The Last Sleep-Over (Closed)

[shereads]

It feels good to be a child in a father’s arms. Even someone else’s father...

Chloe Pritchard, on the day before her eighteenth birthday:

The first time I lived with Amanda's family, we were twelve and had been best friends for all of a week. It was supposed to be a Friday night sleep-over. My dad came to pick me up four days later, stammering apologies to the Blakes but nowhere near as embarrassed as I was.

I was so angry, I almost didn’t run into his arms, almost didn’t cry with relief. Almost regretted going home. The Blakes had made the best of having a stranger’s kid dumped on them, and in their big house it was possible to believe Mrs. Blake when she said I was "such a sweet little thing," I couldn't possibly be in the way.

No good deed goes unpunished. My parents took advantage of the Blakes’ generosity again and again, sending me to “spend the night at Amanda's house” for two or three nights every time they split up, and made up.

The longest time lasted a week – the week I turned fifteen. After that, Mrs. Blake talked them into seeing a marriage counselor. The fighting didn’t stop, but the “sleep-overs” did. They were ashamed to send me back.

This time, I think they’ll divorce for real. My mom spent hours on the phone with Mrs. Blake, and helped me pack most of my clothes. “It’s just for a little while, Chloe. I can talk Daddy out of leaving if we have some private time.”

Take all the time you need. You and Dad have forgotten I’ll turn eighteen tomorrow. Maybe this time I won’t come home.

------------------------

Chloe Pritchard hesitates for a moment before getting out of the car. “You’re not going to turn the car off and come inside?”

“I need to get home, baby. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Her mother strokes Chloe’s dark, sleek hair, then reflexively tucks a shoulder-length strand behind the girl’s ear. “Your face is so pretty, I wish you’d keep your hair pulled back.”

“It won’t work, Mom. He’s really leaving this time.”

She doesn’t have to meet her mother’s eyes to know the tears are starting again. Tears are Jane Pritchard’s addiction.

“Damn it, Chloe,” she sobs, pulling another Kleenex from the rapidly emptying box between the seats, “You’re sixteen and you have no idea – “

“Eighteen.”

“You have no idea what it’s like to – You're what?”

“I’m eighteen today.” Tomorrow, actually. It’s a small but satisfying lie.

“You’re sixteen.”

“There’s Mr. Blake. Just pop the trunk so he can get my suitcase, okay?”

They look at each other, woman and girl, each wondering how the other can remain so unaware of her beauty. Petite, peaches-and-cream females, their features are enough alike that you’d know them as mother and child despite the vanishing maternal bond. Hair the color of dark mahogany frames delicate faces, one wearing too much makeup in the frantic way of rejected wives. Vivid blue eyes, the mother’s furtive and frightened; the daughter’s shy and bewildered, veiled with wet black lashes.

“Chloe, don’t keep Mr. Blake waiting. Call me, okay?”

Chloe hasn’t seen Amanda's dad in weeks, and the last few times she felt strangely self-conscious. Watched. It seems absurd to her now, and so ungrateful, to have felt anything for Mr. Blake besides absolute trust. He’s strong and solid, and it's right to fall into his waiting arms now. As the family Volvo pulls away, abandoning her here for the first time in three years and on the last day of her childhood, Chloe melts against him and lets her tears come, hot and hard.

It feels good to be a child in a father’s arms. Even someone else’s father.

 

[Gareman]

I sit at my desk staring blankly out the window a small smile spreading into a large one as my mind digests the news. Somwhere deep inside a warm glow begins to move steadily from my stomach down into my gentitals, causing a pleasant tingling in my hardening penis. Opening my cluttered top desk drawer, I fumble for the small manilla envelope and pull it from beneath the miscellaneous papers. Inside I find the three photos taken approximately three years ago. Pictures taken on a hot summer day while my daughter Amanda and her friend Chloe lay in our backyard sunbathing. Images snapped from the second floor window, candidly catching two teenaged girls innocently tanning in their new bikinis, unaware of my voyeuristic intrusion.

I can still here the hesitant tone in my wife, Carol's voice as she broke the news that Chloe will be staying with us again. She knows that I'm not overly keen on company, but she's got no idea that Amanda's best friend is a major exception to the rule. I'm sure she expected an angry tyrade and I did my best to not disappoint her.

"Please Brad," she begged, trying to calm my "anger". "It's not Chloe's fault...and think what it will mean to Amanda."

Hearing her pleading tone almost made me laugh, but I knew I couldn't give away my true feelings so I very slowly began to give in. "Reluctantly" I agreed to allow the young girl to stay, grudgingly also promising to leave work early to greet our guest. Carol would be at her aerobics class and Amanda had to work after school, so I would be the one man welcoming committee.

Flipping through the photos, I study Chloe closely, remembering her most recent visit and noting how much she has matured over the past 3 years. God, to have that sweet young thing living under the same roof for the forseeable future....mmm...mmm...mmm.

Returning the photos to their hiding spot, I call Mary, my administrative assistant, into the office and inform her that I will be leaving early. Giving her a list of phone calls to make and other micellaneous clerical chores, I gather up my stuff and leave. Today is gonna be a wonderful day...I can hardly wait until 3 PM.

Arriving home around noon, I busy myself preparing the guest room for Chloe. Gathering clean towels and bedding, I ready the room, wanting her to feel comfortable in her "foster" home. The rest of the afternoon drags...the television does little to pass the time and I find myself pacing endlessly...waiting...wanting Chloe here.

THUD!!

I jump to my feet and look out the window, recognizing the familiar Volvo. Hurrying to the door, I move outside and approach the vehicle, waving to Mrs. Pritchard. Chloe and her mom exchange a few words and the car is gone, leaving us standing in the driveway.

The small girl approaches and wraps her arms around me, letting out her sorrow in large sobbing waves. I hold her closely, drinking in her soft, feminine scent...feeling her small breasts pressing against my chest.

"It's okay Chloe," I reassure. "Everything's gonna be fine."

We break off our embrace and take her bags inside, carrying them up to the large spare bedroom.

"Make yourself at home," I offer, studing her as she surveys the room. Her face still looks so very young, almost childlike and her body is still very petite. Maybe that's what I find so enticiing...the sweet innocence of a little girl still preserved at...well she must be closing in on 18.

Again she approaches and hugs me, trying to find something she has never had a home. My arms wrap around her small frame, swallowing her up..hands sliding up and down her back...comforting her.

God help me, I say silently, trying not to become aroused...

 

[shereads]

Chloe

How can something so familiar feel so strange? As many times as Chloe has crossed this threshold, climbed these stairs – and as long as she’s known Mr. Blake– everything’s different this time.

Her suitcase, for one thing. These visits were always “just for the night,” and her parents never dropped her off with more than an overnight bag. Inevitably, she’d run out of clothes and have to borrow Amanda’s. That’s not an option anymore. Amanda is taller by five inches and luckier by two cup sizes.

Better parents, better DNA.

When they reach the second-floor landing, Chloe expects to be taken to Amanda’s room. There are two beds and plenty of room, and they always used to share.

“The guest room’s this way, Chloe.” Mr. Blake disappears into a room at the far end of the hall.

She's never really seen the guest room before. It's nothing out of the ordinary, although in this house ordinary is always tasteful and immaculate. But the room is perfect, in Chloe's eyes. It's private. Peaceful. Her own.

Chloe feels a rush of relief and gratitude; she's ashamed to realize that she's been dreading the thought of sharing a room with Amanda, intruding on her friend for god-only-knows how long.

"Make yourself at home," he says. Home.

“Mr. Blake, it’s…it’s beautiful," she whispers. "It's too much." And to her dismay, she's in tears again. Behaving like a child.

In quick strides, he crosses the room and encloses Chloe in his arms.

"It's okay Chloe. Everything's gonna be fine."

------------------

Does Amanda know how lucky she is?

It feels so, so good to be held like this.

It’s funny, I was never close with Amanda’s dad like I was with Mrs. Blake. Not that he was ever unkind or anything. Just more distant than her mom. Anybody would resent coming home from work to find an extra twelve-year-old underfoot all the time.

Mrs. Blake was the one I used to go to for hugs and reassurance. She's one of those supermoms who shuttles everybody else's kids from cheerleader practice to the mall, and never seems to mind. Mr. Blake is more private, and likes to have things just-so.

And yet, after all these years, he's holding me, comforting me like I'm his own.

My head doesn't even reach his shoulders, and in his big, strong arms I feel small and protected. This is what a father feels like, and this is how it sounds when he whispers, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” until you start to believe it. I hide my face against him, hide from the world, smelling soap and aftershave and some comforting, male scent that's his alone.

Mr. Blake holds me until I stop crying. Even then, he pulls away only enough to wipe away my tears. He smiles down at me and I can’t help but smile back.

“Feeling better, Chloe?”

“Yes…Thank you.” I really do feel better, but a little embarrassed for breaking down like that. I wish I could lighten the mood.

“Why don’t you take a minute to settle in, then come downstairs and keep me company.”

“I’m not completely clueless, Mr. Blake. I know why you don’t want me sharing Amanda’s room.”

He tilts my face up with his hand on my chin, and gives me this funny little half-smile. Close-up, his eyes are silver-blue.

“Do you, Chloe?” His hand cups my cheek, and he’s looking at me like he really sees me. Like I'm interesting. Important.

“Tell me, then. Tell me why I don't want you sharing my daughter's bedroom.”

I manage a grown-up smile, one that isn’t fighting back tears. “So we won’t keep you up all night, laughing and talking about boys like we used to.”

Mr. Blake shakes his head, laughing a little at our shared memory.

“You’ve exposed my secret plan, Chloe…I need a beer. See you downstairs.”

 

[Gareman]

Holding Chloe feels nice. She melts in my arms, obviously starved for a man to protect her and reassure her that everything will be okay. Wanting the moment to last, I'm reluctant to let go and do so only to prevent the situation from becoming uncomfortable for Amanda's young friend.

Her explanation for staying in the guest room is equally nice. Her innocent reasoning makes me immediately understand exactly how naive and vulnerable she really is. Hidden shallowly beneath her age is a child needing to be shown the real world, in all it's glory. It would be a shame for some punk her own age to be the teacher when I would welcome the opportunity to do the job myself. I have a strong suspicion that Amanda may have already been exposed to the joys of the flesh, but I have no doubt that Chloe is still on the vine, ripe to be picked.

