Chapter 1
Beats pounded, bass throbbed, and silvery electronic notes shimmered in the small, dark bedroom. Elyssa, eyes closed, threw her body around in time with the rhythm, her black hair fanning out around her pale face. In her imaginings, the beats were bodies colliding with hers, the bass turning her insides to jelly. Although the shades blocked the light, it did nothing to prevent the room from warming in the late afternoon sun. Her body glistened with perspiration, her thin, tight Morcheeba t-shirt clinging to her slender frame, her sweat-shorts hanging low on her narrow hips.
As the song ended, she collapsed onto her bed, breathing hard and feeling the endorphins flood into every cell. The next song started and, instead of getting up to dance again, she slid her right hand over her belly, up to her braless breast. She could feel her nipple harden as her fingers traced its outline through the thin cotton. She let her fingers play over her body in time with the beat. The music, and her pleasure, built in intensity, and she pulled her scant clothes from her body, reveling in the raw sensuality of her nakedness. She could smell her sweat, and sex, as her fingers flew over her mound, grinding the soft outer flesh into her clit, hidden beneath.
Downstairs, the door flew open and, laden with grocery bags, Carl Lorenz staggered into the house. Kicking the door closed behind him, he made his way through the living room to the kitchen, setting his purchases carefully onto the table. The plastic bag handles had cut deeply into the flesh of his fingers, and he rubbed them. He was aware of the thump thump thump of his daughter's stereo, blasting at ear shattering levels.
Tired as he was, he took the time to stash all the fresh veggies and organic tempeh into the fridge, and hid a steak in the door. He smiled smugly to himself, knowing that his chance of getting away with eating meat was all but nil. Elyssa had a spooky knack for knowing when her dad was cheating on his strict diet. Both of them had committed to a vegan diet for one full year, and December 31st seemed painfully far away. He had to admit, though, that her meals were both tasty and satisfying. At 19, she was enrolled in one of the finest culinary schools which, thankfully, was just one town over. She learned, came home, and practiced on him. Yum.
As he put the last of the groceries away, the music upstairs stopped. He thought, for a moment, that his daughter would come strolling down the stairs, damp and shining from her workout. After a brief interval of silence, the thump thump thump began anew. He walked to the foot of the stairs, hollering "Punkin!! Daddy's home!!!" He knew that she hated being called Punkin, but he just couldn't seem to stop. Knowing that his calls were in vain, he walked up the stairs, eager to see his pride and joy.
Her bedroom was at the top of the stairs. It was filled with posters of bands he'd never heard of, and hunky movie stars of both genders. He could see the foot of her bed and, as he moved forward, he froze in his tracks. There before him was his precious Punkin, completely naked, and masturbating to the pounding beat. Her eyes were closed tightly, and her face was a mask of twitching pleasure. He could see her fingers pressed to her mound, moving in tight little circles. Her other hand cupped one breast, its turgid nipple trapped between two fingers. Her whole body surged with excitement, and he became aware of the scent of her sex. It filled the room, it filled his nostrils, it stuck to his skin. He knew he should leave and forget what he beheld, but he felt frozen. The loss of his beloved wife to cancer last year was still fresh in his mind and Elyssa, the product of their love, writhing on the bed was somehow more than he could take. Wracked with grief, guilt, and desire he forced himself to step back. He walked, not looking back, to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Starting the shower, he removed his clothes meticulously: Tie, shirt, belt, slacks, shoes, socks, boxers. All folded neatly on the sink. As the mirror began to steam up, he gazed at his reflection. He was fit, with an athletic body from his years of high school and college sports. His dark hair had not begun to thin, but strands of shining gray had been creeping in. To the steam, to the air, he whispered, "Oh god, Alison. I need you now, more than ever."
As the water streamed down his body he felt the tensions unlock and release. He'd been holding it together, putting on a brave face, for far too long. All at once the loss and pain he'd repressed for months came flooding out of his eyes, washed away with the shower. Sinking to his knees, he sobbed and shook.
Chapter 2
When he finally made his way down stairs, the table was set beautifully and the mounds of fragrant, steaming food made his mouth water. Elyssa moved around the kitchen, cleaning up the pots, pans, and other remnants of the meal's preparation. When she noticed him, she beamed.
"Hi Daddy! I didn't hear you come home!" She came to him and gave him a big hug.
"I'm surprised you can hear anything with your music blasting like that!" He looked stern for a moment, but couldn't maintain the pretense, and smiled. "Kids these days," he muttered, shaking his head in mock disgust.
After dinner they sat, relaxing, sipping Italian coffee and chatting. Elyssa became very serious. "Daddy," she said, gazing at him with her chocolate-brown eyes, "there's something really important that I've got to talk about with you." He sat up, turning his head and body to face her, clearly communicating his willingness to hear whatever it was that she had to say. "This is kind of embarrassing, daddy." A bit of color crept into her pale face. "When you came home today, I was upstairs. My music was loud, and I didn't hear you come in." Carl felt panic rise inside him. Maybe she knew he'd seen her naked, masturbating. The urge to flee was almost overwhelming.
"I'm sorry, honey! Your door was open and I only looked for a moment, I swear!"
Suddenly, Elyssa's face turned beet-red. "Oh my God, Daddy! I was talking about the steak!" It was Carl's turn to blush. He dropped his head into his hands, groaning. The steak! He forgot about the steak. He groaned into his hands.
"Daddy?" Her voice was soft now. "You looked?"
Raising his head, he looked at her through misty eyes. "Yes, Punkin. I looked. You are so beautiful, and you remind me so much of your mom. I miss her so much. I'm so sorry!" A tear broke from his eye and ran down his face.
Elyssa came to him, her slender body in contrast with his muscular frame. She slid into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed to his. "Oh Daddy," she whispered, "I miss her too!"
