Just a party.

Before he can even open his mouth, someone answers for him.

"Harold, where's that scotch?"

Emerging from the living room was an older gentleman. Well, he's probably about Dad's age, but he actually looks it. His hair had lightened with age, but it looked more silvery than gray, and managing to keep all of it made him look captivating. It was even enough for me to look past the belly dipping over the waistband of his dress slacks and liberating his button-down shirt from them. Really, from the neck up he's pretty good looking. No signs of aging, well groomed, and stunning hazel eyes roaming up and down my body.

"Oh my god," he mumbles. "Jessie!"

I know him?

"It's me! Mr. Pasternack!"

That's Mr. Pasternack? Oh yeah! I didn't recognize him without his glasses and blonde hair, but that is definitely him. He and Dad started working together back when my mother was still around. They weren't really good friends, but I met him every time there was a "Take Your Daughter to Work Day." Of course, last time I went to one of those I was 12, about half as tall, and still wearing a training bra.

I feign enthusiasm, "Oh! Mr. Pasternack! It's been so long."

"You're not a little girl anymore! Call me George! Come here!"

He does realize I'm naked, right? And that I'm his coworker's daughter? And that hugging your coworker's naked daughter is a big no-no?

Apparently not, because he does anyway. Well, guess I have to join in. It is kinda easy though. He's just the right height for me to rest my chin on his head, and the scent of scotch is a big winner for me, even if it is mixed in with a cheap cologne. I start to settle into the embrace, but I tense right back up. Straight up in fact. I wanted to lurch forward when his hands started kneading my butt, but within a second I also wanted to pull back once he bit down on my left nipple. The end result was me pushing up slightly. I didn't make a sound, though. I've had much rougher and less enjoyable, plus I didn't want Dad to freak out. I did lurch my eyebrows, but honestly, if it stops at the hugging, Dad'll just chalk it up to the scotch. That's what he's done so far at least.

"George," Dad says, "why don't you go pour yourself another glass?"

He breaks his hug and staggers off. I think he said something, but it was really slurred and aimed away from me. But as he crosses back into the living room, he raises the bottle and a chorus of cheers goes up with it. And with that image in my head, I suddenly notice, and establish why, Dad's still dressed for work.

With my eyebrows still arched, I ask, "Throwin a party?"

"A friend at work just got promoted, and we have tomorrow off for the holiday," he explains. "We figured: why not celebrate? We had nothing planned, and with you always gone I was the one with the empty house and booze."

I chuckle. What else am I supposed to do? I'd be down and leading the charge in better circumstances. That and if I worked with him. I'd probably need clothes though. I've probably embarrassed Dad enough today.

"Well, I've slept through louder. Don't let me stop you."

"Jessie..."

He gets interrupted again. This time, it's by the doorbell. And that chime brought that cheer out again. But this time there were also wolf whistles. And why does Dad seem so nervous?

Dad continues, "Put some clothes on and head up to bed. Fast!"

Oh yeah. I should probably put everything away. A nude body and clothes lying around don't really mix with a bunch of drunks on the verge of a mid-life crisis. But I'm not getting completely dressed again. That'd just be wasted effort, especially with that t-shirt out. It's long enough to be a night shirt even with my long frame, but only barely. Great for gauging the reaction of girls in my college dorm and...need to cut that sentence there. Sleeping!

So, my shirt's on, and I just need to gather up my shorts and jeans. But before I can do more than bend over, I recognize a smell approaching. There was ****, to be sure, but also sweat, sex, and...vanilla? And it's coming from behind me. Well, I am bent over.

From between my legs, I can clearly see several pairs of high heels and plenty of hairless leg flesh. I pop right up and greet large titties dressed in tops as skimpy as the bottoms. The outfits cover the full range - leather, lace, silk, and metallic - also matching the racial diversity of the girls. And based on how they're dressed and the reactions I got from each of them, the same can be said for the personalities. Something tells me there aren't any female coworkers in the next room.

When the parade finally passes, I'm back alone with Dad, who has turned a few shades of red. I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with me mooning his "company" or the fact that my thin shirt doesn't hide my rock hard nipples.

I cross my arms under my chest. "Something you forget to tell me?"

"Jessie," he says, "I didn't want you to know because I can't have you crashing. This party is company only."

"You work with those women?"

"They're entertainment."

"I can be entertainment, too. We'll all get shit-faced."

"No! You go upstairs to your bedroom and lock your door. End of discussion."

He walks off to enjoy his party, leaving me alone dressed for a slumber party. That was a very blunt, very poorly argued refusal. Is Dad ashamed of me? No, if that was true he would have cut me off a long time ago. Hmm. Oh! It's one of them he doesn't trust around me! Shit. There's little doubt I could handle it, but these are his coworkers. Me beating them up may not be the best idea. Maybe I could just peek from a window? Or maybe I should go upstairs? I am still tired.