My Daughter's Friends: Brooke

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A dad and his lustful struggle with his daughter's friends.
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NateWoeke
NateWoeke
147 Followers

Novella #1

Disclaimer: This is a story of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone, anything or any other story is purely coincidence.

Warming: Includes nudity, sexual situations, teen drinking and foul language.

All characters are of an adult age.

Part 1: My Daughter's Friends

Even at a firm that was going under, no twelve hour work day ever drained me enough to ignore the sexual magnetism awaiting me at home. On some days, if I felt I had too much energy at lunch, I swung by the LA Fitness. But even a lift in the middle of a stressful work day wasn't enough. It was terrifying. I could come home exhausted, half asleep and pretty much in bed, but if my daughter's friends were over and I caught so much as a passing glance, an accidental touch, or a fleeting waft of their perfumes, I would snap awake.

Worst of all, I feared this year would break me.

I rolled my Impala into the driveway at about 7:46pm and through the open windows, caught the scent of my neighbor's fresh cut grass and the sounds of their kids playing nearby. As much as that would've relaxed most people, I only clutched the steering wheel until the leather squeaked.

Outside, the humid air was alive with birds perched in the newly budded elms trees. The sun, not yet hidden in the weeping willows behind my two story, ticky-tacky of a box house, casted the cul-de-sac in a yellow tint which made the grass, already green from the April rains, pop. This, on top of that for the first time this season the temperature was over eighty --hell, today it was ninety two-- made the one fact undeniable. Spring was hinting of summer.

This meant two things: My daughter's friends would be over much more and their clothing would be much less.

Taking another breath, I turned off the car and looked around in an attempt to gather myself.

Parked in front of me was Aubrey's pink Corolla. Along the curb behind me though, sat two other cars. A blue Cobalt and a white Jetta. The Cobalt was Sophia's but the Jetta I'd never seen before.

Maybe Alexis got a new car, I thought as I loosened my tie and put my briefcase on my lap. Or maybe it was Katee's. "Damn." I then said aloud. Sophia, Alexis, Katee. My daughter had quite the entourage.

There were five or six of them in their group and despite their range in traits and talents, they were all gorgeous, fit and far too shapely for high school girls. It made me grimace. At least I could take solace in not lying to my daughter when I called her my beautiful girl. With friends like she had, she must've been beautiful. After all, she wasn't the fat one in the group because there wasn't a fat one. So unless she was the ugly one, which I doubted since she got her mother's soft face, wavy chestnut hair and button nose, she must've been beautiful.

Aubrey was a bit of a Jill-of-all-trades too. Good at a lot of things. Great at nothing. I liked to think she got that from me. See, much like her father, she would always try things at least once. This adventurous nature of hers, which as far as I knew, hadn't shifted to boys yet, put her in several sports and it was through these school activities that she built her clique. A clique that seemed more like an elite club.

It was odd. By my guess, there were three rules to get into this club. One, you had to be in their class. They never considered girls from higher or lower grades. Two, you had to be the best at something athletic. And three, that something couldn't conflict with any other girl. Meaning, they never had two girls in the same sport.

That made sense. They likely didn't want their competiveness to tear them apart. Luckily, they didn't seem to compete with looks. Then again, being attractive might've been the fourth rule.

With my palms clammy, I got out of the car, swallowed the burn in my throat and began towards the front door. After a couple seconds, I found myself at the top of the three step stoop with my hand on the doorknob, but my body motionless, unable to start my Wednesday evening.

Ever since Aubrey hit high school, I've had this problem. To be honest, my lust for my daughter's friends disgusted me. But because I worked so often and the girls hardly came over in the winter months, it wasn't like I watched them grow up. All I got was blips of them maturing. And damn, they matured nicely.

Unfortunately, even though the girls were all seniors, barely legal still made me feel like a pedophile.

Part 2: White Jetta Girl

Once I got in and closed the door behind me, I turned around to start up the half-set of steps to the first floor, hoping whomever Aubrey had over was down in her room. However, when I looked up the staircase, my hopes crumbled.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Erickson," Sophia said, sitting on the top step with her dancer legs spread wide. Between them, inside her jean skirt, her green thong peeked at me. "Welcome home."

I almost shivered.