Giving her a few moments to unpack and get comfortable, I head downstairs and pop open a beer. The taste barely registers in my brain as I gulp the cold liquid and drain the can in mere minutes. I know the thoughts that have been dancing in my brain all day are wrong by societies standards. My wife and daughter would be apalled that anything that "dirty" could exist within the husband/father that they have known for so long. But, I guess we all have skeletons hiding in our closets and mine is banging on the door to get out.

Opening a second brew, I hear small footsteps descending the stairs and seconds later see Chloe appear in the doorway.

"Can I fix you something to eat?" I ask eagerly. "I think Mrs. Blake went shopping yesterday, so we should be good to go for awhile."

Her eyes barely meet mine as she shakes her head and politely declines my invitation.

"Mom took me out to lunch," she answers softly. "It was the least she could do."

I nodded, feeling the bitterness in her voice and not knowing how to respond. I knew that her homelife had never been anything nearing adequate, but having it completely crumble away had to be extremely difficult. Again I see a tear roll down her cheek and have to restrian myself from hugging her again. Too much of a good thing....well...you know.

"Well, if you change your mind," I continue. "Help yourself."

As I speak, I study her.

Dark shoulder length hair framing an angelic face that most guys her age would see as plain.

Small breasts, barely visible through the cotton of her oversized t-shirt...not ample enough for her peers.

And those long slender legs...so lean and graceful...

Chloe smiles shyly as she notices my gaze. I wink and smile back, making light of my leacherous stare.

"I still can't believe how quickly you girls have grown up," I say warmly. "My little girl turned 18 a month ago...it's staggering."

She smiles politely and nods, eyes not locking completely onto mine.

"It seems as if it was only yesterday that you and Amanda were playing at this very table with your dolls. And now you are grown women."

She looks surprised when I use the word "women".

"And beautiful women you have both turned out to be."

Blushing, she giggles softly, embarrassed by my compliment.

"God what I wouldn't give to be 20 years younger..."

 

[shereads]

Chloe

"God what I wouldn't give to be 20 years younger..."

Chloe's shy smile broadens at the idea of Amanda's dad at that age. He thinks I'm beautiful. She laughs, a musical yet throaty little laugh, and her beach-blue eyes meet his at last. For a moment, without her awkwardness, Chloe is radiant. The difference takes his breath away.

"Mrs. Blake said you were a heartbreaker back then," she teases. "I'll just bet you were." Her lowered eyelashes are flirtatious now, rather than shy.

The young woman Chloe will become shines through, with the unsullied freshness of girlhood and without a hint of self-consciousness. It's intoxicating. And frustrating...

"She said every girl you met fell totally in love with hunky Brad Blake." Despite
her good-humored grin, Blake is a little annoyed that this clueless girl is so amused at the idea of Amanda's dad as a heartbreaker.

You have no idea, Chloe.

Chloe is relaxed enough now to help herself to a soft drink, after all. When she brushes past Blake to reach into the refrigerator, he gets a close-up look in profile and from above, of the budding breasts outlined by her white t-shirt - You're not wearing a bra, young lady - and he can see just a hint of her pert little nipples pushing at the soft cotton.

"Chloe!"

Shit. Carol's home early.

Blake's wife and his daughter's best friend are quickly wrapped in each other's arms, a scene as familiar as the kitchen itself.

"I'm so sorry about this, Mrs. Blake."

"Don't be silly, hon. You know you're always welcome...I'm just sorry your parent's troubles are ruining another birthday."

 

[Gareman]

I stand back and watch as Carol engages Chloe in "girl talk". My presence is barely acknowledged, save for a few "excuse me hons" from my wife as she busily throws together a tray of snacks which they begin to pick at as they speak. It's amazing to see how quickly Amanda's young friend relaxes, laughing and joking easily with her "surrogate mom", when only moments earlier she seemed timid and reserved.

Making my way across the kitchen, I grab a handful of cookies and excuse myself. Passing Chloe, I give her a quick kiss on the forehead and place an arm around her.

"It's good to have you here, honey," I say in my most "fatherly" voice. "If you need anything, please...don't be shy."

Carol smiles warmly and follows me into the livingroom.

"Thanks," she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I owe you."

I feel a warm tingle as Carol turns and walks back to the kitchen. She looks back at me and gives me a suggestive wink and I know immediately how she plans on paying her debt.

"I'll be down in my study whenever you want to pay up", I whisper back. She smiles and tuns the corner, resuming her conversation with Chloe.

God life is getting really good!!

I descend into the basement and enter the portion we have converted into a study. Sitting in my favorite chair, I grab my remote...turning on a soft jazz station, I close my eyes.

My mind immediately locks onto the scene just before Carol came home. Had Chloe really referred to me as Lucas? God..it's been forever since I shook my given name for the preferred "Brad". And had she really given me that flirtatious little look or was it just my mind playing tricks on me?

Slowly I begin to drift off...

Young Chloe kneels before me, her small perky nipples visible through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. I run a hand through her soft hair, tucking it behind her ear. My hand continues to the back of her head, now applying gentle pressure...pulling her toward me.

Her soft blue eyes look up at me nervously, but she opens her small mouth and begins to accept my hard penis between her young lips. Taking my thick head into her warm orifice, she begins to suck gently, the sensation causing a shiver to travel up my spine...

"Mmmm that feels so good..." I say, encouraging her to continue.

She opens her lips wider and begins to take more of me inside. The softness of her lips gliding down the shaft of my cock feels unbelievable and I pull her head forward wanting her to take my full length inside.


Click...

I snap out of my dreamlike state as the door to the study opens.

"Chloe's on the phone with Amanda," hear Carol say as she closes the door behind her and approaches.

"This might be a good time for me to repay my debt."

She walks over and kneels before me...her hands going directly to my lap and unzipping my pants.

"Oh boy," she says, smiling up at me. "I guess your ready for your little treat."

I help her remove my swollen penis and close my eyes as she begins to work her magic...God if she only knew what I was imagining...

That's it Chloe...that feels so good....

 

[shereads]

Chloe

Chloe sleeps fitfully on the night before her 18th birthday. Tossing in the unfamiliar bed, her thoughts of the future are a jumble of loose ends and unanswered questions. College. The scholarship applications that haven't been signed. Which parent should she ask? She'll need a summer job...The room is too warm...Mr. Blake. He really was a heartbreaker at twenty; you can tell.

Where did that come from?

Chloe plays over the scene in the kitchen - He thinks I'm beautiful - Oh, Christ! Had she blushed when he said that? Had he seen how if affected her, just the hint that he was thinking of her as a woman, and not a pathetic kid?

She feels her face flush uncomfortably. Had she said anything? Had she looked at him the wrong way?

Did I flirt with him? Did I look like it, sound like it?

"....every girl you met fell totally in love with hunky Brad Blake."

I said that. I said that. Oh, God. If I embarrassed Mr. Blake - No, it's worse; if Mr. Blake was embarrassed for me - if I made a fool of myself, just kill me.

There's no way she can sleep now. Chloe fumbles in the dark for the bedside lamp, removes herself from the tangle of sheets - and remembers, too late, that her bathrobe is still on its peg behind her own bathroom door. Not that it matters; even in a thin tank top and drawstring shorts, she's wearing more than she and Amanda had on last weekend when they spent their first summer Sunday at the Blakes' backyard pool.

He wasn't here, though...Right, as if he'd notice a body like this. Eighteen, and you're still built like a skinny adolescent girl.

The house is cooler downstairs. Chloe pours a glass of juice and heads for the den, hoping to find a magazine. Somebody's up. She sees the flickering light from the television, the sound turned low, too late to avoid being noticed.

A low, masculine voice says, "Carol?"

Oh, god. "No, it's me, Mr. Blake. Chloe." She avoids moving farther into the door, into the pool of blue-tinged light. Suddenly she really doesn't want Mr. Blake to see her childish, flat-chested body in a skimpy tank top and shorts.

"I was just heading back upstairs - no, really, don't get up."

Backlit by the big-screen TV, he mutes the sound with the remote and gets up from the sofa. Unable to make a graceful exit - and wondering why it seems so urgent - Chloe becomes uncomfortably aware that the image on the screen is of a nude woman in James Bond's bed, her breasts round and heavy as she leans across his body for a lingering kiss.

"What's the matter, Chloe?"

Mr. Blake catches her staring, wide-eyed with inexplicable embarassment. Embarrassed by a Bond flick. He must wonder what the hell is wrong with me.

"Can't you sleep?"

"No, I - Well, I couldn't before. But I can now."

"Are you sure? It's warm up there, isn't it."

He glances at the tank top. - He's feeling sorry for me because this is as big as they're going to get. - On the screen behind her friend's tall, handsome father, James Bond buries his face between a pair of magnificent, womanly breasts. Chloe feels her own little nipples respond, sharpening to achingly hard points beneath the thin fabric. Blushing furiously, she glances nervously around the room, trying to find something - anything - to stare at other than Bond's hungry mouth, the woman's perfect flesh. And hunky Brad Blake, heartbreaker.

 

[Gareman]

Chloe stands before me, her small perky nipples poking through the sheer fabric of her tank top. I try not to let her see me eyeing her young body, but I somehow can't keep my eyes from wandering down to her girlish breasts. The sight of her standing there nervously glancing past me at the hot love scene playing out on the big TV is an incredible turn on. I wonder what could possibly be going through her mind.

"Come on Chloe," I say softly. "Keep an old man company for a while."

I walk over and place my arm around her narrow shoulders, guiding her to the large couch where I direct her to sit.

"I was having a tough time sleeping myself, so I came down to see what was on the tube."

Sitting directly beside her, I began to feel myself becoming aroused again. After Carol had given me her special gift earlier, I had almost forgotten about Chloe staying with us. But now, having her alone in the den, with the rest of the house sound asleep, I certainly was once again aware of her presence.

"Umm really, Mr. Blake...I think...I should go back to...um...my room," she stammers nervously.

