The Father

Chapter 4

I lay on my back and take a long drag from my cigarette. As I go for another she takes it from me, I roll onto my side, and stare at her as she begins to smoke it. She's taken her pigtails out and her hair is wavy and tousled and pooled around her head. And she looks satisfied, I know I do, too, but I'm also exhausted. I'm always tired after, but this is a new level of exhaustion.

"You're so beautiful when you smoke," I whisper.

She smiles.

"That's a compliment I've never heard before. A lot of people think it's a disgusting habit."

Lena is one of them.

"Fuck what other people think."

"I couldn't agree more, Michael."

My thoughts are jumbled and all over the place.

From her to Maxwell to Lena to Trish to what we just did, to wanting to do it again, when will we do it again, god, I hope we do it again.

Yet underneath it all, underneath that wanting for more, a low feeling of guilt is beginning. It's not near as strong as I had expected it to be, but I'm sure it will be soon.

"When's the last time you had sex?"

"Um... an hour ago."

She rolls her eyes and slaps my arm.

"You know what I mean."

"Probably a month ago, maybe longer."

"That long? You or her?"

"Her. I try to, but she doesn't ever seem to be in the mood."

"She didn't give you birthday sex?"

I shrug my shoulders.

"No."

"Hard to believe she's not always jumping on you with that big cock of yours."

I stifle a laugh, feeling both flattered and proud.

"You've got one of the filthiest mouths, you know that?"

I raise up onto my elbow, slide a hand into her hair, and pull her mouth to mine. When she moans I smile.

"You're like a little kitten," I murmur. "A sex kitten, purring every time I touch you."

"That's hot."

"I think so, too. I liked it when you called me daddy," I admit.

"I could tell."

"How?"

She grins.

"You can always tell with a man. You had that look in your eyes."

"So you've called a lot of men daddy?"

The thought sparks a low feeling of jealousy inside of me and I'm surprised. I barely know her, why do I feel jealous?

"Only one."

I assume it isn't Maxwell, he's practically the same age as her, it would be silly for her to call him daddy.

"Who?"

"Not Max, if that's what you want to know."

"No, but I am curious. Have you been with many men my age?"

"Just one."

"When?"

She stares at me as if she doesn't want to say.

"I was sixteen."

"How old was he?"

"A little younger than you. Forty-five."