Butterfly Kisses Ch. 02

:: Andrew ::

"Nica?"

My daughter climbed out of the truck and I was galvanized by her appearance. When she'd left, she'd been all poise and promise and now, she was disappointment and depression. Her sunken eyes and shy eyes told me a story whose details I was sure would break my heart. I couldn't do anything except open my arms to her and we just embraced for several minutes, both of us sobbing. I pushed her back and gazed into her face, wiping away the tear streaks.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. You were right. I didn't know anything. I'm so sorry!"

"Sshh! We'll talk about that later, Nica. Now, are you here to stay?" Her bottom lip started trembling again and I just hugged her to me, upset to see the way her tears came so easily. "All right. Why don't we do this? I'll get your bags and you go upstairs and take a long, hot shower. I'll make us some breakfast. Would you like that?"

She shook her head against my chest and I reluctantly let her go, giving her a gentle push toward the door. I watched as she moved slowly, stumbling over the broken bottom step and disappeared inside and I turned to the truck, balancing the gun against the side panel. I was very surprised to find only one small suitcase and a purse. My curiosity got the best of me and I found myself sitting in the front seat, poking through her things.

The purse held nothing but a few quarters and her driver's license and the suitcase held clothing, not much but what she had was neat and clean. And tucked into the side were three pictures, one of me, one of me and Gloria, my deceased wife and one of the three of us. I couldn't help crying. The photos brought back memories, memories of happier times and I desperately wanted to go back to those times. I replaced the pictures, closed the suitcase and brought her meager belongings into the house.

Gloria had insisted that we leave Monica's room just as it was when we left and I stepped back in time when I set the suitcase on her bed. She'd left her shoes in the middle of the floor and I had to smile as I tripped over them. Just like old times. I picked them up and set them to the side, heading down the hall toward the bathroom. I grabbed a thick towel from the closet and a canister of baby powder and knocked lightly on the door.

"Yeah?"

"I brought you a towel and some powder, honey. Can I bring them in?"

"Yeah, Daddy. It's okay."

The scent of roses tripped my memory again and I inhaled deeply, setting the towel and powder on the counter. I turned to leave and caught a beautiful sight. Monica hadn't pulled the entire shower curtain around the tub and I stood transfixed, gazing at her young adult body. When she'd left, she was flat-chested and thick. Obviously, she was a late bloomer because her body had blossomed wonderfully. Her breasts were full and tipped with dark rosy nipples that made my mouth water and her tiny waist flared out into wide hips and a strip of dark brown pubic hair hid the lips of her sex. My cock awoke with a vengeance, trying to poke through the fabric of my shorts and embarrassment flamed my cheeks.

I rushed back through the door, slamming it behind me and flung myself against the opposite wall, gasping for breath and red-faced with shame. My long-lost daughter had just come back home and here I was, thinking about her beautiful body! What the hell was wrong with me?

:: Monica ::

I knew that he'd seen me but I didn't move. I couldn't. Something inside me wanted him to see me and heat made my cheeks hot. I couldn't tell him the real reason that my marriage had failed. I couldn't tell him the real reason I ran away. I was in love with my dad. Jorge had caught my heart because he closely resembled Dad but he wasn't close enough.

My father was about 6' 2", maybe 200 pounds and nothing but muscle and sinew. I remember when I left, he was thicker and heavier than that. It seemed like Mom's death had taken a lot out of him physically and maybe mentally as well. I know that he didn't want me to see but I saw a lot of pain in his usually clear green eyes. It was those eyes that I'd fallen in love with and I could remember the first time I had those feelings.

I was fifteen and I had mono at the time and since Mom had to go to work, Dad stayed home with me. I remembered his thick palm and callused fingers tracing my fevered flesh and the gentle kisses that he pressed to my cheeks and brow. I absolutely knew that I loved my father but the Senior Homecoming dance cemented my feelings. I came downstairs in my cream-colored dress and paraded for my parents, smiling as they told me how beautiful I looked.

When Mom went back to watch TV, my father gave me a small wad of money and gave me a kiss on the mouth, telling me to have a good time. That kiss changed my life. The feeling of my father's lips on mine made my stomach twist into knots and I suddenly didn't want to go to the dance. I thought I saw something in his eyes as well but it was gone so quickly that I wondered if I had really seen it. But when I looked back at him, I knew that it was real.

I heard him rush out and stepped under the jets of water, twisting the hot water off and shivering under the cold water. I had too much baggage to even think about my attraction to my father. I was still worried about Jorge. I didn't think he'd let me go easily and I was terrified that he'd do something to my father in retaliation. I stepped out of the shower, toweled off and put my pajamas on, surprised that I still fit them. My heart pounding in my ears, I headed down the stairs.