Her naive innocence and youthful appearance combine in a strangely exciting way. I ignore her attempt, knowing that she wouldn't leave without my permission...something I'm not ready to grant just yet.

"Do you realize that in three minutes, you're going to be eighteen years old," I ask, pointing to the clock which reads 11:57.

She looks up and smiles shyly, not knowing how to respond.

"That's a milestone that I'd really like to share with you."

I get up and instruct her to stay put...returning with a small bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"This was supposed to be for Carol and My 20th anniversary, but I can get another bottle for that," I say, repositioning myself next to her as the clock changed to 12:59.

We sit quietly...waiting for the minute to pass...silence filling the room...

Finally the clock changes to 12:00...

"Happy birthday!," I say quietly, opening the champagne and pouring us each a glass. "Where I come from, this calls for a little kiss."

Leaning forward, I softly press my lips to hers and hold it for a second before releasing.

"I guess this makes you legal!"

 

[shereads]

Chloe

I stand in the door of the den, praying that the pale light from the television doesn't show too much - please don't see, please don't look at me there - praying he doesn't see what's happening to me.

Great, perfect. It's not bad enough to have insignificant breasts; I get nipples that choose this moment to call attention to themselves. God, I'm embarrassed. I've never felt so exposed in a silly tank top.

I'll just say goodnight and go back up --

"Come on Chloe. Keep an old man company for a while."

Noooo! He reaches for me, puts his arm around my shoulder - He didn't see, but he will now! - and my whole body quivers inside. What's the matter with me? Mr. Blake guides me over to the couch, as casually as if we had always been friends like this.

All these years, I wanted Amanda's dad to like me the way her mom did. I'd have killed for a fraction of this attention...But not like this, not when I'm feeling so - I don't even know, it's just strange. This is just so strange. The way my body is reacting to the movie, and his arm on me.

It's Amanda's dad for god's sake.

"I was having a tough time sleeping myself," he says, oblivious to Pierce Brosnan's lips on a creamy, room-sized breast. Who needs a TV that big?

No! Not the tongue, not James Bond's tongue on the huge, High-Definition nipple!

..."So I came down to see what was on the tube."

Of course he glances at the screen when he says that. Just a glance, like an adult; I'm the one who's overreacting. It's James Bond, Chloe, not a porn movie.

Mr. Blake motions for me to sit beside him on the couch. Poor man, he thinks I'm lonely so he's letting me ruin the movie for him. At least this means Amanda's father hasn't noticed what my body is doing...the quiver when he touched me, my nipples stabbing at the front of my top as if they're reaching out to him...

When I sit, my loose p.j. shorts scrunch-up around the tops of my thighs and I feel cool leather beneath too much bare skin.

"Umm really, Mr. Blake...I think...I should go back to...um...my room." Smooth, Chloe. Very much the 'beautiful woman.'

"Do you realize that in three minutes, you're going to be eighteen years old," he says.

It's 11:57.

In three minutes I won't be a child anymore...Of course not. I'll be calm, witty, self-assured Chloe Pritchard, a woman enjoying a casual chat with a man I've known since I was twelve. Except that a Bond Girl the size of the Statue of Liberty will be looming on the opposite wall. Naked, her soft breasts pressed to his hard chest, his mouth tasting hers...

"That's a milestone that I'd really like to share with you."

Three minutes. He just wants to acknowledge a houseguest's birthday, then I can go back to bed. Whatever is wrong with me tonight - stress, sleeplessness - can be hidden under the covers, and it'll be gone by daylight.

"Wait right there, Chloe. I'll be back in a second."

As soon as he's gone, I sit forward and straighten my shorts. A little less bare skin will help. That goes for you too, James Bond...

Just as Brosnan rolls over on top of the woman and lowers himself between her legs, Mr. Blake comes back.

"This was supposed to be for Carol and my 20th anniversary, but I can get another bottle for that."

Champagne. Oh god, champagne. What an incredible gesture.

It changes everything. My silly awkwardness has been excused. Even my body recognizes what a gift this moment is, and calms itself. Thank God.

I smile up at him, my best friend's remarkably warm, generous, surprising father, and I'm filled with affection. I can imagine Mr. Blake sharing a moment just like this with his own daughter when she turned eighteen last month. A celebration just for the two of them, to say she's special to him...I know Amanda and her mom will have something planned for my birthday, but this means so much to me.

I'm eighteen, and a man I respect is welcoming me to the adult side of my teenaged years.

I hold the elegant crystal champagne flutes for him, and I'm grateful that my hands are calm and steady now. This time when he sits beside me, facing me, I'm hardly aware of the sex scene taking place on the opposite side of the room. Mr. Blake glances at the mantel clock. 11:59. The room is quiet, the movie is nothing but a mute splash of color like silent fireworks.

I feel so happy.

Amanda, buddy, this is the best birthday gift. Thank you for sharing your dad with me.

He's looking at me now. My shyness is a habit, and I look down, hiding beneath lowered lashes. I make myself look up and return his solemn, entirely grown-up smile.

Look at him. Memorize this moment. In the last seconds of childhood, you finally had a father who remembered your birthday.

"Happy birthday," he murmurs, his voice radiating warmth and intimacy. I watch, breathless with gratitude, as he performs the brief ceremony of opening and pouring champagne - in my honor! I never dreamed that this moment of passage would be given such importance. I've never felt as special as I do right now, waiting for the inevitable birthday toast from such unlikely lips.

His lips.

"Where I come from, this calls for a little kiss."

A kiss?

I hear a startled little gasp - mine - and before I can react or even flinch, Mr. Blake leans forward - oh my God - and his sensuous mouth is inches from my own, and closer, closer now...

I have to close my eyes or he'll see how much I want this kiss! His touch is so, so soft, his lips barely upon mine - does he feel me trembling? - and I'm so scared that Mr. Blake will know I want a kiss from him, not a father's kiss...

but this kiss, his hot/hard lips touching and then pressing mine. Hard on soft

...a man's kiss. I want to be eighteen with the clumsy kisses of boys eraced forever by this kiss. It's beautiful. And then it's over.

"I guess this makes you legal!"

How long have I been sitting here with my eyes closed, my hand trembling so, that Mr. Blake has to reach out and steady my champagne glass for me. At his touch on my hand, I open my eyes and see him looking at me, silver-blue eyes alight with something...Something that isn't the way a father looks at his daughter on her birthday.

His downward glance makes me aware that, among other sensations I shouldn't be feeling, my nipples are so hard they hurt.

Oh god, don't let him look at me like that.

Watching.

All those weeks ago, when I felt so uncomfortable around Amanda's dad, this is what I thought I saw when he looked at me when nobody else was aware. He was watching me, waiting for something. Something he shouldn't want to see in me.

Something he saw just now.

Or did I imagine it?

 

[Gareman]

I sense her nervousness like a tiger smelling fear before he pounces.

So awkward...

So uncertain...

So vulnerable...

Her nipples, hard as little pebbles beg me to touch them. To twist them. To take them into my mouth and give her pleasure she's never imagined.

Her hand trembles, almost spilling the champagne and I take her glass...sharing mine...slowly tipping the glass... touching her young lips until they part and accept some of the bubbly liquid. A small dribble runs down her chin tracing the contour of her neck...slowly rolling downward.

Tipping the glass back, I withdraw it and allow my free hand to move forward. My index finger scoops the small drop from the base of her neck and places it to her lips.

Her eyes meet mine...not sure what to do.

I press my finger forward, parting her lips and slipping it inside. There's something so sensual...so enticing...so wrong about what's happening. I'm sure she feels it too, but probably has no idea where I want it to go. Or maybe she does...

"You know Chloe," I say softly, sliding my finger slowly from her mouth. "I've always felt something special for you. I've always liked you so much more than Amanda's other friends."

I see her eyes light up at my comment before they shyly return to her lap.

"I think that you and I can have an awfully good time together," I continue, placing the glass to her lips again. She allows me to pour more champagne into her mouth.

"But I think we should keep it kind of quiet. You know how jealous Amanda can be."

She nods, swallowing the sweet alcohol.

"Now let's have a real kiss."

I lean forward and press my lips to hers. She flinches, but then relaxes as I begin to slide my tongue forward...

"Dad!! Are you down there?" FUCK!!! It's Amanda, obviously returning home from her date.

We break off the kiss and I place my finger to my lips...

"Remember..not a word."

 

[shereads]

Chloe

Oooh god, god, god don't let this be happening. Don't let it feel good, it shouldn't feel this good...

I wasn't wrong, I didn't imagine it. He wants...I want it too.

Let me be dreaming. Let it be okay when I wake up. Let me be in my own bed and seventeen.

Let me go home!

But first let me...let me...

---------------------------------------

Blake puts his glass to her lips and makes Chloe taste her birthday champage, ice-cold, bittersweet. Please don't! Her body is numb with fear and shame, trembling all over now, as cold and unsubstantial as the bubbles, and Chloe doesn't swallow any of it until she feels a thin stream of the liquid weeping from her lips.

She feels the icy liquid trailing downward and sees its progress in Brad Blake's ice-hot eyes: it trails like an escaped tear, down her chin and beneath, down her throat, down and down, cutting like a cold steel scalpel, until the drop of champagne and the man's eyes are amost touching the thin cotton top...focusing Blake's attention, and Chloe's, on the soft swell of her left breast. And its wicked little nipple. The slutty pink nubbin that reaches out for him like its twin, begging for his touch.

I begged for attention, it's my fault, I'm sorry

His touch! Blake's eyes are touching her small breast, seeing how the soft flesh trembles as a shudder racks the rest of her body, and she feels him touching her even before his finger reaches - no please no - and Chloe hates herself, because she knows it's going to feel sooo good...

The only sound in the house seems to be her own ragged breathing. When his fingertip takes the drop of champagne from her skin and brings it to her lips, Chloe makes a tiny, animal sound. Part sob, part soft moan; a sigh of defeat and acceptance.

Her big, blue eyes are wet with unshed tears and wide with the shock of betrayal. Her body's betrayal...She blames her body for this, even now.

Blake places his finger on the quivering, pink cupid's-bow of her mouth - a little girl's mouth and a woman's mouth, so scared, so hungry and so unsure. The rosy flesh, so like the color of the aroused nipples that are veiled but visible beneath sheer white cotton, is baby-smooth, soft and accepting.

