Little Liana Stroking Her Pussy

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My Daughter’s Friends: Brooke

Disclaimer: This is a story of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone, anything or any other story is purely coincidence.

Warming: Includes nudity, sexual situations, teen drinking and foul language.

All characters are of an adult age.

Part 1: My Daughter’s Friends

Even at a firm that was going under, no twelve hour work day ever drained me enough to ignore the sexual magnetism awaiting me at home. On some days, if I felt I had too much energy at lunch, I swung by the LA Fitness. But even a lift in the middle of a stressful work day wasn’t enough. It was terrifying. I could come home exhausted, half asleep and pretty much in bed, but if my daughter’s friends were over and I caught so much as a passing glance, an accidental touch, or a fleeting waft of their perfumes, I would snap awake.

Worst of all, I feared this year would break me.

I rolled my Impala into the driveway at about 7:46pm and through the open windows, caught the scent of my neighbor’s fresh cut grass and the sounds of their kids playing nearby. As much as that would’ve relaxed most people, I only clutched the steering wheel until the leather squeaked.

Outside, the humid air was alive with birds perched in the newly budded elms trees. The sun, not yet hidden in the weeping willows behind my two story, ticky-tacky of a box house, casted the cul-de-sac in a yellow tint which made the grass, already green from the April rains, pop. This, on top of that for the first time this season the temperature was over eighty –hell, today it was ninety two– made the one fact undeniable. Spring was hinting of summer.

This meant two things: My daughter’s friends would be over much more and their clothing would be much less.

Taking another breath, I turned off the car and looked around in an attempt to gather myself.

Parked in front of me was Aubrey’s pink Corolla. Along the curb behind me though, sat two other cars. A blue Cobalt and a white Jetta. The Cobalt was Sophia’s but the Jetta I’d never seen before.

Maybe Alexis got a new car, I thought as I loosened my tie and put my briefcase on my lap. Or maybe it was Katee’s. “Damn.” I then said aloud. Sophia, Alexis, Katee. My daughter had quite the entourage.

There were five or six of them in their group and despite their range in traits and talents, they were all gorgeous, fit and far too shapely for high school girls. It made me grimace. At least I could take solace in not lying to my daughter when I called her my beautiful girl. With friends like she had, she must’ve been beautiful. After all, she wasn’t the fat one in the group because there wasn’t a fat one. So unless she was the ugly one, which I doubted since she got her mother’s soft face, wavy chestnut hair and button nose, she must’ve been beautiful.

Aubrey was a bit of a Jill-of-all-trades too. Good at a lot of things. Great at nothing. I liked to think she got that from me. See, much like her father, she would always try things at least once. This adventurous nature of hers, which as far as I knew, hadn’t shifted to boys yet, put her in several sports and it was through these school activities that she built her clique. A clique that seemed more like an elite club.

It was odd. By my guess, there were three rules to get into this club. One, you had to be in their class. They never considered girls from higher or lower grades. Two, you had to be the best at something athletic. And three, that something couldn’t conflict with any other girl. Meaning, they never had two girls in the same sport.

That made sense. They likely didn’t want their competiveness to tear them apart. Luckily, they didn’t seem to compete with looks. Then again, being attractive might’ve been the fourth rule.

With my palms clammy, I got out of the car, swallowed the burn in my throat and began towards the front door. After a couple seconds, I found myself at the top of the three step stoop with my hand on the doorknob, but my body motionless, unable to start my Wednesday evening.

Ever since Aubrey hit high school, I’ve had this problem. To be honest, my lust for my daughter’s friends disgusted me. But because I worked so often and the girls hardly came over in the winter months, it wasn’t like I watched them grow up. All I got was blips of them maturing. And damn, they matured nicely.

Unfortunately, even though the girls were all seniors, barely legal still made me feel like a pedophile.

Part 2: White Jetta Girl

Once I got in and closed the door behind me, I turned around to start up the half-set of steps to the first floor, hoping whomever Aubrey had over was down in her room. However, when I looked up the staircase, my hopes crumbled.

“Oh, hey, Mr. Erickson,” Sophia said, sitting on the top step with her dancer legs spread wide. Between them, inside her jean skirt, her green thong peeked at me. “Welcome home.”

I almost shivered.

Sophia was my favorite. From her star-burst-blue eyes to her chipmunk cheeks, she always radiated such innocence. And such seduction. Beneath a mop of dirty blonde hair, the length of which draped her shoulders, her lightly freckled face boasted her age, recently eighteen. But neck down, her petite frame had the womanly features of a spunky college girl. She flaunted them too. Most of time that meant short skirts and a low-cut shirt. Now was no different.

Leaning back on her arms, she crossed her legs and arched her spine.

“Hello, Ms. Harrington,” I said, forced to look to the tile floor as I slipped off my shoes. “How was your day today?”

“Good, we won our final game.”

I smiled. “Congratulations.”

Sophia was the star player on the school’s Volleyball team. She may have been short but her small size made her quick and she was always willing to get on her knees… To stop a spike.

“Thanks,” she said, uncrossing her legs, which flashed me her thong again, then standing up and brushing herself off. “And don’t call me Ms. Harrington.”

“But I like your last name.”

“Whatever.” She beamed her chipmunk smile at me again then spun around and with her knees locks, bent over to pick something up off the carpet. “Aubrey’s in her room by the way,” she said, still bent, fumbling with a pencil on the floor. “I guess she forgot her calculator today and we kind of need it to study.”

From low and behind her, I couldn’t help but stare, privy to the most scandalous view of her slender calves, her tight thighs and her jean skirt now pulled so taut it revealed the bottom contours of her ass.

I shuddered then cleared my throat. “Well, did you need any help?”

“That’d be great.” She giggled as she rose from her bend. “It’s really hard.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

While she skipped ahead into the kitchen, I scaled the steps, followed her and, in an attempt to ignore her strut, searched around the first floor for my daughter’s fluffy, buff cat, Furric.

Initially, I checked the living room to my right. But although the loveseat’s back cushion was indented by one of Furric’s many naps, the couch, the big screen TV and the array of windows along the wall were all catless. Secondly, I eyed the kitchen and dining room area in front of me. But again, no sign of the fur ball.

“What are you looking for?” Sophia interrupted, now seated at my daughter’s favorite study spot, the kitchen island.

“Furric,” I answered, lastly glancing left down the hallway where all three doors were shut. Which was strange. The laundry room and the cat room were usually shut but the bathroom wasn’t.

“I think he went downstairs,” Sophia said. “Why?”

“No reason.” I shrugged.

In the next moment, I tried to focus past the Blonde Fox and look outside through the sliding glass door. But before I could see the patio, Sophia crossed her legs then propped her elbow on the island. And really, that was all it took.

Poised on the barstool, she rested her head on her palm and twirled her mop of hair in her fingers. Behind her, the setting sun broke in through the screen door and enveloped her figure in gold.

“I’m sure he’ll show up.” She laughed. “Now are you going to help? Like I said it’s really hard.”

I winced. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Because I didn’t want to be alone with her for long, I bought some time for myself and walked to the fridge first. As I made the couple step trip, I glanced to the girls’ school work scattered about the granite-topped island. There, three notebooks, three blue Powerades and three math books opened to the same page sat in clusters, organized for three girls. Sophia was the farthest down. Telling by the handwriting, my daughter was in the middle and by the process of elimination, the right-most cluster belonged to white Jetta girl.
At the fridge, I grabbed a Diet Sprite, cracked it open and took a sip.

“How are you going to help me from over there?” Sophia asked.

“Well, what’s the problem?”

“How about you take a look for yourself.” She smiled at me.

After another sip, I figured I was out of time so I set my drink and my briefcase on the counter. Then, with Sophia’s sparking eyes ever watchful, I circled around the island and, in hopes to keep her back to me, posted up behind her. However, once I leaned over to look at her book, she swiveled to me and tossed her blonde mop to her other side, dowsing my nostrils with a waft of her mango shampoo.

“It’s number 37,” she said.

Despite her finger tapping below the problem, plenty to direct most men’s attention, I couldn’t keep my eyes from plunging down her T-shirt where a white, lacy bra kept her full breasts cozy.

“Hey Dad.” Aubrey then shouted from the staircase. “When did you get home?”

At once, I jerked my gaze up. “A couple minutes ago,” I blurted. “How was your day, Sweetie?”

“It was okay,” she answered, brushing a lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear as she approached us. “But Mr. Peterson decided to give us our final on Friday.”

“It’s so stupid,” Sophia added. “He didn’t even give us our study guide until today. That’s two days to study. How is that fair?”

“I know,” Aubrey said.

While my heart pounded, my daughter sat down beside her friend, placed her calculator between them and looked to her work.

“It’s whatever,” she said. “I’m sure it won’t be that tough.”

“Probably not for you,” Sophia said back.

It seemed I was in the clear. Saved by my daughter. And that wasn’t the first time. In fact, ever since the girls were sophomores, I’ve needed saving. Of course, it didn’t help that Aubrey was the smart one in the group and every year around finals the girls would gather here to study.

But what else was I to do? I wasn’t about to tell my daughter she couldn’t have her friends over. Plus, I wasn’t sure how fragile their relationships were and since she was the only one with a pool and a hot tub at her house, not to mention a basement entirely to herself, I figured not letting them over would hurt her far more than it would help me.

Perhaps she could’ve maintained her friendships with her bubbliness though. She got that from her mother. Come to think of it, she got almost everything from her mother. Besides her wavy hair and button nose, she also got her thin figure. Not to say her mother didn’t have curves, but up top, Renee left a little to be desired. At least, Aubrey dressed more conservatively, which, like her dark eyes and her naturally tan, she got from me.

“So, are you going to help me?” Sophia asked, batting her lashes. “I’m still on 37 here.”

“Right,” I mumbled.

Just then the bathroom door clicked open.

“Oh my god,” a gentle voice rose from down the hallway. “What was I thinking this morning? I look like a total slut in this.”

The three of us looked up.

White Jetta girl? I thought. The voice didn’t sound familiar.

“Um, Brooke?” Aubrey tried to call after her.

Brooke? That name didn’t sound familiar.

“Seriously,” the girl continued with a slightest hint of an oriental accent. “This tank top just screams, look at my boobs.”

In that instant, and with the body of a busty ballerina, white Jetta girl walked into the kitchen. Dressed in black jean shorts and a matching spaghetti-strap tank top, she then stopped with her head down, her hands interlinked in front of her and her elbows locked, squeezing her breasts together like two fully filled balloons.

My heartrate spiked.

Perhaps, if her dark hair wasn’t plumed high in a ponytail, it might’ve partially veiled her bursting cleavage. But luckily, the tips of her hair only kissed her cheek.

“Doesn’t it?” she asked.

“Brooke!” Aubrey yelled.

Part 3: Humiliation

When Brooke looked up, it was as if the life fled from her. Her deep-brown eyes shot wide, her bosomy lips parted and her buttermilk complexion, graced by the most sculpted of cheekbones, went pale. She even gasped. Then the room got silent, cold almost. At least to Brooke, who, despite the warm breeze through the screen door, began to tremble in her pinup pose.

For moments, we just stared at each other, her eyes starting to tear, my eyes starting to water.

Wow, I nearly whispered. An Asian girl.

Aubrey had never befriended an Asian girl before.

But to be honest, to call her a ‘girl’ was a little disrespectful. On the one hand, her small, turned up nose made her look young. But on the other, her figure was… Simply immaculate. So slender, yet so curvaceous.

“Brooke…” Aubrey broke in.

Snapping to, Brooke folded her arms across her chest as if to hide herself. The jounce, however, lifted up the hem of her tank top enough to expose her naval piercing, her hipbones and the sleek lines of her toned abdomen, which V’ed into her shorts.

At that time, I realized I hadn’t taken a breath since this Asian Goddess walked in.

“Brooke?” Aubrey called again, her voice shaky. “This is my Dad.”

With a polite gesture, my daughter introduced me. But nevertheless, I couldn’t find the words.

“Awkward,” Sophia giggled under her breath.

“Dad?” Aubrey continued anyway, gesturing towards her friend. “This is Brooke.”

Brooke’s face flushed red. And still, neither of us said anything.

How mortifying, I thought. Here was a girl who was likely so use to stopping men dead in their tracks that she had no idea what to do when she was stopped dead in hers.

I tried to speak, a couple times actually, but nothing came. It wasn’t until another warm breeze, scented of barbeque ribs, swept in through the screen door that I finally tore from my trance. But what was I to say?

Looking across Aubrey’s work to Brooke’s, I scanned her notebook and found she was on problem 39. The page was empty besides that, newly turned, so I couldn’t tell on the other problems.

“Did you get 37?” I asked her while my eyes stayed down. “I see you’re on 39.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Sophia asked me about it.” I kept on. “It looks like a couple chain rules wrapped up in a quotient rule.”

Again, she stayed silent.

“Wait,” Sophie spoke up. “What?” To check the problem herself, the Blonde then leaned forward and draped her bristly hair, along with her sultry breath, across my hand.

“I didn’t see the chain rules,” Aubrey chimed in, now leant over her book as well. “Thanks dad!”

“I didn’t see them either.” Sophia added, leaning back and gazing up at me with a smile, her arms crossed in front of her like Brooke’s were. “Thanks, Mr. Erickson.”

I jerked away, unable to handle Ms. Harrington’s freckles. “You’re welcome,” I said as I stepped to the screen door and slid my hands into my pockets to try to hide the growing bulge. “Make sure you check the denominator too. It looks like a product rule.”

“Gees,” Sophia said. “That’s a big problem.”

“Yeah,” Aubrey mumbled. “Did you get that one already, Brooke?”

I winced. Although I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t that I expected her to respond to that segue as much as I figured it only made her more uncomfortable. Then again, from where I stood, I couldn’t see her, so maybe she did respond with a nod or a head shake. Regardless, I had my own issues to worry about.

Breathing in the chlorine, I looked out to the backyard where just beyond the patio, the pool shimmered in the oranges of the setting sun. Surrounded by an eight-foot tall cedar fence and sheltered by two weeping willows at the corners, the backyard was not just private, it was also scenic. Jeff, my ex-brother-in-law, did a fantastic job. He even built a forestry-like fountain along the left side beside the diving board. And the way he stowed the hot tub under the patio, easily accessible from the sliding glass door in the basement, really balanced the whole area.

While I admired his work, the bulge in my work pants subsided. As I hoped.

“Hey Dad,” Aubrey said a moment later, “I’ll holler for you if we need anything else.”

“Yeah, of course,” I said. “I’ll be upstairs.”

In hopes to not make the situation any more awkward, I rounded the island, grab my briefcase and circle back. All on the opposite side of Brooke. However, after I passed by my daughter and gave her a kiss on the top of her head, it was as if I couldn’t help myself and, instead of exiting in silence like I should have, I nodded to the gorgeous Asian statue. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Dad,” Aubrey yipped.

