by Ami Snow
“Hey Jack,” Mark said before he noticed Stacey standing with him and holding his hand. “What the hell’s going on here? Stacey Lynn, you get inside right now.”
“I can’t dad,” she said, trembling. “Jack wanted to talk to you and I need to be here when he does.”
“Talk,” Mark said, his temper building.
“We’ve been friends for a long time Mark,” Jack started, hoping their friendship would calm him some. “I’ve watched your boys run wild through the streets and Stacey has grown into such a beautiful woman. It’s because of Stacey that I’m here this afternoon. It’s come to our mutual attention that we have pretty serious feelings for each other. Now I’m not asking for her hand in marriage or anything-“ Jack felt the crack of Mark’s fist against his face as his ears began to ring.
“You’re damn right you’re not asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage you son-of-a-bitch!” Mark bellowed. “Stacey get in the house now!”
“I won’t dad,” Stacey said, staring her father down. “You won’t stand there and continue to assault Jack either. Nothing you say can change my mind. I’ve loved Jack for a long time. I didn’t act on it because you’re his friend, but I’ve cared for him long enough to know that I want to pursue this relationship. I’ll remind you that I’m more than of age and nothing you say can stop me from seeing him.”
Mark reached out to snag her arm and found Jack standing in his way. “You’re entitled to be angry Mark, but I won’t let you put your hands on her while you are. You don’t have to accept our relationship and I’m not asking for your approval. I simply wanted you to know that I, that we were seeing each other. I didn’t want it to blindside you any more than it already has.”
“You’re asking me to accept that my best friend is interested romantically in my daughter?”
“No, I’m simply informing you of the facts. I’ve grown to care for Stacey in a way I wouldn’t have expected. When she told me that she’d been interested in me for a while now I felt it only right that we see where this can go. I’m not saying it’ll lead to anything permanent, but if it does; that too will be our decision.”
“You’re a confident one aren’t you?”
“Mark, your daughter is one of the most amazing women I’ve ever known. She’s smart and talented and funny and has so much passion in her. It bubbles out of her and you’re damn right I want to share in it with her.”
“Get off my property,” Mark said, fuming. “And Stacey, if you go with him, don’t come back.” Stacey watched as her father turned away and walked into the house. Tears brimmed in her eyes when she tucked herself into Jack’s side and they walked to his car. She set the keys to her father’s car on the hood as she walked by.
“It’ll be alright Stacey,” Jack soothed as she continued to cry. He took her to dinner and they talked, trying to steer clear of the topic of her father. She knew he’d be angry for a while yet, but she hoped someday he’d come to see that she was a woman grown, capable of choosing who she spent her time with and who she allowed into her life. Jack was a good man who had never treated her poorly. He wouldn’t start now and the fact that they were intimate was just a detail that didn’t need to be shared with everyone.
***
Jack went to work with renewed energy. Stacey was looking for secretarial work and he was sure she’d have no trouble finding a job. She was stunning and the fact that she had experience in the field and was a quick learner were in highly in her favor. He opened the store and was busy marking inventory when he heard his name called. “Jack!”
“Mark,” Jack said, standing behind the counter. “I assume you’re not hear to buy something?”
“I’m not,” Mark said, his eyes dark, serious. “I came because I knew you’d be alone and I need to tell you exactly how I feel about you seeing my daughter.”
“Okay,” Jack said cautiously.
“I don’t approve of it Jack,” Mark said. “However, I know that I can’t force her to stop seeing you and legally I have no grounds to stand on. As her father, it leaves me as an outsider in my child’s life. It’s not something I enjoy, but I can’t stand in your way.”
“So you’re saying that I can see her, but that you don’t like it?”
“I’m saying that I can’t stop your relationship. I don’t approve of it, but I won’t stand in your way either. Stacey is welcome to come home when she’s ready. If she’s staying at your place, she can come get her things or whatever she feels she needs. I won’t stop her.”
“I appreciate that Mark,” Jack sighed. “I know that this isn’t easy for you and I can’t say I understand completely, but I appreciate your stepping out to come and talk to me.”
Mark sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “How’s your jaw?”
“Hurts like a bitch in heat,” Jack smirked. “You always could throw a nice right hook.”
“I was angry,” Mark said, apologetic.
“I’m not holding it against you Mark. You were doing what any good father would do to uphold your daughter.”
“I can say that as her father, I never pictured her wanting you,” Mark laughed. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Jack smiled. “I was a little shocked by her admission myself. It wasn’t until she came to my house that I knew she was serious.”
“She’s always been a self-assured girl. Now that she’s a woman it’s only gotten worse.”
“Don’t fret my friend,” Jack smiled. “She’ll be alright.”
“I can only hope Jack, seriously.” Mark stayed a while longer and before he left he shook his friend’s hand. Jack knew it wasn’t quite over. He knew Mark would hunt Stacey down and apologize to her as best he could. Jack imagined as a father the apology to her would sound a little different than it had to him. Still, the fact that Mark had talked to him at all gave him hope for the future. Smiling, Jack went back to work and thought about the woman he’d go home to tonight.
