Tags
Incest, daddy daughter, step dad, anal, no protection
Author's Note.
Again, huge thanks to AwkwardMD for all of her support and editing on this story. Without her, none of this would have been possible.
Also, please, creating in a vacuum is hard. If you like (Or hate :) ) anything in this story then please let me know. I would love to hear from you and hear your thoughts. Emails or comments are very welcome.
Maria, November 2020.
He arrived early, that on its own was super triggering. He'd always been early for everything and I wasn't sure how I'd managed to forget that.
Forgotten memories came flooding back as I remembered how it had felt suddenly being the first to leave school after so many years being the last one to be collected. Or, more than once, totally forgotten about.
I shook my head to make sure the neglected child didn't take over and destroy my carefully constructed new persona. I focused on pouring out the pint of lager for the waiting tray in front of me. The Kronenberg lager was misbehaving and coming out frothy, making my work harder. Truthfully, I was kind of grateful for the distraction.
I set the pint down, leaving it to settle whilst I prepared the other part of the order, a vodka and cranberry juice.
As I scooped out ice from the well under the bar I took the opportunity to look at him properly. He had provided his track and trace details and was led to the socially-distanced-table-for-two by our host, right in front of the window. He chose the seat facing the door.
He was in as good shape, perhaps better than I remembered. I wondered if he still went running three times, and to the gym twice, each week. It looked like he still did.
His clothes, however, were different than I'd expected. He was wearing a pair of jeans, torn but clearly new. He had an old band t-shirt on, I couldn't see the name but I vaguely recognised the logo as being something from the early eighties that he'd tried to get me interested in. Over the t-shirt was a suit jacket, which was the only item of clothing that had matched my expectations.
I wiped my hands, finished the vodka, put it on the tray, then poured the rest of the lager to complete the order.
I glanced at my half-covered face in the mirror, checked that my eye make up was on point, and made sure my plain black mask was sitting just right. Satisfied, I then pulled up my leggings, making them stretch so there were no wrinkles at the knee and no bagging under my ass. The shiny leather-look leggings, a new purchase from Boohoo, were hardly my usual work attire and I'd been self-conscious about them initially. Apart from a few admiring looks from my male manager, no one had commented.
Probably because I'd paired them with my vans rather than anything slutty.
I'd known I'd be nervous, but I hadn't expected to be sweating through my work shirt. There was a lot of pressure for his first look at me to be special. I took a couple of deep calming breaths, straightened my apron, made sure my shirt was neat and picked up the tray. After two more deep breaths, I set off to the elderly couple sitting close to him.
I didn't take the direct route, I chose instead a sauntering route which took my past his table. I did my best not to look at him and it was torture. I aimed for sexy and alluring, but couldn't be sure if I came close. Still, I didn't spill the drinks.
The couple thanked me—they were nice—so I smiled. I'd forgotten again that people can't see you smile under a mask. I wondered if I'd ever remember that.
I risked a look at him. He wasn't looking at me, and there was no sign that he had. His eyes were on the door. I was disappointed, I had hoped the leggings would have had his eyes glued to me. But then... he wasn't here to eye up slutty bartenders, he was here to meet me. It was also just like him to stay focused on the door, where I ought to have been coming from. After all, I hadn't told him I was working here: just that I'd meet him.
I took a very deep breath, pulled my notepad from my apron and my pen from my ear, and I approached him.
"Hi there, are you ready to order?" I asked, in my politest, most professional voice.
He glanced up at me, his eyes widened as they scanned me, they seemed alive in a way I'd never seen before. Then, disappointingly he looked down at the menu. When his eyes returned to mine, their fire had gone.
"Sorry... I'm meeting someone," he said, looking behind me as if to make his point.
"I know you are," I said, and then I pulled my mask down. "Hi, Dad."
My stepdad's jaw dropped in surprise. The shock passed quickly, replaced by a brief look of guilt. I grinned as I watched him; I'd always enjoyed reading his emotions and reactions.
"What? What are you doing here?" he asked, though from the way his eyes lingered on my leggings I could guess his question was meant to be, 'why are you wearing those?'
Attention-grabbing goal achieved.
"I thought you were supposed to be super smart?" I said, one hand on my hip with the order pad, and the empty tray in the other.
"Oh right, okay sure. You work here," he said, flustered.
"I'm just winding you up, Dad." I gave him a wink and watched to see how he reacted to the word Dad. Nothing yet. "So, a bottle of beer or a coffee? I was trying to work out which you'd choose."
His eyes glanced down to my leggings, then back up. "I'm gonna need wine or something. Red. Strong."
I laughed. "Sure thing, coming right up, I'll be finishing my shift in five minutes, so I'll come and join you. If my boss asks, we live together okay," I said with a wink.
"But... we haven't lived together for what, five years?"
"Shhh," I said, rolling my eyes. "The one household rule, remember that and the new restrictions? Unless of course, you are living on your own, in which case you can form a bubble with another household... are you living on your own now?"
"These new rules are all so confusing," he said, sighing, "but, Yes I am living on my own." He gave an amused smile that filled my heart with hope and my stomach with butterflies. "But this... This is all too much... Slow it down, finish your shift and then come back and see me."
There it was, there was my Step-Dad. Everything I had missed since my mum had fucked up everything. Calm, decisive, and in control.
X
"So you're a supervisor?" he asked, as he leaned toward me. He was making no effort to hide how impressed he was.
"Well yeah. Remember, I have been here for two years, if I hadn't made bar supervisor by now then... well.." I paused, noticing he was smiling at me. "What?"
"Just you."
"Me what?" I asked, before taking a sip of my vodka and coke.
"You. This," he said sweeping his hand from me, to the bar, then down to my leggings, "Those."
I smiled, my gamble having paid off. Those leggings were the best twenty-five pounds I had ever spent.
"What about me, this, and these?" I asked, turning slightly and stretching one long leg out from the table. I, then, twisted my leg so that the light shimmered off it.
"Just, none of this is what I expected. Like at all. Your message the other day was a total surprise."
"Had you forgotten about me?" I asked, quickly, in a voice that didn't hide the hurt.
"No, god. No. Abigail," he reached out and took my hand. "No Abigail, I... It's hard for me to put into words. I... you were so special to me. It broke my heart leaving you. I think it's one of the reasons I stayed as long as I did. I still remember seeing your face in that upstairs window as I drove away. That image still haunts me, you know."
"I didn't know you'd seen me. I didn't think you'd looked back at all," I said, quietly, staring down into my drink. There were no answers in the dark liquid. I looked at his hand on mine. "You have no idea how much I wanted you to take me with you. She... she said she wished you'd taken me. She took it all out on me. She blamed me."
"Of course she did." he said, in a low voice, as he processed the information, "I am so, so sorry." Then he gave my hand a squeeze.
"I didn't blame you for going."
"I... you know, I did think about asking you to come with me," he admitted, in a very quiet voice.
"Why didn't you?"
"You were fifteen, I wasn't really your dad. And, I knew your mum. She might say it was okay to take you, then the next day she would call the police on me or something." he said sadly. "But I mean, I needn't have worried. Look at you. I'm impressed."
"At my bar job?"
"No," he laughed, "At everything, you are here, at University. Sorry, I should add, at
