The good thing about being a writer for a career is that you get to pick your own hours, and work when you feel like it. The bad thing about it is that regular insomnia seems to be a constant companion. However, given the first condition, it's not a big deal.
It was around 3 in the morning, and I was sitting at the kitchen table, with the paper in front of me, pen in my hand, and my mind as blank as a school blackboard during the summer. I got up and opened a new bottle of wine and poured it for myself. I was wearing a robe and my boxers. I sat back down and looked at the entrance to the kitchen blankly.
Presently I heard some footsteps coming towards the kitchen. I figured its either Audrey or Katie coming down for a midnite snack. Audrey is my daughter and Katie is her friend. Audrey and I have been living together for many years now, ever since I caught her mother cheating with our neighbour. Since then they have both left my life, and I am glad for that, but having to raise a girl by myself has not been the easiest of tasks. Something I think I am too protective with her and sometimes I think I'm too loose; but its one thing I've learned and if I am to continuously doubt myself, it would not work. And on her side, she has been a great daughter, she listens to me, as long as I'm fairly reasonable, and she is no trouble. And in so many ways she's like her mother, physically especially. She's blonde, and beautiful, in a very feminine way. She has her curves; her breasts I imagine are somewhere between a C and a D cup; she knows they're beautiful and she doesn't shy away from showing them in her various ways. Her waist is thin and her hips are full; and when I say full, I mean FULL. And she has the same innocent, unaware flirtiness of her mother.
And Katie is her closest friend, or at least the one I see with her most often. She is in many ways opposite to her in look, and just as beautiful. She is fairly taller than Audrey and much more athletic. Her hair is black and long, her breasts are a B cup and no more, and she has the tightest body, ass and legs I've ever seen on a girl of that age.
Believe me, it's not a very easy thing, trying to keep ones thoughts fatherly with two 18-year olds like that running around the house all the time.
And it turned out to be Katie. She obviously not aware of my presence in the kitchen and for whatever reason, I didn't say anything. I might have been busy staring at her. She was dressed in a night robe. It barely went lower than her butt – interestingly enough I couldn't see if she had anything under it – and she obviously was not wearing a bra, because the shape of her breasts were quite easily showing through the silky robe, and it was fairly open down the middle. She clearly was not expecting to be seen.
She went over to the fridge and opened it. Then she bent over and starting looking for something. I quietly sat there and watched as the lip of the robe went up exposing her lovely ass. She was wearing something underneath after all: a tiny red thong.
I smiled to myself, and as I turned my head back down to the paper, cleared my throat. He let out a light scream, and jumped and hit her head on the top of the fridge. I felt bad.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you"
She faced me quickly and straightened her robe, while I looked away.
"Mr. Smith, I didn't see you there."
"Yes I didn't realize you were there until now. So what brings you down here at 3 in the morning? Insomnia, I assume? Like me". She took a deep breath and was back under control of things. "Yes, something like that. She leaned against the counter with her hands clasped in front of her, inadvertently pushing her breasts together, showing me some skin. "I figured, I'd get a drink or something, or maybe watch some TV until I get sleepy again".
"Well, don't let me get in the way. I'm just doing some work". I pointed my pen towards my paper in front of me.
"Oh cool. Hey you wouldn't mind talking a bit or something, would you?"
I put my pen down. "Not at all, it's not often that an old guy like me gets to chat with a lovely young lady like yourself."
She smiled, and pulled a stool from the counter and sat down next to the table in front of me. The stool was higher than mine, which fortunately, or unfortunately, afforded me a clear line of sight of her bare thighs, and whatever lay in between every time she crossed and uncrossed them.
"So, what are you writing? Is it a new book?"
"Well, if it works out, it will be. My editor says he likes the idea, so we'll have to wait and see."
"Great. What's it about?"
"Well, it's some kind of a memoirs of a young on the verge of death, about his youth, his college days, his past loves, stuff like that".
"Cool. Is about your past?"
I chuckled, dangerous question. "Yes and no. You always use some of your own experiences, and some of other peoples, and you make up the rest."
She shifted her legs, and I got another glimpse at the red thong. I quickly looked back up, and felt bad, because she'd caught me. I quickly changed the subject.
"So how was your night with Audrey?"
"Oh same as usual, get dressed up in our nighties and talk about boys, and trying to figure out ways of getting you a date!"
I was a little thrown off by the last bit. "What? Are you serious?"
"Of course. You know Audrey really worries about you."
"Well that's sweet of her ... and you, to worry about me, but it's really not necessary."
"But don't worry; it's not the only thing we talk about. Mainly we talk about boys."
"Hmm. I see." I was getting curious. Most of all because of something that had happened a while ago.