“Right,” I said back, not wasting another second before crossing the living room, climbing the steps and starting towards my room at the end of the hallway.

Part 4: Eavesdropper

Furnished with only a dresser, an office desk and a king-size bed with a headboard opposite the wall-mounted entertainment center, the master bedroom was my fortress of solitude and boasted plenty of open space. I kept it like that because inside the walk-in closet, a set of dumbbells sat ready for me to bring out if I didn’t make it to the gym that day.

In the past, Renee had told me the room felt desolate, but I liked the openness. When the bay window curtains were drawn, the white wall, white carpet combination best caught the setting sun. Like it did now.

It was relaxing. At least, for a moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me your dad was home?” Brooke yelled, her voice resounding through the air conditioning vents in the floor.

Again, I winced. Unfortunately, my bedroom was right above the kitchen. Granted, I could’ve drowned them out with some music like I usually did, but this time, curiosity got the best of me and, poised in the middle of the room, I started to change out of my work clothes as quietly as I could.

“I’m sorry,” Aubrey started. “He just got home.”

“Oh, who cares,” Sophia said. “It’s just Mr. Erickson.”

“How embarrassing,” Brooke whined.

How embarrassing was right. I tossed my suitcoat on the bed. What a horrible first impression.

“Relax,” Sophia said. “It’s not like he saw your boobs.”

“So,” Brooke said. “He saw enough!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Sophia laughed. “I’m sure you loved it.”

“Excuse me?”

At that point, I paused, my fingers on the bottom button in my undershirt.

“I said I’m sure you loved it.”

“Why would you think that?” Brooke asked.

“Oh, come on,” Sophia said. “Are you telling me you didn’t love those dark eyes just ogling you?”

Ogling? I popped my brow as I threw my shirt into the laundry basket.

“Sophia!” Aubrey interrupted.

“What?” Sophia said back. “I just want to know what Brooke thought of the attention.”

“From my dad?”

“Yes, from your dad.” Sophia giggled. “What? Are you telling me you don’t see it?”

“See what?” Aubrey asked.

“Seriously? Aubrey… Your dad’s hot as hell!”

“Whoa,” I said aloud, freezing again, now with my hands on my belt.

“Gross!” Aubrey shouted.

“Admit it, Brooke,” Sophia continued. “You liked the way he looked at you.”

Just then, the air conditioning kicked on. However, even while it hummed out cool air, the girls’ banter still echoed through the vents.

“Sophia, stop,” Aubrey said.

“Not until Brooke admits it.”

“I don’t want to argue.” Brooke’s gentle voice cut in between them.

“We’re not arguing,” Sophia said. “I just want to know if you like him.”

“Sophia!”

“What’s not to like though, right Brooke?” Sophia said, almost as if she was angry. “Tousled hair, chiseled jaw, clean shaven. Come on, he’s the definition of tall, dark and handsome!”

“That’s enough!” Aubrey yelled.

I shivered. But it wasn’t from the cold. Shamefully, I was enjoying their talk so much that when my pants fell to the carpet, they nearly caught on my shaft.

“And you should see him in his swim trunks!” the Blonde added.

“Sophia, stop!”

“So muscular!”

“That’s it!” Aubrey pounded her fists on the counter. “If you’re not going to listen to me, then we’re not having the party here. And that’s final!”

Part 5: Party?

Dressed in just boxers and socks with my belt in my hand and my pants at my ankles, I stood there, fighting back a chill, waiting for one of the girls to say something.

What party? I thought.

Over the last couple years Aubrey had hosted many little sleep overs and what not, but never had she used them for leverage. What made this one special?

“But…” Sophia broke the silence. “Really? Like, totally off? But we’ve been planning it for weeks.”

“So?” Aubrey said back. “You can’t keep your mouth shut. Besides, after what happened, I doubt Brooke wants it here anymore anyway.”

It was Brooke’s party? I furled my brow. That was a new one.

With a shiver, I then flicked my work pants over to the laundry basket and walked to the head of my bed where I sat down, sinking into the Tempurpedic mattress with the vent at my feet. It might’ve been chilly to let the air blow up my legs, but this was the best spot to hear them and I figured I needed the cold.

“Actually,” Brooke spoke up a moment later. “I still want it here. At my house, my parents only let me have like two friends stay the night. You said we could get more over here.”

“Way more,” Sophia said. “Our record’s like ten.”

I chuckled. I remembered that night; it was two years ago during the Fourth of July weekend. What a circus.

“Sophia,” Aubrey interrupted. “What makes you think if we did hold the party here, you’d still be invited?”

“What?” she stuttered. “But, I’m your best friend.”

“So? How do I know you don’t just like me for my dad?”
I cringed.

“I don’t,” Sophia said. “I was just kidding.”

“Really?” Aubrey asked, her tone so sarcastic she reminded me of her mother.

“Yeah… I was just teasing.”

“Were you really?”

“I swear.”

In the next moment, the room got quiet. Probably because Aubrey narrowed her eyes. That usually shut everyone up.

“You promise you didn’t mean it?”

“Yes, I promise. I was just kidding, Aubrey. Please.”

Once more, the room got quiet. It seemed my daughter really wanted to make her friend suffer. Part of me cared too. I wanted to know about this party.

“Fine,” Aubrey finally said. “You’re still invited. But I don’t want to hear any more about my dad, okay?”

“Okay,” Sophia repeated.

“Good… Now, I’ll ask tonight and I’ll let you know tomorrow morning how many I can have over. Sound good?”

“Thanks Aubrey.”

“Hold on.” Brooke chimed in. “You haven’t asked your dad yet? Isn’t that a little short notice?”

“It’ll be fine,” Aubrey said. “I’ll ask him after he goes to bed.”

“Wait.” Brooke paused. “Why then?”

“Cuz that’s when her dad’s a zombie,” Sophia blurted out with a laugh.

Surprisingly, Aubrey laughed as well. That made me more confused than the comment. Weren’t they just fighting? I supposed that was how teenage girls were though. Livid with each other one minute, giggle buddies the next.

“A zombie?” Brooke asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Aubrey said after she finished snickering. “Whenever I want something from my dad, I wake him up and ask him right after he goes to bed. That way, he’s so tired he just kind of grumbles ‘yes.’ Like a zombie. Then I make him promise. If he doesn’t remember in the morning, I just use my best puppy-dog eyes and say, ‘but you promised.'”

That little sneak! I sat up and folded my arms.

“Last weekend,” Sophia added. “I even tried it for myself. Well I was going to but I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Why not?” Brooke asked, her accent barely heard through the air conditioner’s hum.

“Well,” she started. “When I got to his room and cracked the door open, you know, just to peek inside, he was like, on his back and, um… Pitching this huge tent.”

“Sophia!” Aubrey shouted. “That’s what happened?”

My face flushed red. Yet the blood rushed to more than just my cheeks.

“I didn’t see anything.” Sophia snickered. “Other than the size.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“How big was it?” Brooke asked.

“Brooke!” Aubrey nearly screamed. “Not you too!”

“Holy shit,” I said, now in tingles.

“Both of you stop,” Aubrey demanded. “I mean it.”

The girls kept laughing.

“I’m serious!” she yelled above them. “No more about my dad! Just because I suggested having the party here doesn’t mean I won’t cancel it. I don’t care whose birthday it is.”

I jarred forward. Birthday?

“I’m serious…”

Although my daughter continued to lecture her friends, once I heard birthday, I solely focused on trying to recall the rest of her friends’ names. Sophia, Alexis, Katee and? Who were the others? Whose birthday could it have been? With Brooke, their entourage made six, or was it seven? Was I forgetting three girls?

While I tried to rack my brain, not long later, the answer I really cared about came to me. But it still took me a minute to comprehend. It was Brooke’s party. It was Brooke’s birthday. But that meant she wasn’t even eighteen.

Everything kind of blurred after that. I felt sick. Yet despite the upset stomach and the ringing in my ears, I couldn’t help but picture that Asian Goddess in her skimpy tank top, posed with her breasts pushed together.

I was a weak man.

Part 6: Zombie Dad

That night, I lied awake in bed, half to do this zombie dad thing lucid and the other half because I couldn’t fathom how a seventeen year old could have such sexual magnitude. As I waited, I stared up at the shadowy ceiling and listened to the waterfall noise pour from my sleep machine.

Well, I listened to it until about 10:23. At that time, Aubrey came tiptoeing up the hallway.

“Hey dad?” she whispered, knocking twice then pushing open my door and casting a thin streak of the hallway’s incandescence across the room.

“Yeah, Sweetie,” I said. Then I flinched. Zombie dad probably didn’t tack on endearments.

“Um…” She stopped in the doorframe, silhouetted in her night gown with her head down and her face hidden behind her long hair. “Do you remember Brooke?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I know you really didn’t get the chance to meet her but I was wondering… Since she transferred here in the middle of the school year, she didn’t really make any friends and since we’re all pretty much going to the U anyway, I was wondering, because her birthday’s on Saturday, could we maybe have her party here on Friday and kind of celebrate graduation too? That way, I can introduce her to everyone before we go to college.”

With a groan, I rolled away from her. I imagined Zombie dad would’ve acted like that. “How many girls?”

“Um… Seven.”

I flinched again. But luckily, my back was to her.

“Is that too many?” she asked in the silence. “I could maybe make it six.”

“No. Don’t do that.” I fidgeted. “Seven’s fine.”

“Really,” she said blandly, almost as if she expected more. Which wasn’t at all what I expected.

“Yeah. Seven’s fine,” I repeated.

“What about two more?”

My eyes popped open. I didn’t know she had nine friends who were close enough to spend the night. Just a couple hours ago I had trouble coming up with more than five.

“Nine?” I asked seconds later.

“Is that too many?”

In reality, it wasn’t. Like Sophia said, they had had more over in the past. But hell, I wasn’t about to let her have what she wanted without some sort of hardship. “So, nine girls?”

“Yes.”

“And what about boys?” I said, strangely a little sad that I had just rolled away from her. The blackout curtains were boring compared to how I waged she was fiddling her fingers. “Zero boys?”

She chuckled. “Yes, nine girls, zero boys. Does that mean I can have the party?”

Inhaling deep, I drew in the scent of the linens to let her sweat it out another couple moments. Obviously, I was going to let her have the party. After all, her intentions were good. “If you can promise me that, then yes. You can have your party.”

“Really?” she said. This time excited. “I can have nine?”

“Yes… You can have nine.”

“Thanks, daddy!” She squealed. “You’re the best!”

I smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too!” she told me. Although before she got to the word ‘too,’ my door clicked shut.

Part 7: Mistakes with Ms. Chang

The next morning flew by. Like Aubrey had laid out her scheme to her friends, she reminded me about the party at breakfast and I played dumb. I enjoyed reliving our talk from the night before. She played her part well too. Those puppy-dog eyes were killer. Also, she seemed equally ecstatic the second time she got me to say yes.

Unlike my morning, work crawled. At lunch, because of what the girls said about me, I had the energy to hit the LA Fitness like a gym rat but once I returned, the owner of the firm called me and told me I had to fire the accountants I had just hired weeks earlier. That drained me. Since tax season ended last month, the company couldn’t handle the extra employees and if we didn’t find a whale to manage soon, more would have to be fired. Nevertheless, I did what I could and got out of there at 6:56. First one in, last one out and always the bad guy. Sometimes I hated being the boss.

When I pulled into my driveway that evening though, I had put it all behind me and found I couldn’t keep my hands from tapping the steering wheel to some hip hop/pop mix on the radio. It was strange. Yesterday, I cringed at the sights, sounds and smells of spring. But today, I embraced them. However, all this excitement faded once I noticed Aubrey’s Corolla parked in the driveway. Alone.

Sadly, as empty as the outside of the house was, the inside was emptier. I waged my daughter was down in her room but I couldn’t hear anything. That wasn’t a big surprise, the house had thick walls and she wasn’t usually loud. No matter. With nothing else to do, I slipped off my shoes, climbed the steps to my room and changed into a T-shirt and sweats. Appropriate attire for an empty house. Or what I thought was an empty house.

That was my first mistake. It wasn’t empty.

A half hour later, my stomach growled and I went back downstairs. There, I found the kitchen island cluttered with homework and the fridge door wide open with a slender hand on the handle but the rest of the girl hidden behind it.

“There you are,” I said as I came off the last step. “How was your day today, Sweetie?”

That was my second mistake. It wasn’t Aubrey behind the door.

With a yelp, Brooke shot back from the fridge, her thick, dark hair draped around her bare shoulders like a blanket. “Mr. Erickson?”

I froze, poised half way between the staircase and the kitchen.

“I was just getting a drink,” she said.

From her toyish, bare feet, through her ballerina figure –now dressed in a more modest halter top and shorts– to her breathtaking Asian features, she looked angelic, shocked, but angelic.

“It’s fine,” I whispered, trying not to stare at how her body drank in the setting sunlight. Luckily the fridge door split her height-wise and hid her front. Unluckily, I still had an eyeful of the snake-like curves from her lower back to her ass. “Please,” I told her. “Make yourself at home, Ms.?”

“Chang,” she answered.

“Right.” I smiled. “Make yourself at home Ms. Chang.”

Although there was still an uneasiness through the room, she smiled politely at what was the closest thing we had to an introduction thus far. Of course, an instant later, she darted back behind the fridge door.

To give her space thereafter, I decided to hang back and just kind of stand there on my phone while she fiddled through her choices. Because I liked to keep a stocked assortment of juices and sodas, I figured she could be a while.

It wasn’t bad. Some seconds later, she emerged with a blue Powerade then circled back around the island and sat down at her work. As expected, the awkward silence followed. But still, I moseyed up to the fridge and poked my head in.

“So where are the rest of you?” I broke the quiet. Then I winced. There likely wasn’t an awkward silence. I probably was the only one who was awkward. Why would she have been? She was busy doing homework. That was my third mistake.

“Sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “Everyone’s downstairs.”

“Everyone?” I asked as I grabbed a Pink Lady from the fruit drawn.

“Sophia, Alexis and Katee.”

“Wow,” I said, stepping back from the fridge, shutting the door behind me and facing her. Stupidly, I then crunched into the apple and said the next thing with my mouth full. Fourth mistake. “Where’re all your cars?”

“Excuse me?” She laughed a bit, her focus still on her book.

“Sorry.” I swallowed the bite. “Where are all your cars?”

“We piled in Aubrey’s.”

“Really?” I shifted my weight to one foot. “Very conservationist of you.”

“I guess.” She laughed again.

That was my fifth mistake. A dumb joke. I might’ve even said it wrong.

