Chapter 7
Dad's On The Offensive
Pablo Robles sat on the living room couch. Impatiently, he clicked past channel after channel until he finally gave up and left the big screen TV on the twenty-four hour sports network. Football scores and highlights filled the screen, along with the usual annoying, sappy commentary the hosts always chattered about when they had no video clips to show. One stupid joke after another flowed between the overweight, balding has-beens, almost as if they were flirting with one another. Pablo might have been in his forties, just like the announcers were, but he'd be damned if he ever got caught winking and smiling at another man.
Still fidgety, Pablo raised his arms behind his head and clasped his fingers together, but that pose only lasted for a few seconds. Anxiously, he leaned forward and rubbed both knees, trying and failing to will his palms to stop moving. Not five seconds after this, he once again caught his head unconsciously leaning forward, and his gaze shifting out of the living room.
From this position, Pablo had a clear view into the kitchen. More specifically, he was looking toward the double sinks where his oldest daughter Victoria was busy doing the dishes. It took some effort for Pablo to make his body lean back against the cushions. Then his hands were all fluttery again, scratching at his nose, tugging at the folds of his shirt, and more often than not, adjusting the considerable bulge growing under the fabric of his shorts.
It had been less than a month since Pablo changed his schedule at the hotel. Before that, he'd been working from ten in the morning to seven in the evening, for the duration of the last couple of years. His new shift started at seven in the morning and ended at three-thirty in the afternoon. Just the fact that he was home several hours earlier than normal had led Pablo into some very compromising situations.
It all started when his daughter-in-law, Carmela, had asked him to change the oil on her SUV. Pablo had agreed to do it as a favor. Although Carmela was an attractive woman, she was only twenty-three and married to his oldest son Frankie. When she'd come on to him, Pablo should have stopped her, but he hadn't, had he?
That incident he could pin on his wife, who'd been a bitch to him for maybe the last four months. Ever since some anonymous bastard had claimed that Pablo had been having an affair, things had been going downhill. The truth of the matter was that yes, he'd gone out to dinner with a woman from work, and yes, he was enjoying her company a little more than he should have. But as for cheating on his wife, that never happened. It was possible that it could have happened, he admitted, but in reality it hadn't. And for that near miss, his wife Lorena had turned into an icy bitch. The vengeful woman had even managed to turn most of his kids against him, all on nothing more than a baseless accusation.
The result was that Pablo started drinking a lot more. He'd come home to cold stares and bitter arguments with his wife, so often that he'd started a routine of walking into the house and grabbing a six-pack from the fridge. Suitably equipped, he retreated into the old garage that he'd set up as a workshop and recreation room. That's where the second incident took place, Pablo guiltily remembered.
It had been a warm afternoon only a couple of weeks back, when his youngest daughter Amanda had come home from school. For some reason that Pablo still could not fathom, she had ended up in the rec. room with him, and in a very awkward position. She might have been drinking that day, Pablo later theorized, and he'd consumed a little alcohol as well. So maybe their combined judgment hadn't been as sharp as it should have been. Regardless, it had been pretty dark in the room, and Amanda had known full well who she'd been getting involved with. Pablo had suspected it was Carmela messing around with him at first. It wasn't until the moment when Amanda had cried out in ecstasy that her father recognized who she really was.
Pablo leaned his head back up against the couch and stared at the ceiling. The next taboo incident he might have been able to stop as well. That was when his other daughter Melinda had tried to take his truck keys. They'd ended up rolling around in the backyard like a couple of horny teenagers. Melinda had always been a little temptress, ever since she'd turned fifteen and started growing boobs. She always had a small troop of young men following closely at her heels. If she hadn't reminded Pablo so much of her mother that night, perhaps he could have managed to push her away. With a sigh, Pablo thought, he hadn't done that when he had the chance. The older man felt he was getting some payback for all those times that Melinda and his wife had conspired together to screw him over.
That brought him back to the present. His oldest daughter Vicky had eloped with her beau soon after high school graduation. The two lovers had rented an apartment over on the east side of town. The couple had been happy for a time, Pablo supposed, as they tried to make things work and even had a child together. More recently, things had fallen apart between them. Vicky had turned twenty-four just a few months ago, at which point she'd finally taken enough bullshit and threw the guy out. She'd been unable to afford the high rent of her apartment on her own, however, along with paying the rest of the bills and taking care of everything else. Only a few days prior, Vicky come back home with her one year-old baby and moved into her old bedroom.
And ever since then, Vicky had been driving him crazy. Pablo leaned forward again, to ogle his daughter from behind. The nervous father silently cursed himself for checking her out. Pablo took in her height of five-foot-six, her wavy and sassy black hair and the beautifully creamy skin of her neck and arms. Vicky always hummed to herself when she did the dishes, wiggling her thick hips to whatever was playing on her music player.
Although she was wearing a simple light blue blouse and gray sweats, she nevertheless exuded a sensuous air that seemed to charge the very air between them. She was a little stocky, or better yet, juicy, but she was extremely well proportioned and without too much belly fat. Vicky's boobs were massive; he guessed them to be in the range of thirty-four double D's. As for her ass, well, it was a matter of known fact that all of his daughters had nice rear ends. Vicky's butt was as thick and pronounced as Melinda's, and not even the baggy sweats she was wearing could conceal those curvy swells. It was bad enough that Vicky had a desirable and sexy body, Pablo thought, but ever since she'd moved back in, she was making it very hard for her father to keep his roaming eyes away from her.
Pablo considered how quiet the household usually was after dark. His wife Lorena was spending most of her nights out drinking with her sister Cecilia. The only other person left in the house was Amanda, who always went to sleep early on school nights. His son Pablo Junior seemed to come and go as he pleased, leaving and arriving at odd hours. Junior didn't even step inside the house on some nights, but crashed out on the couch in the rec. room. Finally, after the last big fight Pablo had with his wife, Pablo had started sleeping in the living room. A normal evening found the older man lying back on the couch's pull-out bed and watching some old action movie on TV, all by his lonesome.
Vicky knew he was there, every night when she strolled through the living room on her way to the kitchen for a late snack or drink. That didn't bother him too much, except she would wear these loose shirts that came down to only the middle of her ass. For underwear, Vicky used those revealing panties that were in style with today's young women. The fabric was tight enough to hug her bottom like a second skin, as it kept her butt cheeks parted and half exposed. Pablo couldn't recall his daughter ever being so brazen around him before. At first, he shrugged it off as some bad habit she'd picked up around her ex-boyfriend.
Sometimes, however, Vicky would halt halfway through the living room, standing between him and the TV to watch a few minutes of whatever movie was on. Given a choice between watching some cruddy late night programming or Vicky displaying her big and saucy, and nearly nude butt, what else could a hot-blooded male like him have done?
