She'd had it. Everything had gone straight to hell in a Porsche shaped hand basket. A brand new, bright red 911 with leather bucket seats, a cd changer, her husband, and his secretary. She was living a cliche. Twenty-seven years of age and she'd been reduced to a cliche. At least there are no children, everyone commiserated. As if that made a difference. There was children, if you counted the twins growing nicely in her husband's lover's belly right about now. Was it her fault she wasn't exactly a fertile Myrtle? No. It wasn't, some people were meant to singlehandedly populate a football team, some people were meant to adopt.
Staring out of the 29th floor corner office window at the busy street below, the corner office that should have been hers, she came to a decision. She had to get out. She had a college degree in business administration, she could damned well use it.
Whirling around, she strode purposefully, very much the ball busting business professional, to her desk. Popping open her briefcase, she put a few things into it, the pictures of her family, a stuffed bear Daddy had given her when she got this job, her college diploma didn't fit, so she hand carried it. A quick call to the boss, she was a prick anyway, and she was out of there.
Once again, she strode with all the professional confidence a junior associate was expected to move with. What the hell for? She just quit without the benefit of notice. Tucking the diploma more firmly under her left arm, she kicked off her black Italian leather Ferragamo pumps and skipped out of the building, giggling. She felt so free.
She wasn't running home to Mommy and Daddy, primarily because Mom lived in Pasadena with her boyfriend. She wasn't running to Daddy either, of course she wasn't, she was a fully grown capable woman just stopping in to visit her father before going on with her life. Who the hell was she kidding? She wanted to curl up in Daddy's lap and bawl like she did when she was fourteen and Ron Blackmore had dumped her for Sheila Rogers of the double D's.
After she'd left the hollowed halls of Whitney, Fillmore, Brock, Chase, Martin, Chesapeake, Morton, Widenour, Smith, and Corrine forever, she drove to a Ford dealer and traded her trophy Lexus off on a big honking F-250 with all of the truck trimmings. She was never driving a cliched car again. She just didn't know she'd be scared of the stupid truck. Who knew that the darned thing was twice the length of her Lexus and three times as heavy? At least she didn't kill anyone. Dents added character to pickup trucks anyway. Maybe Daddy knew what the four wheel drive business was actually for.
Okay Slick, she told herself, enough sitting in the driveway. Daddy would call the cops if you don't get out of the truck soon. She opened the door and the ding ding ding reminded her to remove the keys. Getting locked out of her own truck on the third day of owning it was just too embarrassing to contemplate. She slammed the door shut without getting out. Daddy had company, after all. He drove the Navigator, she knew that, who drove the Mustang?
Oh well, she was his daughter dammit, and she needed him. His company could just go home. She climbed out of the cab of the truck, locked the doors, and slammed the driver's door. Drat, she locked the freaking keys in the freaking truck like the world's biggest freaking idiot. She jerked at the handle for a few moments. She was just going to have to go inside and face Daddy, let him know that his eldest daughter really was a failure. A failure as a wife, a failure as a want to be mother, a failure as a lover, a failure in business. Well, not a failure in business, she just up and quit without bothering to think things through like an intelligent person would. Okay, so she was flighty, not a failure. Was that better?
She was in the front door before she realized she probably should have knocked. She dithered a moment, trying to decide if she should go out and knock or if she should just call out. A familiar laugh stopped her short. Her sister was here? Oh great, now she'd have to fess up to her life, the failure, in front of her sister too. The laugh cut off and turned into a long low moan.
Her sister was hurt? An oooooooooooooooooh followed that, then a long masculine groan mingled with the oooh. Daddy was letting Darling bring her boyfriends over? The sounds were coming from the den, along with the crackling of a fire and soft music.
"Ooooh right there, that feels good," her sister moaned. The man groaned something she couldn't understand back, then obviously did more to the "right there" spot because her sister suddenly squealed.
The chair was obstructing most of the view, she could see two naked bodies, a man on top of her sis, older, but still lean and well shaped. She paused a moment, to admire the anonymous man's backside. He had a nice one, that was for sure. Much better than that prick she'd been married to. The sight of the two healthy bodies making love in the glow of the fire was compelling. She'd never realized the hidden beauty in sexual relations, porno just didn't do it justice. She felt a wet clenching deep in her belly.
"Oooooohhhhh Dad, I'm cumming," her sister howled, then continued howling incoherently. Darling was into role playing?
DADDY??????
She dropped the keys she'd been holding in her hand, they fell to the thick rug with a muted clatter. Stepping farther into the room she could see the back of her Daddy's head and her sister's face twisted with ecstasy.
"Daddy?" her brain screamed mutely in outrage. Both of them froze as if they'd heard her, well her sister sort of deflated, still panting from the force of her orgasm. Her father slowly twisted his head and stared at her, looking rather like an eight year old with his hands in the cookie jar.
"Daddy?" she whispered it this time, just too shocked to say anything coherent.
"It's not what you think, Baby," he said soothingly. Her jaw flapped like a landed fish. "It's... it's..."
"Sis? Go on up to your room," Darling ordered, still breathless. "I'll be up in a few minutes to explain, just go on up, okay?"
Mutely, she picked up her keys and went to her room. Her mind simply refused to wrap itself around the fact that the sensuous coupling she'd just witnessed had been her father and her sister. Naked. Together. Fucking. She didn't notice when she sat on the bed and dropped her keys on the floor. Daddy and fucking, well that just defied all logic. Everyone knew that Daddies just didn't fuck. Well, maybe once or three times, but only in the purest catholic sense of the word fuck. She bent over and retrieved her keys. This was too much.
"Baby?" Daddy's voice preceded his soft knock. He opened the door and stepped into the room. The girlishness of it clashed with his masculinity. He was wearing his pants. She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. After all, her sister got to see everything. And taste it. And feel it. And... Oh good grief, what was she thinking?
"Tell me she just had some popcorn stuck in her throat and you were giving her the heimlich maneuver," she begged.
He laughed, a deep, rich attractive laugh. She'd always wanted a man that laughed like Daddy did. The Prick fell short there too. "You know what we were doing, Baby. I imagine you're a little shocked and confused."
She didn't want to talk about it. "I'm getting divorced," she said instead. He sat down next to her and squeezed her hand. "And I quit my job. And I have a stupid truck that I locked my keys inside of."
"Your keys are in your hand," he pointed out gently.
"Oh." She looked at her keys in her hand, feeling the tears gathering. He made an abortive move, as if to hug her, then reconsidered and dropped his hands into his lap. The lap that was still prefaced with a rather large, unsatisfied bulge. The Prick's dick wasn't that big either.
"Baby, your sister and I are living together," he said bluntly. "We have been for a while."
"I can share the room still." Her voice held an edge to it, a mild warning that she really didn't want to know. She just wanted to happily pretend everything was perfectly hunky-dory down at the Ponderosa. Adam was still sorta cute, Hoss was still adorably dumb, Little Joe was still that Highway Angel guy. An image of Loren Green boffing her sister invaded, tearing up that little fantasy.
"She sleeps in our bed. Mine and hers."
Closing her eyes, she pressed her palm to her forehead, the keys to the stupid truck digging painfully into her flesh. "Maybe I should get a hotel room," she said miserably. She'd counted on staying with Daddy until she could get straightened out. She just didn't have the funds to support a decent room and still go through with her plans to buy a business.
"No, you can stay here. I just want you to understand the relationship your sister and I have."
"How long has this been going on?"
"A few months."
