Nightmare

If my morning and early afternoon was a dream my late afternoon and evening is a nightmare.

The good vibes carried over for awhile. I danced and sang to some upbeat tunes I put on. I tried on my new lingerie, a lacy see through black babydoll with matching thong panties. I checked myself out in the mirror and wiggled my tush and jiggled my titties to the beat. Hot damn did I look good! Wanting to feel sexy I leave it on.

However, left alone in the big empty house with just my thoughts my blissful lunacy could not sustain itself. Unwelcome reality began to intrude my into my happy headspace at every turn. The family photos on the walls spoke of a happy normal life. Pictures of me in the various stages of childhood, pictures of my mother and father in each others arms, pictures of the big moments...vacations, Christmases, my first recital, their wedding day, my birth, my graduation...all there as a monument to the wonderful life we shared.

There was one photo in particular that haunted me, a picture of Mom by herself with one of those false looking half smiles she thought she pulled off so well. The eyes seemed to follow me, watching me and judging me like she always did. She never understood me or supported me like Daddy did. Always nagging, always criticizing, always tearing me down. I am **** to lay it face down after awhile as I just could not take that stare.

It still wasn't the guilt that was getting to me but the fear. Fear of ruining this incredible home life my father had built for us. What he and I did last night put everything at risk. His marriage, his reputation, everything.

Time refused to pass at any sort of reasonable speed, every minute felt like an hour. No matter what I did I could not distract my worried mind. Movies, homework, music, tidying up, nothing helped the clock to move quicker.

And with that time to think came the doubts. In my mind I run over again and again every second of the short time I spent with my father this morning. I analyze his every word, tone, gesture, and expression. The insinuation I was so sure of earlier is not so clear now looking back on it. He never actually said anything directly.

He said to he didn't like my navel piercing. Was that his way of telling me it looked trashy? That I looked like a tramp? I know he didn't care for tattoos and piercings on women. He saw them as low brow or childish. Was it simply his way of telling me to grow up?

He said he liked Mom's perfume on a woman. Was that some subtle way of telling me that I should be more like her? Loyal, responsible, classy, serious minded, and mature. Or maybe it was it was his way of saying he was completely committed to her? That he only wanted his wife in his bed, that he preferred her over anyone...including me.

He said he wouldn't be home until after dark. Maybe it wasn't an invitation, maybe it was a warning NOT to do what I had last night. Maybe he was testing me to see if I would do the right thing. Maybe he wasn't getting home until after dark because he didn't want to see me today after what we did. Maybe he was ashamed of me and couldn't bear to see me. Maybe...he hated me for what I had done.

What he HAD said, repeatedly and in clear direct language, was that we would never talk about what happened. I remember his anger from the night before. I remember him telling me to leave the bed and the room. I remember that hurt look on his face when he first saw me this morning.

The story I convinced myself of this morning was unraveling. My world was falling down around me and I had no one to turn to. This wasn't exactly the sort of thing I could chat with my girlfriends about. I had never felt so alone.

Running my hands over the flimsy sheer fabric of my babydoll I look down at myself and feel like a fool for buying it. What was I doing? What I wanted was impossible.

Curling up on Daddy's big leather armchair I close my eyes and lean my shoulder and face into the back of it and imagine it was his wide chest. The chair smelled like him a bit. I trace my fingers along the sewn creases and nuzzle in harder wishing more than anything in the world to feel his strong arms around me and hear his deep calming voice telling me everything was going to be okay.

“Daddy...I'm sorry.”

Bzzzt

My phone vibrates on the coffee table.

I sigh as I **** myself to get up from the chair. Another text from one of my friends no doubt or perhaps it was Josh trying to crawl back to me. I pick up the phone and look at the screen. The message was from...him!

“You didn't sleep much last night. I want you in bed by 9 pm sharp Fawn. That's an order.”

I stare at the words as in an instant all of the dark and gloomy energy around me clears like a morning fog. I hop once and actually let out a giggle. Maybe I was misreading all of the signals but fuck it. Daddy always told me that anything worth having took courage and faith. I would be brave. I would have faith. And if I was wrong...so be it.

Feeling playful I text back. “Awww Daddy, do I hafta?”

“Be a good girl and do as I say Kitten.”

I nearly swoon. “Yes Daddy.”

“Sweet dreams my girl.”

“You too. Love you.” I followed this with a series of heart emojis.

“I love you too.”

I twirl in place, arms outstretched wide, feeling light as a feather.

I set the phone down and for some reason walk straight back to the photo I had tipped. Very carefully I tilt the frame back up again and place it just as it had been. I look at the picture anew. I now notice the crows feet at the corners of her eyes. The wrinkles starting show around the mouth and forehead. The slightly sagging skin of the cheeks. Her long blonde hair not as thick and lustrous as it once was. I knew she had to dye it to keep out the gray. For a woman in her 40's she looked great, but all the dye and makeup in the world could not hide the fact that her peak vitality was waning. We looked so much alike she and I. Same rich brown eyes, same long blonde hair, same slender build. But I was younger, fitter, firmer, and prettier. I was the new improved model and it was high time Father traded up.

It is not the intimidating visage of my mother I see in photo now, it is the fading beauty of a past her prime competitor. Staring straight into my mother's eyes a deviously wicked smile grows across my face.

“Don't worry.” I whisper. “I'll keep Daddy's bed nice and warm while you're gone.” I blow it a kiss as I turn and strut from the room. Turning off light I titter. “Nighty night Mother.”