Page 4 of Pleasing Him

Those curves are on display right now, even if Lily’s a mess as she enters the principal’s office. But somehow her disheveled state makes her appear even more delicious. Her brown curls spring away from her head in a curly halo, and she’s got an adorable smudge of dirt on her cheek. But it’s her figure that does me in. Her dress is torn, slipping off one slim shoulder while revealing huge, Double D tits and a narrow waist. The skirt’s a splotch of random paint colors, but it, too, is torn and I get a glimpse of thick ivory thighs, long legs, and sleek, smooth calves. Goddamn. God definitely broke the mold after he made my stepdaughter because Lily’s fucking ravishing, and my groin is hardening from the mere sight of her curves.

But this woman is jailbait because not only is she off-limits, but she’s bad news too. I got a call from the school about the brat defacing school property, and at first, I couldn’t believe my ears. I was in the middle of an important meeting, and yet I had to excuse myself to jump in my sedan and speed to the school asap. Now, Lily’s going to explain herself ... even if I have to take her home and smack that bottom red as part of the process.

But right now, she has no idea how dire the situation is. Instead, the pretty brunette flounces into the office and throws herself into a chair before shooting me a smile.

“Hi Daddy,” she purrs. “How are you? I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

The tips of my ears burn because what the fuck? Lily’s never called me “Daddy” in public before and it’s fucking mortifying in front of this liver-spotted man named Curt Pontillo. In fact, I can feel the principal’s gaze turn to me, inquisitive and sharp.

“Thanks Lily,” I manage between gritted teeth. “It’s good to see you too. Now, let’s get down to business.”

The principal clears his throat while spreading his hands out. But before he can speak, my stepdaughter takes the reins.

“What happened is easy enough to explain,” she says in a light tone. “I decided to try a new artistic medium, which is graffiti. I got tired of the usual paint-on-canvas thing, so I took my work outside. There aren’t many options at St. George High,” she adds with a serious look. “But I found the shed, which looked dilapidated and unused. I started spattering it with paint, Jackson Pollack-style.”

“Really,” the principal says in a drill voice. “But couldn’t you tell that it was private property?”

Lily shrugs.

“This is a pubic school, so I figured since my stepfather’s tax dollars are going to fund the place, it was okay.”

I cut in, my voice sharp.

“It’sneverokay to deface public property, tax dollars or not. I’m surprised you think that, Lily.”

The brunette as the grace to blush.

“Well, now that I think back, maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea.”

“It wasn’t,” I say in a harsh tone. “There’s no excuse for your actions.”

Lily looks chagrined, and her pretty head drops for a moment. But then she takes a deep breath and looks up with sparkly eyes.

“But the shed looks amazing now, doesn’t it? I mean, it’s still a work in progress, but it’s certainly better than it was before my make-over. Now, there’s a little color to the structure, and it hides the peeling paint and rotted wood.”

Principal Pontillo stares.

“But that shed belongs to St. George High School, and you had no right to make any decisions about how it looks, or how any part of the structure should be modified. That kind of thing is left to administration, if not the school board.”

Lily looks mortified again, but then she waves her hand in the air.

“Anyone can see that it was in dire need of a re-do. Besides, it looked deserted! It was abandoned, and the roof was about to cave in.”

Principal Pontillo shakes his head slowly.

“No, Miss Powell. There was a lock on the door. That should have told you that the shed was in use, and that it definitelywasn’tabandoned.”

There’s an awkward pause as the brat struggles for words.

“Yes, maybe in retrospect,” Lily says in a careful tone. “But I didn’t really notice. I’m dedicated to my craft, you see. A lock would never bother me, and in fact, could be a valuable addition to my work. The streaks and smears of paint, which are light-hearted and ebullient, contrast directly with the staid, silver lock, which is a representation of the uncompromising nature of the patriarchy.”

I practically snort in my chair.

“Really, the lock represents the patriarchy,” I drawl. “Did you just think of that, or is this something that you planned?”

“Obviously, I’m still exploring the nature of my work,” Lily says, her tone serious. “But don’t take my word for it because art can mean many things to different people. You don’t have to interpret the lock the same way I do, and in fact, Iencourageyou to interpret such a mechanism according to your own values and morals. What does it represent to you, Lionel? I’m all ears.”

This time, I let out a rude guffaw because this girl is a pro at talking in useless psychobabble. I’m reminded of how Gen Z tends to justify their actions using all sorts of pseudo-scientific terms that actually have no meaning.

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