Don't dose (loving) Linda and let her talk with Ashley

You take her hand and hold it between both of yours. You look at her with the measured sincerity you've been perfecting over the last few days.

You: "Linda, listen to me. I think I know what's going on here."

She looks up at you, lips slightly parted, waiting.

You: "You spent years in a marriage that was, let's be honest, fading. You got used to that. Got used to feeling less than you deserved. And now things are actually good. Really good. And your brain doesn't know what to do with that. It's trying to find the catch."

Her eyes soften. You can see the serum working behind them like an invisible hand smoothing out wrinkles in fabric.

Linda: "You really think that's all it is?"

You: "I think happiness can be terrifying when you've forgotten what it feels like."

She exhales slowly, the tension draining from her shoulders. She leans into you, pressing her forehead against your collarbone.

Linda: "God, you're right. I'm being ridiculous, aren't I? I have a husband who adores me and a daughter who's finally coming around, and I'm sitting here trying to pick it apart like there's something wrong with it."

You: "Tell you what. When Ashley gets home tonight, just talk to her. Ask her how she's feeling. See for yourself what's going on. Okay?"

Linda nods against your chest.

Linda: "Okay."

You spend the next few hours in a state of controlled domesticity. Dinner, dishes, a cup of tea for Linda while she reads a book, and you pretend to review work emails on your laptop. You remember the vial, but you don't think you'll need it for Linda. Her initial suggestions, combined with Ashley's change of heart, should be enough.

Right?

Tuesday - Evening

You hear the front door.

Ashley (calls): "Sorry, I'm late, mum! Nicole and I got way too deep into chem and lost track of time."She notices Linda sitting rigidly on the couch and tilts her head.

Ashley breezes in with her backpack slung over one shoulder, her black ponytail swinging. She's still wearing those purple leggings that hug her toned ass perfectly, but accompanied by a black top this time. Her eyes land on you, and she smiles.

Ashley (cheerful): "Hey, Daddy!"

She drops her bag by the door and immediately crosses to the couch. Before you can react, she leans down and wraps her arms around your neck from behind. She plants a kiss on your cheek.

This is it, the moment of truth. Your eyes dart to Linda. Your wife's wary skepticism from this morning makes an instant return. She looks at you with a raised eyebrow, as if to say, "See? It's weird!"

Ashley catches her mother's gaze as she lets go of you.

Ashley: "Mom? You okay?"

You stand, praying that Ashley can convince her mother that nothing suspicious is going on.

You: "I, uh... I'm going to make some tea. You two should talk."

You retreat to the kitchen, but you don't close the door all the way. You position yourself by the counter where you can hear every word.

Linda: "Sweetheart, sit down. I just... I want to understand what's happening with you and Adam. This change, it's good, don't get me wrong, but it's so sudden. And such an **** flip. Can you help me make sense of it?"

A pause. The couch cushions shift. You hear Ashley exhale audibly, almost a sigh.

Ashley: "Mom, I know I was awful to him. Like, genuinely terrible. And I don't even have a good excuse for it. I was angry, and I took it out on the one person who was actually trying."

Linda: "But why now? What changed? Can you tell me what happened exactly?"

Ashley: "Well, I had a really bad night..."

You listen as Ashley tells her mother what happened with Marcus on Monday. Linda seems to know more about her daughter's relationship already, and apparently has even met the young man a few times before. You missed so much in the past, and you didn't even know.

Ashley: "...then I came home, a complete mess. I came to your bedroom, but you didn't wake up - Dad said you took a sleeping pill? Anyway, I didn't mean to wake him up instead. And the last thing I expected from him was to come down and keep me company when I really needed someone. Adam was the only one around. And he didn't judge me or lecture me. He just... listened and calmed me down. And I realized that he's been there the whole time, I just didn't want to see it before."

Linda: "I see. It's just..."

You hear Linda inhale sharply.

Linda: "I mean, you're calling him 'Daddy' suddenly. That's... Ashley, are you sure you-"

Ashley: "Mom. Stop. I know what you're doing. You're looking for a reason this can't be real because you're scared. But it is real. I love Adam. He's good for us. He's good for you. I can see how happy you are, and honestly? That makes me happy, too."

Silence. You hear the sound of a sharp nasal inhale. Was Linda crying?

Linda (voice breaking): "Come here, baby."

Silence again.

Ashley: "We're okay, Mom."

Linda: "I love you so much, sweetheart."

Ashley: "I love you too. And I love Dad. I'm tired of pretending otherwise."

You lean against the kitchen counter, kettle forgotten. The word 'Dad' hits differently when you hear it through a wall, spoken to someone else. It sounds almost legitimate. You did it. Your distant wife and hostile stepdaughter are holding each other on your couch, crying tears of joy over a family unity that was manufactured in a lab.

You should feel triumphant. But there's also something else behind the satisfaction. It feels like a wire around your ribs. You recognize the guilt, but it's not like you had much of a choice. Ashley would still hate you. Linda wouldn't care. Besides, you know you could have done way worse.