Too red-faced to follow up something like that –besides, she didn’t really leave it open–, I twisted around and began to sieve through the cupboards for something of more sustenance.

“So,” I said a minute later, which nearly made me grimace again. Apparently, I couldn’t resist filling the silence with chatter. Or maybe I couldn’t resist talking to this Goddess. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Before I continued, I spotted a lemon PowerBar on the top shelf, grabbed it and turned around. “Do you play any sports?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, her head still down.

I cleared my throat then leaned against the countertop. “I was just curious if you’re in anything. Like basketball?”

Basketball? That might’ve been a stupid guess but basketball was the only sport I could think of that none of Aubrey’s friends were good at. I couldn’t see her playing but she was tall enough to maybe be point guard.
“No,” she answered with a chuckle. “I don’t really like basketball.”

“I see.” I peeled the wrapper off the bar then took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “I ask because I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but this little entourage you’re a part of with my daughter is pretty exclusive.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, still with her eyes on her work.

“Yeah… I don’t mean for that to sound like you should feel honored or anything. Because, trust me, I’m sure they’re honored to have you.” Damn, the more I spoke the more I hated how I sounded. “But, it just seems like every one of Aubrey’s friends is really good at something. I mean, look at the girls who are over now. Sophia’s amazing at Volleyball. Alexis is a phenomenal swimmer. And Katee’s our soccer star.”

“Oh.” She finally looked up at me, batting her mascara-swept lashes. “I guess I never thought about it. But if that is the case, in the fall I cheerlead and in the spring I’m on the dance team.”

“Really?” I took another bite of my bar. “I bet you’re really good at both.”

“I don’t know about that. My true passion was gymnastics though.”

“Was?” I cocked my head. “Did the school not have it? Or, did you get hurt?”

“No,” she said. “I just kind of grew too old for it.” She looked back down at her notebook and hid in her hair again.

“Too old?” I laughed a bit. Like an idiot. Somehow being around this girl turned me into a complete tool. “How old are you?”

“Old enough I guess.”

Then it hit me. And my stomach curdled. Old didn’t mean old. Old meant womanly! How it even took me that long to read between the lines was beyond me. One look at her and I should’ve known she was too curvy for gymnastics. That was my sixth mistake.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“It’s fine.” She shrugged it off. “But hey, do you know related rates? I’ve been stuck for a while and it’s the only thing I don’t get from this semester. Aubrey said I could go to you if I had any questions.”

Really, I almost said aloud, surprised my daughter would say anything like that. She usually didn’t like giving me any more work, even if it was just helping her or her friends. Not that I minded. “Yeah, I’d love to help,” I said. “What do you need?”

Before she could answer, I popped off the counter and started around the island. Not so much as a blink later, I was posted up on her left so close my shirt nuzzled her shoulder. For a moment, I thought to retreat. And I really should have. But then my senses sort of awakened to her. At this distance, Brooke was heavenly. It was as if her shallow breath was a song, her body’s warmth a comforter and her aroma, a mixture of kiwi conditioner and lily perfume, a shot of scotch.

“So, it’s problem 15 here,” she said, flipping her hair to her other side and gifting me a bird’s eye view of her cheekbones. “A right-triangular tank is being filled at a rate of…”

While she read the problem, I couldn’t help but indulge myself with another breath of her intoxicating fragrance. Unbelievably, even her accent was sexy.

“So yeah,” she said when she finished the paragraph. “I think I can do it. But I just don’t know where to start.”

“I see,” I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes and leaned in further. “Well first off, don’t feel bad. These are usually really tough for people. Second off, let’s just start at the beginning. Write down what you know, then write down what they asked for.”

The next part passed ungracefully to say the least. I flubbed a few parts here and there but I blamed that on her. She kept looking up at me. Those damn brown eyes. In spite of all of this though, including what happened yesterday, over the ten minutes it took me to explain the process, I felt I did a decent job. It seemed like she got it by the end.

“Can I try the next one?” she asked when I finished the lesson. “And you check it when I’m done?”

“Sure.” I smiled. That smile was more for me of course because now I got to hover over her for longer. “Remember, start with what you know then write down what they asked for.”

Nodding, she leaned forward and began on number seventeen.

During the next minute or so, I watched her too. Well, I managed to keep my attention plastered to her elegant handwriting for the first half of the problem at least. But after she breezed through that, my eyes started to wander.

It was harmless at first. However, once my focus scanned her halter-top and her ever-so-ladylike crossed legs, it ventured to the small of her back where, because of how she was leaned forward, her top had crept up a couple vertebra, revealing the hem of her jean shorts. As mild as that should’ve been, those jean shorts were frilled out just enough to expose the strap of her pink G-string.

I shuddered.

“Did I get it?” she interrupted.

Immediately, I jerked my eyes back to her notebook. “Let me check,” I stuttered. At that point, I gave myself two moments. The first was for me: inhale, exhale, rub my eyes, repeat; the second was for her: check the set up, check the derivatives, check the algebra, repeat. It took me thirty seconds. “Great job.”

“Really? I got it?”

“Yes you did, nicely done.”

“Thanks, Mr. Erickson.” As if to give me a hug, she then swiveled out from the counter, letting her hand slip off the island and starting what I could only consider as a chain reaction. One of which led to pandemonium.

In a mere blink, the accumulation of her scent, her looks and her warmth clashed with my first mistake. My sweatpants.

Her arm fell. Her hand dropped to her side. Yet, before her elbow swung into my stomach, she pulled it up to the stool’s backrest. This made her hand shoot outwards. So outwards that, before either of us could react, the back of her fingers grazed my inner thigh and touched my half-stiff shaft.

“Oh my god!” she shrieked.

At once, we spun away from each other, me lunging backwards, her twisting to her work.

“I didn’t mean to!” she cried. “I’m sorry!”

I doubled over and stumbled toward the dining room. “It’s not you!” I tried to mumble. Fuck! What kind of dad gets hard around his daughter’s friends?

“Oh my god.” I heard her repeat in a whisper. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Then it got worse.

When I propped my palms on the dining room table and stooped over, I noticed two girls at the top of the stairs and although I was too contorted to look their direction, I wasn’t so contorted not to hear them speak.

“What just happened?” one of the girls asked.

I cringed.

“Brooke?” the girl continued.

Son of a bitch! Sophia!

Part 8: More Girls. More Problems

Poised with one hand on her popped hip, the Blonde Fox darted her icy stare from me to Brooke. Me to Brooke. Me to Brooke. She wasn’t alone. To her right, Alexis, a fiery redhead, stood with her arms loosely folded across her budding chest and her cotton-plush face furled. Not good. Although Alexis’s shape wasn’t quite as womanly as Sophia’s –she did stand a little taller–, everything else about the lean swimmer was so damn adorable. From her glasses to her slightly pigeon-toed feet, she was a doll.

“Hey, Mr. Erickson!” she said, twirling a clump of her hair and smiling. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Yeah?” Sophia added. “Everything okay?”

Fortunately, the way I was hunched over the dining room table left me mostly turned away from the duo. Unfortunately, that left me blind to the kitchen. “Just my stomach,” I said.

“Was it something you ate?” Alexis asked. “I always hate when that happens.”

“Maybe,” I said, forcing a smile before looking back to the spirals in the rustic table. Something I ate? I wished. All I had was half a PowerBar and maybe three quarters of an apple, both of which were on the counter.

“Brooke?” Sophia’s voice rose from behind me, from the island, a moment later. “Are you okay?

“Yeah,” Brooke whispered.

“What happened?”

My heartrate spiked. What happened? What if they thought I touched her? Or worse? Rumors have been spread on less.

Still stooped over, I cranked my head to the right in hopes to hear their whispers. But it didn’t help. Their voices grew too quiet. To make matters more cringe-worthy, a second after, Alexis skipped up beside me and blocked my view.

“So how was your day?” she asked.

My jaw clenched. She must’ve had swim practice earlier today because she smelled of chlorine and her hair was damp, stringy-like. Those auburn locks often caught my attention too. One weekend last summer, when the girls were swimming in the backyard, she got out of the pool and whipped her hair so wildly it splashed me, and the grill, almost wrecking the pork chops. She just giggled and dove back in.

“It was fine,” I answered, hanging my head again. “How was yours, Ms. Paige?”

“It was good,” she started. “In homeroom I had my Chem final and I think I did alright on it. And then for lunch they served meatloaf. It was actually good this time.”

While she summarized her day, I tried to breathe away my panic without sounding like I was hyperventilating. I accomplished the latter but my panic was persistent. Furthermore, my shaft still dangled inside my sweats like a probe, only hidden if I stayed hunched over and it didn’t get any harder.

But evidently, once Alexis ended her story, it was as if she wanted to expose me and with her lotion-soft grip, she wrapped her hands around my bicep. “Your arms are really big did you know that? My fingers can’t even touch.”

I grimaced. I knew she was just being cute, she was always being cute, but that didn’t make her little massage any less arousing. How her hands caressed me sent tingles through my thighs.

“Thanks,” I grumbled. But inside, I yelled. In a few seconds I knew I’d have two problems on my hands: A confrontation with Sophia and a fiery-redhead-induced erection.

Wait… That gave me an idea. If I was fully erect, I could hide myself in the waistband of my sweats. My outfit was certainly baggy enough.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alexis asked, her breath warm against my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I told her. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

But a minute, I feared, was more than I had.

With no time to waste, I looked to the adorable swimmer and soaked up every young curve of her figure, every plush line of her doll face and every squiggle of her leafy green irises behind her glasses. I almost felt sick for real. Out of all of Aubrey’s friends, Alexis was the least sexy. But she did have her charms. “So how was swim practice today?”

“It was good,” she answered with a pop in her voice, much like the pop in her step as she let go of my arm and took a step back. Which freed me! “I got a new swimsuit.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said. In the blink thereafter, I spun away from her, shot my hand down my sweats and tucked myself in my waistband. Then I froze, awaiting her reaction. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty,” she said. “It’s cerulean.”

“That’s sounds lovely.”

“I think it is. I got it for summer. It’s my first two-piece.”

Still unaware if she caught me, I bunched my hands into my pockets, walked to the screen door and breathed in the spring air, my peripheral on my other problem: Sophia and Brooke huddled together at the island. Any minute now I figured Sophia would join in. Whether it was because of what happened or just because, I couldn’t be sure.

“Hey,” Alexis said. “Are you feeling better?”

“I think so.” I nodded with a deep inhale. Much to my relief, at that point, it seemed I was in the clear. At least of Alexis. From the corner of my eyes, however, I noticed the island girls and by the looks of it, their conversation was over.

“Hey, Mr. Erickson?” Sophia spoke up, turning from Brooke and facing me as if prepared to verbally pounce. But, telling by the cheerfulness on her face, the attack wasn’t going to be about today. “Wasn’t yesterday funny?”

I winced. I was afraid that would come up.

“What happened yesterday?” Alexis asked.

“It was really funny,” Sophia kept on. “Mr. Erickson just got home from work and was helping me and Aubrey with math when Brooke came out of the bathroom and– ”

“Sophia,” I interrupted, pivoting from the screen door to face her. “Speaking of math, aren’t all you girls in the same class?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “So?”

“Well…” Before I continued, a bulb of bile shot up my throat. I always got that taste in my mouth when I had to say or do something that was dad-like. “Maybe the chitchat should wait until after you’ve studied. You do have your final tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” the Auburn Doll, who was now seated at the dining room table, groaned. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Oh, is it?” I asked Sophia.

But the Blonde didn’t respond. Regardless of my dad spiel, she only stared at me with her arms folded, her hips popped and her breasts squished together. For seconds. “Fine,” she finally said. “You win. But will you help me? I don’t really know how to do this related rates thing.”

Just then, Aubrey’s and Katee’s voice rose from the stairwell, which sent a jolt through my chest. The last thing I wanted was to have to deal with Katee. I was stirred enough as it was.

“Well,” I started to ramble. “What if you see how far you can get on your own then if you need something-”

“I can help,” Brooke interrupted me as she turned out from the barstool and faced Sophia. “Mr. Erickson just showed me how to do them.”

“Really?” Sophia asked. “Are you sure you know it?”

“I’ve gotten the last the right.”

“Yeah?” I chimed in, my focus darting from the island girls to the two brunettes in the staircase, whose heads were coming into view around the bend by the front door. “Sounds like Brooke can lead the study group then.”

“What if Brooke doesn’t get something?” Sophia asked. “Can I go to you?”

“Of course,” I told her as calmly as I could although with Katee only a second away, Sophia posed too sexy for her own good and Brooke seemingly unaffected by what happened, my body screamed for me to flee.

“Okay,” Sophia said with one of her chipmunk smiles.

“It’s settled then,” I said. “Good luck girls. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

“Feel better, Mr. Erickson,” Alexis added, getting up from the dining room chair and crossing my path on her way to the kitchen.

“Will do.”

With my head down, I then b-lined to the staircase. I almost collided with Alexis too. After the dozen some strides across the living room, I hit the steps and started to take them two at a time. However, before I made the third jump, which would’ve put me almost all the way up the flight, Katee froze me in my place with a greeting too hymn-like to resist.

“Hi, Mr. Erickson!”

Part 9: The Sugary Spice

Standing four steps up from the slim Latina was no way to have a conversation. The height difference made it weird but more so, she damn near stood at eye level to what I stowed in my waistband. The good news at least, since my daughter just gave me a curt, “Hey, Dad,” as she continued on to her friends, who were now circled around the island, I was alone with this mocha-skinned brunette in case something slipped out.

“Hello, Ms. Rosa,” I said, leaning against the wood railing like she had a moment earlier. “How was your day today?” Needless to say, my hands stayed in my pockets. But nevertheless, against my better judgement, I couldn’t keep my eyes off this awe-inspiring girl.

Katee was probably the most athletic in the group. And to me, the most impressive. A star of both track and soccer, she dominated at two particular skills. The first was her ability to cross a soccer ball. That girl could bend it onto the head of even a four-footed forward from anywhere on the opponent’s side of the pitch. Her teammates didn’t always finish the strike though. Her second skill was that she could run, endlessly. Last summer, she did a marathon a week. The hottest one of which, Aubrey and I met her at the finish line. My strongest memory from that day was how, even drenched in sweat from the three-digit heat, she still smelled sugary.

Like she did now. I waged it was her natural scent. Come to think of it, she never wore so much as a spritz of perfume. Deodorant, yes. But other than that, it seemed she didn’t need it. That wasn’t the only thing about her that baffled me either.

Here was a girl with such wide hips and thin legs, running great distances should’ve hurt. But apparently those traits never bothered her and I wasn’t about to complain about the beckoning gap between her thighs. Still, she wasn’t built like a runner. Although waist down, she was muscular –hell, she had some of the sexiest calves I’d ever seen–, waist up, she looked a bit too chesty. Then again, once I overheard her tell Aubrey she wore upwards of three sports bras to keep her “girlies” snug.

