Read Online SVH11-Too Good To Be True by Francine Pascal - Free Book Online
Authors: Francine Pascal
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other people's private things; she could find out a lot about them that way. Some of the time it was even useful. Like that time she found that plastic bag of pot in her cousin Ruthie's jewelry box. Ruthie had cried and begged her not to tell--and Suzanne had kept her promise not to. Why should she? As long as she kept Ruthie's secret, she had the perfect slave. Poor scared Ruthie would do anything to keep her parents from finding out.
The contents of Mr. Collins's bedroom, however, proved mostly disappointing. She'd been unable to unearth even a Playboy magazine. The only things she'd learned were that he liked to dress casually, favoring cords and lightweight sport jackets rather than conservative suits, and
that he was extremely fond of his son, judging from the number of photographs of Teddy she saw lying around. How boring. Well, maybe he wasn't so boring under the surface. She intended to find out.
She could hear the TV going in the other room. Good. The little brat had found something to do besides bug her. She decided to take a bath. Maybe Mr. Collins would come home early and find her in the tub, just like in the movies. Boy, would he be embarrassed. She giggled at the thought. Arranging her hair on top of her head, she examined herself in the mirror as if posing for a bath oil commercial. Yes. Definitely sexy.
By the time she'd finished taking a leisurely bath and had gotten dressed, it was past eleven. She found Teddy asleep in front of the TV. His face looked red and blotchy as if he'd been crying. Never mind. She'd tell Mr. Collins that Teddy had fallen asleep before she could put him to bed and that she hadn't had the heart to wake him up. He'd never know the difference.
Suzanne prowled around the house, switching off all the lights except for one low table lamp in the living room. She found a station on the radio that played soft, romantic music. For good measure she undid another button on her blouse and curled up on the couch to wait.
Mr. Collins arrived home shortly before twelve-thirty. Suzanne closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She could hear the leathery squeak of his shoes as he approached.
"Suzanne. Wake up," his voice urged.
She continued to play dead.
He bent closer. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. This time he shook her gently by the shoulder.
Suzanne let her eyelids flutter open in frightened surprise. She sat up with a gasp. "Oh, Mr. Collins, it's you! I didn't hear you come in. I must have fallen asleep. You nearly scared me to death. Just feel how my heart is beating!"
She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her chest. Mr. Collins flushed as he pulled away.
" It's late," he said. "I'd better take you home now. I don't want the Wakefields to worry."
"They won't be worried. They know where I am." She stretched sleepily, arching her back so that her chest strained against the few closed buttons of her blouse. "Aren't you at least going to offer me something to drink? I wouldn't mind a glass of wine."
"You're too young to drink," Mr. Collins stated flatly.
She laughed. "Oh, don't be so old-fashioned. My parents let me drink all the time. I'm not
going to turn into an alcoholic or anything if that's what you're worried about."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
"Then what are you worried about?" she said silkily. With lazy, catlike grace, Suzanne rose from the couch and wound her arms about his neck. She could feel his muscles tensing as she pressed up against him. She knew the effect she was having on him, and it gave her a heady rush of power.
"Suzanne, stop it." Mr. Collins's voice was low with warning.
"I know what's bothering you," she murmured. "Why don't you relax. I'm a big girl. And I'm not the type to kiss and tell."
She parted her lips and tilted her head back, willing him to embrace her. He was so close, she could tell. His heart was beating too quickly, much too quickly....
"Oh, Roger ..."
Trembling with the effort, Mr. Collins
The contents of Mr. Collins's bedroom, however, proved mostly disappointing. She'd been unable to unearth even a Playboy magazine. The only things she'd learned were that he liked to dress casually, favoring cords and lightweight sport jackets rather than conservative suits, and
that he was extremely fond of his son, judging from the number of photographs of Teddy she saw lying around. How boring. Well, maybe he wasn't so boring under the surface. She intended to find out.
She could hear the TV going in the other room. Good. The little brat had found something to do besides bug her. She decided to take a bath. Maybe Mr. Collins would come home early and find her in the tub, just like in the movies. Boy, would he be embarrassed. She giggled at the thought. Arranging her hair on top of her head, she examined herself in the mirror as if posing for a bath oil commercial. Yes. Definitely sexy.
By the time she'd finished taking a leisurely bath and had gotten dressed, it was past eleven. She found Teddy asleep in front of the TV. His face looked red and blotchy as if he'd been crying. Never mind. She'd tell Mr. Collins that Teddy had fallen asleep before she could put him to bed and that she hadn't had the heart to wake him up. He'd never know the difference.
Suzanne prowled around the house, switching off all the lights except for one low table lamp in the living room. She found a station on the radio that played soft, romantic music. For good measure she undid another button on her blouse and curled up on the couch to wait.
Mr. Collins arrived home shortly before twelve-thirty. Suzanne closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She could hear the leathery squeak of his shoes as he approached.
"Suzanne. Wake up," his voice urged.
She continued to play dead.
He bent closer. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. This time he shook her gently by the shoulder.
Suzanne let her eyelids flutter open in frightened surprise. She sat up with a gasp. "Oh, Mr. Collins, it's you! I didn't hear you come in. I must have fallen asleep. You nearly scared me to death. Just feel how my heart is beating!"
She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her chest. Mr. Collins flushed as he pulled away.
" It's late," he said. "I'd better take you home now. I don't want the Wakefields to worry."
"They won't be worried. They know where I am." She stretched sleepily, arching her back so that her chest strained against the few closed buttons of her blouse. "Aren't you at least going to offer me something to drink? I wouldn't mind a glass of wine."
"You're too young to drink," Mr. Collins stated flatly.
She laughed. "Oh, don't be so old-fashioned. My parents let me drink all the time. I'm not
going to turn into an alcoholic or anything if that's what you're worried about."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
"Then what are you worried about?" she said silkily. With lazy, catlike grace, Suzanne rose from the couch and wound her arms about his neck. She could feel his muscles tensing as she pressed up against him. She knew the effect she was having on him, and it gave her a heady rush of power.
"Suzanne, stop it." Mr. Collins's voice was low with warning.
"I know what's bothering you," she murmured. "Why don't you relax. I'm a big girl. And I'm not the type to kiss and tell."
She parted her lips and tilted her head back, willing him to embrace her. He was so close, she could tell. His heart was beating too quickly, much too quickly....
"Oh, Roger ..."
Trembling with the effort, Mr. Collins
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