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You Again? (rpfiend_123 & AnnaBeth Belle)

Though she didn't want to smile, Brooke couldn't help but let a partial one move her lips when Mike said she was cute and nudged her in the side at the same time. It didn't last long, but it was there and it was helping. When he leaned back, Brooke stayed sitting up so that Mike's head ended up behind her on the bed. Brooke still hadn't changed out of her gym clothes but they weren't sweaty, just smelled a little bit like young woman and the body wash she used. Later Brooke would shower but her idea of leaving had meant her routine was off.

"I can't imagine that," she said, her hair shaking slightly on her back as she spoke. "I mean, Mr. Stevenson being like, well, like a boy. Not able to be cool about things and being handsy." What had Mr. Stevenson looked like when he was younger? Her age, not the same age as Tony. Brooke tried to remember if she'd seen any pictures of him around from back then, but most of them were of Claire from that time, and Samantha as a baby until now. Mr. Stevenson wasn't even in most of the pictures as an adult, either. It was so weird. You put up pictures of people you loved, and Brooke knew that Mr. Stevenson absolutely made Samantha and Claire the center of his world. Just look at all he did here that was traditionally women's work. Claire and Sam didn't raise a finger and Brooke remembered seeing Mr. Stevenson last summer, working on cleaning the house in a daily rotation that kept everything fresh. He even vacuumed when Claire wasn't home and Samantha and her were out or were at least awake so as not to disturb him. With all that, where were the pictures of him that they'd taken, that they wanted to look at and be reminded of someone they loved and someone they were proud of?

"Did you ever, I mean, with a girl? Did you ever start kissing with her and... touching? Upstairs I mean. And it got a little too much for you and you needed more and wanted her to help you but she didn't want to and you did it anyway?" That was the worst thing that had happened so far with Brooke's boyfriend. Not the worst as in painful, that had been losing her virginity to him and the utter lack of satisfaction it brought, only awkward shame and worry. But when he'd made Brooke touch him, and reach inside to finish, that was the worst. It just seemed like she hadn't had a choice. "Do you think Tony would have done that? He's not a boy. He's a man, like you, Mr. Stevenson. See, that's why I liked him. I don't think men would be like that."
 
He laughed when she said she couldn't imagine him as a boy. "Well I promise I was a boy." He smiled, watching her react a little bit to his apology now. From his view, he was able to see her toned back and the curve of her hips as she talked; although what came out of her mouth next surprised him a bit. Sure they'd been close, but she'd never really divulged any sort of detail about her sexual history to him. Not that he could call what she said 'explicit.' She used terms like 'upstairs' and 'help you' - although they were vague and a bit childish, he knew what she was talking about. It sounded like she'd been pressured into something, though.

Thoughts of their taboo conversation went to the back of his mind as feelings of concern made their way to the forefront. He frowned and sat up again next to her, rubbing her bare back a bit. "Oh, no - did.." he paused "I'm so sorry you got talked into something you didn't want to do. That's just.. I'm sorry." he slid his arm around her again and gave her his signature peck on the forehead before grabbing her arms softly, turning her to face him as he turned on the bed as well, his leg up and crooked and his other dangling off, his blue eyes searching for hers with a concerned look.

"You shouldn't ever have to do anything you don't feel comfortable doing, ok? And any boy who pushes you isn't worth it. Got me?" He asked, acting more like the father figure he'd set out to be at the beginning of the week than the slightly lecherous old-man he'd felt like the last couple days. "But.." he smirked and slowly slid his hands off of her arms, resting them in his lap. "I mean, yeah, I was definitely a red-blooded male once upon a time.. and.. did things." He chuckled, matching her nubile choice of words with his own. "I mean, I'm still a red-blooded male but.. of course, after a while things.." he shook his head. "The short answer is, yes, things always get hot and heavy when you're young - but I don't think I ever forced a girl to do something she didn't want. God, I hope not! If so, I was a dick.."

He let the silence sit in for a minute. "Hey, I've got an idea!" He stood up with a cheery grin. "Let me make this morning up to you. I know you wanted to go to the mall yesterday, but you were out of it.. So what about we go now? Hm? My treat." He crossed his muscular arms as he awaited her response, hoping to coax out the cheery Brooke he knew.. "We can get cinnamon pretzels.." he cooed out a sing-song tone
 
Brooke listened to Mr. Stevenson with a solemn face and eyes that never left his. She nodded to his words, really taking them to heart, and felt like Mr. Stevenson might be a little disappointed in her for making bad choices with her boyfriend. Should she tell him that - no, he had already told her that Jacob wasn't worth it. Brooke was glad they'd broken up, not long after giving him her virginity. Jacob just stopped caring about her, avoided her at school, and wouldn't call or text her back. It was like he was ashamed to be seen with Brooke, like she wasn't good enough. Maybe it was because the sex had been so bad, that she wasn't exciting enough for him. She was about to tell Mr. Stevenson that she had broken up with Jacob, to try and get his approval back, when he stood up. Brooke immediately missed the closeness of Mr. Stevenson's body, of his touch and his kiss on her forehead.