She won't try to stop him.

If he had any doubt about Chloe's sexual response to him, it's gone when she allows him to penetrate her mouth - gently, slowly - with his fingertip. Then she closes her lips, and closes her eyes, and sucks.

Sucks his finger. Sucks his firm flesh.

Only for a second. Suckling, nursing at his finger, instinctively comforting herself and giving Blake what he wants. Only for a second, but it's enough to earn a reward.

"You know Chloe," he says softly, sliding his finger slowly from her mouth. "I've always felt something special for you."

Chloe opens her eyes and he sees such hope in them, such heartfelt need, that if he hadn't read her body's signals so clearly...

"I've always liked you so much more than Amanda's other friends."

Her trembling calms a bit. This is precisely what she's been aching to hear.

"I think that you and I can have an awfully good time together," he continues, his voice both soothing and arousing. And this time, when he places the cool crystal against her pouting lower lip for a second time, Chloe drinks. Surrenders.

She's his.

----------------------------

I don't know what he's saying anymore. It doesn't matter. It will, I know. It will matter more than anything, later. It will cost me everything. Amanda's love, and Mrs. Blake's.

But it doesn't matter yet.

The champagne is delicious, cold/hot, fizzy and smooth, like a kiss that goes all the way inside.

"Keep it quiet...jealous..."

Yes, we'll keep it quiet. Will you kiss me again?

"...a real kiss."

Yes, please. Love me with your mouth. Make my body feel this delicious heat all over. I ache, please do something...

Mr. Blake gives me his lips again, softly pressing them to mine. Our kiss is even nicer this time, because I want it too, and I'm ready. We taste like champagne. I feel something hot and wet probing, teasing...Please don't; if we do it like this, I can't pretend later that it was only a birthday kiss...He wants me to take it inside me, maybe just the tip of his tongue. Maybe suck on it a little - just for a second - like I did with his finger.

I never liked it when boys put their tongues in my mouth. I didn't let it happen more than a couple of times.

"mmm...mm" I moan a little, a half-meant protest, and then I let him inside me.

It feels good. It's so good...He's in me. He needs me! I feel my whole body responding to Mr. Blake's tongue in me, melting, giving in. Shyly, I touch my tongue to his.

His breathing changes suddenly. He feels, tastes, sounds more urgent now, and I know I won't be able to stop this -

"Dad? Are you down there?!"

Oh my God! Mr. Blake pulls away from me as if he's been burned; my face is scalding hot with shame. How did I let this happen? How will I explain being here like this with Amanda's dad?

"Remember..not a word."

No, Mr. Blake. There are no words for what we've done. It's never going to happen again.

 

[Gareman]

Chloe does her best to act normally as Amanda bounces happily into the room. She's home kind of early. I thought Steve was taking her to a movie and then midnight bowling.

"Hi hon," I say, remaining seated to hide my raging hard-on.

She come over and sits on my lap...luckily not far enough back to realize how sexually aroused I am.

"Do you think I could use the car tomorrow," she asks wrapping her arms around my neck. "I want to take Chloe to a new store at the mall."

Relieved at her apparent blindness to the scene, I agree readily...keeping her little ass away from my still rigid member.

"I set Chloe up with Steve's buddy and we're gonna have to get her some new clothes."

I feel a weird sense of jealousy at Amanda's words. Chloe is going out with some little punk friend of Steve's. My Chloe?

Amanda hops off of my lap and stands by Chloe, fussing with her hair.

"We're gonna need to get you to the salon, as well," she teases.
"I really think this guy is for you."

I can see the discomfort spreading over Chloe's face. I know she hasn't really dated much and for Amanda to put her in this situation...

"Here," I offer, handing my daughter one of my credit cards. "The beauty parlor and shopping spree are on me. Just don't go crazy...okay?"

At that point, I would have done anything to get myself out of the jam I had almost gotten caught in. Please Amanda...just take your little friend and get out of here. And Chloe...please keep your mouth shut.

My strategy seems to work as the girls take off upstairs, giggling. I hear Chloe start to object to the date...but then say.

"So...is he cute?"

My heart feels heavy. Not only because my little friend will be with another guy. But also because of what I had almost done.

I know that I must find a way to stop myself from ever letting it happen again. My marriage, my job, probably my whole life depends on it.

But something inside tells me it won't be easy.

Maybe it won't be possible at all...

 

[shereads]

Chloe

Amanda's way of expressing concern has always been the easiest way for me: she keeps both of us moving and busy, never offers pity that she knows I don't want, and never asks what's going on with my parents. She waits for me to want to talk.

Last night I would rather have been run over by a truck than talk with Amanda. The more she chattered, trying to cheer me up, the guiltier I felt. I almost regretted that she hadn't realized what was going on in the den, hated me for it, ordered me out of her home and her life. Selfish of me, I know, to wish that kind of pain on my best friend. But this way, there was a lie between Amanda and me. The first lie ever. I hated it.

I made an effort at girl-talk until I couldn't stand it any longer and insisted on going back to bed. I think Amanda was surprised that I agreed to a blind date without protesting.

It's not that I'm scared of guys, like Amanda thinks; I just don't make small talk as easily as other people. I don't have funny stories about my family. The main reason I haven't dated much, though, is that I don't like the things girls my age are supposed to like. The back seat of the car, the hand up the skirt or pulling at the buttons of my blouse. All of that unearned intimacy that's supposed to make me feel good, just makes me feel invaded. I hate it when guys grope me, and especially when they stick their tongues in my -

- in my mouth. I hated it. Until last night.

Mr. Blake's tongue, slipping slowly into my mouth, was the most delicious thing that ever happened to me. I felt it from my fingertips to...to my sex.

"Now let's have a real kiss."

The sound of his voice made me weak. The look in his eyes - confident, powerful, but patient - made me wet.

Why couldn't I have discovered that feeling with a boy my age? Or even with a man like Mr. Blake who was somebody else's best friend's father?

I can't stop remembering how good he felt, and how he tasted, and how naughty and wrong and right it was, when he started to slip his tongue inside - slowly, softly, wanting me to decide. And I did; I decided right then that I'd do whatever Mr. Blake wanted. Anything. Everything.

That's how good it was. That's how much my body trusted Mr. Blake to know exactly what to do next.

It wouldn't have been anything like the way it would be with a boy my age. I knew that, because when he kissed me the kiss was nothing like a boy's. It was a man's kiss. A confident, powerful man, kissing a woman he wanted. I could feel how much he needed to do it - not just to kiss me, but do it. I needed it too, maybe even more.

God, it would have been good. It would have been perfect.

If Amanda hadn't walked in on us, I wouldn't be a virgin today. It would have been the best and worst thing that happened in my whole life. He would have made me feel special.

But I couldn't have lived with myself. It's hard enough now, when all we did was kiss.

I got up early this morning and went out for a run. I didn't want Mrs. Blake making breakfast for me. I don't want her to do anything nice for me after what I did last night.

And Mr. Blake. How can I face him now? He has to be wondering if I planned what happened. He probably thinks I knew he was watching TV in the den, and planned to seduce him or something. Why else would I have come downstairs in my sleep clothes, in a house that's not my own. He must hate me now.

Amanda wanted to spend the day shopping and getting my hair cut, and I was glad to be out of the house. I let Amanda and her hair stylist decide what to do with my hair. I didn't care what I looked like for Steve's friend, but Amanda did. She and the guy with the scissors took over, and I barely heard or saw what was happening.

When we got home, Amanda did my makeup. I dressed in what she'd picked out for me to wear. She loaned me some silver earrings of hers, the big hoops I'd always admired but thought were too flashy for me.

The guys were coming at eight. I took a moment to look at the new me, standing in front of the cheval mirror in the guest room. And I had to admit, I looked good. My dress was really simple, but "hot," as Amanda said. A strapless minidress in ice-blue linen with some stretch in the fabric, to make it fit snug in the right places. And with boning built into the bodice to "make your boobies stand up and demand to be noticed."

Amanda always had a flair for the dramatic.

I'm not sure my 'boobies' were demanding anything, but I did have a nice shape in this dress. The shorter haircut framed my face, the way the stylist had said it would. That, and the small amount of makeup I let Amanda put on me, had me feeling pretty good about myself - until I heard the garage door opening down below the guest room.

Mr. Blake was home.

He'd gone into the office today, even though it was the weekend. In the old days, when my parents used to dump me on the Blakes so frequently, Mr. Blake would almost always disappear on the weekends. He hated being around a lot of kids, and one extra kid was a lot more than he had bargained for.

I spent years longing for his attention. The perfect dad, Amanda's dad.

Yesterday, he had made my dream come true, and I had ruined it. Mr. Blake had welcomed me into his home and family with open arms. Why the hell did I have to get so carried away? Throwing myself at him, clinging, needing, flirting in the kitchen...Then acting as if a glass of birthday champagne was some kind of big romance. He must loathe me now.

"Come on, girl! Your eager new stud is waiting downstairs. Let's get going."

I followed Amanda down the stairs almost eagerly. At least I wouldn't have to spend an evening making small talk with Mrs. Blake, whose trust I had betrayed; and being avoided by Mr. Blake, whose friendship I had twisted and destroyed.

-----------------------------------

Amanda, chic as always in a black minidress, bounces down the stairs into the arms of her long-time boyfriend, Steve.

"Dad! Come in here a second, okay?"

Blake had almost managed to avoid this by heading directly down to his basement study from the garage. But he's busted, and there's no way to ignore his daughter without behaving suspiciously. She'll want to give him back what's left of his credit cards before she leaves on her date.

"Good to see you, sir," says Steve, extending his hand as if it hadn't been on Amanda's ass just seconds before her dad entered the room. The young prick is smooth, you have to hand it to him.

And there's the other one. Good-looking kid, tall and athletic like Steve, and maybe not quite as obsequious. Blake greets the boys with the requisite handshakes, and tries not to be more than normally reserved with the new one.

This is the clueless, wet-behind-the-ears freshman who'll be kissing Chloe goodnight, at the very least. And getting a good mouthful of those naughty little nipples, if he plays his cards even half-right.

