WARNING:
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further!
This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.
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The odor of urine was in my nose if not on my pajamas. I hadn't been wearing PJs when young Heather pissed during our sexual encounter, so it must have been mental.
I'd walked straight from the bedroom to the kitchen in this unfamiliar house. I'd been unable to locate any mail or document that would have identified me or the woman in the matching bathrobe. My stomach gurgled in response to the smells from the sizzling skillets and boiling pots on the stove: potatoes and onions; eggs with peppers? I salivated. "Hi, dear," I mustered, "what's cooking?"
"Did you have a nice nap?" Her face didn't give anything away. And her robe, matching mine, hid the secrets of her body.
Nap? So it wasn't morning but she was cooking a breakfast-style meal? "I guess so."
She stirred one of the skillets. My nose hadn't deceived me: fried potatoes and onions, and just about done. "Did you talk to her this morning?"
I didn't know who 'her' was. Given the pattern of these time jaunts, 'her' was probably a daughter, whose name I didn't know. "Uh."
She used a spatula like Zorro used his sword. "Charlie, we talked about this last night. You promised." The round egg shield flipped in the air and landed perfectly.
At least my name was still Charlie.
"She'll be home from work soon." She scooped potatoes and onions into the omelets shell, sprinkled it with shredded yellow cheese and folded it shut. "I'll go out and leave you two alone. But really, she has to learn discipline."
"Of course." Who was I to argue with a master chef, or whatever she was.
Pretend wife slid the perfect omelets onto a waiting plate. "I put the jelly out." Along side, she dropped three slices of already prepared bacon and a piece of toast. "Spending her paycheck at work is a bad behavior and we need to break her of it now. What did Deputy Fife used to say in Mayberry? Oh, yes. 'Nip it in the bud.'"
I took the plate from her and sat at the table. Three kinds of jelly awaited: strawberry, raspberry and apricot. I took one bite of the omelets and considered staying with this nameless woman, eating myself silly until the end of my days. So our daughter spent her paycheck at work, hmm? Pretend wife was right, that wouldn't serve her well in the long run. And I could have a rational conversation on that topic without sex. Success seemed assured. "Uh, okay dear."
"Don't dear me, just fix it. She looks up to you. Daddy's girl. Just this once, use that leverage."
I kept eating, worried that this was a dream and the plate would vanish. In no time flat, I joined the Clean Plate Club. I washed the dish and put it in the dishwasher spotless. No reason to make this wonderful wife and mother angry. I wondered when our next meal was, and what palat-pleasing fare awaited me.
I wandered through the house, looking for clues about my current identity. My pretend wife was dusting in the living room. "Do you know what you're going to say? You'd better be prepared, or she'll twist you around her little finger like she always does."
So I was a pushover, huh? Not this time. Financial responsibility was an important skill, and I wasn't going to let whatever-her-name-was go astray. I stuck my head in her room. A girly place, all pink and frilly. Carved wood letters in an arch above her mirror gave me one answer - her name - Nicole.
"She's here," my pretend wife hollered.
I walked the hall back to the living room, which was now dust free. The front door opened and Nicole walked in, her arms loaded with bags from Vanessa's Secret. Damn, that was the store I'd taken Sissy to, back when I was pretend married to Heather. "Hey, I've got both of you here. Terrific. I've got big news!"
She dropped the bags, ran a over, and gave me a big hug. Her body was fit and trim, and too good in my arms. So I'd have to talk to Nicole about not spending her money at Vanessa's Secret? This was going to be more difficult than I thought. I'd hoped for an electronics store, a shoe store, anything but Vanessa's Secret.
"You spent your check again, didn't you?" My pretend wife snorted and stomped up the hall. The sound of her slamming our bedroom door shook the painting above the piano.
Nicole was still in my arms. Why hadn't I let go? Because holding her felt too good. I dropped my arms and took a step back. "What's the news?"
She smiled. "I'm up for a promotion! Can you believe it? I just started there and -"
Pretend wife reappeared, all dressed. Not a bad body either, just a bit worse for wear. I tried to image pretend wife in bed naked, but all my mind could conjure was images of the food she'd prepare, sumptuous and calorie-laden. "I'm going out. And not shopping!" She stormed out the front door. Evidently she released anger by slamming doors.
"What' s with Mom?"
"We have to talk." I said as I reached for Nicole's hand. I wanted a physical connection.
"Okay, we can talk while I model." She took her hand from mine.
"Huh?"
"I want to show to show you my latest purchases." She picked up the pink shopping bags. "Come on, you know you like my fashion shows."
We'd done that before, Nicole posing in lingerie for her father? Maybe her real father, but this would be my initiation. I followed her swaying ass down the hall. When I passed through her doorway, she put up a hand. "No, Dad, not here. Wait in your bedroom and I'll come to you." She flashed that smile again, and synapses went off in my brain. Where had I seen that smile before?
