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Chapter 2
The old pipes squeak as the tap is turned on and off, on and off.
I grit my teeth. She’s at it again, I know she is. I’ve told Cara not to use my razor. I’m sick of her teenage antics.
You would think that something as insignificant as a girl using your razor to shave her legs wouldn’t be a big deal, but I’m still fuming about the weekend when her boyfriend was here. I had escaped to work outdoors when the banging through the ceiling started from her room. It wasn’t until a few hours after I had come back in, soaked from one too many summer showers, that I noticed my thirty-year-old whiskey had disappeared. Cara claimed ignorance, but her cheeks tinted when I told her – well, yelled at her – that it had been my father’s, that I’d been saving it for a special occasion.
Like the day when Valerie and Cara finally pack their bags and get the fuck out of here.
Shit, I’m nothing but angry these days. I’ve had enough.
I take the curved staircase two steps at a time, and with purposeful strides, walk over to the bathroom.
Cara shrieks when I barge through the door. My razor is in her hand. I point an accusatory finger at her and my voice booms in the room. ‘What have I told you about using my razor?’
Only then do I take in the scene in front of me. What the hell was I thinking barging into the bathroom?
Cara is sitting on the far edge of the tub, naked as the day she was born. Her wet skin is glistening in the late evening light coming through the sash window. Her brown hair is twisted in a long, thick tail over her shoulder, like an arrow, directing my gaze down to her full breast, partly shielded under her arm. Her other hand is trying to cover her crotch, while still holding the razor.
Her hand can’t hide a small drop of red that is forming on her mound, next to a landing strip of dark hair. She must have cut herself when I stormed in.
She isn’t shaving her legs.
‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’
I swallow, my mouth suddenly very dry.
‘I’ve told you not to use my razor.’ Some of the heat is gone from my voice, instead the heat is gathering further south. I can’t take my eyes off her, off my annoying stepdaughter who’s a wet naked mess in front of me.
‘I’m sorry, Daddy,’ Cara repeats. ‘Mum doesn’t have a razor, she always goes to the salon to get waxed, but I can’t afford to go to a salon. I can’t even afford to buy a razor myself. Not until I get a proper job. The blades are so expensive the chemist keeps them behind the counter.’
She’s rambling. Normally she’d just shout back at me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her so apologetic, not even when she fell over drunk and ripped the painting of my great-grandfather.
Then again, she’s never been naked in front of me before.
Shit, she’s naked!I try to make my legs move back, but I’m cemented to the spot, eyes glued to her body.
‘You don’t even know how to use it.’
‘What?’
‘The razor. You need more soap,’ I rasp. ‘And you’ve cut yourself.’
She looks down, and the sight of her looking down at her own pussy makes my cock jolt in my pants.
I’ve never had any inclination of wanting my stepdaughter, never stolen secret glances or lusted after her. It’s always annoyed me when she’s been prancing around in low-cut tops or short skirts – dragging loser boyfriends home and fucking them in her bedroom.
Cara has never turned me on.
Until now.
I need to leave this room – need to close the door and scrub this vision from my eyeballs. Yet the words coming out of my mouth say, ‘Here, let me show you.’
Her violet-blue eyes, the same unique shade as her mother’s, go wide when I kneel in front of the tub in front of her.
‘D-daddy?’
