the gaps at the top of Barbara's knowledge. She was slightly relieved after being able to reach the forgotten image. A month or two ago, aquatic perfumes like the scent of the sea and fresh air were left to the thrifty Moreau
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Moreau's breath caught when she opened the door to the house and suddenly found out her mother was there. Sitting on the sofa with her legs sandwiched between Abihirt's torso, while the man so calmly leaned back on the sofa leg with his face upturned, facing a single point, where Barbara was unusually focused on adding a light massage after the woman had applied a thick gel on his jaw. Surprise. A simple romance, which Moreau never thought she would find here. Just like she never thought that her stepfather would put all his trust in the woman who coincidentally found Moreau still standing at the door. Nervous when their eye contact met. "You're back later than scheduled practice?" That was the first time Moreau got it. Occasionally she would glance at her stepfather's face. Abihirt didn't even care, whether she arrived home after a lon
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"That's good that you like it. I had a little trouble choosing what you wanted." An honest statement. Moreau felt a little flattered by the attention. Something she would always say that Barbara almost never understood the details of her inner desires. Surprising enough, but it wouldn't go too far. Moreau smiled slightly, again, then said, "Thank you, Mom." Her mother nodded briefly. That was it, with her gaze fixed straight at the kitchen door, the point where Abihirt had left them. The need to follow seemed to radiate from Barbara's shoulders. Moreau understood the desire her mother was preparing for, so chose to carefully embrace Troyas' stocky body. Lauren had finished feeding the boy, gently excusing herself to put the dishes in the wash. Troyas' body was writhing, wanting to get down, and was about to glue his feet to the cold floor. Moreau was not brave enough to push her
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"What's going on?" The anticipation-laden question was the last Moreau could spare after silently noticing her mother was already in the back with the towering Abihirt. The pause between them left the tension to continue gripping, but nevertheless, she had to make eye contact. Something that instinctively made Moreau hold her breath when she got a pure reaction from Barbara. Silence, so slow to digest the situation there. The attention of those irises, blank, riveted to a single scene on the floor. The shards of the urn had been scattered. Yet, she was the one who had to be responsible for resolving the events here. Woefully, Moreau had not yet had a chance to say anything, while the tendrils she noticed Lauren seemed to be struggling to find her son's whereabouts. Troyas reacted instantly to the woman's arriv
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"Don't you know that is my favorite urn, Moreau?" There was no choice. There was a crisis behind the exceptional decision that had been floated as an act of determination. The initial question the woman had felt like a desire to give Moreau a hard-on. That Barbara might have gotten. Vigilance rose on par with the eye contact between them. Moreau knew she had to be careful, but trying to brush off her mother's anger was futile. There was no guarantee that the woman would make the right choice. Moreau could only watch as Barbara suddenly pointed out something. The woman knew all too well how much the object in her hand meant to Moreau. "What do you want to do, Mom?" Moreau asked with a wary tone. Another object in Barbara's hand confirmed something. Scissors. She knew this was going to be the brutal part of the decision to come.
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It should not have been a surprise. Barbara's habits were always the same. Giving and convincing everyone of how powerful she was. Moreau almost laughed bitterly at the thought of being too naive to think Barbara had changed a bit. At the woman's request, something that had not even been done yet. However, Barbara deliberately snatched the bracelet from her hand. Something so painful that Moreau winced. Despairing when the woman was unable to wrestle the interlocking chains away, then undoing the clasp was met with the same roughness. One slap was added to make Moreau's face turn away violently. "This is a lesson because you dared to yell at me." Stinging and numbness mixed in the first reaction Moreau could feel. She held her face as she carefully looked at something still left in the woman's hand.
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"I apologize for the mess, Miss. You didn't have to do this to protect me. If I get fired, that's probably what I deserve. Not you. It wasn't your things that were taken and damaged." Moreau had never expected Caroline to catch up as soon as the woman had cleared the scattered jars. She didn't look Caroline in the face, but the guilt behind the woman's voice was unmistakable. This wasn't right. The mess started because she was chasing after Troyas. If only Moreau hadn't been enthusiastic enough to take Troyas for a spin. That shocking scene would never have happened. Barbara's urn wouldn't have been giggled at, dropped, broken, messed up, and most importantly, Moreau wouldn't have found her father's gift jacket to be targeted, helpless, and perforated in one spot with a—for her—horrible hole. "It's okay, Caroline. I don't blame you, but can you leave me alone? I don't want to be disturbed."
