Knock Me Up, Daddy

She opened the bottle of Cabernet that she'd been saving for something special. They were never home together to do anything special which was why, she thought, she spent so much time drinking. Melissa twisted the cork out and got one of the wine glasses out that they'd gotten two years ago as a wedding present. If anyone had asked her if she could see herself, sitting on the couch night after night, alone, she never would have believed it. Steve always promised her to spend more time at home but so far, he was just full of shit.

Melissa had told him to be home tonight at 6:30. She shook her head before taking a huge gulp of wine. She shouldn't have to beg him to come home and have dinner with her, it was humiliating. She really shouldn't have to make a special goddamn dinner just so they could talk. Well, that wasn't exactly true; she hadn't made it but she knew if she cooked, it would be much worse. It was carry-out meatloaf from the Metro Mart but either way, he should be here. It was a little after seven and no call, no text, no nothing.

At 7:30, Steve showed up.

Melissa clicked her nails on the dining room table as she watched him make his way inside. She had eaten almost all of the meatloaf and only left him a crust and the mashed potatoes that she didn't like. "Sorry, sorry, I'm late sweetie," he said sheepishly and grinned. Her husband kissed her head in passing before he set down his gym bag and laptop. "You know how I lose track of time," he looked at her wistfully as if to say, "sorry I'm a fuck-up but you signed up for this."

They'd only been married for two years and she was already tired of his bullshit. Melissa swirled the wine in the glass and felt the disappointment sink in. She was on her third glass now. She would be buzzed if it weren't for the meatloaf and that would just turn this into an argument about her drinking instead of an argument about having a baby. "I'm used to it," she said in a flat voice and pushed out a chair with her foot. "Have a seat," Melissa told him. She pushed what was left of the food in his direction but she didn't offer him a plate. "You were late on purpose because you know what I want to talk about."

Steve grabbed the bottle of Cabernet and felt how little was left. "Almost gone, surprise, surprise," he exhaled loudly and set it down. "No, Melissa, I don't know what you want to talk about. I'm actually not a mind-reader even though you keep expecting me to be."

She reached out to touch his forearm. Dammit, it was so unfair for him to cut her off like this. He said that the baby talk made it difficult to get in the mood but the Steve that she remembered from not that long ago was always in the mood. His scent, his aftershave and the soap and the clean smell of his body made her wish that he'd pick her up right now and carry her into the bedroom. "I don't expect you to read my mind, Steve," she was quiet. She didn't really want to fight about it, this should just be a done deal now. "You know that I want to talk about going to the fertility clinic. We said that if it didn't happen by now, that we'd consider all of our options," she paused and watched as the color of his face changed.

"Why do you do this every time I come home, Mel?" he shrugged, he was clearly exasperated with her. "You want me to come home on time? Why don't you make it nice to be here?"

He had a point, this did seem to be the routine. It wasn't really her fault though. She was always chasing him and Steve, even though he was her husband, was always just beyond reach. "I'm sorry, you're right," she nodded and looked down at her lap. "It's just that I'm starting to feel desperate, like it's never gonna happen."

Steve gave her a grin, "babe, it's only been a year."

"Two years!" she reminded him, "more than two since we've been married."

"So all that fucking in the beginning was us trying?" he asked with a drawl which meant he was trying to make her laugh but at the moment, Melissa didn't find anything he did funny.

"You said we'd talk about going to the clinic," she reminded him somberly. She couldn't think of anything else. Her biological clock seemed to have an audible click. She was thirty-two and quickly approaching thirty-five, which was the magical age when her eggs would start to dry up and turn to shit. She didn't even want to think about having a kid at forty.

"I said I'd think about it, but babe, I never said I'd do it." Steve's voice got loud when he was called to the carpet. "I work with all these doctors and hospitals. You know I hear about all kinds of fertility drugs. It's not a guarantee, Melissa, and it's goddamn expensive. And for what?" he threw his hands up. "Maybe if you can't get pregnant, that's a sign."

"Oh, so it has to be me, right Steve?" she crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't so sure if she believed that. As much as he lied, he might already know it was him. Maybe that was why he didn't want to go see a doctor. "You know how much I want this," she shouted but maybe she should have said that she wanted him.

