Chapter 57: Never Let Go

“Hi Claire!” Christine squeaked out in a chipper voice, giving the woman an excited wave. “No Daddy, this time?”

“Your father’s finishing up some paperwork now,” Claire said, beckoning Christine over into her car. “C’mon, hop in.”

It was a nice black car, a sleek luxury convertible with the top already folded back. Christine bounced over from the bus station’s transit area and hopped in, climbing over the door rather than opening it. Claire was always cool with it—Christine’s mother Mrs. Weschler would have thrown a fit.

“Awesome!” Christine remarked, flashing Claire an excited smile. “You look great. How’ve you been?”

Claire only gave her a wry smile and started up the car. When the engine purred to life with a sexy rumble, Christine couldn’t help but squee to herself at the thrill of being able to cruise around in it.

Grinning like an idiot, Christine couldn’t help but steal glances over at her Claire—her father’s personal assistant. She was everything Christine wanted to be! The woman was slender and beautiful, but always with this sophisticated air of professionalism. It was like Claire just perfectly embodied all of the coolest femme fatales throughout anime—and somehow Claire didn’t even know what anime was! Last year when meeting her, Christine had practically gawked at her, and even asked her if she was a model. Claire had simply shook her head with an amused smile.

Wonder if she has feelings for Dad, if they’re like, secretly a couple? Christine thought to herself with a giddy smile. Forbidden romance—the suave, handsome company executive and his beautiful but taciturn secretary! Er, well, personal assistant. Whatever! I totally ship them. I bet she likes him. Who WOULDN’T like him? He’s awesome.

Every other month, the gangly and graceless teen Christine stole away from her stern harpy spinster of a mother to be spoiled like a princess by her much much much wealthier father. Her parents had been divorced since she was real little, and mother had for some reason or other won custody. After tedious months and months beneath her stern and shrewish mother’s eye, these sojourns into the city to live the high life for visitations were what Christine looked forward to most.

I mean, if it was up to MOM, I’d probably never even be allowed to watch anime AT ALL.

“How’s Daddy? Still making lots of money?” Christine asked, eager to chat. “How’re you? Are you coming out with us tonight? I want ramen. Ramen and sushi!”

“He’s still making lots of money,” Claire confirmed with that slight smile of hers.

“Claaaire, c’mon!” Christine whined. “You never talk much. I wanna talk, I want to know more about you. I want like, life advice!”

“...Life advice?” Claire chuckled.

“Yeah!” Christine perked up. “Like, how do I become just like you?”

“If someone has to tell you—you’ll never really know,” Claire replied with a cryptic smile.

“If someone has to—” Christine made a face. “Wait, what? What does that even mean?! Claaaire!”

---

“Hey, Pumpkin,” Mr. Weschler said. “Be just another minute while I finish writing this up.”

“I’m not a pumpkin,” Christine giggled, wrinkling her nose. “I told you to call me Christi-chan!”

“Whatever you say, pumpkin-chin,” Mr. Weschler joked with a doting smile.

“Ohmigod, pumpkin-chan, not pumpkin-chin, ew! Pffthhpp!” Christine blew a raspberry at him. “Are we going to the cool sushi place tonight? Sushi and a movie?”

“I’ll refer you to speak with Ms. Claire—she’s in charge of my schedule,” Mr. Weschler said, cracking his knuckles and then running a hand through his hair.

“Claire hardly even talks!” Christine griped, throwing Claire a smile. “Hey—you better not be mistreating her!”

Claire simply stood by, waiting patiently with that unreadable smile.

“Of course I mistreat her. That’s why she makes the big bucks,” Mr. Weschler said. “Claire—could you make sure she gets settled in up in the loft?”

“Yes, Sir,” Claire nodded, gesturing Christine out of Mr. Weschler’s office. “Right this way please, Miss Weschler.”

“You don’t really talk like that all the time, do you? The whole Sir this and Miss that?” Christine gabbed on. “Oh, and you can just call me Christy-chan!”

“Right this way, Christi-chan,” Claire obliged her.

“See? See!” Christine stuck her tongue out at her father and trotted her way out of the office. “Claire-senpai calls me Christi-chan!”