Sophia was my favorite. From her star-burst-blue eyes to her chipmunk cheeks, she always radiated such innocence. And such seduction. Beneath a mop of dirty blonde hair, the length of which draped her shoulders, her lightly freckled face boasted her age, recently eighteen. But neck down, her petite frame had the womanly features of a spunky college girl. She flaunted them too. Most of time that meant short skirts and a low-cut shirt. Now was no different.

Leaning back on her arms, she crossed her legs and arched her spine.

"Hello, Ms. Harrington," I said, forced to look to the tile floor as I slipped off my shoes. "How was your day today?"

"Good, we won our final game."

I smiled. "Congratulations."

Sophia was the star player on the school's Volleyball team. She may have been short but her small size made her quick and she was always willing to get on her knees... To stop a spike.

"Thanks," she said, uncrossing her legs, which flashed me her thong again, then standing up and brushing herself off. "And don't call me Ms. Harrington."

"But I like your last name."

"Whatever." She beamed her chipmunk smile at me again then spun around and with her knees locks, bent over to pick something up off the carpet. "Aubrey's in her room by the way," she said, still bent, fumbling with a pencil on the floor. "I guess she forgot her calculator today and we kind of need it to study."

From low and behind her, I couldn't help but stare, privy to the most scandalous view of her slender calves, her tight thighs and her jean skirt now pulled so taut it revealed the bottom contours of her ass.

I shuddered then cleared my throat. "Well, did you need any help?"

"That'd be great." She giggled as she rose from her bend. "It's really hard."

"I'll see what I can do."

While she skipped ahead into the kitchen, I scaled the steps, followed her and, in an attempt to ignore her strut, searched around the first floor for my daughter's fluffy, buff cat, Furric.

Initially, I checked the living room to my right. But although the loveseat's back cushion was indented by one of Furric's many naps, the couch, the big screen TV and the array of windows along the wall were all catless. Secondly, I eyed the kitchen and dining room area in front of me. But again, no sign of the fur ball.

"What are you looking for?" Sophia interrupted, now seated at my daughter's favorite study spot, the kitchen island.

"Furric," I answered, lastly glancing left down the hallway where all three doors were shut. Which was strange. The laundry room and the cat room were usually shut but the bathroom wasn't.

"I think he went downstairs," Sophia said. "Why?"

"No reason." I shrugged.

In the next moment, I tried to focus past the Blonde Fox and look outside through the sliding glass door. But before I could see the patio, Sophia crossed her legs then propped her elbow on the island. And really, that was all it took.

Poised on the barstool, she rested her head on her palm and twirled her mop of hair in her fingers. Behind her, the setting sun broke in through the screen door and enveloped her figure in gold.

"I'm sure he'll show up." She laughed. "Now are you going to help? Like I said it's really hard."

I winced. "I'll see what I can do."

Because I didn't want to be alone with her for long, I bought some time for myself and walked to the fridge first. As I made the couple step trip, I glanced to the girls' school work scattered about the granite-topped island. There, three notebooks, three blue Powerades and three math books opened to the same page sat in clusters, organized for three girls. Sophia was the farthest down. Telling by the handwriting, my daughter was in the middle and by the process of elimination, the right-most cluster belonged to white Jetta girl.

At the fridge, I grabbed a Diet Sprite, cracked it open and took a sip.

"How are you going to help me from over there?" Sophia asked.

"Well, what's the problem?"

"How about you take a look for yourself." She smiled at me.

After another sip, I figured I was out of time so I set my drink and my briefcase on the counter. Then, with Sophia's sparking eyes ever watchful, I circled around the island and, in hopes to keep her back to me, posted up behind her. However, once I leaned over to look at her book, she swiveled to me and tossed her blonde mop to her other side, dowsing my nostrils with a waft of her mango shampoo.

"It's number 37," she said.

Despite her finger tapping below the problem, plenty to direct most men's attention, I couldn't keep my eyes from plunging down her T-shirt where a white, lacy bra kept her full breasts cozy.

"Hey Dad." Aubrey then shouted from the staircase. "When did you get home?"

At once, I jerked my gaze up. "A couple minutes ago," I blurted. "How was your day, Sweetie?"

"It was okay," she answered, brushing a lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear as she approached us. "But Mr. Peterson decided to give us our final on Friday."

"It's so stupid," Sophia added. "He didn't even give us our study guide until today. That's two days to study. How is that fair?"

"I know," Aubrey said.

While my heart pounded, my daughter sat down beside her friend, placed her calculator between them and looked to her work.

"It's whatever," she said. "I'm sure it won't be that tough."

