Her Best Friend's Dad

We thrust together on the ladder, and I can feel the urge to come building as Beck thrusts again and again along my zipper. The pressure builds with each stroke of his tongue on mine, the hands pulling me into him, and the hard cock insistently grinding against my pussy. I know I’m going to come if we continue this.

I hear the creak of footsteps on the stairs just on the other side of the garage’s door to the house. What we’re doing crashes down on me. “Tasha!” I whisper, pushing Beck away from me. It feels like I’m ripping out my heart while doing so.

He stumbles back, palming his face and turning away to adjust his cock. He grabs for his jacket, holding it over his arm in front of his body, hiding his arousal just as Tasha walks back in.

She looks at her father, glances at me, and then back again. Suspicion narrows her eyes but she relaxes and smiles as she pockets her phone. “What did I miss?” she asks.

Beck’s voice sounds strained when he fills her in on the near disaster, and I realize that I can’t stay. Tasha might suspect that we were flirting, but if I stay even another minute, she’s going to know that I wanted to fuck her dad in the garage.

“I have to go.” I rush out of there, leaving all my tools in a disarray. Maybe I can wait until Beck is gone on his work trip before coming back. Or wait until I know he’s at work…

I run the opposite direction from home, finding my way to the abandoned park that was once my refuge from all the world. The dilapidated swings and merry-go-round haven’t seen a maintenance crew in years: flaking paint reveals the rust beneath, and the swings don’t look sturdy enough to hold a toddler let alone an adult.

The merry-go-round squeals out a complaint of gears needing servicing, but it still spins when I kick it into motion. Running with one foot, the other leg kneeling on the cool metal, I get the playground equipment spinning until it’s fast enough to go for a while on its own. Laying down in the center, I watch the clouds and mentally replay my day at their garage.

My thoughts keep coming back to Beck. Not even thoughts about how well my sculpture turned out can hold my attention for long. Beck is so gorgeous it is ridiculous. Everything about him is perfection: the way he kissed me, his body, his laugh, just everything. Well, everything except being my best friend’s dad. The best friend who was there to help hold my hand when I told my dad I wanted to go on birth control at age fifteen. The best friend who made sure I was going to be okay after my mom died. The best friend who drove across multiple state lines with me to get me settled into my tiny apartment near the art school campus.

I want Beck, and I can’t have him. It’s just too much. I can’t let anything more happen with him.

Those are the nails in the coffin of my dreams. I now know how he kisses, and I know just what I will be missing. It’s better than I had ever imagined. I would miss my best friend more, and I can’t come between them. I’ll just have to get over him somehow. I’ll have to avoid him.

It’s late when I finally walk home. Each step carries the reaffirmation that I will not let myself continue dreaming about Beck. I can’t.

There are no cars in the driveway when I let myself in, but the lights are still on. I barely make it into the kitchen to find leftovers when Jean descends.

“Sorry I’m late, Jean. I know I should have texted. I am going to eat something and go to bed if that’s okay.” I don’t want a fight. Not now. I don’t think I could get through it without crying, and I’m damned well not going to let her see me cry.

“Actually, Lia, I came in because I have great news.” She bounces around wistfully, and for a moment I panic that she’s trying to tell me she’s pregnant. “My boss called before dinner and said he had reconsidered hiring on new people. He’s found room in the operations budget for someone to be his secretary.” She gives me a smile that might be the first genuine, friendly one I’ve received from her. “I think it is an amazing position to be working with the owner so personally. He’s such a great guy to work for.”

As “Senior Researcher of Blahbity Blah” or whatever it is she does, Jean has a considerably better job than secretary, but she seems oddly wistful about the position, as if she would welcome the demotion. Maybe the boss is hot, and Jean is crushing on him. Who cares, though? As long as she doesn’t act on it and hurt my dad, she can have a fantasy about whomever she wants.