THE END
Double Trouble with Dad’s Best Friend
TABOO ROMANCE
By: Amanda Bolton
Punished by My Dad’s Best Friend
Lori never would admit this to anyone, but she kind of liked cleaning Tristan’s house. Her father’s best friend had offered her the job after her plans to work at Harry’s House of BBQ had been sidelined by an unfortunate pork fat fire. Now she spent five mornings a week making sure Tristan’s luxurious town house was always ready for a television news crew to arrive – something they did with surprising regularity, often with little or no notice.
Lori wasn’t sure what that was about. Tristan was a nice guy, but he wasn’t a musician, athlete or any other kind of celebrity. She’d asked him about it once, but his answer hadn’t helped her understand all the media interest. “I authenticate antiquities,” he’d said, “especially those from the classic period.”
At the time, Lori didn’t even know what antiquities meant. She’d looked it up, but all Google told her was that antiquities were very old object, from even before the Middle Ages. That made sense: Tristan’s house was full of glass cases housing small sand-colored jugs and statues. Many of these were broken – one statue he kept in his study had no arms at all – but that didn’t seem to bother her boss.
The rest of the house was just gorgeous. Lori often thought the place looked like a fancy hotel. Fresh flower arrangements were delivered by a service every Friday morning: two for the entranceway, one for the study where Tristan would meet his guests, and one that belonged on the small table in the master suite. The groceries were delivered too. Lori had to put those away, according to strict instructions left by Anthony, the chef who came every evening to prepare Tristan’s dinners.
It was such a contrast to the small home Lori shared with her Mom, Dad, and four siblings. In Tristan’s house, everything was quiet and clean. At home, it was constant chaos. As for clean – well, Mom did her best, but with two teenage boys in the place, it was a losing battle.
Tr
istan was a nice guy too. He wasn’t home a lot while Lori was there, but when he was, he was always cordial and pleasant. In a lot of ways, he was the polar opposite of her Dad, soft-spoken and highly educated instead of, well, Dad.
If it hadn’t have been for the time they’d spent together in the military, there’s no way the two of them ever would have been friends, Lori thought. Tristan had been an officer, and her Dad had served as his driver. The two of them had had quite some adventures during the first Gulf War; neither of them liked to talk about it. A bond had grown between them, strong enough that some twenty-odd years later, Tristan was willing to give Lori a job.
Now, Lori was determined to make sure Tristan never had a reason to regret his kindness. She was extremely diligent about her duties. Every time she vacuumed one of the oriental rugs, she took the time to do it twice, going first one way across the nap and then the other to ensure not one speck of dirt remained. She polished everything in the house that could be polished, and went through Windex by the case so that every showcase was absolutely crystal clear.
Lori never, ever cleaned inside the showcases. Tristan had told her not to. Many of the objects inside needed special care. Being cleaned with Windex, Mr. Clean or any of the other products Lori loved using wouldn’t be good for them at all. This was an easy order to follow – after all, she had plenty of other work to do! – until the spider appeared in the case with the little reddish brown vase.
Lori never actually saw the spider. But she saw plenty of proof that he had been there. A thin triangle of web stretched from the top of the showcase to the very top of the vase. The silvery-gray strands of spider silk were glaringly obvious to Lori, but Tristan must not have seen them. They stayed in place, a silent affront to Lori’s housekeeping skills for a week, and then another, and then another. She tried and tried to ignore it, but it was getting tougher with each passing day.
Then one day, Tristan arrived home in the middle of the morning. CNN wanted to film a segment with him regarding the destruction of some ancient temples overseas: they’d be arriving in forty-five minutes.
“While I freshen up,” he asked Lori, “can you make sure the study looks extra fabulous?” His smile was warm. “I know you always do a good job, but millions of people will be watching this segment. So if you could give things a little extra TLC, that would be great.”
“Of course,” Lori said. The very first thing that leapt into her mind was the spider web in the showcase. It was so near the chair where Tristan usually sat while the media interviewed him. There was no way the powerful CNN cameras would fail to pick that up. Lori’s face burned just imagining the embarrassment this would cause her boss. She knew what she had to do.
She knew she had to be especially careful. Her bright pink feather duster was at the ready. Lori held her breath as she slid the showcase door open; she didn’t want the glass to rattle and alert Tristan that she was going against his explicit orders.
The feather duster made quick work of the spider web. One quick flick, and it was gone. Lori smiled, and started to shut the showcase. That’s when the spider – black and almost as big as her thumbnail – poked its head out of the reddish brown vase to see what was going on.
“Oh, that’ll make for a great television moment,” Lori said. “We’ve got to get you out of there.” She grasped the vase carefully by the bottom and took it out of the showcase. Her intention was to shake the spider out on to the floor, where she could squish it and then vacuum up the tiny carcass.
What really happened was that the vase slipped out of her hands, hit the floor, and broke into four pieces. There was a cloud of red colored dust that flew everywhere. Worst of all, there was a loud crash that Tristan heard.
