This is an updated version of POV Melissa, Emma and Jared - it's also now all three combined.
The point is to have the same basic scene from all three points of view.
It's not very sexual at this point - but that does change with the second set of three POVs :)
POV Matters 01
Melissa
Melissa Wakefield absent-mindedly ran her fingers through her shoulder length auburn hair. The house was quiet. Dinner was almost ready. She was just waiting on the potatoes. She assumed her husband was home but the days where he'd come looking for her the moment he returned from work were distant memories.
"Mom, where's Daddy?"
Melissa wrinkled her nose, "I don't know. Is his car here?"
She'd called her own father 'daddy' once. She'd been thirteen. The resulting punishment had her sent to her room without dinner and having to sit, thinking about what she'd done. Of course, she'd had no idea what she'd done and instead had lay in bed reading her favourite book until she fell asleep.
The next morning, her mother had explained that only dirty, naughty girls called their father's daddy. Melissa had felt confused and weird, but she'd never made that mistake again. She hadn't asked why. Hadn't wanted to know. It would have been a painfully long lecture with too many bible references. Utter nonsense.
Maybe Emma didn't mean anything by using the same word. Maybe it was harmless. But Melissa couldn't help but wonder about the intention behind things when the use of the term daddy was added to other new and strange behaviour that had been happening since her daughter had started college. Two years could change a lot about a person.
"Yeah, his car's in the usual spot," Emma said, moving into the kitchen.
Melissa glanced over at Emma and was slightly shocked to see the outfit her nineteen-year-old was wearing. The short top and tiny shorts left very little to the imagination. She would have said something, but she had learned that any comment would be met with derision and then mocking from both husband and child. It was not worth it.
"Do you like my new top?" Emma asked.
Melissa looked again to see Emma playing with her own boobs. The very short hot pink top had a love heart cut out which revealed way more of Emma's breasts than Melissa thought was decent. Even if she was a prude, as everyone told her. Often.
Emma leaned forward, pressing her breasts together with her arms, "I love how it perfectly shows off just a little cleavage. If you got it, flaunt it -- right Mommy?"
Mommy... seriously. Melissa fought the urge to growl. She moved away from the sink, and her daughter, and back towards the oven. Her face felt warm. She lifted the lid on the potatoes and poked at one with a fork, even though she knew that they were not ready. The meatloaf was. She'd already turned the oven off. But her husband would want mashed potatoes, and he'd want them smooth and lump free which meant the potatoes had to be well cooked.
"Do you even have boobs under all those clothes?" Emma said.
Melissa's mouth dropped open, and she looked down. She was wearing an ankle length royal blue cotton dress and a large matching tunic that made her feel like a character from an Austen novel but admittedly did nothing to show off her figure. But that was part of the appeal. She didn't need to flaunt it. She'd was married and didn't feel a need to show off anything.
Without the tunic, her breasts were very much on display, and it made her feel uncomfortable. She'd started developing very young and had already needed a bra by the time she was ten years old. It meant that she was incredibly self-conscious and had always preferred clothing that made her look shapeless. Easily achieved by buying things at least three sizes too big.
Melissa froze. Inappropriate touching. Melissa hadn't noticed that Emma had moved to stand behind her until her daughter had reached around and grabbed her breasts and squeezed.
"You realise that your bra is too small, right? That's why your boobies pop out the top," Emma said.
"What are you doing?" Melissa asked, after letting out a small sound that most certainly resembled a squeak.
"Geez, yours are bigger than mine." Emma said, squeezing harder.
Melissa smacked her daughter's left arm, "that's not okay."
"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist," Emma said, mockingly, "I was just teasing."
Bright red, breath catching, Melissa pushed her daughter away and moved to the other side of the room, "I don't like that."
"You sure?" Emma said, moving towards her mom.
"Emma, please, why are you acting this way?" Melissa asked, backing up until she was pushed up against the fridge. She felt confused and a little aroused.
How messed up was she? This was her child. Damn hormones.
"Reece said you were fucking hot under all the layers, bet me ten bucks that I couldn't feel you up," Emma said, laughing.
"Reece?" Melissa said, "Your dad's friend?" Reece. The terminally single friend who seemed to go through women like Sneezy going through tissues. He was most definitely not her friend.
"Daddy's friend from high school. Yuppers." Emma replied.
Melissa wasn't fond of Reece. He made her feel uncomfortable. Strangely enough, by behaving in ways that matched the things Emma had been doing and saying lately. He'd already been friends with Jared when she'd met them both during high school. There'd be a fire, and she'd had to transfer from an all-girls school. It had been a major change.
Oh, that was such a very long time ago now.
