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My breathing labored and I moved my fingers faster to the thought of him inside me. I came and bucked hard into my hand, using my fluffy, pink pillow as a gag to keep my activity as discreet as possible. I smiled to myself. What a relief to give in to such a dirty thought. Completely content, I rolled over and curled up into my pillows where I pretended Daddy was holding me.
Chapter Two
I woke peacefully to the smell of bacon and pancakes wafting through the vents of my room. The scent was absolute bliss and rattled my stomach, hunger growling across my gut like a thunderstorm. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, stretched, and rolled from my white sheets to start moving around for the day. I didn't have work until noon and it was only 9:30, but I wanted to see my Daddy. Maybe we could even go for a walk.
Sundays were easy days at the library. Hardly anyone came in and we were only open for about four hours. I don't think we had anything scheduled either, so it would just be me and the books. There would be plenty of time for me to fantasize as I stocked shelves and tidied up. In fact, I did this with some frequency. It was always so quiet between the shelves, the only sound was the squeak of the rolling cart as I collected discarded and misplaced books. I'd circle the second floor a number of times – the youth section alone was an impressive size – and then circle it again only to find more books strewn about lazily. I didn't mind picking up after patrons as long as the pages weren't torn or dog-eared. There was nothing more annoying than a disrespected book.
I pulled on a pair of daisy dukes, my favorite white pair with the red polka dots, and slipped a red blouse over my head that accentuated my shoulders by dipping down fairly low. I couldn't wear this to work, but I could wear it at home where it mattered. I tousled my hair in front of the wall mirror and puckered my lips. It wouldn't hurt to put a little eyeliner on. I did a quick winged look on each eye, dabbed a light shade of bronze over my lids, and then smoothed Chapstick over my lips. I was ready.
As I emerged from my room, I considered brushing my teeth and washing my hands as well. I hadn't washed them yet from rubbing myself raw only hours ago and I was sure I probably smelled like my juicy insides. Would he notice? I sprinted to the bathroom, washed up, and then walked carefully over the tan carpet to the kitchen where my family was bustling about the kitchen preparing breakfast. The table was already set with hot food and decorated with napkins and plates. I sat awkwardly in the chair closest to the hall.
“Good morning, Victoria.” My mother said with a smile while picking up pancakes from the griddle.
“Good morning, mom.” It came out like a squeak. I cleared my throat.
“Good morning, Vic.” Daddy was sitting across the table, a newspaper separating us. “How did you sleep?”
I swallowed the knot in my throat to prepare my response. I was nervous. The images from last night were still in my mind and I was trying hard to ignore the ache growing in my pelvis.
“I slept well.” I responded weakly.
Daddy peeked over his paper with a stern gaze.
“Thanks for asking, Dad.”
He smiled and resumed reading.
The interaction prompted my mother to turn around with an eyebrow raised.
“You two seem to be suddenly getting along fine. Did something happen overnight?” She laughed while my eyes widened.
I struggled to regain my composure and twisted anxiously in my chair. Was it time to go to work yet? I didn't want to spend much more time with the two of them in the same room. My mother set out the rest of our food and I chewed slowly, deliberately, pretending to be lost in thoughts of school rather than thoughts of hot sex covered in syrup and strawberries.
“When do you work today?”
“Noon.”
I sipped my juice nonchalantly.
“That sounds nice. I remember working weekends as a waitress and working all day. I got up with the sun and worked until it was nearly down.”
I twirled my pancakes. This was painful. Mom was about to go into another memory rant and I didn't have the patience to pay attention. I stood to clear my plate and washed it in the sink.
“You know, I think I'll change and head out early. They might need some help sorting books this morning. We had a pretty busy Saturday.” I wanted my sudden desire to leave to seem like a normal occurrence.
The excuse seemed to work just fine as my mother shrugged and Daddy nodded without looking up. He hadn't really looked at me much at all this morning. He'd spent his time mostly staring at the paper or looking up at my mother while she was talking. Was he ignoring me? I shook the thought from my head and went to my room to pull on khaki pants and a blue button down. I slipped into my black flats and gathered everything I'd need for work.
The only thing missing was my keys.
Panic swept over me and I swung around to look for them. They weren't on my desk like they usually were. It was then I recalled that Daddy had taken them the night before. A mixture of emotions gathered in my gut as I calmly composed myself to get ready to ask for them. I wasn't a child anymore. I didn't have to be afraid. As I headed to the door, I noticed them on the nightstand. Daddy must have placed them there when he poked his head in last night. I smiled and picked them up, rolling them over in my hands while looking at them fondly before leaving my room. I waved my goodbyes as I quickly retreated out the front door and into the fresh morning air.
Work didn't provide too much more of a comfort from home. Every page was a testament to my frustration. Home was distracting me which made it intensely difficult to focus on anything else. I nearly shelved several books incorrectly and kicked myself about a dozen times for small mistakes that I could have caught if I wasn't completely wrapped up in a fantasy. One of my co-workers, who was also a good friend, noticed my lack of concentration today.
“Hey, Vic. You alright? Something seems off.” It was Brad. He was a sweet guy with an unhealthy paranormal obsession. He frequently checked out anything dealing with the supernatural or with strange myths.
“I'm fine,” I responded with a carefree wave of my hand. “It's just a lazy Sunday.”
That seemed to be my typical response to most things that were distracting. “It's just a lazy day.” It didn't make sense, but people accepted it as fact, especially if you said it in the correct tone. I'd never say this to my boss which was why I was trying to shape up my attitude before she came poking her pointy nose around to see what we were accomplishing for the day.