"Probably not for you," Sophia said back.

It seemed I was in the clear. Saved by my daughter. And that wasn't the first time. In fact, ever since the girls were sophomores, I've needed saving. Of course, it didn't help that Aubrey was the smart one in the group and every year around finals the girls would gather here to study.

But what else was I to do? I wasn't about to tell my daughter she couldn't have her friends over. Plus, I wasn't sure how fragile their relationships were and since she was the only one with a pool and a hot tub at her house, not to mention a basement entirely to herself, I figured not letting them over would hurt her far more than it would help me.

Perhaps she could've maintained her friendships with her bubbliness though. She got that from her mother. Come to think of it, she got almost everything from her mother. Besides her wavy hair and button nose, she also got her thin figure. Not to say her mother didn't have curves, but up top, Renee left a little to be desired. At least, Aubrey dressed more conservatively, which, like her dark eyes and her naturally tan, she got from me.

"So, are you going to help me?" Sophia asked, batting her lashes. "I'm still on 37 here."

"Right," I mumbled.

Just then the bathroom door clicked open.

"Oh my god," a gentle voice rose from down the hallway. "What was I thinking this morning? I look like a total slut in this."

The three of us looked up.

White Jetta girl? I thought. The voice didn't sound familiar.

"Um, Brooke?" Aubrey tried to call after her.

Brooke? That name didn't sound familiar.

"Seriously," the girl continued with a slightest hint of an oriental accent. "This tank top just screams, look at my boobs."

In that instant, and with the body of a busty ballerina, white Jetta girl walked into the kitchen. Dressed in black jean shorts and a matching spaghetti-strap tank top, she then stopped with her head down, her hands interlinked in front of her and her elbows locked, squeezing her breasts together like two fully filled balloons.

My heartrate spiked.

Perhaps, if her dark hair wasn't plumed high in a ponytail, it might've partially veiled her bursting cleavage. But luckily, the tips of her hair only kissed her cheek.

"Doesn't it?" she asked.

"Brooke!" Aubrey yelled.

Part 3: Humiliation

When Brooke looked up, it was as if the life fled from her. Her deep-brown eyes shot wide, her bosomy lips parted and her buttermilk complexion, graced by the most sculpted of cheekbones, went pale. She even gasped. Then the room got silent, cold almost. At least to Brooke, who, despite the warm breeze through the screen door, began to tremble in her pinup pose.

For moments, we just stared at each other, her eyes starting to tear, my eyes starting to water.

Wow, I nearly whispered. An Asian girl.

Aubrey had never befriended an Asian girl before.

But to be honest, to call her a 'girl' was a little disrespectful. On the one hand, her small, turned up nose made her look young. But on the other, her figure was... Simply immaculate. So slender, yet so curvaceous.

"Brooke..." Aubrey broke in.

Snapping to, Brooke folded her arms across her chest as if to hide herself. The jounce, however, lifted up the hem of her tank top enough to expose her naval piercing, her hipbones and the sleek lines of her toned abdomen, which V'ed into her shorts.

At that time, I realized I hadn't taken a breath since this Asian Goddess walked in.

"Brooke?" Aubrey called again, her voice shaky. "This is my Dad."

With a polite gesture, my daughter introduced me. But nevertheless, I couldn't find the words.

"Awkward," Sophia giggled under her breath.

"Dad?" Aubrey continued anyway, gesturing towards her friend. "This is Brooke."

Brooke's face flushed red. And still, neither of us said anything.

How mortifying, I thought. Here was a girl who was likely so use to stopping men dead in their tracks that she had no idea what to do when she was stopped dead in hers.

I tried to speak, a couple times actually, but nothing came. It wasn't until another warm breeze, scented of barbeque ribs, swept in through the screen door that I finally tore from my trance. But what was I to say?

Looking across Aubrey's work to Brooke's, I scanned her notebook and found she was on problem 39. The page was empty besides that, newly turned, so I couldn't tell on the other problems.

"Did you get 37?" I asked her while my eyes stayed down. "I see you're on 39."

She didn't say anything.

"Sophia asked me about it." I kept on. "It looks like a couple chain rules wrapped up in a quotient rule."

Again, she stayed silent.

"Wait," Sophie spoke up. "What?" To check the problem herself, the Blonde then leaned forward and draped her bristly hair, along with her sultry breath, across my hand.

