My Dad

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” his raspy voice dripped with lust and uncertainty as his eyes scanned my exposed cleavages, “your father…” “Shhh.” I stopped him mid-way, placing my finger on his soft lips, “We both want this. I have seen the way you look at me, Mr. Richard. Do not hold back now.” I whispered sultrily. He swallowed hard and I saw him clench his well-chiseled jaws. I opened my mouth to continue my protest when all of a sudden, he grabbed me by the waist, pulled me closer and covered my lips with his in the hungriest manner ever. My body melted, succumbing to his burning desire. *** He was my father’s childhood best friend. He was always there for me since I lost my mother at the age of four. My father grieved hard and found it difficult to recover for many years, so Mr Richard was the father figure I had. However, he left the country after my thirteenth birthday and I almost forgot about him until he returned. I had turned twenty-one and when I laid my eyes on him, all my childhood memories came rushing back. But that wasn’t all there was. I noticed how hot and sexy he looked for that age and how his gaze lingered way too long on my mature body. And then, fate kept bringing us together, all I had to do was call on him. He was just being nice, right? Nothing more should have happened but my body refused to listen to my brain. I wanted him! I wanted him around me all the time, I wanted him to whisper in my ears and punish me accordingly if I did something wrong… I wanted him INSIDE ME.

I stared, I gulped, my heart skipped a beat, my stomach twisted and I can feel the butterflies, a linger and a cold chill ran and travelled through my vein, flowing through my blood like lava. The man before me was heavenly, I could barely look away. From the way his dark grey orbs stared back at me to the way his jet black hair fell spikingly on his shoulder, my whole body shuddered uncontrollably from the sensation growing in my system. My eyes trailed up to his sharp jawline, his straight pointed nose, his tick, long eyebrows and eyelashes to his sinful, tempting, luscious lips. Consciously, I ran a over my lips but the sound of my dad clearing his throat pulled me out from my trace as a slightly jerked, feeling electrified. "Tristan, I went you to meet my friend, Dr Sean" My dad introduced the sexy, demigod man with that sinful body of his. I quivered again. "Sean, meet my son Tristan" Dad introduced me but my eyes remained cemented on him and I could swore I saw a spark in those dark orbs but it was gone as soon as it came, making me doubt if I really saw it. I watched him run his over his reddish, luring lips while his ran down my body, making my inside burn with a sudden fire I had never felt before...and then, he spoke.... "Nice to meet you kitten" And from that moment no, I knew it was over for my heart. From that moment I knew I was in love with MY FATHER'S FRIEND!

My dad arrives at the hotel after taking three bus rides from the town two hours before the wedding starts. He's wearing the old suit that he has kept for the past ten or so years. The cuffs have gone white from all the washing, and his shoes shine brightly from all the polishing. Before entering, Dad has specifically pinned the red boutonniere to his chest several times while looking at his reflection in the glass of the hotel's main entrance just so he can get it right. After all, it symbolizes his status as the bride's father. When Dad is about to take his seat, he grasps the card that shows his seat as he approaches my future husband, Elliott Chambers, tentatively. "Elliott, there seems to be a mistake with my seat." Elliott merely glances at the card before pushing it back to Dad. "Your seat is correct. There are limited spots at the main table, so you'll have to sit at a spare table at the back." Dad is stunned by Elliott's answer. "But it says here that I'm meant to sit at the main table…" Elliott frowns at Dad. "This is a last-minute adjustment. The shareholders and important clients of Chambers Corp will be attending my wedding today. Not everyone gets to sit at the main table." Dad looks down at his old suit before he slowly stuffs the card back into his pocket. He wants to take off the boutonniere, but the pin gets stuck in the fabric of his jacket. The more he wants to take it off, the more his hand keeps shaking. That's when Elliott's mother, Catherine Aldridge, speaks up. "All the seats are the same, Patrick. Don't cause any trouble for Elliott now." Dad quickly nods in response. "You're right. I'm fine with any seat." Then, he picks up the old wooden chest that's sitting by his feet before heading toward the spare table that's located in the corner. I raise my head, only to see a seating card titled "The Carvers" being placed on the most obvious spot of the main table. At the moment, Elliott is helping Claire Carver's mother into her seat. As for my dad, he's hugging the chest containing the wedding gifts meant for me while sitting by the kitchen door.

My dad is a rich scion who has been kidnapped to a compound. He keeps telling me that he'll escape with me since I was a little kid. When I was six years old, Dad made all the preparations to escape. He planned on leaving the compound with me. But I didn't hesitate to expose Dad's plans to my grandma just for a piece of bread. While I munched on the bread happily, Dad got strung up on a tree and whipped mercilessly by others. He glared at me resentfully while screaming at me for being a bastard. Hearing his cursing made me sad. I couldn't understand why Dad wanted to leave this home. Three days later, Dad killed himself by smashing his head against a boulder. After Mom got drunk, she accidentally beat me to death. As I felt my life slipping away, I finally understood what Dad meant. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Dad wants to escape. But I choose to expose his plans to Grandma once again.

Dad was terrified of being laughed at. Every holiday, he only ever said one thing. “Do not embarrass me.” The relatives were sitting around chatting when I accidentally knocked over a fruit platter on the table. He grabbed me right there and slapped me across the face. At dinner, I reached for a second helping of pot roast, and he kicked my chair out from under me. Later, when it was time to hand out gift cards, Uncle Ray miscounted and came up one short. Without a word, Dad shoved me out into the hallway in nothing but a thin shirt. The cold cut straight through me. I pounded on the door while I cried and apologized. He did not make a sound. He turned to Uncle Ray with an apologetic smile and said, “Sorry about that. I guess I have not taught this kid any manners.” He did not know that his lessons had already conditioned me to flinch at the phrase “laughed at.” Every time I heard it, I froze and felt myself shut down. When I heard him say it again through the closed door, I turned in silence and walked toward the dark bridge at the edge of the neighborhood. I did not know what I planned to do. I only knew I wanted the noise in my head to stop. I reached the railing and stared at the water below. One thought crossed my mind. “Dad, this time, no one will ever laugh at you because of me again.”

After my dad's first love moved into our house and became my tutor, my mom never raised her voice at her again. She just coughed worse and worse, until one day I found the lab report she'd thrown out. Stage IV lung cancer. That afternoon, Dad came home with his arm around her, and walked right into Mom sitting on the couch. There was a flicker of guilt on his face. "Helena, if you've got something to say, just say it. Don't make a scene in front of the kid." Mom was eerily calm. She pointed at the woman and said, "She gets on her knees and apologizes to me three times. And you sign over half the company. Then we're done." Dad thought she'd lost it. But in the end he signed the share transfer. After that, Mom's pills kept multiplying and her appetite kept shrinking. But she hired the best lawyer in town, and over and over she taught me how to manage those shares once I was old enough. Dad never figured out the one thing that mattered. Mom was already on her way out.