tagNonConsent/ReluctanceWaiting with My Best Friend's Father

Waiting with My Best Friend's Father


I rang the doorbell once and remained patiently on the top step of Rachel's house. It was a humid evening in Topanga, California, if not for the occasional cool breeze, sweat would literally perspire from every inch of your body. I decided to go with a sleeveless, yellow floral dress that fell just above my bow-legged knees with white sandals, since my usual laid back look; knitted sweater, jeans and plimsolls, almost seemed like a death wish during this time of the year.

Heavy footsteps appeared behind the door, escalating louder the closer they got. The handle rattled and within a blink the door swung open, causing a minor draft on the fine hairs of my peach skin. Mr. Anderson stood tall with his hand wrapped around the brass metal. Thick brown, tidy eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Oh! Hi, Sarah... Um, Rachel isn't here right now."

"Oh!" I unintentionally mimicked. Like his brows, Mr. Anderson had short thick brunette, wavy hair. He had this 90's boyish look about him, like a mixture of Christian Slater, Jason Priestley and River Phoenix, so there was no denying how handsome he was.

"Do you know when she'll be back? It's kind of important." And it was! Tommy Andrews text me with confidential source that Hannah Clarke- the same girl who Rachel had been crushing on since junior year, was going to ask her to prom! To Rachel, this was a dream come true! This was the kind of news that needed to be told and freaked out over and celebrated all in person. He pursed his plump lips and furrowed.

"Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes? I just got off the phone with her mother."

Should I wait inside? Am I allowed? I asked myself. Would I be imposing on Mr. Anderson's work? I remembered Rachel telling me that her father worked at a law firm and spent majority of his time at home in his study, dealing with numerous folders of paperwork and serious-tone business calls. I inadvertently gave a half smile, contemplating on the thought of my intrusion.

"You can wait inside, if you'd like?" He asked as he tilted his head, leveling to catch my doe eyes, his brows still wrinkling his forehead.

"Would that be okay? You won't even know I'm here. Cross my heart!" I said, making a criss cross sign over my heart with my index finger.

He took one step to the side and held the door wider. "Don't be silly, I could use a distraction from my work anyway." In just that second passing by, smelling faint aftershave, I noticed that I reached just under his broad shoulders. He must have been at least 6 feet 3.

The main entrance led straight to the dim living room. Not much brighter than what it was outside Apart from my sandals tapping and creaking the wooden floorboards, it was complete and dead silence, which drifted my thoughts to ponder on Mary Shaw. If I screamed would she jump from behind me and tear out my tongue from the seam?

Then something bolted and my heart pounded against my rib cage. Jesus! I swung on my heels to find Mr. Anderson walking from the front door that was now closed. I shook my head, hand over my chest. Sarah, get a grip.

"I was about to make myself some hot chocolate, would you like a cup?" His deep voice reverberated the walls from the kitchen.

"I don't want to be any trouble." I said, not needing to shout for him to hear me from the next room.

"Sorry if it's horror-movie-quiet in here." He mentioned and I laughed.

"You must have read my mind." Did he?

"Glad we're on the same page, then." He chuckled. "I get so engrossed in my work I lose my surroundings."

"I'm like that with homework."

I wandered to the fireplace that was decorated with petite ornaments and big and small framed family photographs. There was photograph of all three of them; Rachel, Mrs. and Mr. Anderson, smiling naturally and happy, arms around one another. That made me smile. Seeing people glow with happiness always did warm my heart. A ding echoed followed by clanging from what I assumed was cutlery. I hesitated to sit on the love seat a few times before finally settling on the edge, closest to the kitchen door with hands on my lap as if waiting awkwardly to get my yearbook photo taken. Although Rachel and I had known each other for nearly two years, it wasn't often that I came over to her house, and if anytime I did, her parents were at work or on business trips. Rachel mainly slept over mine due to the fact that she believed her parents were too nosy and fishing for company and stories from every friend she brought home. Unlike mine, who I was grateful for, for not trying to eagerly involve themselves too much into my social life and those, one or two friends who would sleepover. My parents were respectful, they knew how responsible I was, as well as predictable. Any trouble that came my way I was out of there. Alcohol, drugs... they just weren't my thing, and neither was it Rachel's. And that was probably why we got along so well. We were like sisters separated at birth. We were even beginning to look alike! Round, marble green eyes. Sandy beach straight hair that fell just past our shoulders, and with the same physique. Slender and dainty what was I always considered myself, except although Rachel appeared that too, she was much stronger than I was. Emotionally and physically. It was bizarre in the most wonderful way.