Now, dressed in skinny jeans and a fitted V-neck T-shirt, she looked to be wearing just one.

“My day was long,” she answered with a roll of her light brown eyes. “And yours?”

“It was fine. How was your last track meet?”

“Good,” she said. “I won all my races. We still lost though. No biggy. I just run track to stay in shape for soccer, you know?”

I nodded. But she was lying a little. Cross country wasn’t solely an offseason exercise for her. She needed it to curb her appetite for victory. With all the races she joined and how hard she trained, it was easy to see, not only was she the most athletic but she also was the most competitive. I often wondered: If a man provoked her to think of sex as a competition, or a means to test her stamina, would that be the type of talk to get her in the mood.

I snubbed the thought and shook my head. Yet my mind didn’t stay unguttered for long.

“So,” she started. “Since I plan on playing for the U next fall, do you think you’ll be able to make it to any of my games?”

“That depends. Can you promise me a goal?”

She smiled, her chin tucked into the nook of her neck. “You know I’ve always just been there to assist the forwards and spread the field, right?” From her profile, her puckery lips looked like a heart. “I’m not really a goal scorer.”

I nodded again, watching her brush her weeping willow hair behind her ear.

“Anyhow,” she continued. “I prefer just being a midfielder. I think I’d embarrass myself otherwise.”

“Oh I bet you’d be good in any position,” I told her, oblivious to how suggestive that sounded.

“Thanks.” She shied away, much like she usually did whenever I paid her a compliment. Sadly, this also curtained her coy beauty, along with her sharp, nibble-me, nose, behind her hair.

“Katee?” Aubrey then called out from the kitchen.

“Get your butt over here,” Sophia added. “We’re doing math!”

“Be right there,” the Latina Minx shouted back. “Nice talking to you, Mr. Erickson.”

“Nice talking to you too, Ms. Rosa.”

And just like that, as quickly as our run-in began, it was over.

After another heart-lip smile, she popped off the banister and scurried into the kitchen. A moment later, I left as well, happy to finally be free of these girls.

“Have a good night, dad!” Aubrey yelled above her friends’ chatter. “I’ll holler if we need anything.”

Part 10: Pre-Party Jitters

So, typically when I ‘took care of myself,’ I did it in my room on my laptop. But tonight, since I didn’t want to hear the girls through the vents like last night, I chose to do it in my office on my desktop.

I was lucky it was Thursday. If tonight would’ve been Friday or Saturday, I might’ve ended my couple week dry spell and called Aubrey’s mother. Every now and then, as long as she wasn’t dating anyone, she was down for a ‘rekindling.’ We refused to refer to it as a “booty call.”

I never minded using my office instead of my bedroom. Since none of the doors on the second floor locked anyway, the privacy was all the same. But in the case of my office, there were three memories that always sparked up when I walked in. Two of which were innocent, one of which was not.

The first memory was from the plant life. On the day Aubrey and I moved into this house, she found two ferns by the dumpsters down the road and together we nurtured them back to health. Now they sat in the windowsills, one at each.

The second was from my computer. Although most people called it clunky, that same hardware got me through the project that earned me my promotion a couple years ago. It still did the job now too. So I wasn’t about to toss it out.

The last was from the pedestal desk. Almost as if designed for scandal, it had a front panel which blocked the spacious legroom beneath it where, sometimes, Renee would kneel and “help” me with my work. However, I never got much done when she did that.

No matter. Usually on nights when the breeze was cool enough to keep the windows open and hear the crickets and cicadas chirping outside, I went with a more romantic theme for my videos. But not tonight. Tonight, it was the opposite and I scoured my favorite sites for a hardcore variety of teen, interracial featuring both Asian girls and Latinas.

After I finished, I cleaned up and got ready for bed. Not surprisingly, by the time I tucked myself in, it was already 10:16 and the girls were gone. I supposed that was for the best. If they were chatting below, I would’ve probably stayed up to listen. But still, even with the house quiet, I took me a while to fall asleep. The last neon glow I remembered reading on my desk clock was 10:59.

I blamed that on the party.

Part 11: Eleven?

Like Thursday, Friday morning sped by. Over breakfast, Aubrey and I discussed some of the finer details about the party. I had a guy coming over that afternoon to get the pool and hot tub ready for the season in case they needed it but Aubrey thought not.

At work, almost the second I walked in, the owner called me and reminded me about the people I needed to fire. Along with that, he brought up the current state of the company’s decline and, “If we don’t reel in a big fish soon, you might be out of a job.” I ignored him for the most part. I didn’t fire those people either.

During lunch, I hit up the gym like I did on Thursday and worked out everything that wasn’t sore. That didn’t leave much. More so, my two day binge, rather than my usual three day routine, tired me out by mid-afternoon and in turn, I decided to let everyone off for the weekend a couple hours early. That didn’t apply to me of course, but I still finished my work and clocked out at 5:14 instead of 6:45. What a difference that made. Traffic was worse but at least the sun was up and, for the first time since winter, not in any of my mirrors.

When I arrived home just after 5:40, I figured I’d be the first one to pull up. But apparently, Aubrey’s friends couldn’t wait to start off their summer vacation. It looked like a mad house. Besides the three cars in the driveway: Aubrey’s, Sophia’s and Brooke’s; there were also several parked around the cul-de-sac. Admittedly, some of these may have been the neighbors’ guests but I did recognize Alexis’s Silver Focus and Katee’s Red Malibu. Her license plates read NVRSTOP.

That probably meant running right?

With a smirk, I wedged into the driveway’s last open spot, got out and took a breath of the warm spring air. From where I stood, I couldn’t hear the girls at all but outside had plenty of ambient noises from the children down the road to the birds in the trees. Plus, because the house was built only a couple miles from the local airport, it had soundproof windows and thick walls, so unless the windows were open, the house muted any inside ruckus.

“Here we go,” I said to myself, briefcase in one hand, keys in the other. If today was anything like the last two, I was in for my fair share of slip-ups. With another smirk, this one apprehensive, I walked to the front door, climbed the stoop and unlocked the deadbolt, crossing the threshold to a torrent of panic.

“Oh my god!” a whisper broke from the kitchen.

Clunks and clinks followed.

“He’s early!” another added over the patter of feet sticking to the tile floor.

“Aubrey?” I called out from the bottom of the steps as I shut the door behind me. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, dad!” she answered.

That was lie. Her voice always ran fast when she lied.

“He’s early,” a different voice repeated. “You said he’d be home at seven.”

“Sh,” a fourth girl interrupted her.

While they bustled about, I kicked off my shoes and loosened my tie, perhaps giving them more time than I should have. But I needed it too. A moment later, I started up the stairs and looked to the island where a collage of colorful tops, blue jean shorts and bare skin scrambled.

So this is nine girls, I thought.

Once at the top of the stairs, I flung my briefcase over the back of the loveseat, which didn’t wake Furric from his nap on the cushion, then continued to the kitchen. “What’s going on?” I asked in stride, my tone as unsuspicious as possible even though the way the girls were clustered around the island seemed very suspicious.

For starters, each one of them had her hands behind her back and most kept their gazes down. There were four huddled in the back left corner with my daughter; Sophia and Katee among them; two blondes with their backs against the fridge; Aubrey’s only dark skinned friend, Melanie, next to Brooke in the back right by the screen door and Alexis with a “Get Wet” spaghetti strap tank top on in front of the last two girls, one of which was a brunette and the other of which was a lighter-haired, redhead, on the right side of the island.

It was overwhelming. The place smelled like a perfumery and looked like I was backstage at the fashion show, Teenage Tease.

But something didn’t add up.

As I reached the head of the island, I furrowed my brows and counted them again: Sophia, Katee and two others by Aubrey in the back left corner; two blondes at the fridge; Brooke and Melanie at the screen door; and two girls behind Alexis to my right.

Like I thought, they didn’t add up.

“You’re early.” Aubrey broke the silence. “Did you have a good day?”

“Aubrey?” I cut her off, my voice as baritone as I could make it. “Why do I count eleven girls?”

In a wave, everyone except my daughter dropped their eyes to the floor and tensed. Some of them even squirmed back an inch. At that point, I felt less like I stood in my kitchen and more like I stood in a garden, searching through bushels of part lines, curls and pony tails for a rodent.

Obviously, these girls cowered because of a far worse violation. But I figured I’d start with the lesser one.

“Aubrey?” I repeated after another moment of quiet.

“Iris and Jasmine’s parents didn’t say ‘yes’ until today,” she blurted as she gestured to the two blondes at the fridge. “I didn’t want to uninvited them last minute.”

Again, her voice ran fast. But this time, she wasn’t lying.

“I see,” I said, glancing over to the two girls who looked up at me only long enough to flash their Siberian-blue eyes and show me they were twins, mousy-face, pillowy-lipped twins.

I almost shivered.

“Please don’t make them leave,” Aubrey said.

I cleared my throat. Of course, I wasn’t about to make anyone leave. However, since the twins’ chaste faces still had me in chills, I thought it best to stay rigid for a couple more seconds.

“I don’t care about the two extra girls,” I said.

“Eleven’s our record,” Sophia cut in with a big chipmunk smile.

“That’s not the point, Ms. Harrington.” I scowled. “Like I said, I don’t care about the two extra girls. What I care about is that it looks like you girls are hiding something from me.”

Once more, every girl tensed. One of Alexis’s straps even slipped off her shoulders but because her arms were behind her back, she couldn’t fix it.

“Now.” I paused. “Does anyone want to tell me what that something is?”

As the room went silent again, I shifted my weight to my right foot to try to peek behind Alexis’s back. With a pivot though, she kept her front towards me, her top’s neckline about to expose her thanks to the fallen strap.

“Ms. Page,” I whispered, now with the taste of bile on my tongue. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head, which sent her glasses inching down her nose. Whether she was cold or nervous, her porcelain skin then broke out in goosebumps.

“Nothing?” I asked her.

She nodded.

To be honest, even I began to feel like I was being a bit too harsh right then. The silence that filled the room thereafter agreed with me too. The air felt heavy. The only break in the quiet was the bathroom’s analog clock as it ticked, ticked, ticked.

For forty two ticks to be exact. Forty two ticks of nothingness. That how long we stayed stalemated. Or at least, how long I thought we stayed stalemated when in reality, I was losing. And damn, between the petite twins and Alexis’s near disrobe, I was losing fast. Worse yet, Brooke only stared at me with her brown eyes wide and her bosomy lips ever-so-slightly parted. From underneath her blanket of black hair, her cheekbones sent pin and needles up my legs.

But then I smelled something. Something sharp. In fact, in what stared off as an anxious breath ended up as the very inhale that caught the waft of why these girls were actually scared. And although it was faint, almost lost amidst their perfumes and pheromones, the twinge was undeniable.

They had alcohol.

Part 12: World’s Best, or Worst, Dad

At first, I clenched: my hands, my gut, my jaw, everything. From that, another cyst of vomit shot up my throat. I wanted to yell. I wanted to punish them. Every one of them. Severely. Aubrey, banished to her room. Her friends, bent over my knee and spanked. Hard. Several times.

But then it hit me. And I cringed. These girls were eighteen. At an earlier age, I was already a drunk. Hell, Aubrey was conceived when Renee and I were seventeen. Cliché-ically enough, it was also at a drunken party.

So how could I be mad? At least she had the brains to drink in the safety of her own home, surrounded by friends, without boys. Yes, eighteen was young, and maybe she’d drunk before, but still, she was smarter than I was then. So again, how could I be mad?

“Aubrey?” I said as evenly as I could, releasing my clench as I broke the silence.

“Yes?” she answered, her button nose scrunched up under her best puppy-dog eyes. “Are you mad?”

Telling by her voice, she knew that I knew about the alcohol.

“No,” I told her. “I just want to go over a few things. Can everyone look at me, please?”

Unaware if it was the anger or the power that made my adrenaline bluster, I basked in the moment while eleven girls raise their chins and gift me the lines of their beautiful faces, some of which were afraid, some of which were upset.

“Look,” I started. “I know you have alcohol.”

Expectedly, they all flinched.

“It’s okay,” I said with my palms up as if to surrender. “I just want to make sure if you girls are going to drink, you do it responsibly. Now I can’t condone drinking at your age, but at eighteen, I did it too. I just want you to be honest with me. So please, stop hiding whatever you’re hiding. Some of you look uncomfortable.”

In hopes to help break the ice, I chuckled and clasped my hands behind me. However, most of the girls just stood there like statues, shapely-figured statues.

“It is heavy,” one of them spoke up at last. It sounded like Alexis. “And cold,” she added.

“Then set it on the counter,” I told her with a smile. “I won’t be mad.”

“You promise?” Aubrey asked.

“I promise. I did the same thing at your age. It wouldn’t be right of me to get mad, would it?”

They didn’t answer. But they didn’t need to.

A moment later, Alexis removed a jug of Orange Juice from behind her back and set in on the countertop. After that, the rest of them followed. Sheepishly, they placed jugs of juices, two liters of Spite and Coke, and cans of Redbull on the granite-top. They even picked up a few drinks from the floor. It was quite the array. One of which Aubrey, Sophia and Katee capped off by reaching into the island’s cupboards and setting full-sized bottles of Karkov, Captain Morgan and Jack Daniels alongside the many stacks of Solo Cups. Which made me wince, half in awe of their score, half revolted by their choices.

“Thank you,” I said. “So, first thing’s first. If I’m to let you have this party, you need to abide by four rules. Can you do that for me?”

“What are the rules?” Sophia brushed her blonde mop behind her ear and looked up at me.

“Well,” I started to say. But then strangely, I locked up. Out of nowhere it seemed, a shiver came rushing through my torso as I found myself center stage to two dozen twinkling eyes, two dozen tweezed brows and two dozen pairs of fluttering lashes. In the afternoon light, Aubrey’s friends were no longer statues. With the way the afternoon sun illuminated them, they were much more like figurines, priceless figurines. “The four rules are,” I stammered. From Sophia’s freckles, to Alexis’s doll-face, back to the twin’s Siberian stare, every girl shined. Brooke’s buttermilk complexion the brightest.

“Dad?” Aubrey whispered. “The rules?”

“Right,” I said, clearing my throat and ridding the flush on my face before I made a bigger fool of myself. “The rules…”

Thanks Sweetie!

“One. No one leaves this house. I don’t want the neighbors seeing or hearing any drunk underage girls outside. Also, the backyard is off limits.”

My chest sank. No backyard meant no pool. No pool meant no bikinis.

“Two,” I kept on. “No one else comes over. Especially boys.”

Some of them giggled.