"I'll get fat," she said and pushed hard on her tummy to make it pooch out a little bit. "I'll get fat and you won't like me any more," the teen teased and then laughed. It was small, a tiny laugh, but it was there. "Okay," Brooke agreed and looked around the room at all of her clothes laying out. "Um, can I have a couple of hours to shower and put stuff up? I don't even think the mall is open yet anyway." When he agreed Brooke got up and walked over to Mr. Stevenson, hugging him hard with the side of her head pressed into his chest. "I'm sorry. If Sammie and I traded places, I would be so happy to have you as my Daddy. She's so lucky."

Squeezing him one more time, Brooke let go and began to clean up the room, thinking about what to wear.


"Can I have a Pepsi too?" Brooke asked as they stood in line at the Palace O' Pretzels. She'd selected a cute little sweater dress tht despite its long sleeves it was anything but too warm. The hem feel high on her thighs and she'd been almost, but not quite, indecent while sitting in the front seat of Mike's car. To complete the look she added a thin mesh choker, a simple long necklace and short black suede boots. The sunburn was already fading and left a warm glow to her normally pale legs, almost like she had just stepped out of a hot bath.

"Thank you for taking me to the mall, Mr. Stevenson," she said when they moved forward a space. "Sammie hates to go with me. But you don't seem to mind. Like, do you shop here for your stuff? Because it's not from Wal*Mart. You really do dress nice, Mr. Stevenson, at school and at home."
 
He let out a loud, hearty laugh when she pushed out her stomach. "You? Fat? I don't think that's possible, Brooke. And even if you did, you'd still be the same sweet girl. So, go ahead and gain a few pounds." he winded at her with the flash of a winning smile and agreed to let her get ready. Feeling proud when she said she'd be happy to have him as her daddy; but another part of him felt like he may be betraying her trust - since some of his intentions of late hadn't been exactly above board. I'm not taking advantage of her like Tony would have though, or that Jacob kid.. Right?

_____________________________________________

"A pepsi too?" he said, a bit loudly and in a fake incredulous tone. "Are you serious? What do you think I am? An ATM?" He bumped her with his hip, which was high above hers so it hit her on her arm lightly. They got up and got two pretzels and a giant pepsi with one straw to share. "You don't mind sharing cooties, do you?"

"I actually don't mind coming here; and yes, I do buy stuff here. Usually Banana Republic. Just simple stuff. But it's well made. So.. the million dollar question. Where are you gonna drag me to first? Seriously, I feel really bad about embarrassing you so.. I won't give you a limit, per se, but try not to go too crazy, ok?" They strolled through the busy, upscale mall. It's two levels were packed with high end stores carrying all sorts of things.

"What was it that you said you needed to get the other day?" He took a sip of the pepsi to hide a cunning smirk. He knew full well what they'd talked about buying, and while he knew she had a penchant for shopping for such nice things, he didn't know how comfortable she'd be buying it around him - but he couldn't wait to find out.
 
Brooke giggled at the display he was making, then squealed when his bump threatened to send her into the customer in front of them. She was still laughing when they stopped to sit on a planter in the food court to eat their pretzels. "I don't mind sharing cooties," the young teen said and took a sip of the drink, leaving the straw pinkish-red, "if you don't mind sharing lipstick. Come on, Mr. Stevenson, it's so your shade," she teased and held the drink up to his mouth so he'd take a sip from their shared straw. After he did, Brooke sipped, feeling the slightly warm wetness of the straw fresh from his mouth not at all gross. She thought, just maybe, there was a hint of the taste of his toothpaste.

Pulling the pretzel apart tiny piece by tiny piece, Brooke ate it slowly, pushing each bit into her mouth with her fingers. It was something she and Sammie had both learned to do when they'd had braces and Brooke never outgrew it. The retainers and bands and pain had been worth it as both girls were blessed with stunning, bright even smiles. The cinnamon clung to her fingers and she licked them between every few bites, leaving little dabs of sugar on her lips that slowly dissolved.