"I didn't see the chain rules," Aubrey chimed in, now leant over her book as well. "Thanks dad!"

"I didn't see them either." Sophia added, leaning back and gazing up at me with a smile, her arms crossed in front of her like Brooke's were. "Thanks, Mr. Erickson."

I jerked away, unable to handle Ms. Harrington's freckles. "You're welcome," I said as I stepped to the screen door and slid my hands into my pockets to try to hide the growing bulge. "Make sure you check the denominator too. It looks like a product rule."

"Gees," Sophia said. "That's a big problem."

"Yeah," Aubrey mumbled. "Did you get that one already, Brooke?"

I winced. Although I shouldn't have. It wasn't that I expected her to respond to that segue as much as I figured it only made her more uncomfortable. Then again, from where I stood, I couldn't see her, so maybe she did respond with a nod or a head shake. Regardless, I had my own issues to worry about.

Breathing in the chlorine, I looked out to the backyard where just beyond the patio, the pool shimmered in the oranges of the setting sun. Surrounded by an eight-foot tall cedar fence and sheltered by two weeping willows at the corners, the backyard was not just private, it was also scenic. Jeff, my ex-brother-in-law, did a fantastic job. He even built a forestry-like fountain along the left side beside the diving board. And the way he stowed the hot tub under the patio, easily accessible from the sliding glass door in the basement, really balanced the whole area.

While I admired his work, the bulge in my work pants subsided. As I hoped.

"Hey Dad," Aubrey said a moment later, "I'll holler for you if we need anything else."

"Yeah, of course," I said. "I'll be upstairs."

In hopes to not make the situation any more awkward, I rounded the island, grab my briefcase and circle back. All on the opposite side of Brooke. However, after I passed by my daughter and gave her a kiss on the top of her head, it was as if I couldn't help myself and, instead of exiting in silence like I should have, I nodded to the gorgeous Asian statue. "It was nice to meet you."

"Dad," Aubrey yipped.

"Right," I said back, not wasting another second before crossing the living room, climbing the steps and starting towards my room at the end of the hallway.

Part 4: Eavesdropper

Furnished with only a dresser, an office desk and a king-size bed with a headboard opposite the wall-mounted entertainment center, the master bedroom was my fortress of solitude and boasted plenty of open space. I kept it like that because inside the walk-in closet, a set of dumbbells sat ready for me to bring out if I didn't make it to the gym that day.

In the past, Renee had told me the room felt desolate, but I liked the openness. When the bay window curtains were drawn, the white wall, white carpet combination best caught the setting sun. Like it did now.

It was relaxing. At least, for a moment.

"Why didn't you tell me your dad was home?" Brooke yelled, her voice resounding through the air conditioning vents in the floor.

Again, I winced. Unfortunately, my bedroom was right above the kitchen. Granted, I could've drowned them out with some music like I usually did, but this time, curiosity got the best of me and, poised in the middle of the room, I started to change out of my work clothes as quietly as I could.

"I'm sorry," Aubrey started. "He just got home."

"Oh, who cares," Sophia said. "It's just Mr. Erickson."

"How embarrassing," Brooke whined.

How embarrassing was right. I tossed my suitcoat on the bed. What a horrible first impression.

"Relax," Sophia said. "It's not like he saw your boobs."

"So," Brooke said. "He saw enough!"

"Oh, don't worry about it." Sophia laughed. "I'm sure you loved it."

"Excuse me?"

At that point, I paused, my fingers on the bottom button in my undershirt.

"I said I'm sure you loved it."

"Why would you think that?" Brooke asked.

"Oh, come on," Sophia said. "Are you telling me you didn't love those dark eyes just ogling you?"

Ogling? I popped my brow as I threw my shirt into the laundry basket.

"Sophia!" Aubrey interrupted.

"What?" Sophia said back. "I just want to know what Brooke thought of the attention."

"From my dad?"

"Yes, from your dad." Sophia giggled. "What? Are you telling me you don't see it?"

"See what?" Aubrey asked.

"Seriously? Aubrey... Your dad's hot as hell!"

"Whoa," I said aloud, freezing again, now with my hands on my belt.

"Gross!" Aubrey shouted.

"Admit it, Brooke," Sophia continued. "You liked the way he looked at you."

Just then, the air conditioning kicked on. However, even while it hummed out cool air, the girls' banter still echoed through the vents.

"Sophia, stop," Aubrey said.

NateWoeke
NateWoeke
147 Followers