Sasha Crigler - Fall 1987 - 21 years before the ending of Employee Number One
The butterflies in my stomach threatened to overwhelm me as nerves about my date tonight built up. I never thought I would be dating this man. I especially never thought I would be dating anyone after getting married and having two kids with my husband, but here I was, the strange ethics my mother raised me and my sister with taking hold of my life.
Mom was a steadfast believer that women needed to separate love from sex. Love was to be for the men that made you feel good to be around, and sex was to be for the men who actually paid the bills for your family.
I had been married to my husband Frank for a year and given birth to two of his children, but he couldn't even come up with half of what we needed to live on.
We started dating in high school, and I quickly gave my virginity to him. We didn't know anything about birth control or condoms and quickly got in trouble. Our son Carson was soon on his way.
We didn't learn from the first time and had another bun in the oven a couple years later. The only thing keeping me from taking the complete ire of my parents for getting pregnant a second time was that my younger sister followed the same path as me, having her first daughter Heather a week after I had my daughter April.
Now I was nineteen, working as a part-time yoga instructor, and Frank was twenty, pulling night shifts at a warehouse. We barely made half of what we needed to get by. Other men had to step in and pay the bills for us. Those two men were my father-in-law Thomas Crigler and my father, Marshall Cox.
It was Saturday night as I pulled up to my parent's house in my white, slightly rusted 1970 station wagon. I had brought a change of clothes for myself and an overnight bag for my three-year-old son Carson and one-year-old daughter April. The plan was for me to shower, put on makeup and do anything else that needed to be done while Mom and my sister Victoria watched the kids, including Vicky's daughter Heather.
My husband Frank had picked up an overtime shift at work. He knew what would happen tonight, and he was not ok with it. Still, he had accepted the reality of his financial situation. The overtime would keep him busy, and also worked towards getting him exclusive rights to me again.
I finished showering and applying my makeup before putting on a matched set of lacy black panties and bra. Then I put on a red Audrey Hepburn polka dot-styled dress with a black sash around my waist. The dress showed off my bare shoulders and upper back while pushing up my cleavage. A pair of two-inch black heels completed the outfit.
When I was ready, Mom came in to help braid my hair. She put it into a long Dutch Braid that reached the middle of my back, exposing my shoulders.
"Honey, I know you're nervous about tonight, but you are doing the right thing."
I still wasn't sure. "It's weird, Mom. I know we are supposed to only reward men with sex for providing for us, but does it really have to be Dad?"
"Sasha, you're an adult now. You live in the adult world. Adults properly compensate each other for what we do for each other." Mom said, pulling a little tighter on my hair than she needed to.
"If anything, why can't your husband, Frank, be like Victoria's boyfriend, Corey? Corey got his real estate license four months ago and has already sold eight houses. Your sister will not have to worry about providing for the needs of men besides Corey. If you're upset, be upset with Frank but show your father a good time tonight."
Still looking for a way out, I asked, "Mom, I'm not on birth control, is it safe for me to be having sex with Dad?"
"It's fine. We never told anyone that your Dad got snipped after Victoria was born. I stopped taking birth control when he got the procedure, and I haven't gotten pregnant yet." This news about Dad being unable to get me pregnant didn't alleviate my anxiety.
I exited my parent's bathroom, ready for the date. Dad stood up from the couch. If nothing else, I thought I was lucky my Dad was a handsome forty-nine-year-old man. He spent his twenties bouncing between AAA baseball teams and even made it onto a few MLB rosters. Soon after he met Mom, he decided to settle down in Miami, where he became a go-to personal trainer for professional athletes in the area.
Dad was 6'4", 206 lbs. with broad shoulders. He still had a full head of salt & pepper hair to match his chin-strap beard, also with a salt & pepper blend. He wore tight black jeans, a red button-down shirt, and a blue tie. The shirt barely contained his muscular arms, and the fabric was stretched tight across his chest.
As his daughter, I always appreciated how my Dad looked, but now, as a woman, I was surprised to feel his style turning me on.