He noticed too because Steve rose from the table and hollered, "Yeah, I know. You want a kid a lot fucking more than you want a husband. I'm not doing this again tonight." He grabbed his keys and his phone and as he left, he slammed the door so hard that Melissa could feel the vibration.

Motherfucker had just walked out! Melissa curled her hands into fists and hit the dining room table with her right fist. Shit that had hurt her knuckles but goddammit, walking out wasn't the solution. What was he going to do, just avoid her indefinitely? Was this how divorce started? And what then?

Melissa felt the tears there. They were on the edge. In a few more seconds, one hot, salty tear would slip down her cheek as she realized that then she'd just be one more divorced thirty-something woman and still, no baby. She picked up her phone and her thumb paused over Steve's name. She could text him her apology. She could tell him to come home and maybe when he saw that she'd been crying, he'd take her in his arms and maybe, just maybe, he'd remember that he missed her naked body. The shittiest part of this was that Steve had been the best lover she'd ever had. Month after month when the pregnancy tests showed up with a minus, the sex had slowly dried up until now, it had been two solid months since he'd even touched her.

Melissa knew what it was. While she had always been little, sort of the underdog as it were, everything came naturally to Steve. Life had been so fucking easy for him. This was the first time he'd failed at anything. She could see it in his eyes. Her husband didn't like looking at her anymore, it reminded him.

She skipped over Steve's name.

She wasn't even sorry; he should be sorry and she would be goddamned if she had to beg her own husband for dick. She went to the second name and called home. Maybe her mother would have some words of wisdom.

The phone rang twice and her father answered, "hello."

"Oh, hi Daddy. Is Mom there?" There were some conversations that her Dad was good for but this wasn't one of them.

"No sweetheart, sorry, she's at her book club," her father told her. He'd always had a radar on him about her tone of voice and he picked it up immediately. "Is something wrong, honey?"

It was that same warm voice that seemed to pick her up and nestle her close to his heart. Her father was so tender, so kind. Why couldn't Steve be even half as nice to her? A sob escaped and now there was no stopping it, Melissa was full on crying. "Yes, Daddy," she confessed between tears, "everything's wrong."

He clicked his tongue and Melissa knew that he'd be scowling on his end. "Why don't I come over, sweetheart?"

"You don't have to, Daddy," she tried to reason with herself. Didn't she just decide that she didn't want to talk to him about this anyway? "Isn't it kind of late for you?"

He scoffed, "I'm fifty-seven honey, they still let me out on the road at night. I'll bring you some ice cream from Kopp's."

That settled it and Melissa sniffed, "Okay, see you in a bit, Dad," before she hung up.

She finished the wine in her glass before she got up to clear the table. If she were honest, she'd been avoiding him. Well, not avoiding him completely, it was just that she'd been avoiding situations like this ever since her wedding day. The kiss in the dressing room; no, the kisses, Melissa corrected herself. Her father had smelled so good. It was just his familiar scent of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice cologne and his big, solid chest and his muscular arms around her that had always meant that everything was right with the world. Then his eyes; god, his dark blue eyes. Everyone had always said that they looked alike and it was the eyes but that morning, his eyes had so much love in them. All the love that she wished her husband had for her.

Melissa had lost herself there and her cheeks were warm once more as she recalled it. She could have easily let her tongue slip out and taste him. She had wanted to taste her own father, like a lover, like a sin that her mouth longed to swallow down.

She still hadn't decided what she thought of that when there was a knock on her front door. Her father had a key but he'd never use it. "Coming," Melissa called out and took a moment to glance at herself in the mirror by the entry. She hadn't worn any makeup so at least she hadn't left big raccoon eyes from crying. Why did she care what her father thought of her face? Melissa just shook her head at herself in the mirror. She disapproved of everything she was thinking. Jesus, keep it in your pants, she thought to herself, which made her smile. "Come on in, Daddy," she greeted him as she opened the door.

"How's my favorite girl?" he asked as he took his shoes off. Of course, he had the white paper bag from Kopp's and Melissa already knew without asking what he'd brought. Dad remembered everything perfectly, down to the last detail.