"Sammie needs new bras and panties. God, she's so boring. It's like she doesn't even like to feel pretty underneath. I do. I like knowing that I feel pretty under my clothes even if no one else ever knows. And they're just cute too." Another sip of the Pepsi and she continued. "No point in going now. She needs to get measured so they fit right. I bet her cup size is wrong." Brooke lipped her bottom lip and crunched a small piece of sugar between her teeth. "And it's not like I need another set," she laughed.

"I don't know. Just walk around maybe?"
 
He was slightly disappointed that she didn't pop up and shout out all the styles of panties she wanted to buy, but this was real life, not some wild fantasy; however, he did like hearing her talk about how she liked to look cute. "I noticed." he interjected. "When you left your stuff around on the towel and.. later when you were packing to run away." He put his arm on the back of the bench as they ate, taking large bites of the pretzel wrapped in paper, one hand dangling near her shoulder. His bicep resting impressively on the cold black metal.

"But.. it couldn't help to pick something else out.." talking through half chewed cinnamon pretzel. He swallowed "Unless that'd be weird for you?" he glanced down at her sweater dress resting high on her thighs. He stood up, reaching out his hand to help her up, even though she didn't need any. She was light to stand to her feet, and as they strode towards the end of the wing, Victoria's Secret was on the right and he stopped. "Well? Whatdya say?"

Of course he knew this was just another more compromising step down his self-indulgent path but.. well, at this point he figured it was just fun to see where it led. He knew Brooke had an eye for things that he liked, and he'd never get this kind of thrill from Claire.
 
"You'd really do that?" Brooke asked, when they stopped. "Really? Like, for the reals for the reals or just for the reals? Really?" Brooke looked into the store, then back at Mr. Stevenson, then back at the store and was clearly torn. They had such cute stuff. Really cute. But...

Quick back and forth motions of her head and Brooke decided not to accept the offer. It wasn't that she didn't want to, just that it was really, just, crowded, she decided. Victoria's Secret always was, like the Wal*Mart of lingerie even though it was fully of pretty things. "If you really want to, I mean really want to help me pick out something so pretty I would never, ever forget it?" Hazel eyes tried to draw Mr. Stevenson in, to trap him into honoring their agreement. "Ever?"
 
He loved the giddiness with which she reacted. "Of course really, like for real, really really real reallest." He mimicked her high pitched tone of excitement. "But.. we have to keep it between us, ok? Even though it may be ok for your father's best friend to dote on you..." he said, knowing that this kind of 'doting' didn't fall in to that category. "It's not so much ok for your vice principal to, ok? Promise?" He held out a thick hand, clenched in a fist except for a pnky, insinuating the most solemn of all promises.

He nodded as she returned with a promise of her own. "Ever." he repeated. "But.. if not here, then where?" He asked, his head cocked slightly to the side, glancing around the mall, trying to run down a list of all the store she'd remembered seeing on the mall directory where she could be taking him. "Lead the way.." he felt a satisfied shiver run up his spine, and a giddy smile spread across his lips before he straightened his face up again.
 
"Turn in here," Brooke said, leaning forward in the front seat of Mike's 4 Runner. For the last ten minutes Brooke had been looking at Maps on her phone, telling Mike where to turn, but she had Siri's voiceover navigation turned off. "Right here," the teen said, almost bouncing with excitement. Shrub lined, the parking lot of the shop all but hid it from the street and there were only a dozen spaces in the parking lot. It looked like an old house, pre-Ranch mania, that someone had converted into a business but had tried hard to keep it feeling slightly antique. A pink painted wooden sign had the name Trousseau picked out in flowing gilt lettering. "Last year one of Mom's friends had her niece in town to shop for her wedding gown. Mom and her friend and the bride and I came here and picked out some pretty things. Not for the wedding, well not exactly, but for her bridesmaids. You can't really wear a bridesmaid's dress again but she wanted her friends to have some pretty stuff underneath that they could wear again. It's so cute inside. And, like, don't worry, Mr. Stevenson. Not a lot of people know about it and they don't have to know you're, well, they don't have to know." Brooke beamed at her logic and before Mike could object she was out of the 4 Runner and walking up the steps to the front door. A tiny bell tinkled when they entered.

It was almost like a house inside, except some of the walls had been partially or wholly opened up. Racks had been built into the remaining walls, and free standing ones, done in brass, were arranged throughout the inside. An alcove to one side had a double curtain in front of it, currently pinned back, and what looked like a small couch and a chair with a cheval mirror inside. It was obviously a fitting room, but one for company to visit with you while you tried things on. And everywhere, no matter where you looked, were pretty things in satin and silk, ribbons and bows, lace and embroidery and applique. It was very different than Victoria's Secret, favoring white and pinks and pastels, and there was no crowd of people picking stuff up and dropping it back into the wrong bin.