“Uh-huh,” Mr. Weschler grunted. “Yup, that’s why she makes the big bucks.”

“Wait, how much do you make?” Christine asked as she followed Claire upstairs. “Do you have a boyfriend? Hey, you’re going out to eat ramen with us, right?”

---

Christine was hopelessly in love with her internet boyfriend Kanshin, but sometimes it was just endlessly frustrating being apart from him. And having never met him, of course. It was late at night—well past midnight and way later than her stupid stick in the mud of a mother ever let her stay up, and so she was spending the extra hours she’d gained messaging back and forth with her friends from the MangaLab chat channels. Even her Daddy’s old laptop up here in the loft above his office was still leagues and leagues faster than the ancient old PC she had at home.

As quietly as she could, she rolled out of the fold-out bed and tiptoed over to where she could peek down the stairs. Both her father and Claire had been working most of the night, and even as the night wound down and one of them or the other was lounging on the expensive plush couch watching TV, the other one would be speaking on the phone with someone, talking boring business stuff for what felt like hours and hours.

Claire had revealed that she was actually engaged—her fiance was some lame boring guy named Rick, and he worked in mergers, whatever that was. Christine hadn’t been able to hide her disappointment, because she still thought Claire and her Dad were literally perfect for each other, and had even pouted for a while after hearing about this Rick guy just to prove it. Why are adults so like, oblivious sometimes? They’re practically MEANT to be a couple. It’s so frustrating—there’s gotta be a way I can like, nudge them along a bit?

Intent on sneaking down to raid the little office mini-fridge for anything she could snack on, Christine carefully peeked around the edge of the loft bannister. Her dad was fucking Claire on the couch.

Christine’s eyes went wide as saucers and she froze completely still, unable to believe what she was seeing. It seemed so out of place and unreal that she could only stare in silence and disbelief. The aloof and always well-put-together seeming personal assistant was naked from the waist down, sideways on the couch on her hands and knees, while Mr. Weschler was wearing just his button-up office shirt as he hurriedly thrusted into her. It was kind of...

Are they—are they really?! Christine quietly covered her mouth with her hand. They’re—having sex! I KNEW there was something between them! But, like, OH MY GOD!

Having only turned eighteen earlier that year, Christine didn’t have any sexual experience herself. After all, she was still in high school! Although she’d dated back when she was a Junior, she’d been firm in guarding second-base. She’d never have even thought to masturbate at all if she hadn’t gotten so infatuated with the teen drama Dusk books about sexy vampires, and most everything she knew about sex was from the rather sordid Dusk fanfiction she read online.

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Watching her father and his secretary—no, personal assistant rutting down there on the couch was a huge turn-on, kinda, but it was also weird. In a bad, strange way that was hard for her to put into words. Christine had been hoping to catch them flirting with witty banter, or getting lost in each other’s eyes. She’d wanted to see sexual tension build up into some sort of passionate crescendo before they inevitably gave in to their feelings for each other.

Instead, it seemed like one moment they were down there watching TV together after hours and boring hours of office work stuff, and then the next time Christine thought to spy on them—they were having sex. It felt jarring how suddenly things had escalated, but surely Christine had just missed a bunch of really interesting exchanges while she was distracted typing back and forth with Kanshin.

Like, I HAD to have missed a bunch.

With an almost inaudible groan, Mr. Weschler jerked his hips into Claire one last time and held there with a small shudder.

Oh my God. Is he—did he? Christine wrinkled her nose. Gross. Kinda gross. The ‘moment of release’ is all flowers blossoming and beautiful metaphors in fanfiction. But, like... I guess that’s how it always has to end in real life, huh?

“Phew,” Mr. Weshcler whispered in a low voice, slipping out of the woman and collapsing back onto the couch. “Perfect. That was just what I needed.”

Claire climbed off the couch and stepped away from him without responding, heading over towards the box of tissues on his desk and drawing two of them out to clean herself down there with.

“Double for tonight,” Claire finally said in an emotionless voice.

“Double?” Mr. Wescler casually turned to regard her. “C’mon—seriously?”