“I mean it,” I said. “You’re not to invite anyone else over. The more communication there is the more likely cops or parents will show up at my front door and I will not have either. Okay?”

Like bobble heads, they nodded.

“Good… Three, if somebody doesn’t want to drink, none of you can make her. I don’t care about the games or whatever else you’re going to do, but there will be no bullying at this party.”

“Bullying?” Sophia repeated with a laugh. “Do you really think we bully?”

Again, some of them giggled and from the corner of my eye, I saw Brooke’s lips part into a smile.

“I don’t know what you girls do.” I looked back to the Blonde. “But I will not have beer pressure at this party–”

“Beer pressure?” Katee interrupted me, which caused the throng of girls to break out into laughter. “What’s beer pressure?”

I bit down my own smirk. Apparently, in a room full of estrogen it was easy to drop one’s guard.

“Hey now,” I said. “You know I meant peer pressure. I will not have peer pressure at this party. Got it?”

Once more, they nodded, some of them still giggling.

“Okay, good.” I took a deep breath. But as much as that should’ve helped, their flowery perfumes only stirred me further. “Lastly,” I continued. “Four, and this one might be the most important. None of you can tell your parents. In fact, don’t tell anyone. What happens in this house must stay in this house. You hear me?”

For the third time, they bobbed their heads.

“No, no more nods,” I told them, my tone lighthearted yet stern. “I want to hear it from you girls. Promise me. Say, we promise, Mr. Erickson.”

Perhaps I was on a bit of a power-trip with that one but despite what might have come off as condescension, the girls listened and, in a symphony of soprano voices, they spoke together like my own personal choir. “WE PROMISE, MR. ERICKSON!” They all snickered afterwards.

“Good,” I said, my shoulders in tingles. “Second order of business. Do any of you actually like mixed drinks?”

As anticipated, the room went quiet, some of them shying away, others looking to their feet. I figured it was a coin toss. Heads: They didn’t know if they liked them because they’ve never had them before. Or Tails: They did like them but didn’t want to tell me so.

“Okay,” I said a bit later. “Let’s try this instead. Is there any kind of alcohol you girls prefer? Maybe something you’ve had a sip of in the past.”

Still, the orchestra stayed silent. At least for the minute it took the airplane overhead to roar passed us. Once the thunder faded though, Sophia spoke up.

“Riesling,” she whispered. “My parents let me have a glass at dinner sometimes.”

“Good.” I grinned at her. “We can do wine. Anything else?”

“Angry Orchard,” Katee added from behind her brunette curtains. “My sister gave me one once.”

“Great. Anything else?”

Although I waged their stories were only half truths, I smiled it off as I propped my hands on the island and leaned forward. “Remember, nothing leaves this house.”

In that instant, my stomach curdled and I feared I was being too forceful. I didn’t want them to get the wrong idea. Sure, the allure of a bunch of drunk vixens was obvious, but honestly, I solely cared about Aubrey’s party.

As I retreated back to my heels, something flickered in Brooke’s irises. It was probably just the sun reflecting off a passing car’s windshield, but still, her eyes glimmered as if rife with passion.

“Mike’s Hard Lemonade,” she mouthed, her tongue long on the ‘L’. “Cranberry.”

I nodded. Anything for you.

“Okay.” I jerked my gaze away and stood up straight, my front pressed against the wood paneling just in case. “Third order of business.” I said, reaching into my pocket, pulling out my wallet and checking it for cash. But unluckily, I didn’t have enough for them to order in so I changed my plans.

“Okay, girls.” I put my wallet back. “The third order of business. Don’t order in. The last thing I want is some horny college guy seeing a houseful of tipsy teenage girls.”

“Dad!” Aubrey shouted as the rest of them broke into giggles again. “Gross!’

“I’m just saying.” I shrugged. “I’m sure those delivery boys would kill to get a glimpse of you gorgeous girls.”

“Dad!” she shouted again. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m sorry.” I showed my palms once more, surrendering to an army of blushing faces. Well, those I could see who hadn’t hung their heads were blushing. Sophia, of course, wasn’t among the bashful. She, her chipmunk smile and her star-burst blue eyes never turned away.

“Anyway,” I mumbled. “I’ll be right back.”

As if I meant to be rude, I then pivoted from the island and started for the stairs in an attempt to flee their glossy lips, their timid eyes and their dimpled cheeks. But I hardly made it a step before my daughter called after me.

“Wait,” she yipped. “You just got home. Where are you going?”

“Out,” I answered over my shoulder. “You girls need food. Also, I thought I’d pick up some Riesling, some Angry Orchard and some Mike’s Cranberry lemonade.”

“You’re getting what they said?” Alexis chimed in when I was halfway to the steps.

“Yep. Why? Did you have a suggestion?”

While I spoke, I slowed my pace. I knew the thought of their friend’s dad buying them alcohol would take some time to process. Hell, I probably should’ve let it process more myself.

When I reached the stairs, they started to whisper. Soon after, their whispers became chatter and by the time I got to the bottom of the steps, Alexis spoke up.

“Regular hard lemonade would be nice.”

“You got it.”

“But wait,” Aubrey said. “Why are you doing this?”

I chuckled, slipping on my work shoes then looking back to the kitchen where the collage of colorful tops, blue jean shorts and bare skin stood, transfixed. “Because I love you, Sweetie. And because this may not be the first time you or your friends have gotten drunk, but I’m sure as hell going to try to make it the best time.” I smiled. So did some of them. “Now, before I go, are there any other requests?”

That broke the silence. Turned out, my coin flip notion was off.

“RumChata!” One shouted.

“Tequila!” Another added.

“Merlot!”

“Corona!”

Part 13: Junior First

Rarely did I park in the garage. The way the two stalls jutted out kind of bothered me. Also, it was only partway attached to the house, meaning it didn’t have an entrance to the first floor. It did however have a staircase to the basement, an exit to the driveway and one to the backyard. Although most of time I thought that was stupid, in this case, because everything I bought was going to the basement anyway, and I didn’t want the neighbors to get suspicious, the design worked. Thus, here I was.

After I turned off the impala, which, because of the pizzas on the passenger seat, now smelled more like the Acura I had during my high school days as a delivery driver, I popped the trunk, grabbed the pies and circled around to the back of the car. But since there were too many bags to carry myself, I called for the girls’ help.

Within seconds, they came scurrying up the concrete steps like a parade.

“Thanks, Mr. Erickson.” “Thanks, Mr. Erickson.” “Thanks, Mr. Erickson.” They told me one by one over the rustle of plastic as they snatched a bag or two from the trunk and scampered back down the steps to their bunker. They even took the pizzas off my hands so I didn’t have to follow them. Not that I would’ve minded. I was just happy they ate pizza. With girls that thin, I wasn’t sure.

“Use the freezer to keep the drinks cold,” I shouted down the stairwell.

“Will do!” Aubrey answered just before she brought up the rear and shut the door behind them.

Then I chuckled. They were far more methodical than I expected. If only I would’ve gotten that same efficiency from the tatted up cashier at the liquor store twenty minutes ago. She gave me quite the look when she was scanning all those bottles of wine and six packs of beer. I got a similar look at the grocery store too. Maybe a guy in his thirties shouldn’t be stocking up on chips, dips and fruity drinks. Or more so, maybe a dad in his thirties shouldn’t be stocking up on chips, dips and fruity drinks for his eighteen year old daughter. And her eighteen year old friends.

I chuckled again. Then I started to make my way back inside.

Soon enough I was in the kitchen, my shoes off, my tie and suit jacket thrown over the loveseat cushion next to Furric. That fur ball could sleep through anything. The digital clock on the stove read 7:31, which meant 7:02 because it was the twenty-ninth today. Just a little math test I gave Aubrey every morning.

Outside, a variety of birds and squirrels bickered in the willows while the sun began to sink behind the branches and cast the first floor in a speckled yellow tint. On top of that, I had just opened the screen door and now the warm, chlorine-scented spring air drafted through the kitchen. I forgot my guy came by today and got the pool ready for the season so that chlorine scent was extra pungent.

Nevertheless, all this effort I spent focusing on the sights, sounds and smells did nothing to keep my mind off the girls, whose chitchat and laughter vibrated in the tile floor. They sounded happy. That was the important thing. What wasn’t important was how they might’ve been in their pajamas by now, getting drunk.

In tingles, I pulled out a plate of leftover chicken from the fridge, heated it then picked it clean with a glass of milk. When I finished, I left the plate in the sink and started for the stairs to enjoy an evening of what I expected to be some private time on my laptop and maybe a movie on HBO. Or maybe not. At least the girls were in the basement and I wouldn’t be able to hear them through the vents. That didn’t mean they couldn’t come upstairs though.

Which, by the worse of luck, was what one of them did just then.

“Mr. Erickson?” a soft voice rose from the stairwell, freezing me on the first step.

Not again, I thought with a wince. For the third day in a row, it looked like I would have to endure another run-in, another trial, another chance to make an irreversible mistake. Yesterday with Brooke was bad enough.

“Yes?” I said as I posted up against the banister and wiggled my hands into my pockets. Annoyingly, there were still filaments of chicken in my teeth and while I fished them out with my tongue, the pounding in my chest grew. “Is everything alright?”

Without an answer, the girl came tiptoeing up the stairs, her thick hair, sleek cheekbones and slender frame ever enticing.

Speak of the Asian Devil! I thought.

Once she reached the last step from the top, she leaned against the railing behind her and stretched her toned arms across the wood, arching her back until her t-shirt pulled taut across her ribs and raised high enough to expose her hip bones, the lower curves of her abs and her naval piercing.

The only positive was that she wasn’t in her pjs yet. However, her short shorts weren’t much better. That frayed denim cut off far too early on far too long of legs.

I shuddered, happy my hands were in my pockets. “Is everything alright?”

Despite the lingering scents from the other girls, her lily perfume, along with the trace of her Mike’s cranberry lemonade, managed to find my next inhale. And every inhale after that.

“Yeah,” Brooke finally said. “I wanted to thank you for getting all that stuff for us. It must’ve been expensive.”

I smirked. It was. Two hundred an ninety seven dollars expensive. “It’s just money. Besides, you only turn eighteen once.”

“Excuse me?” she said with a laugh, her lips parted around her top row of pearly teeth. “You think I’m turning eighteen?”

“You’re not?” My heart twitched. “Aren’t you a senior?”

Although those two sentences amounted to a total of six words, my stutter probably chopped it into twice that.

“Yeah.” She laughed. “But after kindergarten my parents sent me to junior first. I guess I wasn’t social enough. Or something like that.”

Junior first? My heart twitched again. Did that make her nineteen? As a chill ran down my spine at the thought, she retreated from her sexy stretch to a more casual pose with her hands wedged into her back pockets.

“Well,” I started. “You seem social enough now.”

She smiled again. “Thanks. I guess it worked then.”

“I guess it did.” I smiled back.

Wait… Were we flirting? Were we allowed to? Aubrey would frown upon it but it wasn’t like we were doing anything physical. We were just talking. Sure, my eyes couldn’t resists how the sun streaked across the floor and bathed her generous shape. But that was just looking. Not touching.

With a fidget, I pivoted towards the kitchen. “So, Junior first?” I tried to ask nonchalantly.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “It kind of sucks being a year older than everyone else. But at least I got to be the first one to drive.”

There it was. A year older than everyone else. The Asian Goddess wasn’t barely legal; she was a year beyond it. I shivered.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she continued. “I wanted to thank you for all your help yesterday. I think I did well on that test.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” She dropped her chin and let her hair veil her third smile.

“I’m glad I could help. Now was there anything else you needed?”

“No. I think that was everything.”

“Okay then,” I said, standing there a moment longer before starting back up the steps. As much as it made me cringe to leave her like that, I had to get out of there. Besides, I still had a day to wait to no longer feel like a pedophile. Also, every minute I spent with this woman increased the chances of me saying something stupid. “If you think of anything else. I’ll be in my room.”

“And where’s that?” she called after me. “I’ve never been upstairs before. I don’t want to get lost.”

I chuckled. “It’s the one at the end of the hallway.” I told her, now four steps up. At this angle, I had to grit my teeth to not glance down her shirt. “You can’t miss it.”

“Okay,” she said with a grin. “I won’t. Thanks, Mr. Erickson.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Chang.”

“Have a good night!” she nearly sang as she spun around and began her trot downstairs.

“You too,” I echoed.

Part 14: Tipsy

Outside my open bedroom windows, the leaves rustled, the birds chirped and overhead, an occasional airplane roared past. By this late in the evening, the sun had already snuck behind the willows and although it was still light outside, my room was cast in shade. It was quiet too. In fact, other than the noises outside, there were no others. No music, no television, nothing. I kept it that way because for the six or so minutes I needed to ‘clear my head,’ I wanted to be able to hear if someone was coming down the hallway. In the time between being stripped from my suit and dressed in my sweats, I debated jumping in the shower and doing it there but I figured I’d rather shower before bed. Plus, I didn’t want to use my imagination when I had a myriad of videos at my fingertips. Ones that featured Asian girls to be specific.

Afterwards, I flopped onto my bed, propped up and switched on Spartacus from my Netflix queue. For two episodes, I lied there and watched it in hopes I would get tired. But no luck. When the second episode ended, I was still wired. That was either the show’s fault or Brooke’s. I waged the second. No matter. With the spare energy, I decided to turn off the show, grab the thirty-five pound dumbbells from the closet and do a light workout of pushups, sit-ups and curls while the radio played in the background.

However, three-quarters of the way through my first set of pushups, right when my breath deepened and I started counting off the reps aloud with each huff, “Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine,” a soft voice broke from my door.

“Wow. Am I interrupted something?”

At once, my knees hit the carpet and like a dog, I crouched on all fours, panting, looking up from the floor to find Sophia attired in a V.S. pair of cotton shorts and a loose-fitting tank top, poised in the doorframe.

Pajamas!

“No, it’s fine.” I sat back on my heels. “Did you need something?”

“No,” she answered as she sashayed into my room and shut the door. Then, with a Mike’s lemonade in her hand and a bounce in her blonde mop, she skipped across the room and sat down at the foot of my bed. “I just wanted to see what you were doing.” She took a sip of her drink. “Working out huh?”

Telling by the slur in her voice and the hint of alcohol she brought into the room, I guessed she was a good couple drinks in. Plenty for a girl her size.

I winced. If Sophia wasn’t difficult enough to resist when she was sober, drunk, I feared, was going to be much more of a problem. And worse yet, whenever I exercised, despite the fatigue, my sex drive ran rampant. The good news, my hunch would hide anything my sweat pants missed. The bad news, other than the awkwardness of my kneel, Sophia was molten enough to make the two hours since I last took care of myself seem like days.

“Yep,” I told her. “Are you having fun?”

“For sure.” She giggled behind another sip, which clinked the bottle against her teeth. “I’m really dizzy though.”

