Her Best Friend's Dad

When I stripped off my shirt and jacket to help Lia, I wasn’t trying to show my physique. Teasing her had been a bonus effect. My mind was on auto-pilot from seeing the bombshell she had become, and my only thought was on not ruining a thousand dollars or so of fabric with grease. The drycleaner would have flayed me alive when our housekeeper took in the weekly basket of clothes.

I ended up covering the shirt in come after Lia left, only marginally better than ruining it in the garage. My cock refused to deflate, not even talking to Tasha had been able to calm my desires. Hiding my plight with the folded jacket, I’d gone into my study, locked the door, and then quickly jacked off, thinking of how Lia felt in my arms. Those full, high breasts of hers… The way I wanted to lick off the sweat I’d seen beading between them when she was bent over. How I longed to suck her nipples into my mouth.

When she wriggled her hips at me, I knew she had caught me looking. My cock had gotten hard with that move of hers, and it was only as I thought of her kneeling on my bed, shimmying before I could fuck her, that I found the release I needed.

Lia did not kiss like a young woman just out of college who was looking to tease. She kissed me like she meant it, like she felt everything I did. The chemistry, the cotton candy buzz of her tongue on mine, sang in my blood long after she pushed me off her and ran away without us talking about what happened.

I know I should apologize to her for letting it happen, but I don’t think I can. I need her.

It isn’t proper for me to want my daughter’s best friend, a girl I’ve watched grow into an astonishing beauty. There is just something magic about Lia, something that makes my whole body throb with the need to get closer. She could easily become addictive. I knew I should resist any temptation affecting me this strongly, but then I had to go and hire her.

What the fuck was I thinking? I am going to lose my mind, or at least my promise to myself to never sleep with an employee. Maybe that’s why the second thing I did after Lia left was call Jean last night. If Lia is my employee, I can do my damnedest to keep my rule. It would give me a buffer against the feelings that are already going well beyond lust and into a dangerous territory from just one encounter.

Lia makes me hungry. It is more than lust; it is the hunger to provide for her, not in a paternal way, but to see that all her dreams are made reality. I know that Jean is not very nice to her and never has been, and if it wouldn’t make things worse, I would throw my weight around as Jean’s boss to fix that. Jean is a great member of the R&D team, but not so much that I would be sad to see her go if it meant making Lia happy. It’s an employer’s market right now with more applicants than jobs. She would be easily replaced.

It is a dangerous move, I know, to bring Lia in as my secretary. I haven’t needed one, preferring to share my CFO’s office assistant when the need does arise. It would be less work for me and give me time to think about future ideas directly instead of only in scheduled planning sessions or when I’m on a plane to a site. I have the money in my budget for an assistant, and it would save me time by having someone dedicated to keeping me organized.

When Lia first moved back to town, Jean had asked me to bring her step-daughter onto the staff. I had declined, not wanting Jean to think I was doing it for her sake. I didn’t want to do her any favors and have her try to offer me any in return. She flirts a bit too much for trying to keep things professional and she’s married. Sleeping with a married woman is against my code of ethics; even if I found Jean attractive, which I don’t, I could never consider her as a partner. One of Tasha’s older coworkers had asked me out on a date once, and I had accepted out of curiosity until I found out she was married. Social media makes it easy to find out those sort of secrets if you’re willing to look.

My shoes squeak against the marble tile as I make my way to the en suite bathroom, distracting me from thoughts of all I want to provide for Lia. I stand in front of the sink, looking at myself, and I try to shake off the urge to climb into the small shower stall and let cold water soak into me until my desire ebbs. I’m a mess, and the boss can’t afford to be that way. Part of me, probably the part of me currently swollen in my pants, wants to find out where things could go with Lia so we can then move on with that urge taken care of.