“Double when your daughter’s here,” Claire said. “I told you I don’t like it.”

“What do you care?” Mr. Weschler laughed quietly. “She always zonks out early.”

“Double,” Claire insisted.

“Fine, fine,” Mr. Weschler shrugged with indifference. “Whatever. You know where my wallet is.”

What... Christine swallowed back bile that threatened to rise up and choke her throat. What the fuck.

The always-professional and classy Claire who she’d been idolizing wasn’t in some secret starry-eyed romantic entanglement with her father. This was... business, this was some sickening and completely impersonal exchange. Claire was having sex with her dad, for money? Revulsion rolled through Christine in a grotesque wave, and she almost lost her balance and fell backwards from the crouch she’d been hiding in.

I’m going to be sick. I’m going to be sick. I’m going to be sick!

“I’m heading out,” Claire said in a quiet voice. “Appointment with Collins and Worth tomorrow morning, I’ll meet you there at ten o’clock. After that I’ll be mailing out invoices until noon, so you’re going to have to look after your daughter yourself until then.”

“Sure thing, yeah,” Mr. Weschler seemed spent, barely paying the woman any attention. “Say hi to Rick for me.”

“I will,” Claire replied in a cordial tone. “Goodnight, Bryan.”

“‘Night, Pumpkin,” Bryan Weschler grunted out.

Say hi to Rick for me?! Christine’s face fell in horror. Claire actually DOES have a boyfriend, and she’s still—they’re still—no, no, no no no no!

Even worse, so much worse, was hearing the same pet name her Dad used for her also used for the personal assistant that he was apparently paying for sex. It was the final straw. Christine dry-heaved, silently scrambling back away from the bannister on all fours and managing to make it to the small waste can before she vomited up all the sushi.

---

Christine Chloe Weschler’s eyes snapped open to the darkness of the hotel room.

It had been five fucking years since that fateful night when she’d secretly caught her father screwing his secretary, and she still couldn’t even think about sushi without feeling physically ill. Those sickening reflective slivers lazily spun and whirled throughout her mind like the silent storm within a silver snowglobe, and her stomach felt like it had folded and twisted itself into a brutal knot.

As usual when she had those dreams about the past, she was both grossed out and more than a bit turned on, and she hated that. They weren’t usually this clear and vivid, though—it was like each jagged little mirror shard flitting about inside her brain was a window that reflected right into those grotesque and possibly kind of sexy memories that clung to her psyche.

How the fuck does it STILL smell in here? Chloe glared in disgust across the dark room where Megan was loudly snoring on the other hotel bed. Un-fucking-believable.

It took a few moments, but the last of the silvery sensation and echoes of the past bobbing and weaving in her head began to fade. She wasn’t the naive and ignorant Christine anymore, and she certainly fucking wasn’t the cringy Christi-chan. Five years ago she’d had an illuminating experience, a real slap in the face that challenged and overturned everything she knew. It was the awakening into feminism she needed, finally recognizing exactly what kind of man her father Bryan Weschler was—what kind of creatures all men were, really—and at the same time realizing that her bitter and hateful mother had actually been right along. About everything.

OF COURSE she was bitter and hateful, Chloe smirked. Before she had me, Mom worked for him. She was his secretary. Back then, she was innocent like I was, she thought that love was a real thing. But, she LEARNED. Men DON’T love, it’s completely beyond their understanding. All they understand is having a wet HOLE they can fuck when the urge tickles them. That’s what love is, to them—a fucking hole.

Late into the night, Chloe had grudgingly unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out to discover Rebecca curled up cozy asleep on the floor in some sort of medieval camping bag or sleeping roll or something. Looking out at the girl now in the dim light of the hotel room, it appeared that part of Rebecca’s setup was a large fur of some kind, and Chloe’s expression soured. That better not be from a real living animal. No—in fact, I hope it is. Just another great reason to take her down a peg or two.

She’d taken the free bed, naturally, and after such a long and exhausting day of so many ordeals, Chloe’d been able to get some sleep. Now that she was awake again, Chloe eagerly thumbed through her phone to pull up the web page for the convention and see if anyone had replied to the heartfelt plea she’d sent out.

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