Chapter Three
It took me fifteen more minutes to gather the courage to leave the bathroom. I'd spent that time delaying – I washed my hands and face, brushed my teeth, flossed, then paced in the bathroom. I couldn't leave because I'd come to the conclusion that Doug had been standing outside the door the entire time and he had heard me come.
I stood with my hand on the door handle for about a minute before I finally turned it. I turned off the fan and the light, then walked quietly into the living room. The TV was on the same channel, and Doug was sitting in the same seat, still as stone. He had placed his beer to the side, and both his hands were gripping his thighs.
"I'm gonna go to bed," I said. It was only nine-thirty at night, but once I realized that there was definite unwanted tension in the room, I did not want to sit in it.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Night, kiddo."
"Nice to meet you," I blurted, then immediately winced.
"Yeah, you too," he responded weakly.
I turned and headed for the guest bedroom, clenching my fists and gritting my teeth. The awkwardness was palpable. If I had any doubts before, I certainly didn't have them now – Doug had definitely heard me.
But then I realized that I couldn't decide if this information was damning or more arousing.
I closed my door behind me and leaned against it heavily. My face was as red as a fire engine, and I could not quash the embarrassment. Walking out of the bathroom was like giving inevitable surrender, like confirming that what had just happened was very humiliating for both of us. At the same time, though, I was mystified. I wondered if he liked it.
But if he did, he'd certainly feel as ashamed as I did. I was his friend's daughter, and I was young enough to be his daughter. But if I dug deep and searched hard enough, I found that I could get past all of that and find the entire thing more erotic. The essential component to seeing it in a good light depended on the hope that he hadn't felt perverse about it, either. And I knew that that was highly unlikely.
Before I turned to my room to change into my pyjamas, I realized that I'd left my overnight bag in the front room.
"Shit," I hissed. "Shit!"
I did not want to go back out there and face him a second time. Feeling the shame in the air was enough to endure once. But I couldn't just as well spend the entire night locked up in my own room, afraid to go out in the open. I thought I might be able to wait until my dad got home and Doug finally decided to leave before I went back outside, but I had no idea when that would be or if it would actually happen within a reasonable time frame.
After a lot of pacing and plotting, I decided to sneak to the front for my bag. The chairs in the living room were positioned just so to create a blind spot from the hallway where my room was to the front. If I was quiet enough and swift enough, Doug might not even notice I'd been there at all.
I slowly twisted the door handle and pulled it open gently. The hinges were completely silent, which I was thankful for – a squeaky alarm would not have been in my favour. I tiptoed out of my room into the hallway, hugged the far wall, and quietly made my way past the kitchen towards the front room.
What I saw made me involuntarily halt.
Doug was resting his head back against the recliner while he gently kneaded his crotch with his right hand. My mouth dropped open and I had to cover it with both my hands to keep from letting loose any uncontrollable sounds. His lips were slightly parted, and the lines on his face were completely smooth. I could almost hear his breathing from where I stood – a soft moaning – and I instantly felt my body ignite and my crotch burn again.
His left hand came to his belt buckle and he worked it open before undoing his pants. My heart was hammering in my chest and sweat was budding on my palms as I watched him slide his jeans down slightly before he reached into his shorts and gripped his erection.
I was completely taken by surprise. I could barely register what was happening before me, and it took me several long moments of watching him before I started to consider what I should do next.
Initially, I didn't want to make myself known – we'd both faced enough embarrassment for one night, and letting him know that I was there and the tables had turned was the last thing on my list. I felt I was doing something illegal by standing there. But I liked it. And part of me wanted to let him know that I liked it.
I stood there watching him for a long time. His strokes became more vigorous, and he slowly slumped down in the recliner as his breathing became heavier.
It was then that I'd come to the conclusion that we'd already breached the wall of privacy with each other, and one more affront wouldn't hurt.
I slowly walked towards the living room, not trying to hide anything. He slowed considerably and sat up quickly, looking over at me with a stricken expression. I paused, trying to come up with the right words. We stared at each other like two frightened animals.
I could have been standing there for a minute before I decided that silence was the best thing I could say.
He watched me circle around in front of his chair with a conflicted look on his face, like he was trying to decide whether or not to stop me, or if he couldn't decide how wrong this was. When I stepped up to the chair, he flinched as if I were about to hit him. He opened his mouth to say something, but he stayed silent. I waited for him to tell me off and end the whole thing right then, but at the same time I wanted to rush myself so that he didn't have any time to say no.