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"Where is your jacket?" That was the second time Abihirt spoke. Moreau's eyebrows knitted together, confused, but her bright blue irises never left the shoulders of the dark suit, waiting for her to do something. At the very least, show him what her father's gift jacket looked like. "You don't want to ruin it again, do you?" asked Moreau, intentionally suspicious. Her level of alertness exploded after she missed an opportunity to prevent Barbara from an unexpected action. No one knew that the man was far more dangerous and, most importantly, tied into a serious relationship with her mother. "No. I don't" One word was spoken firmly. Moreau could not understand it clearly. Which one could she believe, or should she stick to one and hope Abihirt was indeed paying attention? "Why ask for my jacket if there's nothing you're go
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[Abi, can I borrow your phone to send you my pictures from the desert ....] Barbara's whole body boiled at the thought of what her logic was unraveling. Abihirt said that the man was still in Dubai; he would be home soon, but it was surprising to find Moreau's voice sneaking in between their conversation. This could not be regretted. No matter how much Barbara tried to deny it. She had sifted through everything that had happened there, clearly... very clearly that Moreau needed photos in the desert to send to the girl's cell phone. Probably no further explanation of what had actually happened was expected. Hell, Barbara hadn't even said a word and demanded that Abihirt talk about everything her husband had been hiding, including when Abihirt claimed to be unaware of Moreau's whereabouts the last time she had called the man while talking about her daughter's whereabouts. However, the call was unexpectedly dropped. Really, Barbara couldn't accept that one lit
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However, for a moment Moreau turned her head towards herstep father when she touched the doorknob. Abihirt unexpectedly grabbed the man's cell phone on the nightstand. Perhaps there was an important rush, which indirectly reminded Moreau that there was one thing—she had forgotten to say to her stepfather. This wouldn't take long. She would just wash her face with a splash of water, then return to the man. Indeed, not for long. When Moreau looked at her reflection in the mirror, the first thing she did was take a deep breath. All the devices here belonged only to Abihirt. She would brush her teeth, later, at home. Now it was best to approach the man on the bed. Suddenly Moreau's inner explosion became enthusiastic. She had been looking forward to sending pictures in the desert that day, after starting to operate the new cell phone her stepfather had given her. Hoping Abihirt wouldn't mind when she mentioned her wildly raging goals. Moreau hurriedly crossed t
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"Why do you keep squeezing me like this?" It took a lot of courage and determination for Moreau to finally ask the question in a half-whisper. She wanted to look back, but the clear presence of Abihirt's face made their cheeks touch. The man would certainly not say anything. Moreau instinctively let out a rough breath; letting Abihirt position himself better and now the man's face was almost trapped in the crook of her neck. Abihirt was not sleeping. That was the least Moreau could feel. Probably not going to fall asleep anytime soon either, though the man admitted to not doing much of anything himself after their long journey. After all, there were things left between them that Moreau wasn't going to just reveal. It was still about Froy and she would try to find clues. "I thought of something." Moreau began with a sense of alarm rising swiftly in her mind. When Abihirt walked into the trap, she was sure the man wouldn't suddenly become very quiet.
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It was fun teasing Abihirt. That was how Moreau felt. This time she was really daring. Really going to be defiant with her stepfather and tentatively tugging at the fabric to leave only a contrasting lacy undergarment. Letting a pause occur for a moment, then hesitantly glancing at Abihirt as she had to carefully cover some parts of her body in front of the man. She was the one trying to provoke something to explode in Abihirt, but didn't want her mother's husband to be brutalized and left unrescued. Now, as she slowly inserted her hands into the holes of the cloth—wearing the T-shirt given by the man appropriately. It was done. Moreau's body was wrapped. She seemed to be drowning. Immediately looked down and witnessed how the edge of the cloth was definitely touching her thighs. Abihirt correctly guessed not to add pants. Just a thin satin undergarment and it made Moreau feel comfortable. "I'm going to bed now," she said, hurriedly looking up, only to find
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"Do you like cruise ship travel, Honey?" The sea breeze rushed across the surface of Barbara's body, leaving a sweeping impression that was too forced, but she was enjoying every bit of it here with Samuel and he had just whispered very softly in her face. Barbara smiled slightly at the feel of the man's arms reaching out tentatively, until the moving face had nuzzled around her neck. "Don't you do that, Sam!" warned Barbara after detecting that Samuel was about to take a dangerous action. She didn't want him to leave a reddish mark and if there was ever an urge to return home, she feared she would not be able to hide it from Abihirt's view. There was no word from her cold husband after the last time they had a phone conversation. Even Barbara needed to be pushed through a determined struggle until Abihirt was willing to accept a voice call and even then they spoke all too briefly. She was not satisfied yet. A little unwilling that Abihirt had gone on a trip to Dubai when s
