Seducing Daddy, A good daughter does everything she can to make her dad feel better after a hard day at work… When he came home from work that evening he was 3 hours late. His face looked drawn and haggard, and he had loosened his tie in order to
undo the top button on his shirt, and it hung at an angle. She had
wanted to be mad at him, but she saw on his face how tired he was, and
she knew he must have had a bad day. When she heard the garage door
opening, she had popped his cold dinner into the microwave, and as he
slumped down into a chair she set it in front of him.
“Hard day?”
“Yeah. Long.” He dug into the food, eating quickly but distractedly,
still thinking about some aspect of the work he could never seem to
leave entirely behind. She sat across from him at the table, and
since she had eaten herself an hour ago she just sipped at a
half-empty glass of wine.
“Why are you drinking that?” he asked, eyeing the glass
disapprovingly.
“Because I like it.”
He might have protested further, but he just sighed and continued
eating. After a moment she got up and poured another glass and placed
it down in front of him. He looked up, his expression managing to
convey both sarcasm and thanks at the same time. He finished the food
and had a long taste of the wine, swirling it around in the glass
before leaning back against the chair.
She walked around behind his chair and started to give him a back-rub,
despite mild protests. They dwindled as she dug her fingers into his
neck and shoulders, working out hours of tension.
“Tell me about your day,” she said, continuing to rub. He took
another sip and began to talk.
He started telling her about contracts that had fallen through, an
employee who had showed up over an hour late for the second time in a
row, random details that he knew she didn’t care about. But he was
happy to humor her, if she wanted to pretend she cared, and besides,
it was good to have someone to bitch to. He blathered on while she
continued to rub his neck, and it did feel good. He felt tired enough
that the wine started going to his head, even though he hadn’t had
much. At one point she reached around his neck and undid his tie,
drawing it slowly off his neck, and he almost stopped her; it felt
like she did it impudently, and besides, he remembered that he should
be mad that she was drinking. Dammit, when he was a kid, you at least
tried to hide your drinking from your parents. But he didn’t say
anything. He was too tired.
Her fingers started tracing more intricate designs on his shoulders,
and they looped over to undo a few more buttons on his shirt. Did she
have to press so closely to him when she did that?
“Honey, you don’t need to give me a back rub,” he said, shifting in
his seat a little to move his head away from her. “It’s very sweet of
you, but I’m really tired anyway, I think I’ll head up to bed.” She
didn’t take her hands off his chest, and when he shifted they tickled
his chest hair a little.
She objected, of course. She was always pouting at him if
he went to bed right away, and he did feel bad; he almost never saw
her in the evenings anymore, and never for more than half an hour in
the morning, while she’d get together her things and leave for
school. She pulled him back to leaning against the chair, digging her
fingers into his chest a little and chastising him as she did.
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