They walked to the couch and Melissa waited for her Dad to take a seat right in the middle of her gray sectional. She sat on the same cushion and curled herself up into a small ball. Their legs touched. Her father put one arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, into the nook, into that place where she could hear his heart beating in the center of his solid chest. It was the place where she felt safest in the world. "I'm okay, Daddy, I guess" Melissa told him as she breathed him in.

"Is it something that ice cream can't fix? Because then you're screwed," her father joked as he reached forward and opened the bag. "One banana split with pecans instead of peanuts, no whip cream and extra cherries and extra hot fudge," he handed her the cup. It was the same thing that she'd been ordering from Kopp's since she was old enough to discern that's what she liked.

"How do you always remember that?" Melissa asked as she took the ice cream and the white, plastic spoon. Sometimes she even forgot. Steve had never even asked. No one knew her like her Dad.

He pulled out his order, also the same ever since she could remember. One scoop of vanilla, one scoop of chocolate, loaded with extra hot fudge. "How could I forget, honey?" he asked, as if it had never crossed his mind, as if his daughter's ice cream order were the most important thing in the world. "So what's going on with you? I haven't seen much of you lately," he sounded like that was something he regretted and Melissa wanted to console him.

It wasn't him, it was her.

"I know, Daddy, I'm sorry," she took a bite of her ice cream and swallowed it quickly to keep herself from touching him on the thigh along with her apology. She'd always known her father was handsome. When she was growing up her friends had teased her about it but it was just background noise; something that she'd roll her eyes about. Daddy was just Daddy, at least until her wedding day and she'd tried to tell herself that it was just stress. People do crazy things when they have anxiety, Melissa had almost convinced herself. "Work's been crazy," she continued, "I guess home is a little crazy too."

"Where's Steve?" her father asked as he carefully mixed all of his ice cream and hot fudge together.

She whispered it, "he left. We're fighting."

"Oh, honey, that's too bad," her dad said with ice cream in his mouth. He swallowed and continued, "wait, he left as in left?"

"No, Daddy, not like he doesn't live here anymore," she reassured him, although Melissa thought with a tightness that welled up in the center of her chest, that could be a real possibility if something didn't change. "We were arguing and he left in the middle of it," she popped a cherry in her mouth. "We're trying to have a baby," that wasn't really true though, it was more of a solo project. "Or, I guess I should say, I want to have a baby and he doesn't want to."

Her father had a thoughtful expression. "Well, a baby is a big decision. Why do you say he doesn't want to?"

"Because he doesn't have sex with me anymore, Daddy," Melissa confessed with a sad sniffle and set her banana split on the coffee table. "You know what really bothers me? I think I'm going without it but I'm pretty sure he's still getting laid. I mean, I don't have proof he's cheating on me, but come on, what man could live without sex for two months?"

Her father set his ice cream down as well. The container was half empty already. Her mother must have him on a short leash for sweets. "Oh honey, that's awful. Believe it or not though, a man can go without sex for a lot longer than two months," he ran his fingers down her hair as Melissa settled into his chest. "I don't think that necessarily means he's cheating."

Melissa asked him with her face in his black polo shirt, "Daddy, can you imagine Steve going without sex?"

Her father made a sound that meant that he was too polite to say out loud the things that he thought about her husband. Melissa knew he didn't like Steve, she'd always known. "Well, what are you going to do, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

There were his eyes again. All the love there washed over her, pulled her in and held her close. Her mouth came near and Melissa whispered, "I don't know, Daddy," before she pressed her lips to his. He was warm and his mouth was soft. She'd memorized his lips from their thousands of pecks over the years but this was something entirely different. This was a lover's kiss and her heart jumped out of her chest as she kissed just his bottom lip with both of hers and then his top lip. She hesitated there on the precipice. He was frozen. They were pressed together as they breathed the other's breath.

Melissa touched her father's upper lip with the tip of her tongue and he moaned. It was some deep sound of need that had been buried in his core and it suddenly broke free. His tongue met hers and his arms were wrapped around her body. He sealed her to him and drew her so much closer than she'd ever been before. Melissa never took her open mouth from his as she turned toward him and mounted her father. In one turn of her body, she sat in his lap to face him.

