MONSTERS OF THE ID
Another night, another late-night visit.
I fucking hate clocks. Seconds become minutes...57, 58, 59. Minutes become hours ... 9 ... 10 .. .11 pm. Hours become ... what?
Midnights?
It was almost midnight already; and, Jack had been sitting at his computer for hours. He wasn't playing games. At least, he wasn't playing computer games. Head games, maybe? In his hand, he held an unfinished glass of bourbon, which just might be evaporating faster than he was drinking it. The liquor had been poured hours ago, right after Nikki stopped by his room to say goodnight.
Supper had been noticeably quiet. Smatterings of meaningless chitchat, followed by long periods of silence. It was so quiet they could hear each other chew. It was so quiet that the sound of the forks and spoons were loud.
I guess there's been a lot happening to think about. Nikki's probably mulling over MacKenzie's visit. She clearly enjoyed Mac's attentions.
Jack watched his daughter eat, but his mind was more focused on Nikki's breakfast conversation after their night on the sailboat. It'd been almost a week, and he hadn't been back to her room since. Unless, of course, he counted this morning.
Sweet Jesus, seeing her with MacKenzie was so erotic!
Tonight, his brain just kept rehashing that restaurant conversation over-and-over again. Nikki's whispered remark: 'You used to come to my room every night'. Caught off-guard, he'd answered with a question: 'Would you like that?' She'd merely nodded ambivalently; and, Jack couldn't unravel its meaning.
Sorta Yes... then sorta No... then what?
Nothing!
As dumb luck would have it, the waitress showed up with their bill. The moment was ruined. The memory of it was left unsettled. The message was unclear. Jack hated ambiguity with all his heart and soul. His mind craved exactness.
Since that day they'd never talked about it again, and it was gnawing at Jack.
What the hell did you mean by that nod?
Well, what-ever-the-fuck she meant, I will not figure it out sitting here at the computer.
Jack let out a prolonged sigh and reached out to turn off the desk light, plunging the den into darkness.
And, in that same darkness, a few minutes later, Jack found himself kneeling beside his daughter's bed with his hand already under her quilt. Whatever tiny speck of will power he still had left in his lawyer's rational mind begged him to stop.
Don't!
That's one piece of legal advice, I'm going to ignore.
His fingers edged carefully across her pronounced cleft, searching; she was hot, but still dry there. He rubbed her delicatelywith just the tip of a finger as she held her breath in her sleep. Then, as he gently lifted the finger from her, she breathed out in a sigh.
Dangerous stuff, a father listening to a daughter sigh in the dark like that. Jack went hard in a flash. He touched her again; but, this time he was the one holding his breath. He could feel her clit swell as he softly flicked it, pressing it gingerly.
Christ, Nikki, you've got a very nice little mons and a fucking great clit!
He slid his hand languidly down her cleft, trying to open her slowly. Stirring in her sleep, Nikki drew a shuddering breath and held it. He attempted using a finger to enter her, but she was still too dry and tight. The little hood covering her clit pulled back under his palm. She gasped. Surprised, he quickly snatched his hand away as his only child's body responded to his touch.
Cupping her immature sex again, he searched for her button. Even with her legs together, he found it protruding slightly through her vulvae.
God damn, it's huge! I've never touched another one like this; even, your mom's isn't this big. You must be stimulated every time you takes a step....talk about a sweet spot!
Turning his hand flat against her, he lightly put his thumb against it.
That's incredible;
I can feel your pulse
.
I wonder if you'll try to stop me? If you wake, will you
pretend to still be asleep?
He brought his fingers out from under the covers to his lips. He inhaled deeply,
Oh, child of my loins,
you smell like peaches after your bath.
Moistening his finger, he reached out for her sex in the dark. He stopped just short of touching her.
Jack bowed his head. He might have been praying. He wasn't! He seemed to be asking for the strength to get up from there and leave. He wasn't! Jack was busy thinking, the law was clear:
Penetration --no matter how slight.
So, what can we do?
He crawled to the bottom of the bed on his knees, lifting the covers and draping them over his head.
One way or the other, I've gotta know what she meant by that nod ... time for the Kissing Monster to visit.
It was an age-old game many dads and their kids have played at some point in their relationship. Harmless and innocent, it's only a 'nighty-night' game for little kids.
Like all healthy children, Nikki had fought the battle of the bedtime:
I'm not sleepy; I want a glass of water; Read me a stor
y
; and the ever popular,
I can't sleep, 'cause there's a monster under my bed'.
It'd become a nightly ritual in the Grant family. Jennifer would take Nikki upstairs to tuck her in, check under the bed, and then call back down to Jack, "Honey, maybe you should come up here, too."
With Jennifer watching, Jack would dutifully check under Nikki's bed. "Nope, I don't see any monsters lurking here." Yet, as soon as his head popped up from under the bed, he'd declare melodramatically, "But, just to make sure, I better check under the covers, too."
Wide-eyed and vigorously nodding her head, the tiny daddy's-girl would echo, "Yeah! Just to make sure, Daddy."
Crawling to the foot of her bed, Jack would stick his head under the covers. "Ah ha!...what is that? Oh ny God, there is something here! It's the Kissing Monster!"
Kicking and giggling, Nikki would squeal, "Noooooo, not the Kissing Monster. Don't let him get me, Daddy!"
Jack would grab her legs dragging her downward into the covers. Nikki would kick her small legs furiously, thinking for a split second that the monster had actually grabbed her, and her dad would yell, "Fight, Nikki fight! Don't let it pull you under the covers. I think I have it's legs. Now, if I can just pull it out from under the covers. Oh my God, it's strong!"
In the ensuing struggle of dad versus small girl's kicking legs, the covers would erupt in squeals as she tried to tell her dad that he had her legs, not the Kissing Monster's. But with all the confusion and yelling, he never seemed to hear her small voice.
Planting a quick fatherly kiss on Nikki's tummy, Jack always followed it up by widening his lips, pressing down gently, and blowing hard. From under the covers came the rudest, most raunchy farting sound in the world.
Her dad had patiently explained that the sound was caused by the Kissing Monster's sudden and absolute disappearance into another dimension. Evidently, this dimension held kissing monsters captive for almost exactly twenty-four hours before they broke free and found their way under her bed again.
Innocent games! Back then I was still married to Jennifer; the firm was new and still struggling.
It was a time of innocence, simple cases and innocent clients. It was a time before divorces. It was a time before video evidence. It was a time before Catholic Girls School. It was a time when Jack slept easily and his conscience seldom bothered him.
I miss that simplicity. I miss the clarity!
It was a time when his feelings for his daughter were still clear, uncomplicated and untainted with confusing needs or wants.
But, that time is now long gone! And, there's a big difference in trying to get your young daughter to go to sleep, on the one hand, and trying not to wake her on the other.
A huge difference
, he thought as the covers settled over his shoulders.
Carefully feeling around for her small sock-covered feet, he finally touched them. Jack smiled knowing that Nikki almost always wore the socks because her feet got cold on the hardwood floors. He'd grown to think they were an integral part of her cuteness. Cute had given way to sexy, but the socks remained a constant for him.
His hands inched agonizingly upwards, first past her ankles then over the calves of her legs. Placing a hand on each he slid further under the covers, creeping slowly onto her bed. He kissed her knees and felt goosebumps again. He kissed her thighs. Left then right. The kisses were like caresses. He kissed the slight crease between thigh and tummy, only to feel her warm sex against his cheeks.