“That can happen. Do you think that’s your last one?”

“Probably not.” She laughed with another swallow. One that spilled past her lips and dribbled to the couple freckles beneath her collarbone. “Oops.” She shivered. “That’s cold.”

I grimaced, yanking my eyes to the floor and trying to draw a breath of my own musk, which didn’t help.

“Mr. Erickson?” she spoke up a moment later, her tone now far lower than it was before, almost as if she was sad or something was wrong.

“Yeah?” I looked up. “Is everything alright?”

“Well…” She sighed, her head hung, her eyes fixed down the bottle of her Mike’s. “I was just wondering. Do you think Brooke’s sexier than me?”

Immediately, I jarred back in disgust.

“Ms. Harrington,” I said sternly. “I don’t think of you girls like that. Like I told you in the kitchen, you’re all beautiful. But I don’t see any of you as anything more than that.”

“Oh,” she whispered with her hands clutched around her drink. “But Mr. Erickson, you called us gorgeous.”

My heart jumped. “Well,” I tried to respond. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t think I do.” She raised her chin and flashed her chipmunk smile at me. “I’ve seen you look at me before.”

Again, my heart jumped.

“Sophia.” I cleared my throat. “I look at all your girls. I don’t mean for that to be suggestive. I’m sorry if I’ve confused you.”

“No, not like that,” she interrupted me, tilting her Mike’s back and guzzling the rest. “I mean.” She wiped her mouth and set the bottle on the floor. “Like, I’ve seen you look down my shirt.”

Son of a bitch, my mind yelled as my chest started to hammer so hard I felt it in my skull.

“I don’t mind,” she continued. “I like it. It makes me feel special. Like, I’m your favorite.”

“Sophia,” I stuttered. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh really?” She paused. “I don’t believe you.”

Abruptly, she then got off the bed, shuffled across the carpet and sat on her heels in front of me as if to mirror me. But rather, while my hands were outside my knees, her hands were inside, locked through the elbow to perk up her posture and squish her breasts together. Thankfully, she was wearing a bra, otherwise it would’ve been more than my peripheral peering down her tank top.

“I’ve caught you before,” she said with a smirk. “Just two days ago when you came home, you looked up my skirt. Remember? I saw you. It’s okay though. I like when you look at me.” As she spoke, she leaned forward until her face was inches from mine. “I want you to look at me.”

Her breath was warm, seductive and deliciously scented of Riesling wine.

“You can even touch me if you want,” she whispered. “Anywhere. I am eighteen after all.”

“Sophia…” I couldn’t help but trembled. I couldn’t help but stare, my eyes captivated by the star pattern of hazel inside her blue irises. “I don’t… I don’t think of you girls like that. I don’t see you girls like that.”

“Oh,” she whispered again as she traced her serpent-like tongue over her top lip. “Then prove it.” Her eyes dropped to my crotch. “Stand up. Right now. And show me you’re not hard.”

My gut wrenched. Standing up was not an option. From head to foot, I was stone. My bones were locked. My words were dammed. How could she have been this domineering?

Worst of all, I loved it. All of it. I loved how my heart careened, how my blood raced through my veins and how her cocktail of alcohol, mango shampoo and perfume mixed in my nostrils.

I loved the power she had over me. She was… my little blonde dominatrix.

But luckily for me, it didn’t last.

In the next instant, as if awakening from a daze, she fluttered her lashes, jerked back to her heels and let her focus sort of drift out. “I’m really tired.” She yawned. “I think I’m going to go back downstairs now.”

“Okay?” I crinkled my brow and kept my body rigid. Although it felt like whiplash.

“Have a good night, Mr. Erickson,” she said, wiggling out of her kneel, standing up then starting towards the door. However, she never made it more than a step. Instead, once she tried to skip away, she stumbled backwards and hit my bed. There, she fell onto the mattress, giggled for a moment then, with her arms over her head, her legs together and her bare feet dangling off the side, she passed out.

Part 15: Inner Demons

At the foot of my bed, inches from the Blonde Fox, I stood with my arms folded. Still stiff, but at least tucked into my waistband in case she woke up. With how I hovered over her, that part of me was the closest and I didn’t want any surprises.

For minutes, I kept like this, staring down at her exposed midsection.

Because of how she fell, her tank top had collected high on her stomach. Now, between that fabric and the waistband of her low-rider shorts, her abdomen was mine to ogle. At the top, the arcs of her lower ribcage. At the bottom, the handles of her hipbones, which jutted out so predominantly her abs flowed well below the hem of her shorts. Much like a stream under a bridge.

Oh how easy it would’ve been to peel her top up or untie her shorts and shimmy them down.

“Sophia, Sophia, Sophia.” I shuddered. “You’re far too sexy for your own good.”

She looked like a dancer, long, lean and mysterious with her blonde mop fanned across the face.

I wanted her. I wanted to run my hands along her stomach and indulge each one of her defined contours. Furthermore, I wanted to reach into that all-too-inviting slot between her bridged shorts and her smooth abdomen and explore her. But I knew I couldn’t. Regardless of how much my fists burned beneath my arms, I kept them crossed. I kept them clenched.

Yet, despite my calm exterior, my mind was someone else. Someone different.

At first, that someone, that voice in my head, told me to touch her. It tried to rationalize that no one was around and that no one would know. But once it caught on that I wasn’t going to listen, the voice got sinister. And after maybe four or five suggestions, it was like I harbored a child molester inside my brain.

Take her, strip her naked, have your way with her, the gravelly voice demanded.

And I cringed at every word. But still, I didn’t move. I didn’t even flinch.

Well, I didn’t flinch until about the tenth order. That was when the voice got so crass I had to react.

It was sickening. Throughout this whole ordeal, my head, and my passion, never stopped throbbing.

Who the hell had I become?

As the voice told me to rape her, I lunged back and ripped my gaze away from the young girl. Then, left with nothing but an aridness in my throat, I swallowed and dragged the voice back to the darker parts of my mind where I silenced it.

Seconds later, a thought hit me. Aubrey’s entourage was probably wondering about their absent member by now. But maybe not. It might’ve been tough to notice one girl missing out of twelve. Then again, if there was one to notice absent, it would’ve been Ms. Harrington.

With a feeble smirk, I then scooped up her limp figure, cradled her and started my way down to the basement. When I exited my room though, it was as if I couldn’t help myself and, like I wanted to reassure her, I whispered, “You are my favorite, Sophia.”

Part 16: Distractions

The basement had two halves to it: The right, a long living room with the sliding doors to the backyard at the end. And the left, Aubrey’s room, which use to be two bedrooms and a bathroom but was recently remodeled to one large room with a communal.

I liked the living room. Because Aubrey wanted it ocean themed, I had a painter come in and paint the walls in a sort of turbulent whirl of navy blue. Also, the shag carpet, the furniture and a few sizeable aquariums along the walls matched those murals nicely. The tanks always hummed but when the lights were dimmed, as they were now, they threw their ripples about and made it look as if it the room were actually underwater.

The only part that didn’t fit the scheme was the big screen in the corner by the sliding glass doors. But hell, Aubrey wasn’t about to go without a TV down here. Gratefully, none of the girls were watching it. In fact, with how much chitchat and laughter rumbled to my left, it was easy to tell all the girls were in her bedroom.

That worked for me since I was able to lay Sophia on the couch at the bottom of the steps and flee their perfumery before anyone saw.

To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded seeing Brooke, Alexis, or Katee again but I didn’t want to wreck my daughter’s party, which were so much more fragile nowadays.

Back in my room, I returned to my exercises and spent the next hour trying to tire myself out. When that didn’t work, I decided to take my usual lap around the neighborhood. By this time, the sun had set, the air had cooled and the majority of the ticky-tacky houses had quieted. This provided a serene, streetlight-lit atmosphere to run through where other than the bugs and an airplane or two, the only other sounds were my shoes smacking against the concrete and my breath hacking through the crisp, dew-scented air. Out through the mouth. In through the nose.

Not surprisingly, the one lap became two. Then three. Then three and a half. It would’ve been four too but a newly formed callous on my right big toe burned too hot to continue so I took a short cut home and limped inside.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Because I didn’t want any of the girls to see me gimpy or sweaty, I hurried through my late meal and had a PowerBar which I washed down with a blended fruit shake. Afterwards, I returned to my room and ended the day with a shower, finally feeling tired.

Part 17: Layers

Freshly shaven, and with nothing but a towel around my waist, I exited the steam-filled master bathroom and started through the closet towards my bedroom. Usually I’d make this trip naked but since I was still damp, I figured I’d take the towel into the room and finish drying off amidst the cooler air, which was a lot chillier than I thought it would be. Once I got into the room, I shuffled across the carpet to my dresser then reached down to my towel and began to pull the knot. However, the instant it slipped from my waist, a girl’s voice lifted from behind me.

“Hey.”

In a scramble, I snatched the scrap of cloth, pinned it to my hip and wrestled it back into a knot. Thereafter, I lashed around to find the Asian Goddess seated in my desk chair with her eyes wide, her legs crossed and her dainty forearms draped across the armrests.

“Hey,” I tried to say back. But it was only a breath.

With what she was wearing, how could it have been anything else?

Garbed in a lavender, fur-frilled gown of flimsy velvet, she was opulent, her curvaceous figure on display with her hair plumed high in a ponytail. Some might’ve called that garment a nighty. Most would’ve probably called it foreplay.

I shivered, beginning to press against the inside of my towel.

“Sorry.” She smiled, her eyes fixed on my bare torso. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I can leave if you want.”

“No,” I blurted. “Just let me get dressed.”

She nodded. “Should I go somewhere?”

“No,” I repeated with a head shake. “I’ll take my clothes into the closet. You can stay right there. Okay?”

She nodded again.

The next couple of minutes were less about getting dressed and more about trying to figure out how the hell I was going to survive this run-in. My best hope were the layers I was putting on. First, it was a pair of tighty-whiteys. Second, a pair of boxers. Third, some gym shorts. And last, my sweat pants. It might’ve been warm and uncomfortable but it was bulgy and I needed the leeway. Also, I wore the baggiest top I owned just in case. That top happened to be a douchey sleeveless from my college days but whatever. Go Bulldogs.

When I walked out of the closet, I found Brooke poised by the entertainment center, fiddling with the radio. Her back was to me but the way she poked out her ass made up for it. It almost wasn’t fair. With how her gown draped her figure, I couldn’t help but stare at her lack of panty lines. G-string? Or nothing at all?

“So,” she started. “Guess what?”

“What?” I asked as I sat in my desk chair and interlaced my fingers in my lap.

Just then, the radio clicked on and filled the room with a faint white noise.

“It’s twelve fifteen,” she told me. “Do you know what that means?”

“I do,” I said, in chills at the thought of her being a year beyond legal. “Happy Birthday.”

“That’s right.” She giggled, adjusting the dial until the static melded into some hip-hop/pop song. “Thank you.” A second later, she started to sway her ponytail to the rhythm. Her body soon followed. It wasn’t much, but with every one of her slithers, my heartrate climbed.

Honestly, it was almost too much. I should’ve told her to stop. But instead, I pressed my hands into my lap and just watched her hips glide from left to right. Left to right. Left to right. She was my snake. And the ambience was flawless.

Above us, the dimmed overhead light bathed the room in incandescence. At our feet, the air conditioning gave our surroundings a touch of brisk. And around us, the scent of her lily perfume mingled with a trace of alcohol. The music hugged it all together.

With a whip of her hair, Brooke then spun around and ended the peepshow. “What do you think?”

“It’s great.” I dropped my eyes to my lap and tensed. “Whatever you like is fine with me.”

“Okay then.” She snickered. “This station works.”

While I cowered, she walked over to the foot of my bed and sat down. Then she crossed her legs and leaned back on her arms. Sadly, this new pose stirred me worse than her dancing since now the frilly hem of her nighty was hiked up on her thighs.

“So,” she said. “Did Sophia really pass out right here?”

“Yeah. She seemed pretty drunk.”

“Really?” Brooke whispered before trailing off into a few words of what sounded like Korean. “That little actress.”

“Actress?” I furled my brow and looked up to find her attention on the ceiling fan. “What do you mean?”

“Well… Sophia wasn’t really drunk. Jasmine just dared her to come up here and act like it.”

My eyes flared. “Act like it?”

“Yeah,” she continued, lowering her gaze until she met mine. “Jasmine told her, as proof, she needs to pass out on your bed. I guess they knew you’d carry her back downstairs.”

Within a breath, my stomach churned and a shrill ringing rose in my ears.

“Oh.” I clenched. “Was there anything else?”

“Not really.” She shrugged. “She seemed pretty smiley about it though.”

“Really,” I barely said aloud. Although behind my façade, my mind berated me.

If Sophia wasn’t drunk, not only did she knowingly tease me but she also heard everything I said about her, which included how she was too sexy for her own good and how she was my favorite.

Either one of those was bad enough. But put together… I was screwed.

Part 18: Lonely

For the longest moment, I stayed hunkered, head hung, sickened as if the shame festered in my stomach. What if Sophia told Aubrey? How would things change between us? I didn’t really care if I never saw the Blonde again. But if I lost my daughter’s respect. That would crush me.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Brooke spoke up a bit later, still leant on her arms with her legs crossed. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

“If’s fine.” I nodded, trying to ignore the once flawless ambience. Now it was just a headache.

“Where’s Aubrey’s mom?”

“She lives a couple miles north of here,” I answered, nearly without a flinch.

“Are you two divorced? Or separated?”

“Divorced.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine.” I forced a smile. “It was mutual. Towards the end, we fought a lot so we figured it was best for Aubrey if we went our separate ways. Aubrey doesn’t seem to mind. She still goes over there most days and stays over there most weekends. So it works.”

With another fake smile, I then raised my eyes and met hers.

“Do you two talk a lot?” she asked, the soft lines of her face sharpened by the shadows beneath her cheekbones.

“Not really. I see her every couple days or so and sometimes we bump into each other at the grocery store. But that’s about it.”

Purposefully, I left out the part about our ‘rekindlings.’ Aubrey didn’t even know about those.

“Can I ask you another personal question?” She smiled.

“Of course.” I smirked back.

“How old were you when you had Aubrey?”

“Seventeen,” I told her, pausing in surprise of her gall. “We were both seventeen.”

“Wow… That must’ve been tough.”

“It was at times. But to be honest, as cliché as it’s going to sound, it was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“Well,” I started. But then strangely, my chest started to warm and I went quiet. I wasn’t sure what it was but in the seconds that followed, all I wanted to do was open up.

“Well,” I repeated. “Having a child kind of kicked my ass. Before her, all I did was get in fights and party but after her, all I did was study and work.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I took a breath. “And again, as cliché as it is, I guess you could say she made me who I am today.”

