CHAPTER ONE
Amy scrunched up her face, scowling as she dropped her pen on her textbook and turned her focus back to her computer screen. With an irate flick of a hand, she swept a wayward lock of her amber hair back over her shoulder, brows furrowing over muddy hazel eyes as she tried to decipher precisely what her latest assignment was all about.
"Ugh. Fuck it. I'm done for tonight." She sighed. "This can wait until tomorrow."
Rolling her shoulders back, Amy arched her back and stretched her arms out toward the ceiling. Her t-shirt pulled tight up against her slender frame, showcasing her perky B-cup breasts and riding up slightly at the hem to reveal her lightly toned midriff. Kicking herself away from her desk, she spun in her chair to face her bedroom door.
Partway through her first year of university, Amy was spending the nineteenth year of life with her nose to the grindstone, dedicating herself to her studies and to her future career. She still lived at home with her parents, still in her childhood room; draped with the trappings of her youth. A pegboard studded with photos from school. A mound of stuffed toys - tucked out of the way but by no means discarded. A pastel pink vanity that was probably due for an upgrade.
It was, after all, buried in textbooks. There wasn't enough space on her desk for them all to stay there while she was working, and she didn't really have any other place to put them. Her childhood vanity, complete with peeling cartoon stickers, would be better off replaced by a bookcase.
"Knock knock. Taking a break? Just about time for dinner."
Standing in the doorway, Amy's dad rapped his knuckles on the frame, tapping out a jaunty tune as he peeked inside.
Regarding her father, Amy quirked a lip and rolled her eyes. John was forty-one years of age, and a life-long builder. His dad did it, and his dad's dad did it, and however long you wanted to look back, the men of his family had been builders. There were admittedly hushed rumours of a black sheep a few generations back who went into plumbing, but nobody would ever admit to it.
Either way, he had a muscular build, one that belied his age. Short cropped brown hair sat neatly atop his head, and keen green eyes kept up a perceptive watch from just below. People always said he had some sort of x-ray vision when it came to building, able to look over a structure and determine the intricacies of his construction.
Amy didn't put any stock in it. Her dad was just good at his job. But he
did
have a discerning eye, and a piercing stare that had gotten many an apologetic confession from her and her siblings over the years.
"Yeah, I'm done for tonight. What's for dinner?"
"Meat and two veg of some sort. Good hearty food for good, hearty people."
John smiled down at his daughter as she slipped past him on the way to the kitchen, and he ruffled her coppery hair as she went.
She might be a 'big girl' now, but she's still my little one.
Turning to follow along behind his daughter, John took a moment to appraise her, musing on the change that seemed to have suddenly overcome his eldest child.
It hasn't been -that- long since she was in pre-school, has it? Just five- ten... fifteen years?
Jesus Christ. Time really does fly.
He swept his eyes across his daughter, marvelling as she sashayed up the corridor before him. While she might have grown over the years, she was still petite, barely topping out at 5" 3'. Her hair, however, had grown more significantly. She kept it neat and straight, but grown out to the point where it just brushed the waistband of her jeans; a smooth, chestnut curtain running the length of her back.
His gaze drawn downward by the cascade, John couldn't help but appreciate his daughter's rear. She might not have inherited her mother's more sizable bust, but Amy had a perfectly shaped behind. Wide hips, generous proportions, a spring to her step that set her taut cheeks to bouncing-
John froze, midstep.
What the hell am I doing? Am I -checking out- my daughter?
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.
No. No. I'm just... admiring the woman she's become. Completely reasonable. I should be proud, after all.
Noticing that her father had come to a stop behind her, Amy turned to check on him. It wasn't like her dad to put off wolfing down his dinner.
She caught the barest sight of his eyes flicking up from her rear.
Daddy? What were you...?
Shock and chagrin seemed to war upon her father's face for a brief moment. Then his keen eyes regained their customary focus as his gaze centred upon her face.
"Hey kiddo, don't mind me. I was just thinking that... you're not my little girl any more. Kinda struck me all of a sudden."
Amy blew a raspberry.
"I haven't been your 'little girl' for years now! I'm big, strong, confident."
She began listing off her traits, counting each one off on a finger.
John began to roll his eyes as he passed Amy, resuming his trip to the kitchen. It didn't stop his daughter.
"Capable! Intelligent. Wise. Kind. Considerate..."
"Humble?" John retorted.
"
So
humble. And beautiful.
Alluring,
even."
"Oh yeah, you're a real charmer. Boys must be tripping over themselves chasing you."
"Only..." John paused in the kitchen doorway, stroking at his five o'clock shadow with a contemplative aire, "I can't seem to recall having ever seen any boys around? Nobody introduced to your parents, or caught sneaking in or out."