God, he was hard.

Melissa shuddered as she felt it. Her father's erection was clearly delineated even with the pants on. It had risen from his pleats and she purred as she felt the head as it throbbed right there. In her new position, even though she had yoga pants and panties on, she could feel as her father's body vibrated on her pussy lips. This was wrong, this was not where she should be. Melissa thought for a second that she should be shocked that her own Dad would have an erection like this for her. Rather than scramble to get out of his lap though, she just pushed her hips into him. She melted into the sensation of his body and she whispered, "Oh god, Daddy," before she plunged her tongue into his mouth.

She could taste his hot fudge. His tongue was cold from the ice cream but boiling hot all at the same time. Melissa felt his heat in her nipples and her breasts felt so full as the fire from between his legs seeped into every cell in her body. Her breasts wanted to be bared, stripped of her sweatshirt and bra and freed to be sucked and nibbled. Her father rocked her back and forth in his arms and rubbed his bulging dick between his little girl's swollen pussy lips.

His hands were in her hair. The desperate noises that came from both of them were grunts, cries and muffled, passionate sobs as they thrust and parried and rubbed their bodies together. Melissa shuddered and arched her back. She pulled away from his mouth for a minute, just to bask in the delight of her father's cock as it rooted between her legs. It would take nothing. She could be naked in less than a minute. Even worse, she knew by the look in his eyes that if she reached down to his button and his fly, that her father, the man who could never deny her anything, would never say no to this either.

He wanted her, he wanted her like a lover, like a man. Her Daddy wanted her like everything she could ever desire and with every little twitch of her hips, she got closer and closer to a glorious surrender.

The keys in the lock jingled and thank god for that or they would have been caught. Melissa rolled off her father's lap just as Steve walked in the front door. "Hey Mel, it looks like your dad's car is parked in my spot," he announced as he walked in.

Melissa gulped down her ache and her want and yelled, "that's because Daddy's here." She looked over at her father and watched as he cleared his throat and adjusted the front of his pants. God don't let Steve see that her Dad had a very respectable boner, she thought to herself with almost a giggle. "He brought me ice cream," she talked much too loudly and it almost sounded like she was guilty of something. Melissa would normally never be this friendly after fighting with Steve, especially when he'd been such a coward.

"Oh, hey Stan," Steve walked into the living room and put out his hand, "that was nice of you."

They shook hands quickly and she watched as her father stood. "You know, I'll give you your parking spot. It's getting late for me." He took two steps and was almost down the hall without even looking back. It wasn't until he had gotten to the door and was putting on his shoes that he called out, "night, honey."

"Night, Daddy," Melissa returned the salutation but it was too late, he'd already closed the door behind him.

"That was fucking weird," Steve said as he plopped down on the couch next to her. "Did you tell him we were fighting? He wouldn't even look at me."

Melissa's face was hot. She could taste her father's mouth on hers. She was marked, she was soaking wet and she'd never done anything so wrong or so delicious. "No, he just gets up early," Melissa lied, one more thing she'd done wrong tonight.

Steve picked up her father's hot fudge and stirred what was left. He took a spoonful of the half melted ice cream and put it in his mouth. "Hey, I'm sorry that went so bad tonight, babe. You have to admit, you have shitty timing."

Melissa picked up what was left of her sundae and agreed, "I know. But you have to admit that you're avoiding the subject."

Steve chuckled and took another bite. "God you're a hard ass. Okay, yes, I'm avoiding it. Can we kiss and make up?" he asked tenderly.

She turned and gave him a quick, sticky peck on the lips and wondered if he wouldn't taste her Dad there. "Fine, we made up," she told him as she scraped up the rest of the melted ice cream in her dish. Maybe, just maybe, if Steve would fuck her like he was supposed to be doing, she wouldn't be wet as she humped her father. "You know what would really constitute making up?" she asked in a suggestive tone. Sure, she'd have to keep her eyes closed. No, she couldn't do that; she'd better keep them wide fucking open because otherwise, she'd be imagining that Steve was her Dad.