8
Marcus
* * *
Reading the newspaper hard copy is a habit I can’t seem to break. Bella says it makes me an old man, which is fine with me because I may be elderly, but I’ve still got the gorgeous Bella by my side. She likes me even with my quirks, and that’s all that matters.
I chuckle to myself and check my watch. My daughter is still moving around upstairs, probably getting ready for work, and I can hear her footsteps shuffling this way and that. Faith’s doing another graveyard shift at the diner today, which means that her best friend will be over soon, and we’ll get up to our usual fireworks in the sack.
It’s crazy. The moment my daughter leaves, her friend steps into the house and I get to enjoy those heavenly curves. Tonight, I’ll probably order a pizza and we’ll stay in my bed until the wee hours of the morning. Several times, Bella’s had to sneak out after Faith had already come home, but fortunately, we haven’t been caught yet.
My phone buzzes. It’s probably Troy asking about the flight schedule, but I decide to ignore his call. I’ve got more important things to attend to than my friend’s nonsense.
I turn the page on the paper and listen for sounds upstairs. What is my daughter doing? Her shift starts in just ten minutes, and right now, there are some pounding noises upstairs. Is she banging something into the wall? Suddenly, a scream rings out and I jump up.
“Faith?” I call out. Did she just fall off a step-stool? Is she inured? Do I need to rush her to the hospital?
But then, the stairs creak and my daughter appears at the doorway.
“Hey, kid, are you okay? I thought you had work tonight. Shouldn’t you be in your uniform?” I ask.
She stares at me, her cheeks pale.
“We need to talk.”
I sit up, confused.
“What’s up?” I ask, bracing myself. Maybe she has a drug habit, and needs my help kicking it. Maybe she’s in an abusive relationship with a man I’ve never met, and I need to kick his ass. Whatever it is, I’m all ears.
But instead of answering, my daughter pulls something out from behind her back and my heart sinks. Oh shit. I’m screwed because in her hands is an over-sized plastic bag with quite a few colorful objects inside. Unfortunately, they’re all used, and the inside of the bag is even slightly greasy still.
After all, Bella and I have discovered a mutual love for sex toys. I don’t know how it started. Probably because our relationship began when I returned that first dildo to her. Regardless, while my girlfriend definitely enjoys my cock inside of her, there’s something that drives her crazy about dildos too. As a result, in the last few months, we’ve amassed quite a collection. Unfortunately, that collection is currently in a see-through plastic bag in my daughter’s hand.
“Where did you get that?” I demand.
“I was looking for my tennis racket,” Faith says in a trembling voice.
“It’s in the garage, not in my closet. And aren’t you headed off to work?”
She ignores my question about work.
“I thought it was in the closet. But I found these instead.”
We’re both silent for a moment. Oh shit, oh shit. There are at least four different dildos in the bag of varying sizes, plus some vibrators and even a butt plug I’ve been using on Bella. My girlfriend loves it, and has really taken to the joys of double penetration.
Meanwhile, my daughter and I stare at each other dumbly. I wait for her to say something more, and it seems she’s doing the same.
“Dad, what is this stuff?” she finally asks. “And why was it in a shoebox in your closet?”
I sigh.
“Your tennis racket wouldn’t fit in a shoebox, honey. So why were you looking in there?”
“I knocked the lid off when I moved something. And you haven’t answered my question.”
I glance at the ground again, resignation sinking in. There’s no way around this, unfortunately.
“They’re just…” I begin, but Faith cuts me off.
“Dad, are you gay?”
My jaw drops. “What would give you that idea?”
She gestures towards the bag in her hand. “It’s okay if you are, Dad. I see the butt plug in there, and I know what it is.”
My mind spins. I know it’s jarring for Faith to find sex toys in her father’s closet, but why would she think I’m gay? And what do butt plugs have to do with that?
Faith puts the toys on the couch and takes a seat next to me, her expression earnest.
“You haven’t dated anyone in a long time, Daddy, and everyone has needs. I totally understand if you’ve been using these toys on yourself.”
I gawk at her. My daughter doesn’t think I can find a partner? She thinks I’ve been masturbating all this time?