Chelsea smiled to herself as she glanced in the mirror for the fifteenth time that night. She was finally going to do it. Her long brown hair gleamed and her skin looked flawless even to her, which seemed unnatural as she was her own worse critic. Her brown eyes seemed to shine as she daydreamed about the night ahead. She knew that everything had to be perfect or it would never work.
She tried to shake the bad thoughts that seemed to creep in suddenly. Glancing in the mirror again, she saw herself as only she could. The fat, unwanted, unhappy girl that she has always been. Never before had she seen herself as she had just minutes before. Instead in her place, there stood the same plain-Jane she had always been. Tears formed in Chelsea's eyes but hearing the sound of tires in the drive she quickly sucked them up. There would be other times to cry if tonight didn't go well. But Chelsea wasn't going to give up tonight without a fight.
She ran downstairs, the sound of her shoes making a clip-clop noise on the floor. Chelsea didn't care... there wasn't anyone but herself to hear the sound. The only person that she cared about was the person that would soon be coming in the door, smiling and oh so loving.
The door slammed and Chelsea heard the patter of feet moving toward the stairs. She rushed to the kitchen, not wanting to give away the surprise too soon. Her mouth smiling and her heart soaring, she checked on dinner, plating it knowing that he would be hungry and wanting to eat as soon as he came to the table.
Once dinner was on the table, Chelsea had nothing to do but wait until he returned from his shower. That was their routine: Chelsea would have dinner cooked, ready, and waiting on him while he took a shower. After they ate, they often went their separate ways. One returning to their room and the other sitting down to walk television, but not tonight. Chelsea had other plans. Plans that would hopefully come to be true.
He walked down the stairs after a long hot shower, enjoying the feeling of air on his hot skin. His mind full of the images that he had run through during the shower, made him slightly hard. He had touched himself, thinking of the young woman that worked in his office, the one that always seemed to wear almost nothing to work and seemed forever bent over, showing her breast and the fact that she rarely wore panties. However the face on this woman had not been her own, instead hair had been brown not blonde, and the eyes a lovely shade of brown almost green. Her face had been one that he had stared at for many years, only just lately seeing the beauty that was there. Her face had been his daughter's, one that he could not seem to get out of his mind.
He dreaded the moments that he spent with her, worried that she would know that he was dreaming about her, fantasizing about doing things to her that no man, especially not her father, should be doing to her. He knew it was wrong but he couldn't stop thinking about her, naked, panting for him to fill her. Begging him to pleasure like only he could. Lately he seemed to be spending more time away from home so that he wouldn't have to be worried that he wouldn't be able to control himself.
He stepped into the dinning room and groaned silently at the picture before him. There she was, leaning against the counter, her skirt almost showing her ass, and he wanted nothing more than to turn her slowly around, open her thighs, pull her panties aside and fuck her until she screamed. He noticed suddenly that she was dressed different from the way she normally did. Instead of the long, almost virginal skirts that she seemed to live in, one that didn't seem to want to cover her behind had replaced it. Just looking at it, seeing the way that it groped her ass, he knew that tonight was going to be a long one.
Chelsea heard her father coming downstairs and decided that now was a time for action. She pulled herself up as if she was trying to reach something from the cabinet, knowing that Daddy would love the way her bottom was highlighted against the arch of her back. She smiled to herself almost seeing the look of lust on his face. She knew he wanted her, had known for almost a month now, but because he was so stubborn, so thick-headed he couldn't see that she was also feeling a lust for him, one that she had battled for many, many years. She had dreamed, fantasized, about him coming to her one night, taking her to bed and loving her like no one ever would.
Chelsea finished teasing her father and they sat down to eat dinner, watching each other, thinking of the night ahead of them. Chelsea of the things she would do to him, Richard of the things that he would do to himself once she went to bed.
Once dinner was over, Richard thought that they would adjourn to their normal after dinner retreats but Chelsea had other plans.