A Valentine for Lydia's Daddy
By Wynne Burroughs
Smashwords Edition
Copyright Wynne Burroughs 2012
Cover Photo © Can Stock Photo Inc. / mocker
Contents
A Valentine for Lydia's Daddy
I think I can pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with my best friend's dad. Me and the girls had been drinking. I know, we were sixteen. We were bad. We shouldn't have been doing it.
But we were sixteen. Even though it's only been a couple years, looking back it feels like it's necessary to make bad choices at that age.
Anyway, we were at the rock quarries in our neighborhood along with a few boys. One of them got his hands on a thirty rack. The girls and I groused at our selection of beverage but we all wanted to show off how mature and tough we were. Two beers in and we were all hammered.
Suddenly a flash of blue lights issued from below the cliffs. The telltale sound of two squad cars locking into place. We freaked. The boys of course dashed for the marshes. From the flashlights I could see the cops moving in that direction, kettling them up. Lydia grabbed my wrist and dragged me down the opposite side of the cliffs. Some animal instinct kicked in She lead me down the cliffs and waiting around the corner from where the cop cars stayed was her dad. At the first sign of trouble she'd texted him.
We jumped in the backseat and he slowly, casually drove away, giving himself a wide berth around the police cars.
“Lydia, Tess,” he said, “If you're going to drink in the future I suggest you pick a safer and less obvious place. When I was a kid one of my buddy's got drunk and jumped into that little pond thing? Snapped his neck.”
He let me sleep on the couch, so I called my mom and said I was staying over.
That sort of thing happened with some level of regularity. I don't want to sound like me and Lydia were big troublemakers, but we got in our fair share of scraps. Lydia's dad would come swooping down just as our stupid decisions were about to crush us into putty. He'd tell us about some stupid thing he did when he was our age—it was always something much worse.
One time, me and Lydia had gotten absolutely baked. Again, he knew my parents would freak so he let me stay over. I waited until after he went to sleep.
I knew that Lydia's mom was long gone. But he was so warm. Nice. I wanted to know more about him.
I said, “It seems like every time we do something stupid your dad comes and saves us. Doesn't he have some kind of a life?”
Lydia shrugged. She said, “Uh, he has a bowling league. But then again, I don't think he's gone out on a date since mom bolted. And he works around the same hours we're at school. I've never really thought about it.”
And that was really what turned me on this path. He was a kind and gentle man. He deserved some pussy. Why shouldn't he get it from a hot teenage girl?
Okay, none of Lydia's other friends agreed with me. Yeah, Lydia's dad wasn't exactly what you'd call hot.
He's tall and skinny, not quite rail thing, but at least he doesn't have an ounce of fat. The problem lied in his complete lack of muscle definition. He's always wearing this thick goofy hipster glasses, but not out of some meta-fashion sense. They're just the only ones that can contain his thick-ass frames. He doesn't shave very often. I think he's totally got perpetual two-day-fuck-me stubble, but that's subjective.
And obviously teenage girls can't be cool with guys with gray hair. I admit I probably shouldn't be turned on by that, but there you go. Yeah, it's probably his personality that got me interested. People are confusing sometimes.
But it seemed pretty impossible. What kind of excuse could I come up with to get into Lydia's house when she wasn't there? And once inside could I talk him into making love to me? Well, that seemed like the easy part. I mean, supposedly he hadn't touched a woman in almost a decade.