Dad looked me up and down a few times before saying, "Wow, you look stunning, baby girl." I blushed, finding I liked my father's attention, despite knowing his intentions for me tonight.
Following Mom's advice, I walked up to Dad and put my hands on his shoulders to use as leverage as I rose up on my toes and kissed his lips softly. "You, don't, er, look too bad, eh, yourself...big...stud." The room broke into laughter as my mother and sister clearly found my discomfort amusing. Dad took me in one arm and tried to calm my nerves.
"You're doing great, baby girl. Just relax and let me take control for tonight." Feeling a little more reassured, I relaxed into my father's side, then allowed him to take my hand and lead me out the front door.
I looked back one more time to make sure my kids were ok; I would see them in the morning when mom brought them back to my apartment. Mom shut the door behind us as Dad led me to the driveway.
Dad chose to drive his powder blue 1985 Chevy Corvette that night. He held the passenger door open, allowing me to sit down. I decided to follow Mom's advice again. Instead of keeping my legs together and lifting them into the car, I separated my knees, lifting one leg at a time, allowing my dress to ride up a little more, giving Dad a view of my thighs. I looked up at him and felt a twinge of excitement between my legs when I met his eyes, confirming he had watched my little show.
Dad shut my door before getting into his seat and sped off out of the neighborhood and down the highway, nearly doubling the speed limit at times. These fast rides always freaked me out but also got my pussy wet against my will. When we finally arrived at our destination, my heart was pounding out of my chest, and my panties had already started to dampen. I hated the mixed sensation but decided it would be best if I leaned into the aroused part of my feelings.
Looking out the window, I noticed Dad had taken us to the famous Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami Beach. The next few hours would pass by in a whirlwind. I do not remember much of what was said; I was simply nervous about what was to come the whole time.
The valet took the keys to the car as Dad took my hand and led me to a restaurant overlooking the pool area. The dinner was fabulous, and Dad was his usual funny, charming self, just with more sexual innuendo mixed in.
After dinner, we walked down the boulevard to a nightclub with salsa dancing. My mother, a trained ballerina, always made sure Vicky and I had dance lessons growing up, so I knew Salsa and many other dances. I spent a few hours being twirled around in circles by Dad, heels clacking on the floor as my dress flew up, almost exposing my panties over and over.
Dad's hands had gotten increasingly brave in touching my body. At first, he kept to my waist, but he was soon holding my butt and 'accidentally' grabbing my breasts. I found it strange that I didn't mind. The thought that ran through my head was
This is the man providing for my family.
With that thought in mind, I didn't balk at anything Dad wanted to do with my body, becoming more aroused every time his hands explored new places. When Dad leaned in for a kiss, I simply accepted his mouth and tongue as naturally as I did Frank's.
After a few hours, we walked back to the Fontainebleau, this time along the beach. I held my high heels in one hand and Dad's hand in the other as we talked about the night, just enjoying our time together.
Once inside the hotel lobby, for some reason, I expected Dad to take me back to the valet to pick up the car. Instead, he took me to the elevators. We rode up to the fifth floor, then turned to walk down the hall as Dad produced a room key from his pocket.
Stepping into the room with a queen-size bed, I noticed the dark ocean outside the window and the light from the hotel coming up from down below. The romantic scene put me at ease as I tried not to think about why we were in a hotel room.
Dad turned me around to face him. Lowered his lips to mine, he started kissing me. I returned his kiss, still very nervous about what was to come; I used my meditation practices to focus on enjoying the touch of a man's lips as I allowed my mind to sink into the feeling of making out with Dad.
The kissing intensified; I was now dueling with his tongue, wanting his tongue as badly as he wanted mine. I didn't notice when my dress fell off, but I did notice when my bra came unhooked. The sudden freeing of my breast caused my concentration to lapse, as I was suddenly aware again that it was my Dad I was making out with.
I stopped the make-out, holding Dad away from me by his arms.
"Sorry, I just need a second," I said while standing in only a pair of panties before the man who raised me.
"It's alright, baby girl, we can take it a little slower," Dad said, running his hand across my face. I pressed my cheek into his palm, enjoying the feeling.