A sort of hunger was forming in that gaze, he wasn’t sure he liked it. ‘Most people call me Jon. And you…’ was all he could manage, as two very delectable lips silenced the rest. She’s not a bad kisser, he admitted, pulling her closer. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank you, thank you, thank you. She broke the kiss, another expression on her face, leaning back, she walloped him with a slap, complete with English. He felt like his face was rearranged like Mr. Spudhead, as she stared crossly down at him. ‘And that’s for that shameless traitoress, Miss Bowdler!’ ‘What the fuck?’ he got out, as she pulled back from him. ‘Who are you, and how did you get in my apartment?’ She froze, looking at him, slapped back emotionally. ‘You don’t recognize me? Jonathan Williams-Arbuthnot, how dare you pretend not to know me?’ ‘That’s Jonathan Williams, I don’t know any Arbuth, arb…whoever. Do you always go around attacking strangers?’ She stared, looking around her at the furnishings.. She would smell it.I rushed back in with Daddy’s mug of black coffee, setting it down on the table before him. He gave me a fatherly kiss on the cheek, just brushing the corner of my lips which sent an excited thrill through me. I took my seat on his left across from Mommy, my breakfast of bacon and western omelets steaming and ready to eat.“What is that smell?” Mother asked, her nose wrinkling. “Something musty.”My cheeks warmed. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Mother.”“I’ll have to open the windows and air the room out.” She sighed. “Well, shall we say grace?”I took Daddy’s strong, warm hand, a flush shooting through my body, then reached across the table for Mother’s. Daddy said grace. You could hear no hint of hypocrisy as he asked God to bless us. He had just fucked his daughter on this table, the scent lingering in the room.His hypocrisy was what led to my sexual awakening. Two weeks ago, I was working on the garden outside our church, Thousand Oaks Methodist, when I discovered Daddy.
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