Becky awoke the next morning -- a Saturday -- to the chirp of her phone going off. At first, she thought it was an email from a client, then she remembered she didn't have any clients anymore. She rolled over, unlocked her phone, and found a message from her mother in the secure messaging app. They'd agreed to start using it the night before. It appeared her "homework" had arrived.
She read, smirking with amusement at her mother's precise, organized manner:
[Becky,
I'm happy you have decided to be a part of this. I think it will be an exciting adventure for both of us.
Here is how we will work going forward. From time to time, I will give you "assignments" for pleasing your father. You may accept them or reject them as you see fit. You may also add to them, or alter them before accepting. This will be done via text before we begin.
These tasks will likely become more sophisticated as we go. This will be a process of learning and exploration for all of us.
Your first assignment will be to come downstairs in your underwear. You will kiss your father on the cheek and have breakfast with us. You will sit so your father can get a good view of your body.
Your father does not yet know what we've agreed to. This will be a surprise for him.
Do you accept?
-Mom]
Becky covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. This was so ridiculous and surreal. She couldn't have made this up in a fantasy if she'd wanted to. What could she do?
She wrote back: [I accept.]
Then she went to find something to wear. Or, more accurately, not to wear.
***
After a few minutes of indecision, Becky decided on a black bra and matching panties. Basic black seemed like a solid choice: she looked good in it, you couldn't see through it, and they were comfortable.
She slipped them on and looked at herself in the mirror. Becky had grown up with enough self-esteem to know she looked good: the lines of her stomach sleek and trim, her skin clear, her hair a little messy but still manageable enough. She dealt with her long red hair by pushing it back with a matching black hair band.
She did a little twist in the mirror and grinned. Perfect. Never mind that her heart was absolutely pounding. She wondered if she'd be able to eat with her stomach flip-flopping the way it was. She was going to be like this in front of her dad? What would he think? What would he do?
"Never know till you find out," she said. She took a deep breath, grabbed her phone, and made for the stairs.
***
She hurried downstairs in her bare feet, trying to control her breath.
The kitchen was sunlit and warm -- something smelled good; her mother was making something in the oven, which made it warmer still. Her father sat in his normal place at the head of the table, back to her, coffee and newspaper in front of him. He still read a physical paper; his only concession, he said, to being old. That was all right with Becky. She found it charming.
Well, she figured, no sense in half-assing this.
"Good morning, Dad," she said as she stepped up behind him. She put her arms around him and hugged him from behind, kissing him on the cheek.
"Good morning, Rebecc-" her father stopped short as he realized how much of his daughter's flesh was pressed against him. He put a hand on her arm and twisted in his chair, looking her up and down appreciatively. She pulled away from the hug, and he slipped a warm hand around her bare waist.
"Good morning," he repeated, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. Becky felt a thrill at seeing his normally calm demeanor break a bit.
"How did you sleep?" she asked, swaying back and forth a little, letting him look at her. She found she liked the way he was looking at her.
"Very restful. And you?"
"Great, thanks."
"Sit down, dear," her mother said from the other side of the kitchen. "Breakfast is nearly ready."
She sat with a bright smile. Her body was still singing with nervousness, but she found she enjoyed the sensation. Her dad continued to admire her as she pulled up a chair to his right.
"So," he said, unable to take his eyes off her. "Is it laundry day?"
"It is," she said. "I got up this morning and just didn't have a thing to wear."
"Not too cold, are you, dear?" her mother asked.
"No, Mom, I'm fine." Oddly enough, she did feel fine. Not just fine -- thrilled. Oddly excited. More than a little naughty.
Marilyn brought breakfast: crepes, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit, coffee. Becky sat and ate happily, fully aware her father was stealing glances at her every chance he got. She did her best to make it easy for him: leaning back in her chair as she drank her coffee, stretching frequently, turning her chair to half-face him. He seemed to be enjoying it.
She wondered what came next. She supposed none of them really knew for sure, her mother's planning and organization aside.
Becky glanced across the table and caught her mother's eye. Her mother smiled and dropped a conspiratorial wink as she sipped her coffee. Apparently, she approved. Good.
Her father dug into his crepes. "So, what are your plans for today, Rebecca?"
"Job hunting, I guess?" Becky said. "Have to get that money."
"That's a good girl," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling into a smile. "My ambitious little beauty."
She hadn't expected the words "good girl" and "little beauty" to have an effect on her, but Becky suddenly found herself on the edge of swooning. Being exposed and semi-naked like this, having her father's eyes on her, hearing him compliment her like that -- it unlocked something inside her. She felt simultaneously afraid of it and eager to explore.
"What about you, Dad?" she asked.
He glanced her way again, clearly taking any excuse to look at her body, but never letting his gaze rest for long. "I think I'm going to relax and enjoy my Saturday."
"That sounds like a great idea." She stood, leaning into him and putting a hand on his shoulder. Her torso was only inches from his face. "Can I get you more coffee?"
"You may. Thank you, Rebecca."