Reserved is Brad Blake's normal way with a houseful of teenagers, and it hardly matters to this kid. His eyes are on the girl standing behind Amanda on the stairs. Blake follows the kid's stare, and sees Chloe. Looking good enough to eat.

She's a delicate porcelain doll, dressed-up in sexy clothes. Her fragile, peaches-and-cream purity and lack of guile are even more evident, contrasted with the blatant come-on of a strapless bustier mini-dress. Her pink lips are touched with gloss in a slightly richer shade than her own natural pout. Her thick, black eyelashes wear a coat of mascara that's almost redundant, and somehow out of character - as if, in Amanda's more worldly hands, an innocent has been disguised as a seductress.

Her hair is shorter, a modern take on the classic gamine look. Timeless, ageless. Even the fuck-me style of the dress is countered by its baby-blue color, a sweet but cooler shade than Chloe's ocean-blue eyes. To Blake, it's apparent that Chloe is trying with marginal success to return the boy's avid look with an interested one of her own.

She descends the stairs, her wrist in Amanda's hand. Introductions and small talk are made. Blake tries not to act impatient as he waits to see what his daughter wants so he can get out of here.

"Daddy, you took long enough getting home. Mom has something important to say, and she insisted that it had to wait until you were here."

Blake's steely eyes meet Chloe's enormous, infinitely sad ones, for a fraction of a second before they both look away.

When Carol comes in from the kitchen with a candle-covered cake, both Blake and Chloe wonder if their relief can be felt throughout the room. Chloe's knees feel weak. She clings to the banister for support.

"I know you young people want to get on with your evening," Carol begins. Carol can't resist an audience of kids. "But I can't let our Chloe leave tonight without telling her how happy we all are that she's celebrating her 18th birthday as a guest in our home. Brad, is there anything you want to say to Chloe?"

 

[Gareman]

Do I have anything to say to Chloe? I chuckle to myself at the possibilities, but outwardly remain in character. The loving husband and father paying tribute to his daughter's best friend as I welcome her to adulthood. Clearing my throat, I step forward and place an arm around the young girl I had kissed last night. I feel her apprehension, but also understand her predicament and confidently look down into her eyes.

"First, I'd like to mention how lucky we are to have the opportunity to share this important day," I started...rubbing her shoulder. "You have reached a very important milestone and I want to wish you only the best in the future."

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a small box and handed it to her, noticing her hand trembling slightly as she reached out. This was a surprise to everyone...something I had planned on presenting in a more private moment...but what the heck.

"Happy Birthday, honey," I continued, kissing her forehead.

Opening the box, she started crying. The gold chain sparkled...holding a small heart-shaped diamond pendant.

"Now...now...now," I reprimanded. "This is a happy time. No tears."

I could tell she was embarrassed...confused...thrilled...all in one and I pulled her close, wrapping both arms around her.

"Now have a great time...and," I looked directly at her date. "You'd better be a perfect gentleman tonight. Do you understand?"

He nodded, intimidated by my unexpected warning, as I released Chloe and walked out of the room. Carol beamed proudly, winking as I passed.

Finally knowing that Chloe was welcome.

Blind to my ulterior motives.

I went downstairs and entered my study, closing the door behind me. I had decided earlier that my powerful urges would somehow be satisfied. I had struggled with the morality for a short period, trying to be the man that my family truly believed I was...but ultimately conceded that I couldn't resist the temptation that my daughter's young friend presented.

Somehow...someway...I'd have her.

 

[shereads]

Chloe

Blake follows the kid's stare, and sees Chloe. Looking good enough to eat.

She's a delicate porcelain doll, dressed-up in sexy clothes. Her fragile, peaches-and-cream purity and lack of guile are even more evident, contrasted with the blatant come-on of a strapless bustier mini-dress. Her pink lips are touched with gloss in a slightly richer shade than her own natural pout. Her thick, black eyelashes wear a coat of mascara that's almost redundant, and somehow out of character - as if, in Amanda's more worldly hands, an innocent has been disguised as a seductress.

It felt good at first.

I was making an entrance, drifting down the stairs like Scarlett O'Hara, liking the way I felt after a long look in the mirror. Amanda's boyfriend Steve gave me an admiring wink - probably for her benefit, because he knew she'd spent the day supervising my makeover. But it was exciting to have this gorgeous jock looking at me like something other than his girlfriend's timid shadow.

Then there was Steve's friend.

Oh god. My blind date.

My stomach did flipflops, and I paused a few steps from the bottom of the stairs, my sweaty hand gripping the bannister. He was great-looking, like Steve, and I couldn't help thinking he could be with any of a dozen girls tonight who'd be a lot better company than shy, nervous Chloe Pritchard.

I couldn't even remember his name. Amanda, as always, came to the rescue.

"Jeff, did I lie? Is she gorgeous, or what?"

"She's gorgeous. I owe you."

His smile seemed real enough, and I relaxed a little...A couple of days ago, Jeff would have fallen into my "older men" category. He was a year older than Steve and had finished his freshman year.

"Dad, come in here a second, okay?"

Oh hell. Not now, Amanda. Please don't call him in here now!

But it was too late. When Mr. Blake walked in, all of the guilt and embarrassment of the night before came flooding back. It was real. I had kissed Amanda's father - Mrs. Blake's husband! - and I had wanted to do more. I was the lowest kind of friend anyone could have, and Amanda had made all this fuss over me.

What was even worse than the guilt was the way Steve and Jeff were diminished by his presence. Jeff wasn't as intimidated by Mr. Blake's cool, assessing look as a lot of Amanda's male friends, but he couldn't entirely hide his discomfort. Suddenly my handsome, smiling college man was...a boy.

-----------------------------

Throughout the evening, Chloe found herself fingering and holding the diamond heart pendant like an amulet. She remained both shaken and touched by the gift. And more confused than ever by Brad Blake's attitude toward her. On the surface, his behavior back at the house had been perfectly paternal. The substitute father that she had always wished he would be.

Had she imagined the heat between them last night? Had she been the one - the only one - who made more of a simple birthday kiss than it should have been? The thought was more than embarrassing; it was depressing, and Chloe knew it shouldn't be.

Nothing can happen. So why want to believe he's attracted to you?

Because of the kiss...ahh, god, the kiss. Mr. Blake's mouth on hers, the electric shock that spasmed through her body when their tongues had merely touched! Her nipples aching for him, reaching for him. The shameful but honey-sweet wetness between her legs...It had been the single, most thrilling moment of Chloe's life.

"You sure you won't dance?"

Yanked back into her date's world, Chloe met his eyes and saw his annoyance. He'd been hiding it pretty well, despite the fact that Amanda and Steve were having such a great night, it made Jeff's dull date even worse by comparison.

Those two had danced every dance and tossed back three rounds of rum-and-colas (the bartender knew Steve would tip well, and had barely glanced at their fake IDs). On the dance floor, their bodies writhing with youth and hormones and the sheer joy of being beautiful, Jeff's friend and Chloe's friend drew envious stares.

And here was Jeff, stuck with a girl who hated to dance under even the best of circumstances. It had always made her feel self-conscious.

Tonight, Chloe couldn't help thinking how great it would be to skip the rest of her teenaged years - the awkwardness, the shyness, the growing pains made exquisitely awful by her parents' constant turmoil. How much better to simply wake up tomorrow as a woman. Older, experienced, with the confidence that comes from having a powerful man who wants you.

Mr. Blake wouldn't give a damn if she could dance, and if he did care, he could probably teach her. Mr. Blake - Brad - would love to teach her.

Teach me things.

"Listen, if we're just going to sit here all night and watch each other's hair grow, maybe you'd rather go home."

"What?" A cold chill of social failure settled like a block of ice in Chloe's stomach; this was the feeling she'd dreaded, the one she had avoided for years by refusing Amanda's offer to set her up with Steve's fabulous friends.

"Look, Chloe," Jeff said, setting his beer down with the soft "thud" of finality. "You're a sweet girl. And I know you're having a tough time at home...or something. But neither one of us is having any fun tonight. Why don't I take you back to the Blakes', and then I'll bring Steve's car back here. Okay?"

"I - what time is it?"

"What time is it? What difference does it make?" With a sarcastic little lift of one eyebrow, Jeff glanced at his watch. "Well will you look at the time! It's eleven-thirty. We can just make curfew if we hurry."

-----------------

The ride home had been fast, silent, and the longest five miles ever.

Chloe managed to hold her tears long enough to unlock the front door. She was grateful to Jeff for one thing, at least: he had come up with a face-saving story about their early exit from the nightclub, acquiring Amanda's housekeys and Steve's BMW without revealing Chloe's humiliation.

And he was gentleman enough to wait until his date was safely inside before he drove away. Drove away fast, to meet someone named "Tracy," to whom he'd made a quick phone call from the parking lot of the club.

Chloe shut and latched the door as quietly as she could, noting the silent house and deeply embarrassed to be returning so early from her first official "adult" date. It was only midnight, and on a weekend, so it didn't seem likely that the Blakes would both be asleep. But there was no sound of a TV and she hadn't seen any lights on upstairs, so they must be -

"God, baby. What's turning you into such a stud these days?" It was Carol Blake's voice, coming from - from the dining room?!

"Your Flintstones vitamins, sweetheart...They're keeping Daddy nice and hard for your tight little -- "

Chloe saw them at the same time Brad Blake saw her.

Her eyes met his across the expanse of gleaming wood that was the dining room table. A few yards of darkness, faintly lit by the lamp that had been left on here in the foyer, were all that separated Chloe from Brad Blake who was about to impale his wife -oh jesus - on his stiff, enormous penis. The angry-looking organ, it's knob-shaped tip gleaming wetly in the lamplight, was poised between the v'd legs of Mrs. Blake who lay sprawled on the table with her nightgown around her waist and her ankles on her husband's shoulders.

If there was anything good about this moment - Chloe had the presence of mind to note this - it was that Mrs. Blake was facing away from her.

Mr. Blake, on the other hand, was looking right at her. It was too dark to read his expression, but Chloe's heart felt what she thought was there: Intruder. Will we never have a moment in this house without you under foot?

