A Family Torn

Angela stood and put both arms around Dayton's neck. She looked into his eyes and closed in so their lips could touch. Their tongues danced in harmony. She felt his growing erection pressing against her stomach and reached down to undo his belt. She slid her hand down the inside of his underwear and felt the steel-like phallus with her fingers.

"What do we have here?" she teased.

"It's a present. You wear it right down...HERE."

Angela shrieked as he grabbed her pussy to demonstrate.

Within moments they were both naked. Dayton never was the gentle lover that her ex was. He was much more aggressive but he had great stamina and he never failed to get her off at least once and sometimes more.

"I'm not sure Lana's asleep yet so we have to be quiet," warned Angela.

He turned her away and leaned her over the back of the couch. Angela closed her eyes and leaned her head back as her fiancé worked a finger inside her warm, moist opening.

"Oh yeeeaah," she moaned.

When she was ready, Dayton replaced his finger with his cock. Slowly he stroked in and out of his woman. Angela's nails dug into the fabric of the sofa and tried to stifle her cries of ecstasy.

Dayton slowed just long enough for her to resume a rhythm then started again, this time with more force. Angela felt her breasts being pushed against the rough material as Dayton pounded her pussy.

"Oh, oh, oh God," she cried again and again with every thrust. She could feel him picking up speed and knew he was getting close. In sync, they each reached their climax with a synchronization of grunts, shrieks, and moans.

Dayton collapsed across her back, pushing her boobs harder into the back of couch while they both fought to regain some normalcy to their ragged breathing.

"Do you think she heard us," Angela asked.

Dayton just smiled. "Come on, let's go to bed," he replied. "I'll make sure the door is closed."

The next day Angela called the school and made arrangements to pick Lana up half an hour early every Friday so they could make her therapy sessions on time. Friday afternoon she was surprised when they pulled into the doctor's parking lot and saw Tom waiting for them. Lana was scared about talking to a therapist. Her dad was a comforting sight. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. It was the first real hug she'd given him in months and he took it as the initial step in what was going to be a long healing process.

When they walked into Dr. Zarkowski's office she was delighted to see the support of both parents. They briefly greeted each other but this was Lana's time so Tom left for the studio while Angela crossed the street to have coffee in a little diner. As soon as the office door closed Lana sat and folded her arms in front of her.

It was classic combative body posture designed to put the good doctor on notice from the start. Before she could help this young lady she had to break through that wall, or at least get her to participate. "Don't want to be here, do you?" she asked the stoic fifteen year old.

"Not particularly," Lana replied.

"Your folks tell me you're hurt and angry over their divorce, is that true?"

"Duh, wouldn't you be?"

"Oh yes, you're darn right I'd be. But I wouldn't enjoy feeling like that. Do you enjoy the pain and anger?"

Lana looked the doctor in the eye. "What kind of stupid question is that?"

"Well, it's just that I'm pretty sure I can help you alleviate some of those emotions...help relieve some of those anger issues and reduce some of the pain; yet you tell me you don't want to be here so I'm just trying to understand why."

"Can you make my parents go back together again?"

"No," answered Dr. Zarkowski.

"Then how are you going to help? You can't do anything. Nothing you say is going to change things. This is all just a big waste of time and you know it."

"I see...so it's not so much that you enjoy the pain you just like to wallow in self-pity; is that it?"

Lana didn't say anything. She just shot the doctor a look that would kill most mortals.

"No? Well, what if there was a chance," responded the doctor, "the smallest chance that I could help? Would you take that chance? Do you really want to rid yourself of some of those hard feelings? You know there are some who would say your feelings aren't real—that you're just putting on an act to punish your parents for breaking up, but I don't believe that. I believe your pain is as real as it gets and that it's very deeply rooted. I can help if you'll give me a chance."

Lana didn't respond. She just sat, staring at the floor. She really kind of liked this woman. I suppose I could share some things with her, she thought, just not...

"So if I do talk to you, what happens? I mean do you go blabbing everything I say to my mom and dad?"

