Dmitri Petrovna checked the watch on his wrist for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. It read quarter to one in the morning.
It was Friday night and his wife was working late at the law firm she is a partner at. Lately she had been spending most nights working overtime to finish a high profile case on a man who allegedly killed his wife. Gabrielle was one of the top criminal defence lawyers in the metropolitan Vancouver area and this case plunged her into the spotlight even further. Everyone was expecting her to crack under the pressure, for she was solely defending the man, but Dmitri knew better. His wife was made of stone, not a hair on her head would be out of place when she finally comes home. She wasn't always this cold. When they met she was a law student at UBC and had just moved to Vancouver from Montreal. Her french accent was adorable and her witty banter was enough for him to be completely enamoured with her, as if her stunning looks weren't enough. However, over the years her obsession with perfection has led to their distance and Dmitri no longer felt comfort in their relationship. Instead, he was the husband she had to hide. His career as a writer, while once successful, had halted. His last book was published five years before, and he secretly blamed this on his wife. For the past 20 years she had been his muse, his Beatrice, but the passion was no longer there.
Now, to fill his time, he had turned to alcohol. He slowly sipped his poison of choice, a French cognac he had spent a ridiculous amount on, before saying "fuck it" and downing the whole glass. His head had been swimming for the past hour and as he stood to refill his glass he had to grab onto the armrest to keep from tumbling over. The liquor sloshed in the almost empty bottle but this didn't worry him. He had a whole cabinet filled with the best alcohol money could buy. Back in his chair, the warmth of the liquid as it slid easily down his throat comforted him. Resting his eyes for just a moment, his thoughts had almost engulfed him when the click of a key unlocking the front door disturbed him.
"Gabby?" He used the nickname only he referred to his wife by. But instead of his wife, a sweet voice answered that replaced the bitter taste in his mouth with joy.
"No daddy, it's just me." He had forgotten his daughter Scarlett would be home tonight. She lived with a friend downtown to be closer to the art school she attended. Dmitri was ecstatic when she informed Gabrielle and him of her decision to pursue art but her mother had pursed her lips and frowned. She would have liked her daughter to follow in her footsteps or at least choose something a little more stable. Nonetheless, Scarlett was a great artist and focused her studies on graphic design.
"Did you forget I was coming over? Remember I told you last week I was spending the weekend here? Nicole's parents are here so I told her I'd let her have the apartment to herself for extra space." She smiled coyly and sashayed her way into the living room. She left a trail of vanilla scented air as she walked in. Her long black hair fell like a curtain as she swooped in to plant a lingering kiss on his cheek. She sat her round butt on the armchair of his chair and grabbed the glass out of his hand. Her heavily-lidded eyes fluttered closed as she took a swig of his drink. A small pink tongue emerged to wipe away the excess booze from her full pink lips.
Suddenly, Dmitri didn't know what to do with his hands, which previously had been resting on the armrests. He fumbled a bit in his drunken haze before putting an arm around her. He could feel the womanly curve of her hip beneath his hand. He took another swig of his drink as his pants began to tighten.
"Did you miss me?" Her sweet as honey voice made him look up at her, just in time to catch the slow wink she gave him before giggling. She leaned into him and put her arm around his neck. His face was inches away from her voluptuous bosom. They looked so soft and cushiony, all Dmitri wanted to do was bury his face in between them.
He knew these thoughts were wrong but he couldn't help himself. The thoughts had been getting stronger lately, ever since she left the house. It wasn't like he was getting any from his wife anyways. He could easily have an affair, a handsome man like himself, but he wasn't that type of guy. Somehow, it felt less like cheating this way, keeping it within the family. He knew he was deluding himself but he wouldn't stop, couldn't stop, himself from imagining what it would be like to have Scarlett bouncing on top of him. The mental images of her full breasts bouncing and her moaning was enough to make him excuse himself.
He pushed himself, albeit a bit stumblingly, from his chair but was interrupted by Scarlett grabbing his hand.
"Where are you going daddy?" She was looking up at him from big green eyes. She was smirking naughtily at him before looking down and biting her lip. "I just want to spend some time with you while it's just us two. I know mom won't be home for a while."
"I'm sorry, I just..." He froze as she started to stand too. Her hand slide from his and moved its way up his arm. Her fingers made their way to the collar of his shirt and she grabbed him closer to her. Their faces were inches apart. All he could do was stare at her plump lips and imagine what she tasted like.
"Shh, I know you want this." She silenced him with a kiss. One exploding like fireworks. Her mouth was soft and tasted of cherries, her tongue was curious and fit so perfectly with his own. He grabbed the back of her head and started to kiss her harder now. He felt her hand make its way down to the growing cock in his pants. She squeezed softly before rubbing the front of his jeans.
God damn, he wanted this, he wanted this so bad. But thoughts of morality made him jump back. Panting, he wiped his mouth. Scarlett pouted and looked confused, almost hurt. Her arms were crossed over her heaving chest, pushing her boobs closer together.