At least, that's what Chloe imagined Mr. Blake thinking - until he reached down and guided his penis - his naked penis! - to the entrance of his wife's body, and looked directly at Chloe as he said,

"You want it, don't you, sweet girl. Sweet little cock-tease."

"Please, baby, please...oh, yeah...That's my big Brad. Do it deeper, baby..."

Chloe watched for a long, surreal moment. Mesmerized. Terrified. More aroused than she had known it was possible to be. Only when the tears came, a quiet flood of them, white-hot and mercifully silent, did she begin to step back into the darkness of the foyer. She moved backward, scant inches at a time, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, until she reached the foot of the staircase. Then she remembered to breathe.

 

[Gareman]

The small, almost imperceptibele, movement in the hallway catches my attention. It's Chloe. She's home early...not the sign of a successful date.

She stands motionless, stunned by what she's seeing. Afraid to move. Afraid to continue watching.

Her eyes lock onto mine and then move down...eyeing my penis.

I hesitate...giving her plenty of time to imagine what it would be like to have my manhood poised to enter her sweet young pussy. The wetness of Carol's ready vagina touching the tip of my erect penis...begging me to split her lips and slide deep inside.

"Please, baby, please...oh, yeah...That's my big Brad. Do it deeper, baby..."

Carol wanted it badly, but it wasn't Carol's voice I heard. It was Chloe lying before me, legs spread...waiting...begging...needing me to fulfill that need.

Moving forward, I enter her...slipping inside...the soft, warmness of her vagina welcoming me.

"Oh God, Brad," she moans.

I look up to see Amanda's friend...but she's gone.

I fuck Carol like I haven't in years, my mind replacing her face with Chloe's. I close my eyes and imagine the sweet young girl taking me into her virgin womb.

After a long while and several powerful orgasms, Carol begins to beg me to stop.

"Sweetheart...you're gonna kill me," she laughs. "What's gotten into you?"

We laugh and talk for a while, Carol obviously enjoying the rekindling of our sexual flame. Finally she excuses herself and goes to bed..leaving me alone with my thoughts...and my newly discovered need.

After a while, I head upstairs. As I begin to walk toward our bedroom, I hear the distinct sound of a young girl crying. It's coming from the spare bedroom that Chloe is using and I can't resist...

Knock...knock..knock...

I open the door slowly and see Chloe sitting in the edge of the bed...still dressed.

"Chloe...are you okay?" I ask, walking toward her.

She seems startled and begins to try to send me on my way by saying she's alright, but I close the door behind me and continue toward her.

"Is there something we need to talk about?"

I sit down on the bed and place my arm around her.

"Was it something that Jeff did?"

She stiffens up at my touch, but I pull her close and begin to gently rub her shoulder.

"Now just relax and tell me what's wrong."

 

[shereads]

Chloe

>double post<

 

[shereads]

Chloe

All the way up the stairs I can hear them. His heavy breathing, her cries for more, the obscene squeaking sound of damp skin on waxed and polished wood...I can't help but picture what they're doing. The rhythm of his movements, I can hear in the feminine squeals she emits every time he -- .

Every time.

Over and over, faster and faster. He's moving inside her, and she sounds like it hurts - "Oh Christ!" - but she's loving it. And for a moment, I envy her so deeply it feels like hatred.

"Fuck me, baby. Fuck - fuck - FUCK!"

Why can't I make myself leave the landing at the top of the stairs? I want to be somewhere, anywhere but here right now.

Dancing with Jeff. Drinking rum and cola until I'm dizzy and silly and giggling over nothing. Letting Jeff grope me in the parking lot at the club, the way I know he would have if I hadn't been so stupid, so timid.

"Brad please...Baby, PLEASE!"

Maybe it would have felt good this time. Maybe I would have closed my eyes and imagined someone else's mouth and hands, and I'd have felt that electric shock that went from my mouth to my nipples to the wet-hot place between my legs when he kissed me. Maybe if I had pretended, maybe I could have...

I hear the panting, grunting, male sounds of fucking growing louder and faster. Faster. Faster. I can almost feel what it must be like to be her. To be the woman that enormous thing is stretching, using, pounding, taking. My panties are soaking wet, and if I let myself listen to this much longer, I'll go crazy with needing to know what it's like.

"You want it bad, don't you!" "Yes baby yes!" "Take it. Take it. Take it all..."

Does he know I'm listening? Does he know I'm standing at the top of the stairs in the dark, imagining what it's like?

For the first time, I can imagine it being true, what I've heard from girls who've done it - that sex can hurt, but in a way that makes you love the hurt. It would have to hurt, wouldn't it? Because his - his penis is so big.

"B-Brad -- Jesus! It's - it's too much, it's too much!"

It would hurt. But the hurt must feel incredible because she's begging - "Harder - fuck me harder!" - and he's giving her what she wants. What I need. Hurt that drives everything out of your head. Hurt that makes the world disappear, the Jeffs disappear, the fear, the anger --

"Make me cum make me cum m-m-make meeeee...

--until something happens, the something that I've tried to find with my own hands, and never could.

I hate her. No I can't hate her, I love her and she's so good to me.

She's screaming!

I envy her. I want what she feels.

I have to move out of this house.

----------------------------------

Chloe sits in her dark bedroom, afraid to have the light visible under the door when - if - Mrs. Blake finally comes upstairs.

Even more important than finding a place to stay is the need to make sure that Carol Blake never knows Chloe was home tonight. Not just home, but watching. Listening. Wanting.

She takes her cell phone into the bathroom and closes the door, and sits clothed on the lid of the toilet while she talks to her parents' answering machine.

"Pick up, Mom. It's Chloe...Mom, I know you're screening in case he calls, okay? I know you're there! I need to talk to you...I have to come home...Mom, please pick up the phone..."

She tries her dad next, on his cell phone.

"Chloe?"

"Daddy? Oh god, I'm so glad I reached you, I -"

"Honey, what are you doing up at this hour? Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"What? Daddy, I graduated, remember?"

"Of course you did...Sorry, cupcake. I've been kind of distracted."

"That's news."

"Listen, Chloe, it's a bad time for me to talk right now. You still at the Blakes?"

"That's what I have to talk to you about, Dad. I need to move back home, and Mom won't even talk to -"

"Good, then. I'll call you tomorrow, okay, cupcake?"

"No, Dad. I need to move out. I need you to talk to Mom about it and -"

"I have to hang up now, Chloe. You and Amanda have fun together, okay?"

She holds the phone to her ear for a long time after he hangs up. Eventually, she hears Carol Blake in the upstairs hallway, calling down to her husband. "Don't forget to leave the light on for the girls, okay?"

Chloe sits on the bed in the dark guest room, still wearing the sexy dress she'd felt so pretty in just a few hours before. She fingers the diamond heart pendant that should have been a gift from her own father, and tries not to think about Amanda's father as anything more than just that.

Her friend's father.

He knows she saw him with Mrs. Blake, but he doesn't have to know she listened at the top of the stairs. He can never know what she felt.

Tomorrow she'll pack her things and go home, no matter what her mom says. It's her house, too.

There's a knock at the door, a sound that stops her heart.

He comes in despite her stammered protests, and sits on the bed beside her.

"Is there something we need to talk about, Chloe?"

He wants me to leave. Good, we'll get this over with.

Then his arm is around her naked shoulders - she feels naked! - and she stops wondering anything at all. Her skin feels hot all over; her nipples ache.

"Is it something Jeff did?"

Jeff? She had forgotten all about Jeff. And isn't that a strange question, considering what she walked in on downstairs?

Then Chloe feels something new in the way Mr. Blake is touching her...He's rubbing her back, casually...but his fingertips keep dipping beneath the fabric of the strapless dress, just near the zipper. She shivers suddenly, and her tears stop cold.

Suddenly, Chloe is aware of one more new feeling. Something she's never felt in the presence of any man, and certainly not with Amanda's dad: a tiny, unreasoning thrill of fear...

"Mr. Blake..." Her voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, barely audible.

"Did Jeff touch you, Chloe?"

Chloe stiffens, one hand gripping the diamond heart and the other fisted in the fabric of the bedspread.

"Did he try to make you...do anything?"

"Mr. Blake, I don't think you should - we should - I need to go to bed now, okay?"

 

[Gareman]

My hand moves across her back, sliding under the soft fabric of her dress. She stiffens, not sure how to react...her inexperience betraying her once again as my other hand finds her thigh and begins to move upward. She manages a few words but I ignore them and begin to slowly unzip her dress.

"I know you saw Carol and I," I whisper quietly. "Did you like what you saw?"

My hand moves farther up her leg and I begin to sense her discomfort, the forbidden nature of my advance adding to the excitement of the moment. Her hand moves down, grasping my own and trying to stop my upward movement.

"Just relax Chloe," I instruct as my other hand slides down her back and unclasps her bra. "I have a friend who might be able to give your dad a job..."

I wait, giving my words a chance to sink in.

"All I need to do is say the word."

I breathe deeply, drinking in the sweet fragrance of her perfume mixed with an almost perceptible scent of fear.

"You do want to help your dad...don't you?"

Her small hand begins to tremble and she nods silently, acknowledging her desire to help her father and maybe save her parents marriage.

And then she removes her hand from mine...

"That's my good girl," I say as I sense her resignation and move my hand up her dress farther. "I knew you'd want the best for him."

The room is dark and silent save for the headlights of passing cars and the soft sound of Chloe crying. For a moment I hesitate, my conscience getting the better of me, but then I continue...knowing this could be my only chance at the vulnerable teen.

Sliding my hand up under her panties, I touch her...spreading her lips and gently pressing a finger against her small clitoris. She moans at my touch, her body stiffening in protest, but her legs open slightly...allowing me better access.

"Just lie back Chloe," I instruct, removing my hand from her back as I rise to stand before her.

She complies and in seconds I have her panties off...

I push her dress up, revealing her naked pussy and easily spread her legs. My fingers find her moist pussy again and I expertly begin to stimulate her swelling clitoris. Closing her eyes, she continues to cry softly, but the new sensations she's experiencing are having an effect that she cannot deny.

"That's it sweetheart," I encourage, lowering my mouth to her vagina. "Just lie back and enjoy what I'm gonna do for you."

