cigarette. The movie that he had wanted to see was still on, but his interest had lapsed. His thoughts were on his eldest daughter, and the sickening wound he had inflicted on her.
Self-pity and chagrin were like a hard tight ball in his chest, and he felt despicable beyond words. Nothing could salvage him now. He had committed the coarsest kind of incest with both his girls, and there was no excuse that could even begin to save him from his own world of anguished torment.
“Oh, God!” he moaned. “What am I doing? What have I done?”
It was shortly after eleven o'clock when Peggy let herself in. Seeing her father dozing in his chair, she closed the door quietly and put her purse on the couch, then crossed over to him. An empty glass was on the table, and an unlit cigarette had dropped from his limp fingers onto the rug. She leaned over and shook him gently.
“Daddy? Dad? Why don't you go to bed? It's late. I just got home. C'mon. You can't sleep there.”
“Huh?” His eyelids parted slowly and he blinked at her. “Oh, Peggy. Hi. How did it go?”
“Super! I didn't forget a line or miss a cue. Mrs. Knox said that I couldn't have done better.”
“Wonderful.” He roused himself and sat forward, grabbing up the cigarette on the floor and lighting it. “I wish I could have been there. Are you going to have something to eat?”
“No, they fed us at the theater. How's Jo? Feeling better?”
The mention of her name caused him to flinch. “Yes, she's a lot better.”
“Great.” Peggy pulled her blouse out and began undoing the buttons. “You'll have to take the gauze off for me, Dad. I can't reach the pin.”
“Sure.” The liquor-induced sleep had left him sapped, and he couldn't think about anything clearly. When she tossed her blouse atop her purse and backed up to him, he took out the pin and began unwinding the strip.
Peggy turned around to face him when the gauze was removed, and rubbed her tits with both hands, peering down at the creamy cones and the long nipples projecting from the tips. “I think next time we'd better wrap 'em a little looser. I can't hardly feel 'em now. They're kinda numb.”
“All right.” Dan's hands were clenching and unclenching as he watched her fondle and knead her mouth- watering globes. He was nearing the breaking point, and her innocent teasing actions were creating a storm in his groin. He pictured her tender vibrant cunt, now hidden under her skirt and covered by the black panties, and he could almost taste the ambrosia of her vaginal mucous.
“Daddy, how come my nipples stick out straight sometimes, then shrink back? Are they supposed to do that?”
She was scrutinizing the pink points as though seeing them for the first time, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him. He watched her thumb the salmon-colored tips, saw them expand and extend, and his cock leaped into an erection. For an instant, he wondered if she was deliberately goading him, but dismissed the idea as being impossible. Still, she had made no mention of the scene in his bedroom.
“Listen, honey, this might be a good time to talk. What we did this afternoon was, well, an accident. It's not something we want to discuss with others or let happen again. Do you understand what I'm getting at?”
Peg dropped her ripe orbs and looked at him with naive simplicity. “I'm not still all bent out of shape, if that's what you mean. I thought it over, and you must have had a reason for what you did. Maybe you were trying to teach me something. Anyway, I'm not hurt, so everything's okay.” She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead, then said with knowledge far beyond her years, “I'll never tell anyone about it. It's just between us.”
“You're sweet, honey. Let's go to bed, now. It's been quite a day for both of us.”
His ragged nerve ends were about to get the better of him as he watched her parade around the room, turning off lights and the TV and locking the door. Her bountiful tits swayed, bobbled and slapped together, and the sight wrenched at his guts. By the time they had said goodnight and gone to their rooms, Dan was worked up to a feverish pitch, and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up, gritting his teeth against the swirling, churning lascivious thoughts in his head.
Peggy already had the coffee made when Dan entered the kitchen, showered, shaved and fully dressed. She was wearing a sheer nightie of bright yellow through which he could distinctly make out her upcurved tits and down-covered twat. He sat down at the table and waited for her to bring him his cup.
“Jo isn't up yet?”
“Huh uh. I haven't seen her. Guess she's sleeping in.
When she set his coffee in front of him, her gown fell away and he could see down her front all the way to her vee of blonde pubic curls. Sober and rested now, he was more capable of ignoring the enticing view and only gave her a quick glance.
She brought over some toast and a glass of milk and sat down across from him. “Mom's gonna be gone another three weeks, huh?”
“As far as I know. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” She bit off a piece of toast and chewed it ponderously. “Dad, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. Fire away.”
“Well, actually I've got two of 'em. How come your thing isn't hard all the time, and does it have something to do with making babies?”
Dan nearly choked on his coffee. He put his cup down and lit a cigarette with exaggerated care, allowing himself time to collect his thoughts. There was no doubt now that she was taking what he had done to her as a matter of course, that she didn't intend to let it trouble her, and that now her interest in sexual functions had been awakened.
“Peg, it would take hours to explain it all. If you really want to know, and Jo does too, I'd rather sit down and go over it all with you together so I wouldn't have to say it twice. Perhaps we can work it in some time this week.”
“Okay, but just tell me one thing now. Please. Why did you want to do that stuff to me, licking me and all that?”
He felt the burning redness creep up his neck.
“Because I love you, sweetheart. It's pretty involved. Let's wait till we have that talk, huh?”
He saw that she wasn't satisfied with his answer and that she was about to say more when the phone rang. Grateful for the timely interruption, he got up and picked up the receiver.
“Mr. Cabot, this is Mel Turner. I hate like the devil to bother you on your vacation, but Mr. Lowe is here about that Tilden property, and he won't talk to anyone but you. I tried to explain, but he insisted that I call. Do you want to come in, or should I try to make another appointment?”
“I'd better come in, Mel. That property has been a dead horse for ten months. If we've got a bite, we'd better reel it in. I'll be there in half an hour. Don't let Lowe go.”
“I won't. I'll tell him you're coming.”
“Going down to the office, Daddy?” Peg asked when he hung up.
“Yeah. I've got a prospect waiting to see me.” He looked at the clock. It was ten after ten. “I should be back around noon or so, kitten. If Brenda Mills comes by, tell her to wait.”
“Couldn't I ride along? I want to look for a pair of black panties so I won't have to wear mom's. Jo'll be here. Can I?”
“Okay. Hurry up, though. I don't want to keep that man at the office waiting.”
By the time he had gone to his room to gather up his things, Peggy had already slipped into shorts and halter and was standing by the front door waiting for him. Neither of them noticed Jo at her window as they got in the car and drove away.
Jo turned away from the window, crossed to her dresser, and picked up the hair brush to run it listlessly through her honey blonde hair. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and the whites were bloodshot. The impact of what her father had made her do and done to her hadn't sunk in until she had crawled into bed, and when she realized it had been naughty and sinful, her spotless conscience had generated a crying jag that had lasted far into the night.
She put on her house coat and went to the bathroom to piss and wash her face. As she bathed her cheeks and eyes with cold water, she wished she could rinse away the memory of the affair of last night. The feeling of his penis in her rectum stayed with her, and even the short troubled sleep hadn't been able to banish the queer sensation. But the problem, the real problem, was that his stabbing organ had triggered some hungry innate response that she couldn't comprehend or account for.
