Father's Keeper by Parker Ford (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

me, I let him. When he parted my thighs--thinking I wassleeping--and tested me with the tips of his fingers, I let him. And Iresponded. My body giving Carl the rush of fluid I had created by fantasizingabout Gil as I lay there.

“You awake?” Carl asked peeling me outof my panties. He shoved my tee high over my head and pulled it back.

“Yeah. Here I am, wide awake,” I saidand rolled to my back, let him lay over me. I parted my thighs, arching up toallow him to slip is cock into me and sway over me. He kissed me and I let him.He fucked me and I let him. When Carl twined his fingers in mine and held myhands flat to the mattress, getting me off before coming himself, I let him.But when I was coming and he was kissing me, in my mind, in that secret part ofme, it was not Carl. It was my stepfather kissing me, getting me off, fuckingme, holding me tight. And it was his arms around me when I fell asleep. Atleast it was in my fantasy and the fantasy followed me way down into the darkspiral of sleep.

Chapter6

Carl was gone when I woke up late.Eleven was really late for me. Before and I came back to Pleasant Parks I hadbeen a nanny for three little boys. I woke at five every morning to arrive atmy job by six. I nearly felt as if I’d slept my day away, but it also feltgood. A note waited for me on the counter. “Coffee’s on” and that was it inGil’s handwriting.

I sat listening to the grandfatherclock tick and looked at my mother’s angel figurines lined up along the shelfin the dining room. There was a white statue I had given her when I was twelve,for Mother’s Day I think. There was a copper one that Gil and I had picked forher at a small antique store downtown. There was a blue angel holding a moonthat Gil had scoured every local store to find after she saw it but couldn’tremember where.

I had the urge to knock them all offand watch them shatter into multi-colored bits of plastic and plaster. Muchlike I imagined Gil felt somewhere on the inside. Once we had gotten past ourturmoil, we’d grown close. Over the years we’d had an odd mix to ourrelationship. Sometimes there was the parent and child element. Sometimesfriends. More than once there was a brother sister vibe. When I was unaware ofmy own emotions I’d found myself attracted to him. Fleeting zips of urges andwants that I would quickly shake off.

I sipped my coffee and wandered intomy mother and Gil’s room before I did something stupid like wreck hercollection.

Their room was the plushest room inthe house. Done in dark plums with accents of a golden honey color and applegreen. The thick bedding always seemed so opulent and my mothers jewelry stilltook up most of her dresser. “She didn’t take this? Shocking,” I said. Clearythe people she had left behind weren’t important, I just hadn’t expected her toabandon her material positions too.

I sat on the bed, fingering a stringof black pearls still sitting on her nightstand. There was a framed photo of mefrom high school graduation next to her antique alarm clock and I gently put itface down on the wood. I didn’t want to see my own stupid, optimistic grin atthe moment. I studied the room for signs of Gil, sipping more of my coffee andrealizing I’d added too much sugar.

There was a ball cap on the door knob.A picture of me and him on his tall dresser. I was holding a huge bass and hewas laughing his ass off. I remembered the trip. He’d taken me fishing and I’dnabbed the biggest fish of all. No one, not Gil or his fishing buddies evencame close to catching anything to rival my fish. I had also lost my balanceand fallen in the lake. Which was why he was laughing in the picture. That oneI left face-up. I looked happy and so did he.

Gil was a simple kind of man. For allthe obvious reminders my mother had employed that this was her room, herdomain, her space, he had a few things here and there. More content with thefamily in the home than the appearance of it, or his claim on it. Gil’s domainhad always been outside. The lawn and the trees, the vehicles and the fire pit.And he’d been happy with it.

Aside from the ball cap and a book bysome mystery writer and that photo there was only a jar of money on his dresserand a mug I’d given him when I was fourteen. #1 Step Dad. I had loved that mugand bought it with my allowance because he was the best step dad I knew and Ihad come to peace with the whole real father versus new father thing. And Gilhad helped me through a lot.

“And now that my mother has left me,he’s still helping me,” I said to the ceiling. I sat my coffee on my mother’snightstand and flopped back on the bed. I watched her fancy ceiling fan do lazyloops and I shut my eyes for a moment, vertigo having swept in out of nowhere.

When I shut my eyes I felt Gil’sfingers slipping into my panties. I felt his lips crushing down on mine andsmelled the outdoor, campfire, leather smell of him in my nose. I rememberedthe sweet rush as I came from his fingers penetrating me and the taste of histongue in my mouth.

I touched myself, thought better ofit, stopped. When I rolled to my side, my head hit his pillow and that smell ofhim--so distinct and welcoming to me--flooded my nose and all I wanted was forhim to touch me again. And that would probably never ever happen. Knowing Gilhe was somewhere beating himself up for ever having done it the one time.

I pushed my hand back in my panties,touched my clit. Rolling to my belly, I pressed my fingers deep in my cunt, thesmell of