 

[shereads]

Chloe

“That’s my good girl.”

His betrayal of her trust is revealed to Chloe in a moment of anguished clarity. He seems unaware of her tears; he’s a different man. It’s as if his conscience has been stripped away in the day and a half since Mr. Blake carried Chloe’s suitcase to this room, offering a lost girl the refuge of his home. The refuge of his enfolding arms.

A finger slides beneath her panties.

“Just lie back, Chloe.”

He touches her. Touches the hidden place where every need is suddenly focused. Chloe stiffens for a moment, drawing breath in shallow, panting gasps, and then goes limp, reclining on the bed and offering her implicit permission for what he’s about to do.

She’s never felt more alone. She’s never felt more alive.

This is the worst thing: knowing she’s almost glad to be helpless, glad he’s taken this out of her hands.

I’m in his hands.

Brad Blake’s hands, his knowing hands, caress Chloe’s weeping slit and tease her throbbing clitoris with infinite tenderness. He lifts her dress slowly, so slowly, that she’s scarcely aware of just how naked she is to him now. Naked, vulnerable…and growing more aroused with every quiet sob, every panicked heartbeat.

His very gentleness seems to mock her; clearly, she’s not being forced. There’s been more than enough time to make him stop.

His hands bring such sweetness. A trickle of warm honey.

Chloe's body quivers in its eagerness.

Still there’s time to make him stop. But his touch is luscious, a feast of sensation. Everything she felt in his kiss last night, is present a hundred times over in Blake’s soothing, seducing fingertips. His fingers whisper to Chloe’s body, signaling an invasion of pleasure as they lift the hem of her dress, traveling up and up and up to reveal the velvety, virgin skin of her thighs.

oh god stop please stop

She feels his gaze on her baby-blue panties.

She feels his eyes on her there, as vividly as a firm hand. Cupping her, claiming her. Feels his molten-silver stare sizzling its way through the delicate scrap of blue cotton that hides her innocence.

He's felt her there, and he knows that her innocence is an illusion waiting to be shattered.

Chloe lies still as instructed. She couldn’t move – wouldn’t move – if the room burst into flames. Her panties are removed. Fully exposed to him, it seems to Chloe that there's no going back.

He’s seen me.

He’s touching me.

Amanda’s dad. He’s touching – stop! – he’s touching my pussy, touching my wetness, I’m dripping wet - and I’m arching my back just a little – lifting my hips just the tiniest bit – letting him do this - oh my god - I'm letting him, I'm doing this for mom and dad – but jesus, it feels good. It's so wrong, it feels so sweet.

“That’s it sweetheart.” His softly spoken approval sharpens her nipples to painful hardness, and releases a thick dollop of liquid heat from Chloe's vagina.

She’s melting. Pride, heart, hungry seeking cunt, all are melting like butter beneath the searing heat of Brad Blake’s eyes and hands.

“Just lie back and enjoy what I’m going to do for you.” His voice is a firm command, expressed in the softest whisper.

Her eyes are closed now and she feels his breath there. Feels his breath sifting through the soft, neatly trimmed nest of curls, as he lowers himself –

his mouth!

- lowers his sensuous mouth to Chloe’s mons. Parts her puffy, swollen labia with rough/soft fingertips. Exposes her. And licks.

“Oh god oh god OH G-"

Chloe feels her first climax as a shock, unsought and almost painful, and it takes Blake by surprise as well.

He’s barely tasted her creamy slit when she gasps, her hips buck upward, and he feels the girl’s body beginning to spasm beneath his mouth and fingers. Just in time to stifle her startled scream, he reaches up and clamps a hand over her mouth.

Their eyes meet, and he drinks in the sight of Chloe’s amazement as his mouth drinks a generous spill of her juices.

Her wide-eyed look makes it obvious that this is Chloe’s first sexual climax, and Blake feels his erection leap and jerk in the confines of his sweatpants. Despite the workout earlier with Carol, it's as if his cock is outraged at having been denied the embrace of Chloe's contracting, trembling tunnel.

“Mmm…mmm…mmm..” Her muffled scream gives way to husky moans of pleasure, and Blake gentles the pressure of his left hand on her mouth. His right hand is still pinning her thigh in place, and he loosens his grip there, stroking the pale satin skin as if calming a frightened animal. He slows the movement of his tongue, easing her down from the peak. Allowing his vulnerable girl a moment of calm before –

A car door slams outside.

Amanda has come home.

 

[Gareman]

My cock strains against the loose fabric of my sweats, the need growing with every passing moment.

The look of fear mixed with sexual discovery on Chloe's face is incredibly exciting...

Her virgininty there for the taking...

My tongue stroking gently...tasting her...breaking down her defenses...

I reach down and begin to remove my sweatpants...hand still firmly holding her thigh...spreading her wide for my impending intrusion...

"Bang!"...the sound of a car door...and then a key in the front door.

"Shit!" I swear outloud but softly as I realize that Amanda has come home.

Releasing my grip on her leg, I pull back...looking directly into her eyes...

"Not a word of this," I whisper, staring down at her. "Do you understand?"

She lies trembling on the big bed, eyes as big as saucers and slowly nods.

I bolt from the room and head back into the large master bedroom down the hall. Closing the door silently behind me, I sneak into bed and close my eyes, hoping that our secret will be kept...know the consequences if it isn't.

The following morning the house is quiet as I awake. Rising and dressing quickly, I head out for a light jog to clear the cobwebs from my head. The sun feels good in the coolness of the morning and I find myself settling into a nice smooth cadence as thoughts of Chloe fill my mind.

Her long thin legs spread wide...my tongue slipping between her moist pussy lips...tasting her sweet juices.

I knew she would be mine soon. She wouldn't jeopardize her father's new job by refusing my demands. She wouldn't jeopardize her frienship with Amanda by saying anything. She was right where I wanted her and it was only a matter of time.

Returning home, I took a hot shower and got dressed. Today I would stay home. Carol had several things planned and I knew that Amanda would be working most of the day. I left my day open...you never know...

 

[shereads]

Chloe

I knew when he hadn't left by eight that Mr. Blake would be staying home from the office. I was gone by the time he finished his shower.

I had the Jobs section of yesterday's paper. I had a bus schedule. I had twenty-three dollars and some change. Beyond that, I was operating on adrenalin and fear and instinct.

At noon, I called Amanda to tell her I'd found a job at the new Barnes & Noble. I felt almost giddy; at least I was doing something and wouldn't be hanging around the Blakes' house all day. I could put away some book money for college. Now if I could just get Mom or Dad to sign my scholarship applications.

"I'll drive you home, okay?" Amanda wouldn't be off work until three, but she knew I'd be happy spending the next few hours in the book store. With the promise of a paycheck, I could even splurge on lunch.

"You sure you don't mind? I can take the bus."

"Mind? Don't be silly. We haven't had a chance to debrief - so to speak - since you and Jeff left the club together last night."

My stomach lurched. I hadn't thought about Jeff and the humiliating failure of my first adult date. And I hadn't thought about...No. I couldn't bear to think about that.

"Chloe? Are you stil there?"

"Yes, I just couldn't hear you for a second."

"Three-fifteen at Starbucks, okay? You can buy me a tall one, Miss Moneybags."

"Okay...Amanda?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for everything."

"Jesus, Chloe. You're not going to cry again, are you? I know it's been an awful few days for you, but it's going to get better. It's already better, isn't it?"

Yes. Your dad is going to get my dad a job. It'll make everything better. Everything except...It'll be better.

------------------------------------

Brad Blake is in his basement den when he hears "the girls" return. Chloe and Amanda, giggling and talking a mile a minute. A sound as familiar in this house as the windchimes on the verandah.

Carol arrives with take-out from Amanda's favorite Thai place, and calls everybody to the kitchen for a casual, early supper. Between her stories about her painting class and Amanda's PG-rated description of last night's big event - Chloe's "coming out party" she calls it, apparently in the dark about the early and not-so-happy ending of Chloe's evening with Jeff - supper is half over before there's an awkward silence.

"Daddy, how long are you and Chloe going to keep your secret from Mom?"

Chloe stiffens perceptibly, and Blake sees her hands fisting and twisting the red cloth napkin.

Blake puts his chopsticks down, takes a sip of his beer, and smiles blandly at his daughter. "Apparently we're keeping a tight lid on it, if even I don't know. Want to let me in on it?"

"Mr. Modest here is going to get Chloe's dad a job, Mom. He told Chloe about it last night."

Carol beams at her handsome husband. He's showing an entirely new side of himself since Chloe moved in.

Blake glances at Chloe, wondering if she's aware that she's made a shrewd move in revealing his promise. Her eyes are downcast, revealing nothing. Her small breasts are heaving slightly beneath the crisp white cotton shirt, her breathing shallow and rapid. She's nervous, uncomfortable. The others will take it as Chloe's typical reaction to charity. He knows better.

"Chloe, that's good news," Carol chirps, lifting a maternal hand to tuck a strand of Chloe's dark sleek hair behind the girl's ear. "Your said once that your dad's insecurity about the job was putting a lot of stress on the marriage. Maybe this will help."

"I think it will, too," Chloe says softly, smiling warmly at Carol, and making a brave attempt to share the smile with its logical recipient. Nobody would sense her reluctance to meet his eyes if they weren't looking for it. That's good. She can carry this off.

"I found a job too. At a book store downtown."

"Not just downtown," Amanda adds. "But practically across the street from Dad's new building. It's the Barnes & Noble, Daddy. You two can ride in together."

In Chloe's small hands, a wooden chopstick snaps in two.

"I forgot to tell you, Chloe. Daddy's company just moved into that office complex by the bridge. He has a gorgeous corner office, his own bathroom, the whole executive thing. Bet he can't wait to show it off."

 

[Gareman]

I alomst laugh out loud when Chloe breaks her chopstick. She is obviously a nervous wreck and I'm enjoying the show - knowing that nobody else sees it.

"That's true Chloe," I respond quickly. "I'd love to show you my new digs. How about tomorrow?"

She tries desperately to act relaxed...smiling and doing her best to look me in the eye...but I see through her act easily. Finally she manages a weak.

"Yeah that would be wonderful."

