I've appreciated the comments and emails I've recieved so far....being a still-new writer I enjoy the compliments and get some help from the suggestions, so please keep them coming.
"Damn it, you are not going out of the house dressed like that!"
Later, Paul would have to say that there was no real reason for him blowing up at that time, in that way. At 20, his daughter Anna had taken to dressing provocatively years ago. And, truth be told, she had chosen far more risqué outfits before. This was just a T-shirt tight enough to make it clear she wasn't wearing a bra, and some jeans cut off a little too high. Not something a father wants to see his daughter running around in, but with what kids fashions were right now, hardly unthinkable.
Still, something about it, seeing her heading out on a date like that, pushed him too far. Maybe it was just a case of pressure building, with Anna needing to move back in after her mothers selfish, ugly pursuit of a divorce had included using her daughters college money as funding for a trip around the world. Forced back into living together, without his wife around, Paul had noticed a lot of cracks developing in his relationship with Anna. His wife had been a miserable bitch, but she'd kept the strong personalities of her husband and daughter from colliding.
The small arguments, the general dark mood, probably made an explosion inevitable. One of the things his wife had always handled, which Paul was now forced to, was Anna's social life. His daughter, he learned, liked to date. A lot of different guys. He had no idea if it was too many for a girl her age or not. Certainly, she was an attractive enough girl to generate a lot of interest. Waist length brunette hair, athletic, smart, very buxom figure.
He'd thought about Anna's looks more then a few times since she'd moved back in, more so since that first morning when he caught her coming out of the shower that first morning. And the way she'd just grinned at him, standing there naked...
In his more honest moments, Paul had to admit he'd found more then one kind of tension developing in the house. So maybe he was kidding himself about how shocking his explosion was, afraid to admit it. Whatever. It happened, and before he could think anything, he was towering over her, bellowing and demanding she go back upstairs.
"You want to go out dressing like a hooker with some guy when you're living on your own, that's fine. But I'm not sending my daughter out dressed like that when she's living under my fucking roof! Get your ass up there!"
He expected her to yell back. He was braced for it, ready for that sick kind of release that comes with letting your anger out and making someone else just as angry. Paul had absolutely no idea how to respond emotionally when his daughter instead merely smiled cheerfully.
"Daddy, are you made because I look like a hooker, or because I'm going out?"
