Cat on the Fence I

Past noon, the Pierce residence was often quiet as a monastery and built like one too. With old brickwork, sweeping arches and the isolation of a prison. Blue’s prison. To be frank, despite the surplus of help that had become commonplace, the house that night was nothing like it normally was.

Furniture that had never been looked at, let alone used was on full display. Every single light in the house was on; regardless of whether it was in use Bradley fucking Pierce had emerged from his office for the first time in only god knows how long… And all the teenager wanted to do was go back to her room and continue in her perfect fantasy where she had no parents nor care in the world.

Bradley was an actuary for an Insurance firm — often, he spent his evenings condemned to his office doing whatever there was for an actuary to be doing outside of work hours. Perhaps he was financing his secret family with a twenty-year-old woman no one knew of… He could be doing that. He could be reciting the declaration of independence until it was the first thing he said when he woke up in the morning and the last thing he said before he went to sleep—like any good republican.

He could be setting up a secret mini-golf course beneath his desk and all around his office just to retire to when his wife's questions and prodding at dinner became increasingly unbearable. Perhaps that was the strangest sight of the evening; Bradley pretending that he didn’t completely hate his wife.

Some things were normal and strange too, however — such as their daughter's name. Blue. It was the name only ever given by a prostitute high off her mind on heroin when giving birth — so gone that, of course, the colour of the midwife's scrubs was the name that came to mind. Instead, it was the name given by a rich bitch of a housewife... nothing more, nothing less. Marian, truthfully, had numerous expectations for her only child when she named her. She was going to be a supermodel housewife who bore so many kids that screwing her would be like throwing open a window and fücking the night. Just like her mother. Too bad Blue's nose was far too broad and large for her face in a way which ensured she'd never be able to be a supermodel — she could blame her father for saving her life and instead, giving her a chance of her own sense of career individuality.

It was fitting in a strange and distant way. Fitting in the sense Blue looked far too depressed to believe it was the girl's birthday. Then again, depressed was the new teenage fashion. In fact, to find out that it was that particular girl's birthday was as strange as finding out an eighteen-year-old's bash was so heavily populated by middle-aged men. Though Marian would never admit it, it was her coming out party. That is, coming out as a single woman.

And out of all the insufferable men that her mother had forced upon her, she hadn’t once been so much as directed to look at the only man who had taken her interest.

His smile was broad and reflective beneath the champagne lighting, his posture just as broad though somehow relaxed as he exchanged some form of banter with the people who surrounded him. They all seemed as charmed as she was — but Blue found quickly that not even distance could stifle the aura that oozed from his bronzed skin and expensive suit. He was her father's boss. The boss to a balding, rounded man of an age taller than his own employer. How tragic — and how stereotypical it was that her father's boss said 'sex appeal' before he could even open his mouth. To be frank, he looked as though he belonged onset of a porno — or a perfume advertisement where the male served no other purpose than to make out with the female model. Perhaps if Blue got the nose job her mother got at eighteen, she could be the female model in the advertisement.

Blue stole countless glances of the man from her own place across the room, of course, surrounded by people not of her own age despite the affair being her own celebration. It was a business opportunity for her parents, despite what Marian would have her believe. She wore a nicer outfit nonetheless—an amber silk camisole with a deep V-line and sequins that fell straight off if she wasn’t careful. Dark denim hugged her legs, so much so that she had trouble sitting down. But still, it wasn’t enough. Not with dangerous shoes, statement earrings, massive curls, she had not once been approached by a man who had not been dragged over by her parents. In fact, she didn’t know why she bothered with the whole thing. None of it was worth it.

But even he had taken a liking to her from the moment their eyes had briefly met. At odd times, he’d meet her gaze—the deep blue eyes he could see even from across the room was something he could imagine quite vividly after inspecting and perhaps a photograph from his mobile phone of a portrait hung in the living room. He fantasised about the pale skin he’d been eyeing; how smooth her thighs would be as he parted her legs carefully. How her golden hair would slip from her shoulders as she climbed over him. How her eyes would sparkle with lust and inhibition as she begged him to touch her.

"This is my daughter, Blue," To most, her mother's accent was beyond irritating, especially at that moment. The music was tedious, she had no idea how to shut up, the room was insanely packed, the doors and windows were all open to welcome people into the never-used backyard and in all honesty, that woman speaking was the last thing Blue wanted to hear. The evening needed many, many more drinks before conversation was even an option, as nothing beyond small talk then, currently was. What other people wanted didn't matter, the blonde and silicone-chested housewife still had a grip on the girl to drag her to the newest person of interest. Much to Blue's dismay, it wasn't her father's boss.

This man, instead, was a younger man with a full head of dark hair, a hand extended to the young girl, deep brown eyes and hell, even a full set of teeth. The one downside, he had no clue that Blue was anything other than legs. And maybe the size of his monumental nose. "Hello, Blue," Suddenly, all first-impressions appeal was lost. Perhaps there were three downsides. The man had the thinnest lips she had ever seen. "I'm Richard,"

"Hello, Richard," She forced a broad smile of her own and locked her hand with his. She was met with regret before she was met with a smile on his half. His hands were one of the sweatiest she had ever touched. Truly classy. He had better be rich. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" It was true, she said only that in hopes to impress her mother — perhaps if she pretended to take a specific interest in Robert, she wouldn't have to mingle with any other man for the rest of the evening, because frankly, she was tired of it. She wanted to be a recluse alone in some corner, on her phone and flicking through social media until she ran out of things to look at. She truly had taken that for granted.

"I just wanted to greet a beautiful young lady," In all honesty, Blue almost laughed... but then again, she almost vomited, also. Perhaps if he was slightly more attractive than he was, or even slightly younger, she would have accepted the advance. Instead, he was cute for a father of three and young for a high-ranking banker (neither of which he was) — but still not quite cute enough."-and wish her a happy birthday,"

A small, amused smirk quirked along her lips to the very movement of his words. And in all honesty, the smile was only half forced, much like her quick reply. She had been reminded, if only momentarily, of all the gifts she had to unwrap the following morning. "Thank you," She dropped her hand from his after a moment, just as her eyes flickered away from his and to the man who stood far behind him — visible over his shoulder. His gaze met hers, the 'foreign boss' who offered her a short smirk from over his glass... finally, just as she had been looking over at him and hoping she'd meet his gaze all evening.

Her heart halted in her chest — and she could just see the green of his eyes. It was a beautiful sight, but she could barely focus on the true beauty from the dull thump of her pulse against her temples, begging for her undivided attention. His smirk only broadened as she stumbled to shift her attention back to the exchange before her, a hand lifting to tuck stray strands of hair behind her ear. She was a mess, that much he had gathered over the evening. A charming mess.