Mr. Anderson stepped out with two medium sized mugs with white frothy cream swirled on top. My taste buds were already tingling.

"Oh my gosh. Thank you, Mr. Anderson."

"Please, call me Mike. Mr. Anderson sounds like my father, and believe it or not, I'm not that old." He winked at me as he set round woven coasters on the oak coffee table under our hot chocolates.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-five. Claire and I had Rachel quite young."

"Okay, I'll call you Mike." I grinned. My parents were twenty-three and five when they had me and my brother- James. We were only eleven months apart in age.

He chuckled. "Thank you, Sarah. Are you the same age as Rach?" He added, stirring a spoon in his mug, dissolving the froth.

"I'm a month older, April 30."

"Gosh, I can't believe you're both going to be 19 next year."

"Me neither. We're both a little nervous for college, but right now we're just focusing on prom." I leaned to pick up the beige handle of my hot chocolate. I managed to catch the froth in time before it had completely melted. I took the silver spoon placed on the coaster and scooped up the white cream. I licked my lips and took another mouth full, then took a sip. I noticed from the corner of my long lashes that Mike was staring at me, I turned to look at him and smiled from embarrassment. I gulped. "It's delicious. I like the cream."

"Me too." He agreed but with no smile back, his face expressionless. He didn't even look away. I mentally shrugged it off, a little uncomfortable and began taking quicker sips of the chocolate. Maybe I should have text Rachel to make sure she was home or perhaps it's better to wait in her bedroom after my drink, less interference with his work. Maybe he was thinking about work and I was just getting in the way of it. But just as I was about to ask, Mike spoke.

"Does Rachel have a boyfriend?" I heard him swallow a large gulp of chocolate.

"No." I drank some more, cutting myself off before telling him the real reason why I was here tonight, unannounced. Rachel and I rarely spoke about our crushes, even celebrity crushes, to our parents. It seemed too personal the older we got. Plus, we weren't so sure how her parents would take that she preferred girls to guys.

"How about you, Sarah?"

I contrived a smile and shook my head.

"Oh? Why not?" He asked.

"I don't know." I shrugged, taking yet another sip. The hot chocolate was making me sweat, it wasn't the kind of drink you would have during a heatwave.

"I don't see why not. You're beautiful. You've got a sexy figure. Don't think I didn't notice that tight ass under that pure dress." His tone of voice changed, he sounded confident and sly as he relaxed deeper into his seat, legs crossed over the other. A sharp tickle caught my throat and I coughed. What the fuck did he just say?

"Sorry, too forward?"

My head began to feel light and my eyes grew heavy. I unsteadily set the mug onto the coffee table and sat up in panic, shaking and blinking to snap myself out of this bizarre dizzy spell. Everything was happening too rapidly.

"Sarah, are you alright?" Mike's voice cooed and he shifted closer beside me. I laughed under my breath, weakly and waved my hand indicating that I needed space, especially after what he had just said.

"I'm fine." My words came out as an exhale. My vision drastically blurred and I felt a jolt as Mike's giant fingers wrapped around my tiny forearm and a hand fall on my back, helping me lean into the cushion.

"Yes you are." He replied. Every cell in my body fell debilitated, I couldn't even express the frown of my brows to his vial response. When I opened my eyes from squeezing them to adjust to it's clear vision, Rachel's father's blurry face was hovering over mine. He swept a piece of my loose, strawberry blond hair off my eye, and stayed, gazing at me for a long moment before forcing himself away and walking out of the room casually, leaving me alone in this horrifying and bewildered state.

I must have fallen asleep for a short while because when I fluttered my weighty eye lids, Mr. Anderson was already standing in front of me, slapping the ends of white latex gloves he was suddenly wearing.

His mouth curved into a sinister closed-mouth smile, then sauntered his way towards the love seat. Lowering himself just inches next to me, he turned on his left side leaning his head in the palm of his white hand, elbow sunken into the head of the sofa. We were face-to-face. I wasn't sure how to feel, whatever I was going through had to have been permitting me from reacting to this crazy situation, because why was I so calm?