Both personal and professional ethics dictated that she be completely honest and transparent with a client. "Everything we discuss during a session is protected under doctor -- patient confidentiality. Since you are a minor I will give your parents progress reports—tell them how I think you're doing, but I will not divulge what you tell me during a session, not to them, not to anyone. There are a couple of exceptions."

Here we go, thought Lana.

"If I feel you are a threat to yourself or someone else I am bound by law to tell the authorities. The same goes for reporting a crime. Other than that, everything you say will be held in the strictest confidence."

Lana remained silent for a minute or two while she thought things over. She really did welcome someone to talk to. If she didn't get some things off her chest she felt she'd explode. Unfortunately, the thing that bothered her...no, not bothered...the thing she was most frightened of, would have to remain her secret.

Lana gave a small sigh. "So—how do we start?"

"I simply want you to tell me how you feel. Don't hold anything back."

"I'm mad," she said emphatically, "mad at my dad, mad at my mom. She was always bitching at him, constantly. As far as she was concerned he couldn't do anything right...and him, sometimes I wished he could just let it go, let her yell until she got tired, but no, he had to yell back. God it was like a war zone half the time.

Her emotions were already starting to get the better of her. She leaned forward and pulled a tissue from the box on the doctor's desk and wiped her eyes before continuing.

"I don't know what's wrong with them. They weren't always like that. They both say they still love the other but they sure don't act like it. I think they just say it because they think it'll somehow make me feel better.

"Now they say they're going to counseling. I guess you had something to do with that, didn't you. I just wish they would have done it before getting divorced, that's all."

Dr. Zarkowski referred to her notes. "How is your home life now? I understand your mother will be getting remarried. How do you feel about it?"

She wiped some more moisture from both eyes and sighed. "I just want things back the way they were," she sniffled. "I want dad back and I want mom to stop ragging at him all the time."

Of course the doctor recognized immediately that Lana had ducked her question. Obviously she was not ready to answer it so she would move on and come back to it, if not this session, another in the future.

"What did your mother rag on him about?" she asked, steering the conversation where she wanted it to go.

"Everything...anything and everything. He works a lot. Sometimes when he gets home he goes into his office and edits pictures. She hates it when he does that. They also fight about me—the way I dress, my grades, my friends, how late I should be able to stay out..." She stopped to wipe away another tear.

She was going to try one more time. "What about Dayton? Does your mother fight with him?"

"No...I don't want to talk about him," she stated emphatically.

"Okay," the doctor conceded. "We're about done for the day anyway."

Lana was surprised when Dr. Zarkowski told her time was up. The hour had passed very quickly. She was also disappointed and couldn't wait for the next session. She actually felt better and would be more confident the following week. Her mother was waiting for her in the outer office and could already see a difference. It was extremely encouraging.

The following morning Tom picked Lana up for the weekend. He gave her a kiss on the cheek as she strapped herself in the passenger seat. "So how do you like Dr. Zarkowski?" he asked while backing out of the drive.

"She's okay I guess."

"Yeah, your mom and I really liked her. I found another therapist for your mother and me. I'm hoping he's as good. I know I haven't been the easiest person to get along with these days. I'm sorry for that. It's just that your mom...well..."

"I know," said Lana, picking up on what he was trying to say. "Mom makes you mad."

"Yeah, I guess that's pretty obvious, huh. Well maybe if we can iron out some things we won't make each other so mad anymore. I know it'll be a lot better for you if we're not always fighting."

"Things would be a lot better if you and mom would just get back together."

"Honey, I'm sorry. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it happen for you but I can't. Even if I wanted to it's too late anyway. Your mom's getting married to someone else."

Lana said no more and just turned to look out the passenger side window until they reached the restaurant. Tom tried picking up the conversation again once they'd ordered.

"What would you like to do this weekend, any ideas?"

"I don't care," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "We haven't been to the history museum in a long time."

"Great idea, honey. You're right, the history museum it is."

From there the conversation was mostly one sided with Tom more than keeping up his end, but he did notice an improvement. She wasn't talking a lot but she was talking, be-it one or two words at a time. Later that night they both sat on the couch and watched a Netflix comedy with a big bowl of popcorn between them. How good Tom felt to hear her laugh again.

