Author's Note: All characters depicted are 18 years of age or older and, as the category would imply, this story does contain violence. Consider yourself warned...
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"You can't wear that!"
Lindsey glared at him, inwardly seething, her little fists clenched at her sides.
I'll wear any damned thing I please, motherfucker!
She gritted her teeth against the words, something in her daring them to come out.
"You want me to change,
Daddy?
," she asked sweetly, her voice dripping saccharine, her eyes veiled.
"If you ever want to leave this house, I suggest you put on something decent!" His gaze swept over the orange tube top and white satin shorts and she saw his eyes darken with something other than disapproval.
"Fine."
Asshole! Who the fuck do you think you are? My father! Feh!
Lindsey stormed back upstairs, grabbing her biggest purse, the floppy crocheted one with the flap on top. She wiggled her shorts off and shoved them in the bag, and after pulling the top over her head, she shoved that in, too. She found a pair of Capri pants and a t-shirt, yanking them quickly on and bounding back down the stairs again.
"Better,
Daddy?
" She made sure her voice remained high and light, but her eyes bored holes into his skull.
His eyes hesitated at her breasts, no bra to contain them, her nipples pointing skyward. Finally, he sighed, "Fine. What time should I tell your mother you'll be back?"
Whenever I want to be back, fuckhead.
"Midnight."
She slipped her sandals on and headed out the door, slinging her purse over her shoulder. In the garden behind the house, she stripped down to nothing in the beginning dusk, shoving her clothes into her purse. The white satin shorts and orange tube top were liberated from her oversized bag, and Lindsey wiggled them past her slim, naked hips, the shorts barely covering her bottom, the tube top simply accentuating the hardness of her nipples.
Mission completed, she saw their neighbor, old Mr. Finn, standing with a garden hose in his hand, his eyes wide, his mouth open. Lindsey gave him a wave as she passed the fence.
"Hey, Mr. Finn, how's it hangin'?"
He mumbled something and the hose jerked in his hand, sending water spewing skyward before he caught it again. She didn't stop to hear what he had to say. It was a half a mile walk, and she was already running late.
*****
Someone's dad built the treefort in one of the tall trees at the edge of the subdivision. It was secluded, down a well-worn path, fifteen feet off the ground with just a railing around the edge, the boards nailed to the side of the tree the only way up or down. Lindsey heard them before she saw them, someone's radio blasting not quite loud enough for the surrounding neighbors to call the cops.
"Coming up!" she called, putting her foot on the first board nailed into the trunk of the tree, and beginning to scale the side. There were three of them sitting up on a blanket spread over the platform, passing a bottle around. Brian, the one she'd met walking through the aisle at the grocery store earlier that day, gave her a wave and patted the platform next to him.
"Getting late," he said, draping his arm around her slight shoulders as she settled back against the railing. "Thought you might not show."
"My stepdad," she explained, her tone enough of an explanation. "I have to be home by midnight."
"Midnight?! What can you do by midnight?!" One of the other guys snorted—he was cute, too, although not as cute as Brian. His hair was curly and almost as dark as his eyes.
Lindsey took the bottle from him, meeting his eyes as she drank a swig, the alcohol making her eyes water before she passed it on to the third guy. He was smaller than the other two, his blonde hair almost as long as hers.
"Guess we just have to start earlier," Lindsey gasped, her throat still burning. The dark-haired guy gave her an appreciative look at her comeback, and they all laughed. That made her feel warmer than the alcohol.
They introduced themselves and passed the bottle again. The dark-haired guy was Ralph, a senior from Xavier. The quiet blonde said his name was Wayne. He looked older than the other two. Brian had already made his introductions earlier that day, when he'd invited her to this little party. She knew him by sight anyway, from the halls at school. He was a senior, like she was, at Chippewa.
"Hot enough for ya?" Ralph asked, peeling off his t-shirt and hanging it over the railing. "Christ, this summer is gonna be a bitch, and I have to spend it roofing with my uncle."
"Sun's going down," Wayne remarked and Lindsey glanced at him as he tipped the bottle toward her. "Should get a little cooler."
"Hey, dude, you were supposed to get me in on that gig." Brian's hand moved over her bare shoulder and Lindsey settled in closer, feeling a warm glow in the pit of her stomach. "It's gotta be better than stocking cans at the Sav-Way."
"Yeah." Ralph shrugged. He was across from Lindsey, leaning back and stretching both arms out to rest on the railing. "Still workin' on it."
There was a long silence that seemed to stretch into the coming night. Lindsey felt the coolness of the evening settling on her damp skin. They were all peeking glances at her—she felt Brian's eyes on her top, Wayne's moving over her legs, and Ralph's were focused between them. Her shorts were pressed between her pussy lips and she felt the seam riding there every time she moved.
"Oh I love this song!" She reached over Wayne to turn up the radio and felt him startle at the weight of her on him, her hand pressing into the meat of his thigh. Giving him a smile of apology, she eased her way off, and he smiled back.