The corner of his lip grew, and his free hand leisurely shifted from his stomach and all I could focus on was that off putting grin sprawled across his face. The next thing I felt was cold rubber against my flesh, rippling the fine baby hairs up my leg, elevating the hem of my bright summers dress. He bit his bottom lip and rotated his hand inwardly down my inner thigh. I hadn't realized how vigorous my heart had been crashing against my chest. Petrified as I was, I couldn't express any emotion as hard as I tried. The nearer he got, the more my stomach churned. He dug his fingers in the fabric under my leg and ever so slightly brushed it towards him.

The tip of his latex finger grazed my clit, provoking it to twitch involuntary from the finesse of his touch. The cotton of my panties gripped as he delicately circulated that sensitive spot. My breath hitched to my horrid surprise and I could feel his eyes ripping my clothes off.

"You like that, don't you?" He mocked, revolving faintly, but soon began to press more firmly, vaguely speeding and spreading the circulations. My breathing became shallow.

He leaned in and whispered into my ear, cunningly.

"Your pussy is quivering. You're enjoying this, aren't you?" His warm minty breath blew across my neck. Had he brushed his teeth after his hot chocolate?

My nails lightly curled around the edge of the pillow I was sitting on, in which I prayed was out of sight from Mike. I had never been touched like this before, never experienced pleasure as real as this. I was a virgin for fuck sake. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach to be deceived by my own body. Then, he stopped, just like that and I whimpered.

"Your panties are soaking wet, Sarah." He lifted his hand and pressed his index finger to his thumb and smeared them together. It was true, my underwear was warm and sopping, even down to the fringe. My clit was still beating. Stop it! I was desperate to yell and cry out for help. Anything! I wanted to gain control of my muscles and hit the shit out of Mr. Anderson. Rachel's father!

"Virgins get easily wet. Are you a virgin, Sarah? Because you're pussy is telling me you are." He prolonged each word like a chilly breeze shivering through my very spine. Hot torrents of mortification streamed down my cheeks, curving my chin to my collarbone.

"I'll take that as a yes. But don't worry, you won't go without. I'll see to that." His arm extracted from the sofa where he had been leaning his temple, he leaned on his upper body and began reaching over me, anticipating his incline to meet my trembling lips. My shaky breath caught his as his mouth fell open and extended his tongue. The glistening tip slithered along my full bottom lip, over my teeth and with deep trance of seduction, I carefully drew out my tongue, tasting my salty tears. He exhaled a breath, almost a scoff, and kissed my tongue, that then met with his. I had my eyes closed the whole time, the whole time of him caressing my mouth, my cheek, my ear with those powerful hands. I felt as though I was under a spell. His spell. A spell of pleasure. What really caused that dizzy spell?

But just as I started to calculate, his hand cupped my smooth, bald crotch. I was relieved to have had a bubble bath that clammy morning, taking the chance to wash my hair and shave. And finally wear this new dress that I had bought last week at the mall with Tommy and Rachel.

Lifting his finger, he reached the point of my anus through the thin cotton. I lurched as high as my strength could take me, clutching the cushion just that extra bit harder.

"Attagirl." He whispered. His finger straighten and marked a line downward between my slit and my asshole, then reversed, creating a sedate rubbing rhythm. I could already feel a dense pressure crush my ribs. He pecked my nose, licked it and moved to my jawline. A routine continued along my face until I moaned louder with contentment. I loathed myself for expressing the only emotions I had no control over.

"Tell me to stop. Go on. Tell me, Sarah. Tell me this isn't what you want." He accelerated the pace of his big finger, grinding me raw above the material.

"You want it, don't you?" Both my vagina and anus stimulated simultaneously and my arms fairly stiffened as my eyelids fell halfway, and that's when I knew he saw my reaction, because he ceased to a halt and dragged his hand out from my burning, moist thighs. The love seat jolted my consciousness as Mike lifted himself to his feet to stretch.

"I think it's time we moved on to, what I call, fifth base." He said with a sinister chuckle, and snagged a tissue from the rosy red tissue box that sat on the coffee table and wiped his gloves.