Sunday mornings had developed into a tradition. The Cook's Nook served the best breakfast in the world as far as Lana was concerned, so no matter how long they had to wait in line for a table, it was their restaurant of choice. Lana ordered her favorite then pulled out her phone for a little texting with a friend...another tradition.

"Dad, my phone says 'no connection.' I don't understand, I always text Jennifer from here."

"Hmm, let me check mine," responded Tom as he innocently pulled his own phone from his pocket. "Mine's working. Let's see it," he said, holding out his hand.

Reluctantly, she handed her phone over. Tom made a show of removing the battery then replacing it and turning the phone back on. It still showed no connection.

"Maybe it's just something jamming the signal in here," he said, handing it back to her. "Try it again when we get home."

Like with most young ladies that age, her phone was like an extension of her being. Sadly, she put it back in pocket. With nothing else to do she was forced to converse with her dad. He wanted so much to ask her if someone was being inappropriate with her but he was warned by Dr. Zarkowski to not engage in that dialogue. She told him Lana could withdraw even more. She asked for his confidence and to let her work with his daughter. He agreed but it was killing him.

When they got home, Lana immediately pulled her phone out and tried again but got the same results. "Dad, something's wrong with my phone. I still can't get a signal," she told him.

He took it from her and compared it to his own again. "I'm sorry, honey. Something is definitely wrong. My phone's working fine. Leave it here and I'll take it in tomorrow. I'm sure it can be fixed."

"But, dad, what I'm supposed to do in the mean time?"

"Honey, when I was a kid we didn't have cell phones at all. I'm sure one or two days..."

"No, dad, you don't understand." She was almost in tears.

"What, honey. I'll take it in tomorrow. If they can't fix it right away I'll get you a new one. I'm sorry, honey, that's the best I can do."

What else could she do but to let her dad take the phone. She had no choice.

"I promise, I'll take it in first thing in the morning, honey. I'm sure it's nothing that can't be fixed," he assured her.

When she returned home later that day, Angela and Dayton were sitting on the couch watching TV. Her mom turned to face her as she walked in.

"How was your weekend, honey?"

"Okay, but my phone is broke," she announced. "I couldn't get a signal. Dad's going to take it in to see if it can be fixed," she told them both.

As soon as Tom returned home from dropping off his daughter he went to work on her phone. He followed the instructions he'd gotten from Amy and made a copy of the SIM card, then activated the program he'd download to the burner phone he bought. At midnight, when the service to Lana's phone was reactivated, he checked. Perfect! There, on the phone he'd bought for spying purposes only, was all his daughter's info. He flashed through some of her text messages but only saw a couple of her friends listed. He had no interest in them. He was only interested in something from the bastard who was hurting his little girl. He checked her call log but again found nothing.

A sense of guilt and relief came over him; guilt because he hated spying on his daughter and relief because he hadn't found anything. Maybe the school was wrong; hopefully.

Monday, after closing the studio, he drove over to his former home and rung the bell. Thankfully it was Angela who came to the door and not Dayton. He didn't want to talk to him if he could help it.

"Hi," she greeted, "this is a surprise. Come on in," she said, stepping aside.

He glanced over her shoulder and saw Dayton standing in entrance to the kitchen. "No, that's alright. I just stopped by to drop this off for Lana," he said, holding up the phone. "It was having a problem getting a signal over the weekend."

Lana heard the doorbell and had come down, hoping it was her dad with her phone.

"Hi pumpkin," he greeted her. "It was something in the receiver. They replaced a couple parts and voila, here's your phone back good as new."

"Thanks, dad," she said, taking her phone and giving him a peck on the cheek. She turned it on and ran back upstairs.

"Are you sure you won't come in for a cup of coffee?" offered Angela.

"No thanks. I was going to call you though." He reached for his wallet and took out a business card. "Here's the guy I'd like to use as a counselor for us if it's okay with you. I called and talked to all three that Dr. Zarkowski recommended and I like this guy the best. Give him a call and see what you think."

"Okay, I will," she replied.