"Welcome to Trousseau's," a woman, in her thirties with her black hair severely drawn back into a bun, stood to their right as they came in the door. "Aren't you a pretty thing, dear? Let me guess, Sweet Sixteen? Junior formal? And this is your..."

"Boyfriend," Brooke said without hesitation. "This is Mike," she said and moved to stand by his side, wrapping her arms around one of his and leaning into him. Brooke looked up and smiled like she was in love.
 
Mike figured she was taking him somewhere goofy; he hadn't been over in this part of town in years and didn't know the area - or what was in it-very well. They pulled up to the parking lot and he got out, rolling his eyes and sighing. A feeling of uncertainty came over him; was he sure this was the right move? Fuck it. He'd gotten this far, and besides, this was a lot less public than the last place. His eagerness had almost had him drag one of his students into a place where any number of people could have seen him - he had to admit, Brooke was right on this one.

Soon he was inside and he looked around, immediately distracted by all of the things that Claire would never wear, and he so desperately wanted to see on.. well, on someone, maybe not Claire. The saleswoman approached them and he tensed up, for the first time thinking that this whole shopping trip was an outright bad idea. Then Brooke came out with the words 'boyfriend,' and he realized that if he didn't want the cops called on him, he'd have to play along. "Y.. yup." he answered.

He was still a bit stiff but he slipped an arm around Brooke, cradling his wide palm into the crook of her side and pulling her close to his side. The saleswoman paused a bit, eyeing both of them up and down. Truth be told, Mike had aged very well, and Brooke, with her expertly applied makeup and adult fashion sense, could pass for.. well, at least 18. "Mmhmm." he saleswoman said through a pursed mouth. "Welll, just have a look around and if you see anything you like, feel free to take it back there and try it on. If you need anything, I'm Martha, so don't hesitate to ask." She took one last look with lifted eyebrows at the two and dissapeared into a storage closet behind some cascading gold beads.

Mike let out a sigh of relief and looked at Brooke with a 'tsk tsk' face. "Boyfriend? Really?" he said quietly, his hightened pulse causing his voice to quiver a bit. He looked around again, slowly strolling through some racks with his hands behind his back, looking, but not touching. "This place is nice, you were right.." He turned to look at her again. "Sooo.. what.. did you want to get?" he swallowed, leaning against a rack to act more casual, but feeling a cocktail of emotions.
 
"Well you kind of ran off the last potential boyfriend," Brooke said, but her light playful tone told Mike that with the swiftness of youth she was already starting to set the incident with Tony aside. "So, yeah. I made you take his place. What is it you always tell us, Mr... Mike?" His name on her lips felt unusual, wrong somehow, but at the same time Brooke wanted to say it again. Was it Mike or Michael? She tried to remember it from the diplomas in his office at school. No, wait, those were degrees not diplomas, right? After a few seconds she picked up her sentence as if the mental break hadn't happened. "Actions have consequences. While I can understand your actions, and work with you to not do them again, there are still consequences for what you did. So, you're my boyfriend," Brooke finished and pulled herself to him for a quick, giddy hug. Partially playing the role, partially just because it felt so good and Brooke was always hugging people, she didn't think anything of it.

"I don't know," she admitted and turned in place. "I kind of have enough bras and panties, and I can't believe I said that. Maybe, let's look at the PJs and lounge wear," Brooke said and started to walk over. When she realized Mike was still standing there with his hands behind his back, like the lingerie would somehow bite him if he touched them - and how could you shop without touching everything? - Brooke came over and forced his hand to lace into hers then pulled him like a big reluctant dog towards another section of the store.

"This is cute," she said picking out a dark blue top in silk crêpe-de-chin with a pretty silver floral embroidery at the top. Brooke held it against herself and looked in the mirror, then turned to Mr. Stevenson. "What do you think? Wrong color?" She looked down and lifted the hanger a little bit to make it drape better across her small breasts. "Martha?" she called towards the back room. "Is this available in another color to match my complexion? Like, do you maybe have it in white or pink?"

The saleswoman emerged and looked at Brooke with the top against her skin and shook her head disapprovingly. "It's not you. White will make you look better if you want the sweet innocence look. Is that what your boyfriend likes?" She looked over at Mike as she reached out to take the top back from Brooke to hang it back on the rack. "You like her looking innocent?"
 
He smiled when she called him 'Mike' for the first time in.. well, ever. He liked the way it sounded coming from her. Honestly, the only people to ever call him Mike were a few of his golf buddies; his wife only called him old-timey pet names like Dear and Honey out of obligation, his daughter called him 'Dad' or 'Pop' and even the other principals called him Mr. Stevenson. It took him back to the days of having a girlfriend - a cute, bubbly voice saying 'Mike,' or 'Baby,' or the like.