She hadn't liked Reece then and she had steadily grown to hate him.
Melissa inhaled audibly when Emma reached for her causing the girl to snort. Damn, way to over-react.
"Chill, I want a drink. Move. You're blocking the fridge." Emma said.
Melissa moved back to the oven. She switched the burners off. She was so done with being in the kitchen.
"Shall I set the table?" Emma asked.
"I've already done that," Melissa replied, "but I appreciate the offer." Placemats, cutlery and coasters were all it had required. It had taken less than two minutes.
"You know how Daddy called eternal dibs on the end pieces?"
"Random but yes," Melissa said. She was a little worried about where Emma was heading with the question. The girl could make anything dirty. Or Melissa's mind was doing that. Either way, it had been a while, and it was frustrating, and she felt unclear on whether innuendo was being implied or inferred. Smart words helped her maintain a sense of balance.
"It's because of the sauce, right?"
"I suppose so."
"Because it's all wet, moist and juicy, right?"
Melissa frowned, "something like that." She did not like any of those words in that context, or that sentence.
Emma chuckled, "You're just so easy, Mom."
Melissa groaned, so it maybe was all intentional. She looked at Emma, feeling exasperated with her, "Please, go find your father. Try upstairs. Dinner's ready." The potatoes were close enough.
Emma moved so that she was right in front of her and in response Melissa backed up past the point where the oven was really pushed up against her bottom. She felt a little squashed. Aroused. A little scared.
"Please." Melissa whispered, feeling foolish and weak.
Ever since she was had turned sixteen and thought herself an adult, Emma had enjoyed defying or ignoring anything Melissa said and sadly her father had always put his daughter ahead of his wife meaning that things had steadily gotten worse. But this was next level and Melissa felt completely incapable of dealing with her daughter.
Usually, Emma ignored her which was easier. So much easier. But the first two weeks of summer break had been a whirlwind and not always the enjoyable type.
"Please what, Mommy?" Emma asked, sweetly.
"Don't... I don't like you standing so close." Melissa said. She was scared of her own child to the point where the idea of pushing Emma away seemed completely impossible. Well, scared of how she was feeling and how her body was responding.
"Aww, you don't love me." Emma said, pouting.
"I hope you know that I do," Melissa said. Trust Emma to pull that card. "I'm just not comfortable with the way you're acting. It's not appropriate."
"I think you like it and that's part of the problem," Emma said.
Melissa stared, lost for words. Damn. But when she felt her daughter pull up her dress with one hand and stick the other hand between the top of her thighs she was one hundred percent sure that this should not be happening. No matter how good it felt, physically.
"Where's dinner?" Jared asked.
His timing was shit.
Melissa whimpered, embarrassed to be caught with her daughter's hand touching her vulva through her panties while her husband stood in the doorway.
"Mom's just about to dish it up," Emma said, bending forward and kissing her mother on the mouth. "I was just saying that a side piece would be much better than an end. Longer with more of that moist sauce that you love so much."
Melissa finally found the ability to push Emma away, gently. Pulling her dress back down as she did so.
Jared laughed, "She's right you know. Dish me up a side piece please wife and now would be good."
Emma moved towards her father and then took his hand, getting ready to lead him towards the dining room, "Don't forget Daddy's beer, Mommy."
Jared chuckled, "Listen to our girl, Mel. She's a smart cookie."
Melissa removed the meatloaf from the oven and cut two long slices from each side, before adding them to two of the empty plates. Instead of bothering to mash them, she placed the potatoes onto the plates whole before adding extra sauce on top of the entire meal.
She then carried the plates to the table and placed them in front of her husband and adult child before returning for her husband's beer. She placed the beer on the waiting coaster and headed for her office without bothering to say a word.
She didn't bother serving herself. She wasn't hungry anymore.
.
POV Matters 02
Emma
"Mom, where's Daddy?" Emma said, enjoying the face her mom pulled in response. She knew the term 'Daddy' bothered her mom but not enough that mommy would ever say anything about it.
"I don't know. Is his car here?" Melissa said.
"Yeah, his car's in the usual spot," Emma said, moving into the kitchen. Her mom went bright red when she noticed her outfit -- exactly as hoped.
Emma grinned. The short pink top with spaghetti straps and a love heart cut out that sat right between her boobs had been the perfect choice. The booty shorts had just felt like the ideal match.
Her mom was dressed, as usual, in some old-timey dress that went all the way to her ankles, and she was wearing a long top as well. There were layers and then there was her mother.
"Do you like my new top?" Emma asked as she leaned forward, pressing her breasts together with her arms, "I love how it perfectly shows off just a little cleavage. If you got it, flaunt it -- right Mommy?"