“Well then.” She snickered. “I’ll be sure to thank her for that.”

I chuckled and dropped my eyes to my lap. “I just want her to be happy.”

“I think she is,” Brooke said, bouncing her leg as if to kick my attention back to her. “You should see her downstairs. That girl is crazy.”

I chuckled again.

“But hey… Can I ask you another question? I know I’ve asked a lot but I promise this is the last one.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I was just curious.” She cocked her head and smiled. “Did you ever want more kids?”

Once more, I paused in surprise. “I used to. Unfortunately Aubrey’s mother and I were never on the same page.”

“And what about now?”

I shrugged. “I think Aubrey may be too old now. That’s quite an age gap.”

“Not really,” she said. “My brother’s fifteen years younger than I am.”

“Wow. Was that hard for your mother? She must’ve had him in her what, forties?”

She giggled. “No, she’s about your age. My dad on the other hand, he’s the one having the problems.”

“Really? Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine.” She smirked. “He’s just sixteen years older than my mom. Figure that huh?”

Although I tried to keep stone-faced, I couldn’t help but grimace at that. If my numbers were right, Mrs. Chang was in her teens when she had Brooke. Mr. Chang, in his thirties!

“I know, right.” She laughed. “It’s a little weird to my friends but as long as my parents are happy, I’m happy.”

I smiled. “And I’m sure as long as you’re happy, they’re happy.”

“Oh no I doubt that.” She rolled her eyes. “Some of things I do that make me happy, make them very angry.”

“Well I didn’t mean it like that.” I laughed. Aloud.

At that point, my chest started to warm again and seconds later, I felt as if I was the one who was tipsy. However, there was no urge of lust that followed that warmth like there usual was. It was odd. There the Asian Goddess was, leant back, legs crossed, hair up, dressed in a nighty so scant a breeze could’ve blown it off her, and I felt nothing sexual. Not a trace. In fact, I only felt soft. And because of that softness, I did something I never did with Renee. I opened up completely.

“You know,” I said just louder than the music. “I really wish I could spend more time with my daughter.”

“Why can’t you?” she whispered as she shifted her pose from two arms to one and angled towards me.

“My job. I don’t have the time to. It’s like I worked so hard to climb the latter that now I can’t see what’s really important. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but the time commitment is frustrating. At least when Aubrey was young she was nuts about me. That made the little blips I had with her between school and work worthwhile. But now, when I actually have an afternoon off, she’s too old to want to hang out with me. I know they say children grow up so fast but that doesn’t make it hurt less. It sucks. Sometimes, I just feel so damn… I don’t know.” I sniffled. “So–”

“Lonely?” she interrupted, her tone drawing my eyes back to hers where I found her irises glistening.

Like mine.

“Yeah…” I rubbed my eyes. “Lonely.”

Part 19: Dare

In the silence that followed, I let my focus sink back to my lap. On the radio, in what were probably fake voices, a gruff man and ditsy woman chitchatted about something some celebrity did last weekend. I ignored most of it. Fortunately, their banter didn’t last long and soon enough another base-heavy beat thumped from the speakers.

One of which that changed the mood, as well as the pace, of the whole room. Within a blink.

“Oh my gosh,” Brooke yipped. “I love this song!” With a pop, she sprung from the bed, galloped to the radio and cranked it until the base shook the walls. “I have it in my car!” she yelled, faced away from me. “I probably listen to it every day!”

I winced. It was a good thing I shut the windows earlier. No neighbor would’ve let this volume continue on for any longer than it would’ve taken them to call the cops. Hell, the music wobbled so intensely I couldn’t even hear myself think. Then again, once Brooke began to slither like before, I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to do anything. Except stare.

At first, her moves were small, almost innocent. But that innocence didn’t last. Even though it looked like she planned to stay faced away from me for the entire track, when the dubstep dropped, she whipped her ponytail in an arc, spun around and started to gyrate like a stripper.

I jarred back.

“I love dancing!” she said with a giggle.

“Oh yeah?” I shouted. Like an idiot. “You’re really good at it?”

“Thanks!” she yelled as she stomped out and swung her hips, kicking the frilly hem of her gown high enough to flash me her purple G-string. “It’s why I’m friends with Aubrey, right?”

I shuddered, far too enthralled to even nod.

Every second from then on, she got sexier and I got shakier. But despite how feral my heart beat, despite how much I wanted to jump out of my chair, grab her and throw her on the bed, I stayed put.

For the next four minutes, she danced for me, spinning, popping and flashing me glimpses of her panties with each drop, twist or kick. And she had to know what she was doing. Right? Between the lyrics and the beat, her figure moved like she meant to showcase her experience in both dance, and in bed. It was torture. Torture that was topped off by her smile.

When the song finally ended, I took what felt like my first breath since it started and sat there while she turned down the radio. Afterwards, however, instead of returning to her spot at the corner of my bed like I hoped, she walked to the door and put her hand on the knob as if to leave without saying a word.

In an instant, I perked up in my chair and tried to tell her to wait. But I couldn’t get anything past the lump in my throat.

“So yeah,” she said a moment later with a couple strands of hair clung to her forehead. “I think I’m going to go back to the party now. I’m a little embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” I said. “It was good.”

“Thanks.” She turned her head to me and smiled, which revealed a tiny beauty mark at the corner of her lips. How I hadn’t noticed it before was beyond me. “But I should get going. That was my dare.”

At once, my heart dropped into my stomach.

“You were dared?” I stuttered, finding the words between the cracks in my voice.

“Yeah… When I heard what Sophia and Jasmine did, I wanted to play too.”

“Play,” I barely mumbled. In the same breath, I then wondered if everything between us that happened over the last several minutes was just play.

“Anyway.” She opened the door. “Have a good night, Mr. Erickson?”

“You too,” I said, my body like putty in my desk chair.

While my peripheral watched her cross the threshold and shut the door behind her, I waited to react until I heard the latch click shut. Shamefully, during this wait, I had to blink my eyes once or twice to prevent a tear from dripping off of my lids.

After about a half a minute though, I realized the door hadn’t clicked yet.

“Hey,” Brooke whispered, yanking my gaze up to find her smiling face in the crack between the door and its frame. “Next time I dare myself to come up here and dance for you, I’ll make the dare for two songs. Okay?”

My brow furled and before I could respond, she winked at me, dipped into the darkness and shut the door behind her.

Part 20: Coercion

Only fifteen minutes after Brooke left, so recent her lily perfume lingered in the air, I was stripped down to just a pair of boxers, grateful to be out of those tighty-whiteys and tucked underneath my sheet. But still, even having taken a sleep aid a bit ago, I must’ve lain there for an hour just fantasizing about what this summer might bring. After all, if Brooke was dancing for me now, what might she be doing in months to come?

Regardless of my restlessness, I did manage to drift away eventually. Yet it didn’t last for long. In fact, even before the taste of Listerine faded from my mouth, I was awakened by the silhouette of a girl leant over me with her hands pressed into the mattress.

“Psst,” she whispered, muffled as if I was in a dream. “Are you awake?”

With a groan, I rolled onto my back. But because of the blackout curtains, I couldn’t see anything. “Aubrey?” I grumbled. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” She giggled, peeling back the linen and sending a wallop of cool air racing in. Then, without so much as a peep, she crawled onto the bed, wiggled into the sheet and lay beside me, propped on an elbow.

“Aubrey?” I wormed away an inch. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Sh.” She scooted toward me and wedged her forearm behind my pillow. “I’m not Aubrey.”

“You’re not?” I mumbled. “Then who are you?”

“Just relax.” She giggled again as she grazed her fingernails over my chest and began to twirl circles inside the crevice of my pecs, which made me shiver.

“That tickles.”

“Oh… Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“Good.”

In a shudder, I then arched my back and felt my passion start to rise. Whoever she was lay so close to me her breasts rested on my arm.

“But who are you?” I asked a second time.

“Guess,” she whispered, swirling her fingertips down to my stomach.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh come on.” She blew on my ear then flicked her tongue around the lobe.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh but I think you do,” she said, her nails dug into my abs.

“I do?”

“Yes.”

I clenched. And because of it, my shaft flipped up and out of the slit in my boxers. “The Asian Goddess?”

“The what?” She snickered as she fanned her fingers over my lower abdomen. “The Asian Goddess?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Are you her? Are you Brooke?”

“Is Brooke the Asian Goddess?” she asked behind a laugh.

“Yes.”

“And do you want me to be Brooke?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“She’s too young.”

“No, she’s not,” the girl whispered, strumming the elastic strap of my boxers for a moment then sliding her hand to my inner thigh and squeezing. “She’s the perfect age.”

I rolled my hips. “But she’s Aubrey’s friend.”

“Sh… Aubrey doesn’t have to know.”

“But I can’t.”

“But you can,” she said, her breath warm against my cheek. “Now please, don’t make me leave.”

“But.”

“But nothing.” She inched her hand up my leg. “Don’t think about Aubrey.”

“But–”

“No buts,” she interrupted. “Please, don’t make me leave.”

As she rubbed me, I turned out my knees and brought my arm down from my pillow where I brushed up against the velvety material around what must’ve been her ass.

“Please. I don’t want to leave.”

“Then don’t,” I finally blurted.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I can stay?”

“Yes.”

With every word she spoke, my skin got hotter and my heart beat faster.

“Do you promise? No matter what?” she added, her hand now so close to me it tingled. “No matter what I do, you won’t make me leave?”

“Yes,” I moaned. “You can stay.”

“Good…”

In the midst of her next breath, she pursed her cold lips into my neck and traced her hand from my thigh to the underside of my shaft. However, the instant her palm touched me, a jolt shot through my spine and I woke.

“Because I am Brooke,” she whispered.

Part 21: Seduction

Like I was shocked, I flung my arm up to the headboard then skittered my fingers across the top until I found the lamp and tapped it on. A blink after, the candle-soft light illuminated the room. But that only made it worse.

Wearing the same, teddy-like, lavender nighty, the Asian Goddess rose from my neck and propped on her elbow, her dark hair everywhere, behind her, in front of her, around her shoulders. A couple strands of the thick blanket even tickled my arm.

“Brooke, stop,” I tried to say. But before my voice broke, she coiled her fingers around me and started to stroke me, slowly.

“Sh,” she whispered. “Relax.” With her gown dimpled out around her nipples, her braless breasts hung as perky as ever.

My eyes rolled back.

“Just relax,” she repeated as her strokes sped up, pressing into me then sliding up with a gentle twist. “You said I could stay, remember? No matter what.”

While she caressed me, I spread my knees further and started to thrust into her grip.

“But you can’t–”

“But I can,” she said with a giggle. “This wasn’t one of your rules.”

I shuddered. Even the trace of her cranberry alcohol on her minty breath sent chills through me.

“Please. Don’t make me leave.”

“But Brooke.”

“I don’t want to leave,” she repeated.

For moments, I squirmed, powerless, overcome by her breathy voice, her scent and the slippery pumps of her lotioned hand.

“Fuck.” My voice cracked. “Then don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” She giggled. “But Mr. Erickson–”

“Liam,” I interrupted her. “Call me, Liam.”

“Oh… Okay… But Liam, I didn’t stay sober and wait for everyone to pass out just so I could give you a handjob.”

My heart spiked. And in the following beat, I opened my eyes to find her pearly smile as big as her brown eyes.

“What?” She laughed at me, her strokes firm, fast and ever persistent. “Did you think this was it?” She darted her eyes down to my shaft. “Like I said, I didn’t miss out on some of the fun downstairs so I could miss out on some of the fun upstairs.”

My heart spiked again.

“Now relax,” she told me for the third time. “There’re some things we need, so I have to let go of you. Okay?”

I furled my brow. Some things we need?

Regardless of how confused I was at that moment or how much it panged me in the next, she slid her hand off of me. Soon after, she pulled her forearm out from behind my pillow, propped up on her arm and reached over to the headboard where her fingers rapped away on what sounded like her cellphone until a flowy, base-light, song streamed through the room.

To be honest, I didn’t know what made me cringe more: Her stopping or her breasts now hanging in my face.

“Music first.” She looked down at me and grinned.

Music first? I thought.

A moment later, she returned to her prop with something in her hand, two somethings actually, but she set them both behind her before I saw. Next, she grabbed my boxers and tucked me back through the slit as I flinched. When she had me stowed, she lastly curled her fingers around the waistband and tugged them down.

Helplessly, I raised my pelvis and let her strip me naked.

“Wow,” she said when she had me exposed, my flesh coated in goosebumps, my shaft as hard as fuck. “You’re really big. That’s going to hurt at first.”

I quivered.

“Oh well.” She shifted her eyes back to mine. “I’ll get used to it.”

With a smile, she then crawled on top of me, straddled my thighs and pulled on the hem of her frilly nightgown so it didn’t draped over me.

“Last things.” She raised her right hand as if to swear an oath, a Trojan pinched between her fingers and a bottle of KY lubricant held in her thumb.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

Rip! Like an animal, she tore off the edge of the condom wrapper with her teeth. Then she blew the strip aside, which also whirled out a strand of her hair. “Yep.”

“I want you to know it’s been awhile.”

The instant she rolled the latex onto me I clutched the mattress and groaned. Abruptly, she then drizzled the cool lubricant over me and slathered it with her hand.

“Me too,” she whispered as she came up on her knees and shuffled forward.

“I can get carried away,” I blurted. “With you, I will get carried away.”

She smiled again, her nimble fingers slipping me underneath the frill of her nightgown and adjusting me erect between her thighs. “Good.”

“Go as slow as you need to.” I trembled. “For both of us.”

“I will,” she said, her breath swallow, almost nervous.

As she nestled me along the cusp of her womanhood, I looked to the ceiling and tried to clear my mind of the consequences. Whatever the repercussions would be, I would deal with them tomorrow. Not tonight. Tonight, my only concern was Brooke and the hope that she got off easily.

Part 22: Bliss

With the weakest of moans, she guided me in by an inch, her lips parted in pleasure, her eyes shut in pain. While she lowered, I placed my hands around her waist and held her, her velvet gown sliding beneath my fingertips.

“Slowly,” I whispered.

For what felt like minutes, she eased me in, every second more deluging than the last. The deeper I crept, the more passionately her breath trilled. And at first, I was composed. With my hands on her hipbones, I handled her without as much as a twitch. But then her warmth began to tighten around me and soon, once I felt her body spasm from within, I lost it, flexed and drove the rest of me into her.

“Not yet!” she yipped as her palms slapped to my stomach. “I’m not ready.”

At once, I yanked back to the mattress. “I’m sorry!”

“No,” she said back, constricting her straddle to keep me inside of her. “It’s fine. Don’t pull out. Just hold on,” she added with a smirk, her head still back, her eyes still closed. Unbelievably, in the next breath, despite the trace of anguish on her face, she continued to lower her pelvis to mine.

