The change of seasons toward winter depressed Charity. It wasn't the cold weather that got to her, although she did miss the carefree, naked days by the poolside at Brie's. No, it was the coming holidays and her first trip home since graduation that filled her with dread.
She had a flight into St. Louis on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Kelsey and Brie drove her up to the airport in the city. It was Charity's first time there, so they went early and they gave her a little tour — up on University Hill where Kelsey went to art school, past the run-down house near the campus where she lived with her roommate Hannah, and down to the Warehouse District downtown. They pulled up to the curb outside Tucker's Studio.
"That's it?" Charity asked. "I didn't picture it like this at all."
"Yeah, it's a nice neighborhood," Kelsey said. "We'll have more time when you come home Saturday. If there's an amateur doin' a scene we can go in and you can meet everybody."
Charity's heart skipped a beat. The thought thrilled her but terrified her, especially with her stern father's Bible readings looming in the near future.
—
Charity licked salty sweat off the hard, stubby cock. It was only half the size of Austin's, she thought to herself, as she looked up into her father's eyes. Has Mom ever had a big one, she wondered, or just this little thing?
"This is Captain James," a loud voice said, startling Charity from her blurry, unsettling dream. "We'll be landing in St. Louis in just a few minutes..."
"Damn it!" she mumbled softly. She straightened the wrap-around shirt that had gotten disheveled in her slumber, and smoothed her linen pants. Both articles of clothing were much different that what she'd worn when she left home for college, and they were damp with perspiration from her dream and the realization that she was just moments from seeing her father. There was no question he would disapprove of the blouse, and probably the fit of the slacks, too. The blouse showed a hint of cleavage and was a bit see-through in the right light, and the pants showed off her behind in a way she never dared when she lived at home.
Charity had chosen both articles of clothing very carefully. She wanted to make a statement right off the bat. She was a sexual woman, and proud of it, but she knew it would mean war with her father. The clothes were meant to stake out her turf, right from the get-go.
"Charity? Oh my gosh!"
"Hi, Mom!...Daddy didn't come with you?"
"No, you know how he hates traffic. Oh my gosh, Sweetheart, you look wonderful! You're...not a girl anymore, are you..."
Charlene looked her daughter over, with a bit of envy in her eyes. Charity was pleased there was nothing more.
"Your father might not appreciate those New York clothes, but you really do look wonderful."
"Mom, upstate New York's not much different from Missouri. Our house is surrounded by farm fields."
"I know you told me that, but New York just seems so...different, and far away."
Charity smiled sadly at her mother's innocence. Living her life under Clifford Witbro's thumb had stunted Charlene's knowledge of the world. Charity was glad to have escaped for college, and doubly glad that fate had put her together with Brie in the dormitory.
"How is Daddy?" Charity asked.
"Oh, he's fine. You know your father..."
"Who's coming for Thanksgiving? Are we gonna have a full house again?"
"Yes," Charlene said. "Aunt Silvia and Uncle Don. Three of your cousins — Jimmie, Mark and Jennifer. Mark and Jennifer are bringing dates. Your Great Aunt Lottie's coming. Edwin and Pauline from Church. Craig said he'd stop by."
"How's he doing without Mary?" Charity asked. "I still can't believe she died."
"He's okay I guess. He keeps to himself in that big house, which isn't good for him. I had to pester him to get him to come tomorrow."
In the car on the way home, Charity thought about Craig. He and his wife Mary lived next door throughout Charity's childhood. Craig was the first older man that had ever caught Charity's eye, a thin but well built gentleman with an easy smile and a habit of working shirtless in the yard. Charity's father Clifford didn't approve. He knew Charlene was sneaking glimpses, so one day he confronted Craig about his bare-chestedness. Craig nodded and looked serious, but it didn't alter his behavior. Charlene and Charity were both glad about that.
"Wake up, Sweetheart. We'll be home in a minute."
Charity opened her eyes and tried to shake off her grogginess. The old neighborhood was passing by outside the car windows. She'd been home for all the holidays ever since she left for college, but returning this time felt different. She was a new woman, fully indoctrinated into the sexual world. It was a huge change for Charity, and seeing the neighborhood where she grew up brought it all home. She wondered what confronting her father would be like, but she didn't dwell on it. Just let it happen and be yourself, the way Kelsey would, she said to herself.
"I can't believe you traveled with just this one little carry-on bag," Charlene said. "I'd need one this big just for my underwear."
Charity smiled. She remembered filling half a big suitcase with underwear when she left for college — a dozen big grannie panties, a half-dozen industrial strength bras, a drawer full of slips and camisoles designed to eliminate the tiniest bit of "see-through."
When she walked up to the house she felt every molecule of her ass wiggling in a way she hadn't noticed before. Maybe the thin linen pants and tiny lace panties weren't the best choice...
"Hi, Daddy," she said.
"Charity," he said, sternly. "How was your flight?"
"Good. Easy. I like it when it's easy."