I feel my cock hardening at the table...the idea of Amanda setting the whole scenario up is so ironic. She's practically delivering her best friend on a silver platter. And the images of the night before...mmmmm

Chloe resisting my advances...her young body straining to break free...

My strong hands holding her...peeling her clothing away...forcing her onto her back....spreading her legs...

"Honey would you please pass me the Fried Rice?" Carol's voice snaps me back to the table.

"Um...sure," I respond...smiling and passing the container.

The rest of the meal is uneventful and soon Chloe and Amanda are off to the mall and Carol is off to another one of her clubs...leaving me home alone. Wandering around the big house, I finally settle into my den and begin to read. The evening passes and soon I find myself drifting off...


Chloe kneels before me, eyes pleading as I step forward and position my cock to her mouth.

"Please no," she begs, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please don't make me do this."

I move closer, resting the palm of my hand on the back of her head...pulling her forward.

"Don't give me a hard time, Chloe," I answer, pushing the thick purple head against her soft lips. "Just do as I say and everything will be okay."

Sobbing, she lowers her head while opening her mouth and beginning to take me inside.

"That's it honey," I encourage. "Nice and easy..."



The door to the den opens and then closes quickly. The sound awakens me and I sit up to see Carol walking toward me wearing a black teddy with black stockings...

"You've been a very good boy lately," she whispers as she nears. " I think you deserve a nice reward."

The rest of the evening is spent in wild sexual splendor with my wife...but the thought of Chloe is never far off.

The morning comes and I rise...showering, shaving and splashing my face with my best cologne. Carol is already gone and I take my time getting ready, knowing that Chloe will be driving in with me.

After checking myself out in the mirror, I head downstairs where I hear the sound of Amanda and Chloe talking in the kitchen.

"Really Chloe...he's gonna be hurt if you don't let him drive you in," I hear Amanda say. "He really likes you...don't blow it."

My heart races, knowing that my daughter is convincing her best friend to come to work with me. I enter the kitchen, pretending to have not heard.

"Almost ready Chloe?" I ask oblivious to their earlier conversation. "I want to give you the grand tour before you have to be at work."

She nods shyly and grabs her purse.

"Ready when you are, Mr. Blake."

Grabbing my briefcase and kissing Amanda in the head, I lead my young friend to my car and open her door. I close the door and walk around to the driver's side, climbing behind the wheel. I look over at Chloe and smile.

"I've been ready for quite a while honey," I say sarcastically. "How about you?"

The drive is fairly uneventful with Chloe barely speaking and never making eye contact. When we arrive, she tries to beg off the tour of my office by making some excuse about needing to be early for training today...but I'm having none of it. I insist that she come upstairs and as we stand alone in the elevator, I can sense her apprehension and fear...her legs trembling...eyes never leaving the floor.

"We'll be the first here," I mention. "I don't expect anyone for at least another hour and a half."

We walk silently into the big reception area and I lead her into my office...closing and locking the door behind us. The room is silent and I stand looking at Chloe for what seems to be an eternity.

"Before we get started," I say walking toward her and stroking her cheek with my hand. "I think we should talk about what happened the other night."

 

[shereads]

Chloe

He was a different man than the one she had known. Had it all been a ruse? The fatherly hugs, the sharing of his strength, the friendship she had envisioned when he toasted her birthday with champagne?

The seduction of two nights ago had been tinged with blackmail, but it had also been exquisitely tender and careful. Her heart had been devastated, but her body had felt cherished. Like a precious musical instrument in the hands of a master, she had sung for him. Brad Blake’s skill and certainty had awakened something in Chloe’s nature that she hadn’t known was there. Something worth celebrating, if only things had been different.

If only there hadn’t been such coldness in him when he warned her to keep quiet last night. If only he had been anyone but Amanda's father. Mrs. Blake's husband.

If only he hadn't worn the smile of a predator in the car this morning.

As things stood, Chloe was terrified. She knew she should be angry, too. But her indebtedness to this man had been building since she was a child, and was deeply ingrained.

You owe him.

You need him.

The predator had brought her to his lair, and was toying with her now. If Chloe had felt small and powerless in his presence before, it was even worse in Blake’s impressive, glass-walled office, a suite of rooms nearly as large as Chloe’s house.

She stood awkwardly in the center of the silent, plushly-carpeted space, a vast executive desk at her back, and felt terribly out of place in her girlish denim skirt and pink sweater. He was circling her – stalking her – as if her fear were an attractant, like blood to a shark.

He was waiting for her to say something.

“Mr. Blake,” she began, her voice a hoarse whisper. She paused for a moment and started over, and this time she sounded a little stronger. Still too soft, too weak, to face this man in this intimidating room. But at least her voice was audible. “Mr. Blake, whatever you think is going to happen with us –“

Chloe straightened her shoulders and forced herself to look at him, to face the heated gleam in his silver-blue eyes.

“Whatever you think is going to happen, I can’t…I can’t do what you - ”

He lifted his hand to smooth her hair, and interrupted her hesitant but brave little speech as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ve always liked girls with dark hair, did you know that? Nothing against Carol and Amanda; blondes are great. But there’s something about a blue-eyed brunette…”

His hand played with a sleek, soft strand for a moment. Then, holding the chin-length lock of hair between his thumb and two fingers, he slowly drew his hand back…Chloe felt a slight tug at her scalp – then a slightly firmer one, then a momentary sting - before she stepped forward, instinctively obeying his signal to close the space between them.

Blake’s eyes glinted with triumph and something else. He released the strand of hair and petted her, soothing the sting. She stood a foot away from him now, if that, and the difference in height was even more pronounced.

Powerless, I’m powerless.

Chloe’s eyes were downcast again, the shy little-girl look enhanced with a flush of shame – and excitement?

“Please,” she breathed.

“Chloe, was that your first orgasm the other night?”

Her heart seemed to skip a beat and she felt her face go a deeper, fevered red. She bit her beestung lower lip, its pink fullness enhanced with a hint of berry-colored gloss.

“Answer me, Chloe.”

“I – Yes. But I don’t want to talk about -”

He lifted her chin with a fingertip and his quicksilver eyes seemed to burn into her, reading the memories and the fantasies that had haunted last night’s fitful sleep.

A downward glance told her that yes, he had noticed her nipples hardening beneath the pink sweater. He smiled, a warm smile beneath twinkling eyes, as if the two of them had shared a harmless little joke.

“I’m glad I was your first, Chloe. I’m glad I will be your first.”

“No.”

“We have a lot of firsts ahead of us, sweetheart. But I do have to make a phone call, so if you’ll excuse me for a minute…”

He gestured toward one of two big, leather-upholstered guest chairs, and Chloe sank into it gratefully, almost dizzy with bewilderment and shame.

Her thoughts were a frenzied attempt to find a way out of this, none of them promising. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t do this, not even for –

“…Pritchard. Mark Pritchard…Right.”

He had been on the phone for maybe thirty seconds before Chloe heard her father’s name and looked up. Mr. Blake was sitting behind the desk now in his accustomed chair, and his eyes were on Chloe’s face. “I’d like you to fast-track Pritchard's interview, all right? Do it today. Don’t make it look like a favor to me, though. I want him to feel like he’s winning this on his own merit…”

Scooting back into the shelter of the overstuffed chair, Chloe returned Mr. Blake’s gaze with her own sad, defeated one. Ironically, she felt hope beneath the cold defeat. Hope for the first time in months, for her dad’s broken pride and her parents’ marriage.

“…Good, I’ll expect your call by the end of today…Listen, one more thing. It’s important for Pritchard to feel like he’s earning this job. When you make the offer, tell him there’s a probationary period of – oh, let’s say two weeks. No contract until he’s had a chance to prove himself, got it?”

Chloe went cold. She was staring into the eyes of the man who had earned this expensive office. The businessman who knew that everything and everyone had a price. Her eyes filled with tears, and for a moment she remembered that she would start a new job this morning. It wouldn’t do to show up at the book store with eyes red from crying, and with her makeup smeared. She wouldn't cry.

“Come here, Chloe.”

She got up slowly, and walked across the too-soft carpet, her feet seeming to sink and sink into its rich depths. Blake remained seated, swiveling his chair so that he faced her.

He looked her up and down: a small, almost childlike body, its slender lines curving gently beneath the pretty but inexpensive clothing of a teenager who’d had to earn most of what she wore. Her blue eyes shining with emotion. Her arms crossed in a timeless gesture of feminine self-defense, over breasts that ought to be in his hands and nipples that needed to feel the tug of his teeth. He stared at her sweet mouth, its natural pout accentuated by the slight quiver of the lower lip as she fought back tears and fear.

“You liked having my mouth on you, didn’t you Chloe. You climaxed in my mouth.”

“Please,” she whispered. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

 

[Gareman]

I sit back...crossing my legs...placing my hands together in front of my face, as if in prayer...studying the young girl.

"That's the beauty of this, Chloe," I say, smiling easily. "You don't really have to do anything."

She raises her eyes to meet mine...a flash of hope spreading across her face.

"But I know how much you love your father," I continue. "And I know that you'll do anything to help he and your mother."

Her eyes drop to the floor...understanding the repercussions...knowing she won't get away "scott free".

"And I also know that you value Amanda's friendship," I say, standing and walking over to her. "So whatever you choose to do here today...will always remain our little secret."

My hand brushes against her cheek.

"So you can leave...." I say, motioning to the door. "Or you can finish the tour and accompany me into the bedroom."

I brush a strand of hair from her face.

She stares down at the floor...legs trembling...tears forming in her eyes and then rolling down her cheeks.

My hand now on her chin...lifting....

She looks away...angry...fearful...possibly sexually arroused?

"Chloe..." I say moving my mouth down to hers. "Think of your father."

My lips touch hers and she recoils slightly.

"Think about how much he's sacrificed for you."

I move closer...

Our lips touch again...

Pressing together...

The softness of her mouth on mine...

A slight wimper...

The taste of strawberry lip gloss...

The smell of her sweet perfume...

My hand moving down to touch her small breast...

Tongue moving forward...

She begins to cry harder...

On hand now cupping her firm breast...

The other on her back...pulling her forward...

My tongue touching her lips...

Her lips hesitate and then reluctantly part...