From then on, I stayed motionless, each one of my inhales as patient in as my exhales were shaky out.

“Okay,” she said moments later when her warmth finally swallowed me whole. “But hold on, I’m not ready yet.”

“Of course,” I said calmly, although my shaft was ablaze. The way her ass rested on my upper thighs made me pulsate. I was so deep, so temptingly deep. “Take all the time you need.”

She nodded. “I knew you’d hurt.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No… I like it.”

For what felt like another few minutes, she sat there, her figure contracting, squirming, getting use to me. I could feel it all. As deep as I was, there wasn’t a move she made that didn’t tease me. But nevertheless, I kept still.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

She didn’t answer. Whether that was because I spoke too quietly or she was in too much pain, I didn’t know. After her pulses subsided though, she at least opened her eyes and looked down at me.

“Is it better?” I asked her.

Again, she didn’t answer. Instead, she grinned then, with a flutter of her lashes, rubbed her hands up my pecs, lowered her torso onto mine and pinned me, her straddle tighter than ever.

I tensed. From here, her kiwi conditioner stormed my nostrils, her minty breath flooded my palate and her fervent heartbeat, which pounded like mine, drummed against my chest. Best of all, we were veiled in her hair, cut off from the rest of the world.

“Yeah, it’s better,” she whispered, so close our noses grazed. “I’m ready now. But go slow.”

I nodded, giving her another few heartbeats before rising up into her.

“Oh god,” she moaned.

I nearly moaned as well. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Good…” With a sigh, I retreated to the bed and started to knead her as gently as I could. Up… Down… Up… Down… Up… Down… However, this pace didn’t last for long.

While she panted to my rhythm, she shut her eyes, leaned in and kissed me, her lips as soft as they were delicate. “A little bit faster,” she murmured as her tongue slipped into my mouth and filled me with her cranberry taste.

Which I relished like I was starved.

Over the next song, my kneads became drives and my drives became bucks. To hold her in place, I ran my hands to her shapely ass, flipped up her nighty and grabbed as much of her as I could. Like a glutton. She was so soft. With each beat, I squeezed. With each beat, she moaned. And with the music as our metronome, we were soon smacking together so rapidly our lips couldn’t stay locked.

“Oh god,” she whispered, pushing off my chest and sitting up on me where she bounced, and bounced, and bounced to the sounds of our smacks. “Take off my gown.”

In chills, I obeyed and fiddled with the yarn-like frills of her nighty until I clutched them. Then, keen to every curve along her figure, I undressed her and revealed her feminine traits one by one. First, her Brazilian wax. Then, her toned stomach with her naval piercing. And lastly, her balloon-size breasts, highlighted by the most suckable of nipples.

With another shiver, I stripped the scant fabric over her head and threw it aside.

“That’s better.” She panted as she bounced and bounced and bounced. “Now grab me,” she said, seizing my wrists and pulling my hands to her bust. “Hard.”

Regardless of how that sparked me, I obeyed again and let her breasts fill my hands like the supple cushions they were. For breaths, I reveled in her fullness while unknowingly, our smacks became vicious.

She sweated. I sweated. And during the next song, we both became slippery. Me: A puddle on a damp sheet. Her: A beacon who glistened in the incandescence. By this time, we didn’t need the music. We composed our own, conducted by her veil of hair which waved out like ribbon with every splash.

But as ardently as she rode me, her breathing ultimately grew too frantic.

“I want to be on bottom,” she yipped, placing her hands on my stomach for support. “Can we switch?”

This time, I didn’t answer. Nor did I slow. Rather, I grabbed her wrists, pulled them out from under her and collapsed her onto my chest. Then, with a kick, I rolled us over, propped up on my arms and slapped into her.

“Oh fuck.” She gasped through a smile. “Can’t I catch my breath?”

“No.”

From above, I drove myself into her, as hard as I could, as deep as I could. Fatigue be damned. Sweat be damned. She was insatiable. So thin, her stomach bowed from her hips to her ribs. So busty, her breasts nearly sprang into her chin. And so tight, her body beckoned my release.

Yet, even with her legs constricted around my hips, yanking me back after each of our splashes, I wouldn’t let her taut figure coerce me to release before she did. No matter how sensually she moaned, how seductively she squirmed or how potently she spasmed, I would not lose myself to her before she lost herself to me.

Then I got my edge.

“Just like that,” she whispered. “I’m close.” In the throes of exhaustion, she then raised her arms above her and grabbed the lip of the mattress as if she wanted her hands to be bound, which gave me an idea.

As she continued to roll, I reached over her into the headboard’s center cupboard and pulled out the end of a scarf, the other end of which was tied around a custom steel bar I had drilled into the oak just weeks earlier. Within seconds, and without slowing, I came up on my knees and shackled her feeble wrists in a slew of knots.

“What are you doing?” She panted, her eyes wide with excitement. “Are you tying me up?”

Again, I didn’t answer. Instead, once she was bound, I wrenched on the other end of the scarf and forced her arms over her. Then, still on my knees and still driving, I pressed my left palm down between her breasts, licked my thumb and placed my right hand on her pelvis. There, my thumb snuck between her thighs and started to run circles amidst her silky pleats.

“Oh god.” She arched back, tugging on her cuffs to no avail. “That’s going make me cum.”

Circle after circle, the pad of my thumb fondled her while circle after wet circle, she floundered.

“Don’t stop,” she whimpered.

From her messy hair scattered about the pillows to her toned legs now propped on the bed to brace herself, she was mine. Tied, pinned and soaked, she was all mine. And I was in no mood to see it end.

“I forbid you to cum.” I growled.

Her eyes lit up. “What?”

“Don’t cum.”

“But I want to.” She shuddered. “I’m close.”

Relentlessly, I kept ramming myself into her. “I don’t care. I’ll pull out.”

“What?” With a winch, she bit her bottom lip and huffed as if to try to breathe away the urge. But I only sped up, each splash faster than the one before it. “You’ll pull out?” she moaned. “But Mr. Erickson– Liam?”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Don’t cum.”

Every time she flailed, I held her down. Every time she contracted, I fucked her harder. Between my hand’s caress and the scarf’s restraint, she was helpless.

“But I’m going to,” she gasped. “Please. Don’t pull out.”

“Then don’t cum.”

“Fuck,” she yipped, trying to buck her ass into the air. “Slow down at least.”

“No.”

Despite the fire in my lungs, the sweat in my eyes and the swell of my own lust, I rebelled.

“Please.” She wrapped her legs around my hips again. “I’m there. Don’t pull out.”

“Then don’t cum.”

“Fuck you,” she cried. “I can’t stop it.” Her straddle tightened. “I can’t stop it.”

For seconds, I watched her thrash beneath me, unable to counter, unable to escape.

“Oh god.” Her voice quavered. “Liam, I can’t stop it.”

As she rived, the bedframe banged against the headboard.

“Liam?”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Liam…”

Cum from me, my Asian Goddess.

“Liam!” Screaming out, she lashed into a fit of convulsions and began jolting about the mattress. “Don’t you dare stop,” she whined through the tremors. Like a ragdoll, her figure tossed and turned as if to try to flee me. But with each of her thrashes, I kept her pinned while she wrestled the bliss. “Oh god!” Her screams vibrated.

Splash after splash, I continued to ram myself into her and roll after roll, she took it.

“Oh my god,” she moaned.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

But soon I started to slow. Without warning, it was as if my body couldn’t take it anymore, my own need couldn’t take it anymore. She was too vocal, too sexy. Too tight! I tried to huff it away but the air smelled of her: her sweat, her perfume, her passion. I panicked. Only half way through hers, and I was about to lose mine!

In the next breath, she opened her eyes, looked up at me and smiled through the pleasure. Then, with that familiar glimmer of passion in her irises, she constricted her legs, tightened her body and, though I fought to abstain, forced me to release.

Like a brute, I slammed into her as every daydream, every fantasy, every dirty thought this beautiful woman conjured in me since day one came surging up. And out.

“Fuck,” I grunted, erupting into her.

My body shook. Her body shook. Amidst the euphoria, she grabbed my neck and pulled me down to her lips where the softness of her mouth swaddled me. Like a child.

For moments, between her cranberry kisses and her slippery straddle, I convulsed like a teenager savoring his first time.

And it was paralyzing.

The rest of our pulses faded beautifully. During the next several waves, until the very last one eased away from us, we swayed together, cocooned in each other’s arms with our lips locked and our tongues in a swim.

She was ecstasy.

Part 23: Good Night

Once it was over, I untied the scarf and rolled off of her, lying beside her and catching my breath as quietly as I could. However, she didn’t do the same. Although her phone’s playlist seemed to prevent any awkward silence from settling in, she must’ve still felt uncomfortable, or ashamed, because after only a couple seconds, she got off the bed, picked up her clothes and walked into the bathroom.

She was there for a few minutes too. To be honest, I’d never had a one night stand before so I couldn’t be sure if that was normal. But it didn’t matter, soon enough, she came back out, grabbed her phone off the headboard and stood at the side of my bed, once more dressed in her lavender nighty, absolutely aglow in the incandescence. If only her would-be sex hair wasn’t up in a ponytail.

“Well.” She turned off the music, keeping her focus on her phone but looking up at me every now and then while she flipped through it. “That was fun. You aren’t anything like I expected you to be.”

“Oh…” I propped up on my elbow, faced her and grabbed the pillow next to me to cover myself. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She peeked up from her screen and smiled. “It’s just… I didn’t expect you to be so, barbaric.”

I winced. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She giggled as she raised her phone and used the camera to check her appearance. “Not at all.”

“I’m sorry I got carried away.”

“Don’t be.” She laughed again. “I’m glad you did. I’ve never been tied up before.”

Whether I was surprised by her innocence or reminded of her age at that point, I kept quiet and watched her tuck back the loose strands of her hair, brush her eyebrows into place and flutter her lashes in an attempt to rid the ‘I just had sex’ look from her face. But it didn’t really work. Her grin gave her away.

“But hey,” she said a moment later, lowering her phone then crawling onto the mattress beside me where she leaned in and gave me a kiss. “I should get going.”

“You don’t have to,” I whispered, inches from her lips. “You can stay.”

“Oh really?” She kissed me again. “I don’t think either of us wants Aubrey finding me in your bed tomorrow morning.”

“No… Probably not.”

Of course, I didn’t mean for her to spend the night. I only wanted her to lie with me for a while longer. Would that have been so bad?

Before I had the courage to speak, she crawled off the mattress, turned around and raised her phone into the air as if to check her appearance again. But rather, in a torrent of clicks, she snapped off a stream of selfies with me obviously in the background.

“There.” She spun around and faced me. “Now I can post our night together.”

My eyes shot wide.

“I’m kidding!” She laughed. “I just wanted something to remember it by. Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone. But then again, I could use these photos to blackmail you.”

I shot up. “What?”

“I’m kidding!” With another grin, she then scampered to the door, twirled around and leaned against the knob like a pinup. “You shouldn’t be so tense, you know that?” In the following blink, she opened the door a crack.

“Wait,” I blurted, surprised she was leaving me so quickly. “Before you go, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She shrugged, leaning back against the door and shutting it. Thankfully. “Anything.”

“Why did you come up here?”

As if shocked by the question, she stopped cold and stared at me for some time. By the look on her face, she was either contemplating a hard truth or an elaborate lie. “That’s a big question.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Is it okay if I start at the beginning?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure? It’s kind of a long story.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Okay,” she whispered as she fidgeted into a more comfortable position against the door. “Well, to start, I really like sex. Actually, I really like getting off. But I don’t like doing it myself. When I was younger, I did. Or I thought I did. But after I let my first serious boyfriend do it for me, I realized, even though it was kind of awkward, it was a lot better.” She paused, her eyes now on the floor. “Anyway. As I grew older, I started wanting it more and more. But over the course of this year, it got harder for me to get because the guys got selfish. Not only that, but they were assholes about it. It wasn’t fair. I had to give this one guy like three blowjobs for every one time he’d oral me.”

I cringed.

“It was bull shit. And I really like oral.” She paused again. “But anyway. I figured my first time wasn’t going to be with one of these high school douchebags so I started dating this college guy. But he wasn’t any better. A dorm bunk is no way to lose your virginity by the way.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine.” She shook her head, her eyes still on the carpet. “I dated two other guys from the U over the next couple months but it still didn’t make much of a difference. The second guy was terrible in bed and the third, well, he was okay but it turned out he was cheating on me.”

I cringed again. “I’m sorry.”

With a shift from one foot to the other, she smiled and folded her arms. “Thanks. It’s not so much that I cared about the other girls as much as how he threw it in my face. I wasn’t even looking for anything serious but he still pissed me off.”

“Can I ask who that last guy was?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She shrugged it off then met my gaze. “But anyway. I guess you could say that I’ve been looking for someone to give me what I want without the drama. Maybe that’s a bit selfish of me but I can’t help it… That’s why I came up here. After you helped me with math and bought all that stuff for us, I knew you were too sweet to be an asshole and too patient to be selfish… Plus, after what happened on Thursday, when my hand grazed you, I knew you wanted me too.”

I blushed, dropping my eyes to the damp sheet.

“You don’t think I’m a slut do you? I swear, except for you, I’ve always tried to wait a least a couple weeks before–”

“I don’t think you’re a slut,” I interrupted her. “You don’t think I’m a creepy old man do you?”

“Oh god no.” She laughed “You’re only thirty five. That’s far from old.”

While her giggles filled the space between us, I lifted my eyes back to hers and for a handful of seconds, we just stared at each other, the room accented by the lingering aroma of sweat, alcohol and lily perfume.

“But hey,” she said a moment later. “Now I really have to get going. Thanks for the great night. I look forward to doing it again.”

“Again?” I perked up.

“Well yeah. If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah,” I tried to say casually. “I would love that.”

“Good.” She smirked. “There’s some other stuff I want to try though. Maybe next time, I can tie you up.”

I shivered then gave her a nod.

“Good.” She winked at me, opening the door fully then backing up to the threshold with her hand on the knob. “And thanks for listening too. I haven’t really shared that part of me with anyone before.”

“Of course. I’m always here if you need me.”

“Thanks.” She laughed. “Good night, Mr. Erickson.”

“Good night, Ms. Chang.”

With that, my Asian Goddess gave me her last smile for the night then slipped into the darkness and shut the door behind her, leaving me with the fading patter of her bare feet as she skipped down the hallway.

The End

=====Author’s Notes=====

If you liked my story I would greatly appreciate a five star and a favorite. Also, this is the first serious project I’ve ever let anyone read so your comments, good, or bad if constructive, are welcome.

Thanks for reading!

     
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