"Your body can't deny pleasure, Sarah. Regardless of how hard you try." The cockiness in his tone made me grind my teeth, along with my convulsing clit he had left behind. He strolled out of the room, throwing the screwed up tissue in an open trash can on his way out. Those hefty footsteps stomped from one room to another, then gradually the room above me. More tears emerged and I was too numb-too weak to even lift my own arms to wipe them away. I peered down at them, although I could squeeze my hands enough to touch the tips of my fingers on my palms, it felt like that moment right after you first wake up and have that spontaneous feeling of weakness in your hands.

With watery eyes, I spotted how ridden up and wrinkled the blue flowers were on my dress. My white and pink striped underwear were visible and all I urged to do was pull my dress down to hide my shame. An unthinkable part of me pined to touch myself, to finish what he started. Sniffling nose and stinging cheeks. A prisoner in my own body. My eyes the bars on my cell and and Mike, the prison guard had the key.

Rachel... Wait! Where was Rachel and her mother? Was he lying? But how? A million questions wrecked my brain. He invited me in, but wasn't I going to ask him if I could wait for my best friend? Wasn't I the one who came unexpected at his door?

"-Sara, Sara. Storms are brewing in your eyes." Mike sang, clomping steps around the sofa. "Sara, Sara. No time is a good time for goodbyes." My eyes widened at the eeriness of the song he was singing to. He towered over beside me, next to the armchair. With a deep observant gaze contrasted by the orange dim light, he reached in and took me from under my arms. Like a rag doll, he threw my ninety-eight pound limb body over his shoulder, effortlessly.

Black spots erupted, along with a continuous piercing bell coursing through my ears. The end of my dress was damp and crinkled against my skin. Mike's hand held the top of my back leg, where I could feel the tips of his fingers manipulate my compressed clit. I writhed in the slightest and gently squeezed my thighs together. He didn't stop, instead he maneuvered the crook of his thumb, still holding me securely and determined, he pursued to knead the aching spot I perilously yearned for him to finish.

With every thud he took, and the further and higher we went, the more it was obvious where he was taking me. I reached out with an inaudible shriek as he swung me past Rachel's bedroom. The brown door with a "Do Not Disturb." sign was closed but I could smell the familiarity and safety inside. And in we went, into the master suite where he laid me across the king sized bed and lifted me up to lay in position of someone's side.

Like the rag doll I was, he propped me up and unzipped my dress from behind, and appreciated the moment of exposing my bare shoulders and matching bra to my striped panties. With the dress I was ready to burn if I ever made it out of this alive, hanging around my waist, black thick cord appeared in his strong tight hands. He began wrapping it two-three times around both my small wrists before laying me down on a higher pillow, bounding me to the headboard. Off slipped the once innocence of my yellow and blue floral dress, then my white sandals.

I couldn't help but fear how long I would be left in my underwear for. Fifteen, twenty minutes? The voice of his lie repeated. He exited the room and traipsed downstairs. My legs were free, though just as feeble as the rest of my useless self. He must have drugged me with that hot chocolate, that must be it! That's why he made me one despite me half refusing... Was this my fault? Would this have happened if I said no to the drink? Was I unknowingly asking for this?

I took an unsteady deep breath. My ribs sunk inwardly again, most likely anxiety from the apprehension of what this man had planned for me next. Fifth base? Was that even a thing? I fell even more numb than I had just a few seconds ago. Before I headed out of my house, I remembered I told my dad that if I didn't make it back in time it meant I was staying over at Rachel's house. My parents were cool with the idea, and why wouldn't they be?

It's the weekend and we only lived a block away from each other. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sweat and tears trailed, every pulse in my body pounded from realization that I was going to be trapped for the night, with no one looking for me, worried about me, and for the next- I shot my eyes in search for a clock that I quickly spotted standing on the dresser table, alongside a flat screen television. It had just turned 10:30pm. Oh my God. Creaky floorboards came from the stairs and with no surprise, Mike came from the corner empty handed, which was more of a relief than I expected it to be. But he was still wearing those gloves. Why?

"Relaxed? You will be soon, more than you know."

"Please," I breathed. "don't." I pleaded to scream at him, to promise I wouldn't tell anyone about this and what he had already done to me, though I'd be lying if I had.

"Don't, don't what? Don't do this?" He skimmed his finger along the edge of the silk sheets, nonchalantly ambling his way around the bed.

"Oh, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. Once I start," He lowered his head and scoffed and leveled it back up with his eyes. Peering right into mine.

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