Ginger Fox Part 2

“Oh, shit!” I whisper amidst the laughter I’m trying to suppress.
It could be Lira, the quiet maid. I had seen some glances between her and the gardener. Or maybe that jerk Bob brought some girl over. It’s definitely not old lady Charlote, as by this time she’d be passed out from the bottle of vodka she drank, as usual. Baby had already left; I heard the sound of her car leaving before I entered the library. There’s still a tiny chance it could be Mr. and Mrs. Roy, which is almost impossible. The sound increases with the impact of bodies. Anyone listening might swear there’s an applause-like greeting, yet I’m excited to be an intruder witnessing someone’s intimate moment.
“That’s it, you bitch, swallow it all, just how you like it!” My eyes roll spontaneously when I hear Bob’s frantic voice.
Even when it comes to sex, the guy is a big idiot with crappy lines. My shoulders slump in dismay as I turn on my heels to leave. The loud thud on the frosted window makes me look over, seeing the silhouette of the naked woman, her back pressed against the glass. He holds her by the waist, lifting her body, leaving only the shadows’ contours against the window.
“Deeper, deeper…” I don’t roll my eyes this time when I hear the woman’s voice, but I’m in shock.
That’s Mrs. Lorane’s voice. The moans of a choking seal come from Mr. Roy’s wife, Bob’s cousin. Still disoriented, I take two steps back, pressing my body against the wall on the other side of the hallway. Bringing my fingers to my mouth, I’m incredulous that the intimate moment I’m spying on is Lorane having sex with her own cousin, the same man I suspect is molesting Jon. My heart races, feeling lost and confused. I want to disappear, I wish I had really gone up the damn stairs. I’m terrible at keeping secrets; I know that from now on, every time I look at her and Bob, the first thing that will come to mind is this moment. Do Mr. Roy, Baby, or Aunt Charlote know this is happening in their house? The lovers move away from the window, making a noise as they go to the other side. I seize this second, moving my body to leave, but I don’t even take three steps before colliding with the hard chest standing in the middle of the hallway. The light coming from the open room touches his face, revealing his serene and calm expression, looking at me with curiosity. He brings a bundle of keys to his pants pocket, extending his hands in front of his body.
“Mr. Roy.” My trembling voice comes out as weak as my legs feel at the moment. “I... I…”
The sound of the moans grows again, causing him to look over my head. Trying to spare him from that view, my fingers press against his chest, holding them between his shirt.
“YES! OH MY GOD!” His wife’s voice screams loudly.
I close my eyes, feeling pity for him. I shake my head in distress, opening my eyes and gripping his chest even tighter. His face turns in surprise to me, resting his eyes on my fingers and touching them. It’s the first time I see a look of confusion on the face of the stern man.
“You don’t need to go there…” I try to somehow come up with a decent sentence that might spare him from the betrayal, but I don’t even know what to think.
“It’s late for night strolls, don’t you think, Miss Fox?” He moves slowly, raising his hand from my fingers and removing them from his body.
I blink, confused. I don’t understand how he can be so calm. He just heard his wife’s voice amidst the moans, begging to be fucked hard. He still has my fingers held between his, looking at my hand, which blends with the white color of his skin. I look at the open door of the room where he’s standing at the entrance. I notice he’s close to the conservatory. He’s been here the whole time, not driven by curiosity through the hallways like me. Mr. Roy was in the room next to where his wife is having sex.
“You knew.” It’s not a question. I’m stating this more to myself than to him. His reaction is so apathetic and devoid of emotion, still with his eyes fixed on my fingers, as if the color of the light pink nail polish were more important than the sex in the room next door.
“What?” He tilts his head, staring at me, letting the irony be explicit in his voice. “That my lovely wife is fucking young Bob?”
His mouth forms what is supposed to be a smile. If you asked me if cynicism had a face, I would certainly say it’s Mr. Roy’s at this moment. As cold and static as a steel safe.
“God!” I pull my fingers away, distancing myself from his touch, not knowing what my reaction should be. I don’t think there’s a correct reaction for these moments.
“Come on!” His hand is already on my shoulder, pushing me toward the open door. I have no way to escape his touch or refuse his order because it’s not a request.
“How long have you known about this?” The sound of the door locking behind me doesn’t go unnoticed as I survey the place. My eyes quickly take in the tiny room, which could be smaller than a closet, with no windows, only ventilation tube openings in the ceiling.
I’ve never been here before. Even if I spent a week snooping around every door, I would never have known this place. Gardening tools are neatly arranged in the corner. There’s a small rack with Robert the gardener’s uniform hanging, and on the other side, a two-door cabinet. It takes no more than five steps to walk across the small room. Mr. Roy’s large body completely dominates the space, making me look at him when I turn.