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I explode with a pleasure so profound it almost feels like agony. I throw my head back and scream louder than I mean to before letting out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I’ve never come so hard. After a few seconds of panting, the reality of what we just did fights its way to the surface, but I just want to sit here and bask in the best orgasm of my life for just a few more seconds.
This is no longer a stupid little dance after a few shots of whiskey. I masturbated while my step-dad watched…and touched himself.
When I finally catch my breath, and my courage, I sit up to face him, only to find him gone. Like he was never there at all. I collapse back onto my bed and smack my forehead.
Why did I not lock the door? Well, because I never do. Mom never stops by my room to visit me, and she’s on the other side of the estate right now. I would’ve heard her stumbling around, drunk off of vodka and sex. And Graham…up until now he barely acknowledged my existence, let alone came knocking on my door.
This is bad. My common sense seems to take a vacation whenever he’s around lately, only to come back with a vengeance the second I’m alone. One thing is for sure, I need to stay far, far away from him.
My daddy is going to hurt me…and the worst part is that I want him to.
Another week ticks by, and this time, I’m extra careful not to bump into Graham. If the club incident was embarrassing, Masturbationgate—yes, it is so important, it’s got its own name now—is stage-five shitstorm. He caught me playing with myself while moaning his name. And he liked it. Or maybe he just thought it’d be fun to see his stupid step-daughter going over the edge with her ridiculous fantasies.
Either way, by Saturday I’m actually starting to feel confident in the fact that I can just ignore him forever. I have my own life, which is filled with school, Jade, cheerleading and avoiding some tool named Shawn, who is hell-bent on getting me to go out with him. Too bad that will never happen. Even if I weren’t too busy obsessing over stepdaddy dearest, Shawn has been increasingly creepy. The more I turn him down, the more his pride takes a hit. And entitled boys like Shawn with district attorneys as their daddies, do not take rejection well.
Ah, well, that’s just life. If I had everything I wanted, I’d be riding Graham, on the road of chain-orgasms.
Everything seems relatively under control in the days after Masturbationgate until my mom announces that she’s going away for a vacation, leaving me here with the devil himself.
The lesson here is not to get cocky. A whole month. A whole freaking month. Five weeks to be exact. I mean, Annabelle and I are not exactly close, never were, even though I do appreciate her working in odd jobs to make ends meet and support us, but this is my final year in high school. I’ve made no plans to move out and go to college, I want to stick around for a while and kind of see where the wind takes me, and I was hoping to use the time as a last-ditch effort to become closer to my mom.
Well, that sure as hell isn’t going to happen if she goes away. She’s even going to miss my graduation. Why, Annabelle? Why?
Mom says she’s going to help out my nana, who’s not doing so well, in Pennsylvania. Sweet, right? The only problem with that is my mom hasn’t actually seen or even spoken to nana in years to know whether or not she’s okay. She doesn’t even know that I still visit her every six months or so ever since I got my driver’s license, and the fact that she’s probably healthier than all of us, especially my mom.
Nana Sylvie is not sick. My mom, Annabelle, on the other hand, has a lot of things she needs to be treated for.
Nope, she’s going on vacation with the pool boy, of course. And I’d bet my virginity that it will be on Graham’s dime. How the hell did I come from this woman? Right now, watching her flit around the house, packing her things and acting like a saint, I kind of want to cunt-punch her.
I’m sitting on my bed, listening to music when Mom busts through my door and starts rifling through my stuff. She opens my drawers without a warning, snatches one of my bathing suits that’s already a size too small for her and glues it to her chest, trying to see if it fits. She’s been filling out since Graham married her and made her go off the blow. Nowadays, she resorts to alcohol and weed, and everyone knows how pot gives people the munchies.
Of course, I can’t help but taunt her about it.
“Nana Sylvie doesn’t have a pool, Mom. Why do you need a bathing suit? More specifically, why do you need my bathing suit?”
She doesn’t freeze like I thought she would. She doesn’t even look guilty or attempt to come up with an excuse. She just rolls her eyes and says, “It looks better on me, anyway. You ain’t got the tits to fill it out.” She peppers this sentence with a smile and a wink, thinking I’d forgive her for bringing me down. Because I normally do. I always forgive her for talking to me like this.
She does a little shimmy with her shoulders that makes me want to gouge my eyes out, but I still eye her from my bed unimpressed.
“We were supposed to spend April with each other,” I ground out. “You said we’d do Vegas together. Maybe get some one-on-one mother and daughter quality time.”
“Oh, honey.” She turns around, slapping a hand over her heart and feigning a touched smile. “It’s just five weeks. I’ll be back and it’s not like you’re off for coll
ege or something. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
“But Mom,” I respond—and I really have no idea why, at this point, I’m even trying anymore— “don’t you think it’s a little lame to leave me…with Graham?”
I don’t call her out on her bluff about Nana because a part of me doesn’t want to really face the truth. What’s the point, anyway? It’s just going to escalate an already explosive situation. But I have to know. Why she’s doing this. Why she’s always keeping me at arm’s length, as if I did something wrong.
“Baby, you’re a big girl. You don’t need me and neither does Graham. He’s married to his business anyway.”
“He is also married to you.” I cock an eyebrow and she shrugs in response.
“Just on paper.” Mom jerks another one of my drawers open and plucks out a few more skimpy pool outfits. “You and I both know that. I mean, I tried, sweetie, I really did. God knows I did my best with this guy. I wanted us to be a real family, ya’ know? Give you the whole experience I had when I was a kid, Dahlia. But Graham…he’s wired differently. I’m not even sure how to explain it, but this…” She motions with her index finger toward her body, emphasizing her tits and ass. “He never really found me all that interesting. Didn’t work for him, I guess. Shame, but that’s how it goes. Anyway”—she waves her hand dismissively, like she’s over the subject—“I’ll be back in a little more than a month and then, I promise, we will so get to sit together and enjoy each other’s company. I know I haven’t been the most present mom in the world, Dahl, but look how good you turned out. I must’ve done something right!”
No, I want to scream. I did something right. You just sat there and didn’t even ask me how my day was when I got back from school. If you were even home.
“Have fun,” I grit finally. On some level, I really do wish her the best. I pity my mother and her inability to be in touch with her feelings. So much so that she’s flushing her relationship with her own mother and her only daughter down the toilet to go spend time with a man who is half her age and will probably leave her the minute he finds something more lucrative to do. Or someone.