She watched as her father's eyes looked her over. He didn't say anything, but she could tell he didn't approve.
"Aren't you cold, Charity?" Charlene asked. "Would you like a sweater?"
"Oh, yeah, I guess I'll change. Is my room...?"
"It's still yours, Sweetheart," Charlene said. "I haven't wanted to change it yet. It seems so odd having you gone for good."
"It'd make a nice sewing room, Mom. You could spread out your quilts and have lots of room to work on them."
"Yes. Yes...maybe I'll do that after you leave. You wouldn't mind?"
"No, Mom, it'd be nice. You deserve a nice space of your own."
Charity glanced at her stern looking father, wondering if he'd give the okay for such a change in the household. He didn't give any indication one way or another.
Charity walked down the long hallway and turned the corner into her bedroom. It was just as she'd left it, but looked freshly cleaned and dusted. The pale yellow walls looked a bit less bright and cheerful than she remembered. The passages of scripture that her father had framed and hung on the walls when she was young struck her as odd and inappropriate. It was the first time she'd ever felt that way about them. The big, plastic Jesus-on-the-crucifix that loomed over the head of her twin bed gave her a sick feeling in her stomach when she looked at it. She was temped to hang her old childhood bathrobe over it to cover it up, but she knew doing something like that would send her father into a rage. Her secondary thought was to strip and lie naked on the bed, right under the plastic Jesus, and let him watch as she fingered herself to a much needed orgasm. It was the stress of travel that made her feel the need. That, and the thoughts about Craig next door, and cousins Jimmie and Mark.
Doing such a thing was beyond her, though, She knew her mother or father could walk in at any moment, the way they always used to do. Just showing her newly sexual body in her skimpy, lacy underwear was a plenty big step, to plastic Jesus and whoever else might walk through the door.
"Charity!" Charlene said as she entered. She shut the door quickly behind her. "Oh my!" Her eyes took in every goosebumpy inch of her daughter. "Is that what you
wore
? On the
plane
?"
"Mom, I had clothes on, remember?"
Charlene didn't know exactly what to say, so she moved slowly to the edge of the bed and sat there, watching as Charity pulled on some tight, faded bluejeans and a sweater that hugged her breasts more than Clifford would approve of.
"Maybe you should wear one of mine. For your father, you know?" Charlene said. Her eyes were taking in all of the curves the sweater showed off.
"He's gonna have to get used to it, Mom. I'm not a little girl any more."
"Oh, he knows that, Sweetheart. But you know how he is..."
Charlene nearly whimpered with dread when Charity turned and she got a look at the way the jeans showed off her bootylicious ass. Charlene knew her husband wouldn't be able to stay silent for long.
"What time is everyone coming tomorrow?" Charity asked.
"Two o'clock. Would you like to help me cook in the morning?"
"Of course," Charity smiled.
"What are you wearing tomorrow?" Charlene asked, as she watched Charity unpack the rest of things.
"I bought this last week," Charity said, holding up a two-tone mauvey brown sweater dress. She smirked at the look of uncertainty on her mother's face. "Don't worry, its got a high-cut neck, and long sleeves."
Charlene wasn't sure she should stop worrying. She could tell from looking at it that it would hug Charity's form, and the pleaty-looking bottom third looked to be well above the knee. She swallowed hard and didn't say anything.
Charity and Charlene were both surprised that Clifford didn't comment on Charity's tight jeans and sweater. Siting at the dinner table, just the three of them, brought back a flood of memories for Charity. It was an enjoyable meal, with much reminiscing about the old days, Charity's old friends from school, and her success on the high school tennis team.
"You look like you're still in good shape, Sweetheart," Charlene said as she served brownies and vanilla ice cream for dessert. "Do you still play?"
"No. But Brie and Kelsey and I stay active. We burn calories every chance we get."
"They say that's the best way," Charlene said.
Charity smiled.
—
"Charity, I'd appreciate it if you'd wear something else," Clifford said, trying his best to sound diplomatic. Charity had just emerged from the hallway on Thanksgiving afternoon, ready to meet the soon to be arriving guests. "Your old clothes are still in your closet," he said.
"I bought this special, Daddy. And I don't fit in my old clothes, anyway. Mom, you should take all that stuff to Goodwill."
"I will, Sweetheart, if you're sure," Charlene said.
"I'm sure."
Clifford could barely look below Charity's shoulders, but he did, just enough to see how the pretty sweater dress clung tightly to his daughter's hourglass figure, and how the much-too-short bottom of it draped over the sexy curve of her buttocks. It didn't help that Charity's nerves had switched on her hard-at-the-drop-of-a-hat nipples. Her minimalist bra did little to hide them.
"I won't have you dressed like that, in my house or anywhere else," he said, sternly, trying to keep his cool.
"Daddy, I'm twenty-three years old, I have a good job, I live on my own halfway across the country. I think I can dress myself now."
"Young lady!..."
"Charity, would you baste the turkey for me?" Charlene asked.