Amy's blush complimented the tone of her hair. It was true. She hadn't had much experience with boys. Or any, really. Sure, a crush or two during her high-school years, but nothing that ever eventuated into anything.
"Leave the poor girl be and have your dinner, you big lug."
The voice of her mother spared her any further indignity, and dinner with the family progressed without further incident.
She really has grown.
John lay in bed beside his wife. The earlier realisation about his eldest daughter was still reverberating through his mind. The recognition of her age, her crossing of the threshold into adulthood.
Her life is just beginning. Her new life, without us in it. Or... at least not in it to the same degree.
She was at university. Had been all year, without really drawing his notice. Oh, he
knew
of course. He wasn't an absent father. He just hadn't put two and two together before. And studying 'Computer Science' of all things.
That's not building. That's not even building-related, like Engineering or Architecture! My little girl, not following in my footsteps...
Laying in his bed, separated by just a single wall, John felt further from his daughter than he had ever felt before.
A frown creased his brow. He couldn't fault her, of course. She was free to do whatever she pleased. But he'd be damned if he was going to send her out into the world without some practical skills.
Perhaps I should come up with something we can do together. We're going into the weekend. We could do a little bit of daddy-daughter D.I.Y...
His eyelids drooped, settling against his will. But as he drifted into his slumber, the thought stuck with him.
... Daddy-daughter D.I.Y...
CHAPTER TWO
Amy awoke to the sound of a toolbox crashing to the ground beside her bed.
"GEEZUS-" She sat bolt upright. "What the heck!"
Her dad stood over his impromptu alarm, looking down on it, and her, with a cheery grin plastered on his face.
"Happy Saturday! I thought we could bond. Do some work together. Make some stuff around the house, fix some things up. Like me and your grandpa used to do when I was younger."
Hostile, violent thoughts ranged through Amy's sleepy head. Her dad had a hammer swinging from his belt. Perhaps she could kneecap him?
"Don't tell me you're too
cool
to hang out with your dear old dad?"
The hammer on his belt shifted, swinging idly at his hip and dragging her gaze inward, toward her father's crotch. His close-up, eye-level crotch.
Dang. That's a nice crotch.
With a jolt, she shook the thought from her addled mind. Her eyes snapped upward to her goofily grinning dad.
"Dad." Swiftly filing away her emotional response to the looming crotch, Amy fixed her most displeased, deadpan expression into place. "Get out of my bedroom."
John's heart broke. Foiled, and at the first hurdle. Amy didn't even want to consider the notion. He was too late. He'd lost her.
He dropped his gaze, eyes alighting on the freshly dropped toolbox at his feet.
Well that was probably my first mistake. Nice one, John. Wake her up with a bang! Nobody likes that!
Silently, he knelt to collect it, coming to rest alongside the bed. Now eye-level with his impassive offspring, he summoned a small and apologetic smile.
"Dad."
He looked to her mournfully.
"I need to get dressed.
Then
we can start fixing shit or whatever."
"Oh." He nodded. "Right. That makes sense. Oh. Also, watch your language."
At least he didn't look so
forlorn
now. But, be that as it may, it didn't change the fact that he was still kneeling right beside the bed.
Naked beneath the covers, Amy waited for John to move. And waited. And proceeded to wait a little longer still.
He's not going anywhere fast.
She shifted, stretching out a leg from her near-foetal position. The cool, smooth fabric slipped across her skin, and she tugged the sheet ever so tighter to her chest.
Something, somewhere deep within her, fizzed slightly. Her nudity. His proximity. It seemed, somehow...
exciting.
She crooked an eyebrow at him.
She was trying to tell him something.
Well, something beyond what she'd said. About needing to get dressed. Yet still he knelt.
I remember putting her to bed when she was younger. Such a cute little thing. She'd always try to stay up till I got home. Bedtime was our special thing. Tucking her in and reading her a bedtime story...
Amy shifted some more beneath the covers. Both her arms were curled up against her chest, clutching the sheets close. Tugging the sheets tight, bunching them at her chest but pulling them taut across her hips, thin fabric adhering to her thighs.
John's mind flashes back to his younger years, before his marriage, before the kids, to memories of supple maidens quivering at his touch; the way they revelled in the feeling of his eyes on their bodies.
The way they clutched the sheets to their chests, tantalising him with the cloaking of their nudity.
Oh. Ohhhh. Yeah. I should go.
Straightening, clutching at his toolbox, he stood.
"I'll leave you to get ready, alright hon?"
He took a backward step, taking in the whole tableau. The sight of his eldest daughter, naked beneath her sheets. She wasn't even looking at him really, just toward the door. He licked his lips. He should go. He should say something, and he should go.
