Chaelisa | Lisa G!P
Lisa Manoban lives life the way she wants, no concern for the opinion of others. She cares for no one, is completely unrepentant, and she has no desire to change her ways.
Roseanne Park works under Lisa as her PA. She despises he...
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I had trouble sleeping again, so I tiptoed down the hall, pushing open Lisa's door. Tonight, she was on her stomach, one arm wrapped around her pillow, the other one hanging off the edge of her massive bed. She was still snoring— her low hum I needed to hear.
I studied her face in the dim light. I traced my lips with my finger, still shocked at the fact she had kissed me, held me in her arms, and we danced. I knew it was all part of his grand scheme, but there were moments, glimpses, of a different woman than I was used to seeing. The flash of a smile, a twinkle in her eye, even a kind word—they had all caught me off-guard tonight. I wished she allowed that part of herself out more, but she kept her emotions—the positive ones— locked away. I had already figured that out. I knew if I said anything, she would lock herself down even more. So, I remained silent—at least for now. I had to admit though, kissing her hadn’t been bad at all. Considering the venom her mouth could produce, her lips were warm, soft, and full, and her touch gentle.
She groaned and rolled over, taking the blankets with her, her long, lean torso now exposed. I swallowed, partially in guilt for staring at her, partially in wonder. She was a beautiful woman—at least on the outside. She muttered something incoherent, and I moved back, leaving the door ajar, scuttling back to my own room.
She might have been a little more pleasant at times this evening, but I doubted she would react well to me staring at her while she slept.
Still, her quiet rumbles helped me to drift off into a peaceful slumber.
---
I left the condo early and went to visit Penny. She was wideawake and in a good mood. She knew me today, tweaked my nose, and we talked and laughed until she fell asleep. I sipped my coffee while she napped, looking at some of her little pieces she’d been painting. I chose one I liked in particular of some wild flowers, and was admiring it when she stirred. She watched me, then rolled her chair over, holding out her hand for the painting.
“I like this one.” I smiled. “It reminds me of when we’d go and pick flowers in the summer.”
She nodded, looking distracted. “You’ll have to ask my daughter if it’s for sale. I’m not sure where she is.”
My breath caught in my throat. She was gone again. The moments of clarity were getting further and further apart, and I knew better than to upset her.
“Perhaps I can take it and go find her.”
She reached for her paintbrush, turning for her easel. “You can try. She may be at school. My Rosie is a busy girl.”
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Johnson.”
She gestured toward the door, dismissing me. I left the room, clutching her painting, stifling the tears. She didn’t know me, yet deep in her heart, she still thought of me as her daughter. The same way I thought of her as my family.
