Olivia came into the house. It was late and quiet. She dropped her purse and keys on the kitchen table and sat down. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. Her long brown hair was tied neatly in a ponytail and she was still wearing her chain restaurant polyester hostess uniform. She sighed to herself. Only 24, Olivia felt so much older. She sighed again. Life had not gone anything like she planned.
Olivia graduated from college just two years ago, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. Fresh out of college and working her way up the ladder in an exciting ad agency, Olivia had been so young and full of energy. She and her college boyfriend, Eric, had gotten a small apartment and shared dreams of a house and family. At least, she thought this was their shared dream. They both found jobs, but while she worked and saved, planning for a future, Eric could not give up his college life. Going out and partying was never a problem when classes did not start until after lunch. But, the real world starts its day at nine. After only a few months, Eric was unemployed, content to kiss Olivia goodbye as she left for work, and then sleep, smoke weed, and play video games all day, and drink with his buddies all night. When Olivia told him that she was pregnant, Eric ran off, taking with him the money she had saved for their new life together.
Now, she was back in her parents' home, sharing her old bedroom with her infant daughter, Emma. She left her job in the ad agency, trading her aspirations for child care. She could be home with Emma during the day while her parents worked, and work at night as a restaurant hostess while her parents watched the baby. She was grateful for their help, but it was not without its own costs. Her mom, always a bitter woman, took every chance she could to remind Olivia that she fucked up and fell in love with a loser.
Dave heard his daughter come home from work as he got out of bed for his nightly trip to the bathroom. Fuck, he thought, even though he was in fairly decent shape by "Dad Bod" standards, getting older sucked. He finished in the bathroom, washed his hands and walked down the hallway to the kitchen.
"Livvy, are you ok?" Dave whispered as he saw his little girl sitting at the table.
"Yeah, Daddy. I'm sorry if I woke you up."
"Nah. You didn't. Credit for that goes to my 56 year-old bladder." Dave smiled at her.
Olivia smiled back weakly. Her dad always had a way of making her smile, even when things felt at their worst. Dave poured a couple of glasses of milk and grabbed a waxed paper bag hidden behind the breadbox on the counter. He sat down next to her and whispered, "Don't tell Mom, but I got you a surprise."
He reached into the bag and pulled out a black-and-white frosted cookie the size of a small manhole cover. It was her favorite. She smiled and they shared the cookie, drinking their milk as she told him about her day. This was their nightly routine for as long as both could remember. Years ago, it would be Dave coming home late from work. Olivia would sneak out of bed to see him. Now, it was Olivia's turn to come home late. Dave promised himself that he would greet her when she got home.
They sat and talked for a few minutes. Olivia entertained her dad with stories about the people who came into the restaurant, the long haul truckers, college kids on some scavenger hunt, and the insomniacs looking for a late-night coffee and piece of cake. He would tell her of the lousy dinner she was fortunate enough to miss and how much Emma seemed to grow each day.
Olivia sat and listened, kicking off her shoes absentmindedly. Without thinking, she slid her toes gently over Dave's bare leg. He was always so warm and just touching him made Olivia feel calm and protected. Dave could feel her toes against him. It felt like it had been forever since a woman had touched him in any way. For a moment, both slipped into their own minds, just enjoying the touch and warmth of the other. As Olivia gently stroked his leg, Dave felt himself stirring. In an instant, Dave became aware of how aroused he felt, which was followed by embarrassment and guilt. Dave pulled away instinctively. As their connection broke, both Olivia and he were snapped back into reality. Dave stood up carefully to hide his arousal and quickly cleared the crumbs from the table and rinsed the glasses. He kissed Olivia gently on her forehead and wished her good night.
Dave crawled back into bed but his mind was awake. No matter how he tried not to think of her, his mind always went right back to Olivia. After all, Livvy was always his girl. His wife, Helen, was never even sure she wanted to have kids. But Dave begged and begged. When Helen got pregnant by chance, it was a surprise to everyone. Dave had been working days and going to business school at night. He hardly saw his young bride. At the same time, Helen was trying to make it as a singer, playing half-full bars, hoping for her big break that never came. Helen cried when she found out she was pregnant. She wasn't sure that she wanted to be a mother, but it was Dave who talked her into keeping the baby. And when Helen's pregnancy became difficult, it was Dave who she blamed. Add in a healthy dose of postpartum depression and the roots of a lifetime of conflict were set, Helen, bitter and angry, on one hand, Dave and Olivia on the other. Even now, years later, Helen seemed cold and distant, maybe even more distant than ever. When Olivia turned to her parents for help, Helen's first inclination was to refuse. Her warning to Dave, still rang in his ears. "If you want to take them in, they are your problem. I am not changing my life anymore."
As Dave stared into the darkness, he thought of Olivia, not as his daughter, but as a woman. Unlike Helen who was still a stunner, voluptuous in that 1960s pinup girl way, Olivia was thin and petite. A talented ballerina as a teen, she had grown into a beautiful woman, small, perfectly shaped breasts; long legs; and a gracefulness that could not be denied. Dave could not resist replaying in his mind the recent mishap when he accidentally opened the door to the bathroom, not realizing Olivia was showering. He opened the door and saw her standing in the shower, one leg up resting on the edge of the tub while she held the hand shower to her crotch. Although the whole thing lasted barely a second, Dave could remember everything as if it were etched into his brain, the way her nipples sat high on her breasts, the flatness of her tummy, and the way the water jets pulsed against her clitoris, her free hand spreading her labia so the hot steamy water would play directly on her clit.
Wracked with guilt over such a forbidden attraction, but too excited to sleep, Dave looked over to make sure Helen was fast asleep. He untied the drawstring of his sleep shorts and slid them to his knees. Silently, he opened his nightstand and took out a travel tube of hand lotion that he kept in the back of the drawer for just these moments. He squeezed a large dollop of lotion into his hand and began to stroke his cock. Although far from a porn star, Dave was blessed with an above-average cock, almost eight inches, thick, veiny, with an upward curve that ended in a fat, bulbous head. He pumped his cock into his hand as he replayed that one-second shower scene in a continuous loop in his mind. Faster and harder, he masturbated, as if he were hate-fucking himself for these thoughts. He could feel his balls tighten, holding back as long as he could until he came hard. Ropes of thick white cum shot up, falling on his belly. Catching his breath, Dave grabbed a handful of tissues and cleaned himself. Finally exhausted, he rolled over and went to sleep.
