- Hi, All. This is a pretty tame story. Please amuse me with a comment. Enjoy! -
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I've never been a very bright girl. I'm downright stupid if you asked Sister Mary, my teacher. I limped through Catholic Girls' academy with D's. My proudest achievement to date was graduating last month. Two weeks before I finished, I turned 18. I was thrilled, because it meant I could finally leave my mother's house, and by house I mean rathole apartment.
Mom always kept me under her thumb. I was never allowed to go out with friends or have a social life, not that I could afford to. All the other girls at school had phones and boyfriends. When you're poor as dirt, it's hard to be popular.
The most exciting thing I've done since graduation was steal a bottle of red hair dye. My mom was furious after I dyed it. It started a fight, and I figured it was time to go. My grandma, who came over the apartment now and then to remind my mother what a screw up she was, often said if I wanted to move out and live with her, I could. She paid for my high school at Catholic Girls' academy, so I figured, why not?
That lasted all of a month. I quickly learned why my mom grew up to be a miserable bitch. I ran away with the clothes on my back, the red hair on my head, and the return address from my last birthday card. My daddy, who I had not seen since I was six (not that I could remember him), always sent me a card on my birthday with 100 dollars. It pretty much made me fall in love with him. He was so cute inside the card too, saying happy 18, how proud he was of me, and how much he loved me.
I had asked my mom many times to let me call him, but she had always refused. Apparently, there was some law that prevented him from visiting us. Mom never talked about it, but all I knew was he was the most amazing kind man in the world, because he never forgot my birthday, and he always sent me 100 dollars.
So there I was, standing in black Mary Janes outside of the door of an apartment, wearing my usual catholic schoolgirl outfit: white thigh-highs, a blue plaid skirt, and a white blouse. I had the white blouse tied just under my breasts to show off my midriff. I had a nice tummy, and I liked it when boys looked at me. I wondered if my daddy would think I was pretty. I hoped so. But mostly, I just hoped he'd let me stay at his apartment. The alternative was to go back to my horrible mother. I was desperate.
Knock-knock.
The door opened. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest. I don't think it could have thumped any harder, but when I saw how gorgeous Daddy was, my jaw literally fell open and I think my heart exploded. He was a tall, sexy man, like a TV star. His hair was black, his eyes baby blue, a jaw chiseled on a mountaintop somewhere, and perfect teeth. Oh, and god, his eyebrows were perfect. He was so slim and toned too. And his clothes! That was the best part. He wasn't wearing any. Well, I suppose he was wearing some basketball shorts, but they were so low on his hip. I could see the little hairs of his happy trail disappear into them. His legs were so long too, and he had nice, manly feet, clean, not like the dirty guys I'd see in my neighborhood.
I was dumbstruck, literally dumbstruck. How in the most fucked up world could my ugly bitch mother possibly walk away from this male model? Was she mentally retarded? She'd have to be. That would actually explain why I was so stupid.
I couldn't speak. I couldn't form words. My throat had tightened up. I was pretty sure I was not even allowed to speak to such a gorgeous man. There was a law against it, right? Maybe that was the law my mom meant, that he was too hot for us to talk to.
"Hi there," he said with a warm smile. He seemed to flick his short hair back, and a few black strands flew away from his eyes. I think I creamed my panties. And, God, he even had a sexy voice. Was he real?
Oh jeez, I just realized something. I was almost hit by a car on the way over here. Maybe I was hit and I was dead. Holy shit, I was in sexy daddy heaven.
"H-h-h..." I didn't quite say hi, but I got out one letter, and I was pretty proud of myself for that. I mean, 'Hi' is a big word for a D student. Okay, I pulled a C in phys-ed, but I think that's because the teacher liked me in gym shorts---she was a total lesbo.
"You're a little early," he said with a laugh.
Damn it, even the laugh! You know what? I was starting to dislike him. He was too amazing, I was not worthy to be his daughter, and I suddenly wanted a normal father. The girls at school always complained about their fat ugly mean fathers who never bought them anything. Thinking on it actually gave me enough strength to form words.
"I, I, me?" I didn't say I could form sentences. I said I could form words. Baby steps.
He smiled at me. "What's that?"
Come on, Madi, you could do this. Form a sentence, just one. I had practiced it. "Mister, Mister Ryan? I'm, I'm Madi, your daughter."
"Good, good. Of course, you are. Perfect. I love it when they're prepared. Come on in, beautiful," he said, stepping back, holding the door.
I was beautiful? My face was pretty much on fire after that. I could literally feel the blood pumping against my red cheeks. Have you ever felt that, when you're blushing so hard it hurts? That was me.
I didn't think I was beautiful though. I thought I looked like my mother. B- breasts, with a A+ ass. I did have a nice ass. I rarely gained weight, and all my fat was on my thighs, so they were pretty thick, but my waist was small and cute. I guess I did have a pretty face, but I definitely wasn't as gorgeous as this man. Hell, if you put a wig on him, men would notice him first. I did have very pretty blue eyes though, just like my daddy. Oh, hey, that's where I got those.
Of course, plenty of boys had flirted with me before. I had been looking for a boyfriend, but with my bitch of a mother down my throat all the time, it just never happened. I wasn't exactly a virgin through. My mom had a dildo, and whenever she was out of the house, that dildo was in my pussy. That's sorta like sex, right? Okay, maybe I liked to pretend I wasn't a virgin because all the girls at school weren't, and I was embarrassed.
As I came into the apartment, I saw my daddy's things. It was a very cute place, a couch big enough for two, a TV on the wall, a kitchen behind a counter, small bathroom off to one side, and a door to a bedroom on the other side. I could see he had a nice big bed too. It looked so comfy. This whole place looked comfy, like an IKEA magazine. I'd never been to an IKEA though. Mom got all our furniture at the Salvation Army.
"Shoes off," Daddy said.
"Yes, sir," I said, stepping out of them, my bare feet still in my white thigh-highs.
"Would you like a drink, sweetheart?" Daddy asked me.
"A, a drink?"
"Sure," he said, standing behind the kitchen counter. "Wine?"
"I, I'm not old enough to drink."
"You're joking. You're 18, right?"
"Huh? Oh, yes, you know I am."
"Good. I won't tell if you don't," Daddy said.
"Okay, sure," I said, smiling at him.
God, I loved to watch him move in the kitchen, getting glasses, pulling a cork from a bottle, pouring the wine. He came over to me, motioning toward the couch. Just watching him walk was doing things to my body, things Sister Mary would have whipped me for. Oh lord, I knew all about sin, and these thoughts about my daddy were definitely sinful.
We sat on the couch. He was turned to the side, staring at me. "You're perfect," he said.
"I am?" I said. "Am I like what you thought I'd be?" I was proud of that sentence. I was finally forming coherent words into questions. I was coming to terms that this magnificent creature was my daddy. I felt lucky to be his daughter.
"Yes. 18 is perfect, just what I asked for."
"Um, yeah," I said. I was a little confused, but my daddy was the smart one. "Ryan, sir, I hope you don't mind me coming here."
"Ryan, sir?" he said with a little chuckle. "Don't call me by my name. Call me Daddy, always Daddy."
