I was driving through the front gates when I realised there were lights on in the house. This was strange as my wife, Susan, had packed up and left me six months previously. I stopped the car and got out. There was music coming from inside too. I walked the rest of the way down the driveway, unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The music was loud - some godawful rock drone - but I couldn't hear any voices. I walked down the hall and, reaching the lounge room, saw pretty well what I expected to see.
"You're making yourself at home," I said.
"I thought this was my home," said Rachel, my 18-year-old daughter. She was sitting cross- legged on the couch, one of my more expensive bottles of wine open on the coffee table in front of her.
I switched the music off and stood for a moment looking at the changes a year and a half had brought. Her reddish brown hair, which had been long when I last saw her, was now cut quite short and parted down the middle. Her face was quite tanned, and her freckles were not so prominent. There were numerous rings in her ears, one through here nose and a stud beneath her bottom lip. She wore a black T-shirt with some band name on it, a short red skirt, black leggings with holes on both knees, and heavy black boots.
"What's all of that?" I said, pointing at her face. "You look like a fucking fishing lure."
She poked her tongue out at me. There was a stud in that as well.
I sighed, walked to the bar and poured myself a scotch. "So, where've you been for, what is it, two years?"
"Oh, here and there. We've got a place up north at the moment."
"You still with that loser?"
She almost rose to it but controlled herself. "If you mean Alex, yes."
I sat down in my armchair, sipped some scotch. It went down smoothly. "So, to what do I owe this pleasure? You need some money, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Fifteen grand," she said quietly.
"Fifteen grand!" I whistled. "That's a lot of money. What would you be needing that for?"
A pause. "We're in a bit of trouble," she said finally. "We were minding something for someone, and we got robbed. It wasn't our fault. But now if we don't get the money…they've threatened to get Alex."
"Good. Improve the gene pool."
"Please, Dad." She sat up in the chair and stared at me intently. "I'll make it worth your while."
"Is that so? And how will you do that?"
"I'll let you fuck me."
For a moment what she had said didn't register with me. I stood looking at her, I'm sure with my mouth open.
"Don't lie," she said. "I know you always wanted to."
"When?" I asked, stupidly. I couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Right now, if you want." She lifted one leg off the floor and planted her boot on the lounge. I saw through her leggings that she was wearing red panties.
I turned and walked back to the bar. I needed another drink. My mind was a riot of conflicting emotions. She was right - I had fantasised about fucking her for years. I thought I had managed to hide my desires from her, though, and was slightly annoyed that I had been so transparent. Then again, when you can afford most of the things you want like I can, I suppose it's hard to hide your feelings about the things you can't have.
I poured another Scotch and downed half of it. I walked back to Rachel and sat on a lounge chair facing her. I'd calmed down a bit now, and I could feel a little knot of excitement in my stomach. "What you're suggesting is…a little out of the ordinary" I said.
She shrugged. "I'm a little out of the ordinary," she said matter-of-factly. I was amazed she could be so flippant about this.
"What made you think I wanted to…?"
"Oh, it was obvious from the way you used to look at me. You'd always be hanging around the bathroom when I was in there."
"I didn't think I was so obvious," I said. "I thought it was funny. Anyway, I think it might be an interesting thing to do…If you want to."
There was an awkward silence. I finished my drink while she started another glass of wine, the two of us looking at each other all the time. Christ, she looked cute. To be able to fuck her…
Still, this was a business proposition, I told myself, and I've always been careful in business.
"Fifteen thousand dollars, it's a lot of money," I said again. "OK, I'll give it to you on one condition. That you're mine for 24 hours. You'll do anything I want, anything I ask you to do. Anything. Your body's mine. Is it a deal?"
She stared at me for a few seconds, no doubt imagining all the possible things I might do to her. I grew a little worried. Had I overplayed my hand? But then she nodded. "Okay," she said.
I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to seven.
I sat down beside her on the lounge and put my arm tentatively around her, feeling her thin shoulders - she didn't seem to have grown much at all in the time she's been away. I touched her freckled cheek with my fingers. Slowly, my mouth closed upon hers. I felt to my inexpressible delight her tongue slip into it, and I tongued her mouth in return. It tasted lovely. "Mmm," she said, withdrawing. My hand was on one of her small, firm breasts, squeezing it gently through the T- shirt material.
I stood up, took her hands and started to walk towards my bedroom, then changed my mind and took her to her old room.