Chester plodded through the mall like a soldier marching to his death, his feet aching, his ears ringing from the raucous commotion of the jabbering shoppers and the blaring racket of the Christmas carols. How he hated this yearly ritual; the cards on his wife's list that needed his signature, the stupid gifts for stupid relatives he hardly even knew. It was fun at first, marrying into a ready-made family, but as the years crawled by it became more and more complicated, especially this time of year.
As he passed the Frederick's window, a black teddy caught his eye. It wasn't so much the teddy as it was the mannequin wearing it; trim, small waist, jutting hips, pert breasts, just like his stepdaughter Ella.
Oh Lord,
he thought to himself,
I wonder what it would take to get Ella into that thing?
He had seen Ella in a bikini once, but that was before she turned eighteen, so of course he couldn't ogle her ripe, young body. But now that she was of age, he could ogle all he wanted. In fact, Ella's ripe young body had become somewhat of an obsession with him. The way she slept in panties and a T-shirt with no bra, sometimes parading around the house that way when her mom wasn't around, the way her running shorts showed the cheeks of her ass if the angle was right, these little episodes had become the very reason for his existence.
His face reddening, he strolled into the store and was immediately overcome by the smell of perfume and the giggles of the salesgirls behind the counter. Frozen with shame, he glanced about furtively. Ella's mom Margaret would kill him if he bought her lovely daughter a black teddy, but what if she didn't know? What if he did it behind her back? That had been happening more and more lately; the late nights at the office surfing for porn, the occasional stop at the stripper bar down on the Southside. Something had to give, and it was up to Chester to make it happen.
But a black teddy? Perhaps it would be more prudent to go with something less obvious. He spied a colorful rack displaying various G-strings and T-backs, some gold, some silver, all of them tiny and revealing.
Perfect
he thought to himself,
Margaret will never know, and if she does find them, Ella can just say she got them from one of her girlfriends.
With renewed confidence, he grabbed a five-pack of assorted thongs and took them to the counter.
"Will this be all?" the young Hispanic lady asked, her painted-on eyebrows arching dramatically. Chester nodded, glancing at her luscious brown cleavage spilling out of her top like gravy overflowing a big scoop of Margaret's mashed potatoes.
"That's all," he stammered, his face burning. The saleslady ignored him, punching in the transaction with one hand while texting with the other. Taking his change, Chester made his exit safely, with no one asking who the thongs were for, or why a fifty-something dude was leering at a young salesgirl's cleavage in a Frederick's store.
*****
It was Christmas Eve, Margaret was in the kitchen baking cookies, and Ella was upstairs in her room, her laptop on the bed, her long hair up in a casual Sarah Palin do. She was wearing Chester's old flannel shirt, the one she had 'borrowed' from him that day up at the lake when he saw her in her tiny bikini.
"Knock knock?" Chester said, gazing fondly at Ella from the doorway. Every time he saw her in that old blue plaid flannel shirt it was like the two of them were sharing a secret form of intimacy, an unspoken bond safe from Margaret's certain disapproval.
"Hey," Ella grinned, turning the laptop so he couldn't see what was on the screen.
"I got you something." He held out a red Frederick's bag.
"Shouldn't it wait till tomorrow?"
"It should," Chester sighed, "but it's probably not something you mom would approve of, so..."
"Really?" Ella grinned. "I like it already." She rose from the bed, her firm tits jiggling under Chester's old shirt, and grabbed the bag. "Oh my God!" she gasped, holding the five-pack up like it was a dead fish, "If Mom knew about these..."
"I won't tell," Chester assured her.
"Yeah but I might," she grinned, her blue eyes flashing like the lights of a police car.
Chester felt a chill run down his back. Why hadn't he thought of that? Ella could cause all kinds of trouble for him if she told her mom about the thongs. Of course he could deny it, but he had learned from experience that Ella's word carried much more weight than his did.
"Don't you think we should keep it a secret?" he pleaded.
"That depends," she said, finding a stray lock of hair and twisting it around her finger. "Am I getting a big screen TV this year?"
Chester's heart sank. He couldn't afford a big screen TV. But, on the other hand, could he afford not to get her a big screen TV? "Tell you what, Hon, I'll take you to the after-Christmas sales and you can pick out whichever one you want."
"Oh Chester" she giggled, grabbing him for a quick hug, "you're the coolest step-dad ever."
He savored their brief moment of intimacy, her stiff little nipples grazing his chest, her tummy nudging against his tingling cock, but it was over in an instant. Suddenly she was back on her bed, her fingers flying across the keys, perhaps entering into her blog the fact that her perverted step-dad had just given her five thongs for Christmas?
"Okay then," he stammered, backing out of the room. "If you need any help deciding which thong looks best on you..."
"Chester!" she blurted, shooting him an annoyed glance. "I can't believe you just said that!"
"I was just joking..."
"You were not," she countered, with a hint of a grin curling the edges of her wide mouth. Just then, Margaret's voice came floating down the hall.
"Oh Chester? Ella? The cookies are done."