You nod, standing in the empty kitchen. Yes, you did the right thing. This was the only way.

Wednesday - Evening

At work, you spend most of it running phantom tests on older, failed formulations. It's just busywork designed to look productive on the activity logs while your real breakthrough sits unrecorded still. You already know the serum will make you filthy rich soon enough. Your employer has always been good to their high performers. There was no rush now.

On your ride home, you notice that you still feel a bit nervous. Unsure if Linda is fully convinced. Time will tell.

You arrive at sundown.

You find a note on the kitchen island in Linda's handwriting: 'Carrie called, practically begged me to meet her for drinks. Back by 10. Leftovers in the fridge. Love you!! xoxo'

You read it again. Four days ago, Linda couldn't be bothered to text you when she'd be late. Now you get handwritten notes with exclamation marks and xoxo.

You set down your briefcase. You now have two full vials of the serum. There's music drifting from upstairs. Something lo-fi and atmospheric. Not Ashley's usual taste.

The black-haired beauty appears at the top of the stairs and descends them with hurried footsteps.

She's wearing one of her old black tees, washed out and slightly too short now. Her full breasts strain against it. You can instantly make out the shape of her nipples underneath. Her grey cotton shorts show off her legs. Ashley must feel very comfortable around you if she walks around in this without a bra.

Ashley: "Daddy! You're home!"

She practically skips the last three steps and throws her arms around your neck. Her body is warm from the shower, her skin dewy and fragrant with some kind of body lotion. She presses herself against you in a hug that lasts longer than most greetings. You feel her soft breasts press against your chest through the thin cotton. Fuck.

You: "Hey, Ashley. Linda's out?"

Ashley: "Yeah, I think Aunt Carrie wanted to go for drinks. Mom didn't really want to go but felt bad saying no."

She rolls her eyes with theatrical exasperation, then hooks her arm through yours and tugs you toward the kitchen.

Ashley: "Come on, I'm gonna heat up the pasta for you. Sit. Eat. Tell me about your day."

You sit at the island while Ashley busies herself plating food and pouring you a glass of water. She moves around the kitchen with a domestic grace that seems entirely natural to her. You feel like you're living in opposite-land.

When she sets the plate in front of you, her hip brushes your arm.

Ashley: "So, Marcus texted me again today. He apologized and wants to meet me."

You: "That's good news, isn't it?"

She hops up onto the counter across from you. The shorts ride up her smooth thighs. She doesn't notice, or she doesn't care.

Ashley: "I guess so..."

Ashley sighs.

Ashley: "I'm not sure. I want someone who makes me feel safe, especially in moments like this. The way he reacted on Monday..."

Her voice drifts off. She shrugs and looks away for five long seconds. She shakes her head and stares into the distance. Then, Ashley turns back at you. She catches your eye and holds it.

Ashley: "I need someone who actually gets me. Like you do with Mom."

There's a conviction in her tone that surprises you. The old Ashley would rather have died than say something like this. This was a new girl. You caused every warm impulse firing in her brain right now.

You eat while she talks. About her exam prep. About some girl in her study group who's "totally fake." About how she started running in the mornings again, and that maybe you could join her sometime.

You finish your glass, and the moment you put it down, you notice Ashley standing behind your chair. She drapes her arms over your shoulders. You feel her chin resting on the top of your head, her perfect breasts on your shoulder blades.

Ashley: "I'm actually glad it's just us tonight. I feel like we're still getting to know each other, you know? Like, the real versions of each other."

You swallow hard as your thoughts spiral into the darker corners. Linda was gone for a while. You have two vials. Ashley was isolated, trusting you. You could tell her anything. Make her feel anything. Make her want anything.

You can feel the plan already forming, the trance, the commands, the specific phrasing that would transform the meaning of 'Daddy' into something else entirely.

It's not like you never thought about it. You've rehearsed variations of it in the shower, in traffic, in the dead hours at the lab. You know exactly what you'd say.

But thinking and fantasizing are one thing. Actually doing it... Can you even? Can you really?

Ashley slides off the counter and pads over to the fridge. She bends to grab a bottle of water from the bottom shelf, and her shorts pull tight across the curve of her ass. She glances back over her shoulder.

Ashley: "Want one?"

Your pulse is beating faster.

You: "Sure."

She returns with two bottles and sits down on the stool next to yours. You feel her bare knee pressed against your thigh. She twists the cap off her bottle and takes a long drink. You watch her throat move as she swallows.

Ashley: "You look thoughtful. Everything okay?"

She places her hand on your knee. There's nothing sexual in the gesture. Not for her. Not like this.

It could stay this way. It SHOULD stay this way. Ashley finally trusts you, accepts you as her dad!

And yet, there was the fantasy. One more trance for her, and she was yours. One more for her mother later, and you could have them both.

You take a deep breath and lock eyes with Ashley.

To be continued

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