She dragged her feat across the floor. Her head lolled low, rolling her chin easily against her breastbone. It felt like it'd been a short night. It felt like a blink of an eye from when she shooed her father out of her room to when this morning, and waking up to the blare of an impatient alarm clock. Time passed so quickly when you were asleep.
She yawned, and shuffled into the kitchen; flicking the light switches to the left. The florescent light blinked then came on.
She squeezed her eyes closed, "aww gawd, I’m so stupid..." trailing off into a mutter as the light flooded her silted eyes. Half-blind, she brushed back her curly black hair and hooded a hand over her eyes. Something mundane was in the works. Something to take her mind off the stunning failure of last night. She could still remember his padded footsteps, stalking across her bedroom floor, sneaking up till his presence loomed in her mind. He’d been ready to pounce---almost.
A tingle butterflied between her legs. She smiled---almost. Deadly aware of her underwear, she felt the white fabric curling into creases as her thighs rubbed together. Some things were so hard. Keeping quiet---pulling her lips shut before they opened and screamed her undying love or temporal lust---that was hard; very hard to not imagine him, hard and inside. A blush crept to her face. There was no one to see or judge, but the kinkiness of her thoughts still offended some lingering “good girl” part of her brain.
“Screw it.” She cursed under her breath. “I’m still good. Whatever I think; it’s not that bad. I could be thinking about murder, mayhem, or…. marriage.” A little titter escaped her lips.
“This is just incest.” The words came out softly; nervously she toed a spot on the ground. A second set of tingles blossomed through her. Her nipples started rising; the hardening points brushed against her plain cotton top.
“I have to… stop….stop….stop.” Incest versus stop. Both words had a kind of power over her. Idly, a detached part of her wondered which one would win today.
“Stop!” she whisper-screamed, gritting her teeth. She reached quickly between her legs, and tugged apart the knot of fabric wedged against her warm lips. Using both hands, she smoothed down the fabric and pulled it into a tight triangle.
The sight was alluring. Underneath the soft worn cotton triangle, between lines of downy black, she was so very, undeniably ….
“Stop,” she sighed, “I have to stop.” Her natural distractibility became a boon. Her eyes flickered up and fixed instead on random objects in the room---the bare lacquered table, the smooth rolling pin drying next to the sink, the glossy steel hood over the stove, the tiny black T.V. in one corner of the counter, and two teddy bear shaped jars in the other end of counter. The jars were supposed to be used for candy, but they had never been used appropriately. The first was a nearly empty honey pot, and the second was a sugar container.
Moving with lazy deliberation, she steadily worked on making a mighty breakfast of coffee, eggs, and cereal. She kept her cool, yet all the while, a thought teased through her mind: why hadn't it happened yet. It almost seemed like fate was teasing her; baiting her then pulling back the hook at the last instant. He'd come so close, nearly touched. She'd been ready. Why wasn't he?
She sighed, flopping into one of the cushioned chairs surrounding the kitchen table. Her hand teased over the hardwood of the table. The stainless steel spoon skipped furiously through the black coffee, swirling the milk till the mixture was a pale tan. She slurped lightly; jumping back at the bitterness. More sugar.
"That's exactly what I need," she whispered in undertones, "more sugar & more spice and definitely more of everything nice."
She splashed the sugar casually into the cup. A bit of coffee overflowed the rim and stung her finger.
"OWW...owww...oooo...mmmmm" softening her yelp reflexively into a mumble to avoid waking anyone else up. She licked her finger slowly, letting her tongue caress the tiny imaginary bruise on her index. She arched an eyebrow curiously. The coffee was still a bit bitter, but there was a strange hint of something else. A smile curled to her lips, and the peppery memory danced to the forefront of her mind.
"Oh yes, it was this hand that did it," she murmured into the empty kitchen. The sound of her voice was more comforting that the silence without it.
|----/ ------/ ------/ -----|
"Hi hon." He startled her and she spilled coffee on her hand again.
“Owww….stupid….oooouch….” she continued on, cursing softly under her breath before turning to look at him.
“Are you okay?” he said smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was just surprised that you’re up so early.”
“Early?” the confusing crossed her face like a shadow “aren’t I always up this early?”
“Well… yes and no.” he murmured, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he ambled into the room. “You’re always up now for school, but …” he tapped the calendar on the wall.
“oh… it Saturday.” She chuckled. Her body tensed with the happy effort before relaxing completely into the chair.
“Yep,” he said with a smile. She had a way of looking effortlessly pretty in his eyes. The laughter had woken him up and put him into her grasp. She’d have his attention for the rest of the morning.
He glanced at her often as he worked on making himself a cup of tea. For her part, she smiled pleasantly when she noticed his looks; batting her eye lashes theatrically, it looked like she was baiting him. ‘How could she know how much I want her’ he thought to himself, keeping a quirky grin on his face. ‘I love her. Of course, she’s my daughter, but then still there was that level beyond love with her. I think I truly do…’
“Lust ---“
“What’d you say?” he blinked out of disbelief. His face flushing completely as he turned from his breakfast handy-work to face her.