“Exactly what has happened in here?” he asked, as he came in through the doorway. His eyes widened when he saw the remnants of the reddish brown vase.
Lori burst into tears. She held up her feather duster and tried to explain about the spider web and CNN, but Tristan didn’t let her finish. “We don’t have time for that now,” he said brusquely. He picked up the broken pieces of the vase, and to her astonishment, put the shards back in the showcase. “Get that dust taken care of, and then wait for me in the kitchen. We’ll have to discuss what happened after the news crew leaves.”
What followed was the longest afternoon of Lori’s life. She paced around the granite-topped kitchen island, cursing herself out for messing up the best job she’d ever had. After all, hadn’t Tristan told her a million times to leave the showcases alone? Couldn’t she have mentioned the spider web situation to him previously? She’d had nearly a month, but he’d been busy, and Lori was still a little shy about bothering her boss. Now the vase was broken. Who knew what something that old cost? There was no way Lori could replace it. It was probably worth a million dollars or maybe, Lori thought with a sinking feeling in her stomach, even more.
The interview was taking forever. It sounded like CNN had sent an army of people. She could hear people setting up lights and arguing about the best place to put the microphone. They hadn’t even started to talk to Tristan, and already Lori was a nervous wreck.
Maybe she should just leave. Everybody was busy in Tristan’s study. Maybe, Lori thought, she could just quietly scoot down the hall without anyone noticing her and slip out through the door and never come back.
She peered out of the kitchen and quickly abandoned that idea. The CNN crew had cables and gear boxes all over the place. It was a tangled mess. There was no way Lori was going to be able to make her way through that without bumping into something. She wasn’t built for stealth, not with her wide hips and DD chest.
Besides, where was she going to go? If she left, the first thing Tristan would do would be to call her Dad. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire. As much as Lori wasn’t looking forward to talking to Tristan about her screw-up, she really, really didn’t want to have that discussion with her Dad.
Daddy was going to be so disappointed in her. Why didn’t she just listen?
It was hard to keep the tears back. As time went on, it got harder and harder. She felt one drop slide slowly down her cheek, and then another, and another. Finally Lori surrendered into full-fledged sobs, with her face buried in her hands and her chest heaving.
That’s how she was when Tristan stepped into the kitchen. Lori hadn’t even heard the tv crew leave, but when she looked up, she saw they were alone in the house. She hurriedly tried to wipe the tears away from her face with her fingers.
Tristan stopped her. “You’re beautiful when you’re crying.” He held her thick wrist in his hand, gently. “Most women aren’t. But on you, it works.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lori said.
Tristan smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile, Lori thought. She’d seen her Father’s best friend happy before, and this wasn’t the wide, toothy grin Tristan wore when he was happy. This was a smile of victory; this was a smile of triumph.
“Tell me. Do you know why you’re sorry?” Tristan let go of Lori’s wrist and walked into the dining room. He didn’t give any directions, but Lori knew she was meant to follow him. She did, head bowed, hands clasped over her belly. When Tristan sat down at the head of the table, Lori remained standing in front of him. “Do you?”
Lori nodded. “Yes.”
Tristan looked Lori up and down, very, very slowly. She could feel his gaze on her everywhere; he spent a long time looking at her dirty-blonde curls and an even longer time staring at her bulging chest. Lori could feel herself starting to blush, but that didn’t seem to bother Tristan at all.
“Turn around,” he said.
She did, almost automatically, and stood facing the far wall. Tristan was looking at her ass, taking his time as he studied her fleshy butt. Lori’s face was fully scarlet now, but she didn’t know what to do. She was so embarrassed – and yet, somehow, also becoming sexually excited. When Tristan had her turn back around, Lori was painfully aware that her nipples had become erect, pushing th
emselves prominently against the thin fabric of her t-shirt.
Tristan saw this, clearly; Lori saw his brown eyes flash toward her chest. But then his gaze locked on hers. She squirmed in place, uncomfortable with his stern regard. “Tell me why you’re sorry, Lori.”
“I broke your vase,” she blurted out. “I didn’t mean to, but I did!”
Tristan put his hand over his mouth, and stared at Lori for a long moment. Then he said, “That’s why you’re sorry?”
Lori nodded. “Yes.” She swallowed, nervously. “Yes, sir.”
Tristan shook his head. “That’s not why I want you to be sorry.”
Lori was confused. “It’s not?”
“No.” Tristan shifted position in his chair, crossing his legs. “But I’m sure you’ll figure out why I want you to be sorry before too long.” He smiled. “Are you wearing panties?”
“Of course!” There was no way Lori would have been comfortable in her housekeeping uniform without panties. The skirt wasn’t short, exactly – but it was short enough.
Tristan held out his hand, palm flat, fingers extended. “Give them here, please.”
An electric shock ran through Lori’s body. “What? Why?”
“You’re going to be spanked, Lori,” Tristan said. His tone was so calm, as if he was patiently explaining something to a particularly stupid child. “And you can’t be spanked with your panties on.”