With that, Tom left for home. All he could do now was wait—wait and pray that the school was wrong about his little girl being sexually molested. Every time he just thought about it his heart pounded and his eyes would well up.

That Wednesday afternoon Tom was cleaning his equipment and getting ready for a shoot while Cayla was working on the books in the office when his cell rang. The display showed it was Angela.

"Hello, Angie, what's up?"

"I won't keep you, Tom; I just wanted to let you know that, that counselor is okay with me. They have Saturday hours. Would that be okay with you?"

"Yeah, that's fine," he said before thinking, then hesitated. "Wait a minute, what about Lana? Can you take her to your parents again?"

"Tom, I can't do that every Saturday. My folks have a life too you know. You've got to stop this attitude toward Dayton. He lives here, Tom. There are going to be times when he's alone with Lana. You're going to have to accept that."

"I don't want him alone with her until we find out for sure that he's not the one molesting her," he said very emphatically.

"God, is this ever going to end," she mumbled with a sigh. "Okay, let me call mom and see if they can take her on Saturdays."

"Okay, thanks; if they can't then let's make it during the week when she's at school."

"Tom, I can't just take off from work every week. I'm already taking off early on Fridays for Lana's therapy. I don't make my own hours like you do."

"Angela, we both agreed to this counseling for Lana's sake but I'd rather not do it than leave her alone with Dayton, at least until..."

"Yes, yes, I know," she said, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "Okay, let me see what I can do."

She called Tom back about an hour later and told him her parents agreed to take Lana on Saturdays. He thanked her and felt much better. She went ahead and made their first appointment for nine o'clock Saturday morning.

Now that the harsh Chicago winter was about over, business was picking up again. Tom was sitting in the office of his studio Friday afternoon, going over some photos he'd shot earlier in the week. Both his cell and burner phones were lying on the desk behind him. He was concentrating so hard on what he was doing he almost didn't hear one of them buzz with an incoming text. He looked back to see which screen was lit. It was Lana's.

All week he had been monitoring her phone only to see the usual female adolescent jibber-jabber with her friends. He almost let it go without looking at it but a little voice told him to check. He reached behind and swiped the text icon...

Unknown caller: Remember, not a word to that busybody therapist today. You know what will happen if you talk.

It had to be him. Tom felt the anger building. It was the first evidence to substantiate the school's suspicions. "MOTHER FUCKER," he growled.

Cayla, who was just outside the door, wasn't used to her boss using that kind of language. She peeked her head around the jam. "What's the mat..." She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw the look on his face.

"It's true," he said, holding up the phone. "Some mother fucker is molesting my daughter. I'd hoped that the school was wrong but here's the proof."

Cayla looked at the screen. "Tom, I'm so sorry. What are you going to do? There's no name. It just says unknown caller. How are you going to find out who it is?"

"I'll take this to the cops. I'm sure they can trace it back to the caller."

Just then the screen lit up again. She was texting him back.

Lana: I promise I won't say anything.

"There," Tom said. "He's got to be threatening her. That's why she's won't turn the bastard in. He's got her scared to death."

Never in his entire life had he felt so helpless. The thought of his little girl's fear brought tears to his eyes. "I swear, Cayla, the cops better get this guy before I do."

"You let them take care of him, Tom. Please, don't do anything stupid. It won't help Lana if you get locked up."

Tom silently nodded his head. He knew she was right but just the thought of coming face to face with this guy had him wondering if he could stop himself from killing the bastard. Hopefully the cops would track the call, arrest him and he'd never have a chance to find out. Unfortunately, he discovered it wasn't as easy as he thought it would be.

Tom immediately called the Chicago police and explained the situation. When they asked where he lived he told them Arlington Hills, in the Northwest suburbs. They directed him to call their police dept. Of course, he thought. He was so angry he wasn't thinking. When he explained the situation for the second time they told him he'd have to come to the station and ask for detective Lebowski in the special victim's division.

It was almost four in the afternoon before he got a break. He told Cayla to lock up and took off for the Arlington Hills police department. After waiting for twenty minutes in an outer office, a short but good looking man in his forties came out from the back and introduced himself.