He chuckled when Brooke turned his normal words of discipline around at him, not expecting her hug. "Oof." he said as her low center of gravity knocked some of the wind out of him. He caught her hug, pressing his hands against her lower back. Sure he'd hugged her before, but he had never been so.. handsy so often with her. He was inspecting the pieces in the store when he felt a tiny hand insert itself into his larger one, linking fingers. Her hands were soft and he rubbed his large thumb over the back of her hand instinctively; his larger palms almost completely enveloping hers.

He bit his lip as she started going into detail of what she may or may not want - saying that she had enough bras and panties, and that they should look at the PJs. Part of him was a bit disappointed that they moved to a more modest part of the store, but he was shopping for beautiful, still inappropriate things with a gorgeous young woman - he wouldn't complain. Soon, she picked out a little nighty. He watched as she held it up to herself, imagining what she'd look like in it - walking around the house in the morning when Claire and Sam were gone. In his mind the movie played in great detail, and he watched how it hung over her small, but perfectly defined curves.

His eyes lingered for a moment till he was shaken from his daydream by the saleswoman turning towards him. He'd heard her question, but it took a moment to sink in. "OH, hm?" He paused "Oh yeah, umm.." He took a look at Brooke, searching her hazel eyes for a reaction as a slow smile spread across his face. "Innocence is an incredible look on her." his smirk spread into a wide grin "I think white would look incredible. She pulls it off so well." as the wheels in his mind turned. If she was going to spring the whole 'boyfriend' payback thing on him, then he may as well have a little fun.

"Although I like the opposite of innocent on her as well, you know? It's so unexpected for her, it looks just as good." He stepped forward and reached a hand down to her face, cradling her chin between his pointer finger and thumb. "You know what I mean?" He turned around to Martha. "What, in your opinion, is the opposite of innocent in this store?" Martha gave a slight chuckle and a knowing nod. Her store was tucked back in the corner for a reason, and even though it wasn't a skeezy sex shop and porn studio, she'd had all sorts of customers come in looking for something they couldn't find elsewhere, with the right amount of beautiful flare.

"I'll be right back." She said and disappeared. Mike turned around to face Brooke. "Actions have consequences." He smiled "You wanted a boyfriend, you got one."
 
"What makes you think I won't dump you the moment we leave the store...Mike," she said, then giggled. Inwardly Brooke was thrilled. Mr. Stevenson was playing along and he'd said she looked incredible! Well, technically he said that the innocent look Brooke had combined with the pretty lingerie created an innocent look that looked incredible on her, but who was looking? Mike was looking and that made Brooke feel almost as pretty as when he'd said. it. Brooke wanted Mike's fingers to hold her chin, hold her attention on him, forever but he let go when Martha came back with something in a plain white box. The edges of it showed crinkly tissue paper around the edges and it was clearly meant to conceal what was inside. Brooke reached to take it from her but Martha shook her head.

"This is something you'll need the dressing room for, young lady," Martha told Brooke. "You may wait out here," she told Mike and swept Brooke into the small alcove before drawing the curtain closed. Mike could hear the two of them murmuring but it was impossible to make out the words of their quiet, almost whispered conversation.

"You should keep him," she told Brooke. "Even if he's light on the sugar, he's heavy on the eyes," Martha said and mimed fanning herself, the steely resolve she affected in the showroom giving way to a lighter demeanor.

"He is soooo amazingly hot," Brooke agreed, not acting or pretending in the slightest. "But what do you mean light on the sugar? He's not, you know, gay."

Martha stared at Brooke for a moment then smiled. "You're serious, aren't you? Are you telling me he's not your sugar daddy? You know, paying your way through college. Well, maybe college. How old are you anyway, sweetie?"

"You think he's paying me?" Brooke asked incredulously. "I'm not a prostitute," she protested almost too loudly. "I'm not."

"Oh honey, that's not what sugar daddies do. They're not looking for a whore, they're looking for eye candy, arm candy, a little princess to spoil. And you are a little princess." Martha reached over and flipped up the hem of Brooke's sweater dress and revealed the panties she wore underneath. "See? Princess. Those are very beautiful by the way. Innocent, but wait till he sees these." Martha opened the box and Brooke's mouth opened at the same time.

"Are you serious?" she asked Martha.

"He said the opposite of innocent. Now let's get you changed and I'll tease your hair a little bit..."

Almost a quarter of an hour later Martha emerged, but she came through in such a way that the curtain folded around her, hiding Brooke from sight. "You may go in now," she told Mike, cool as she'd been before and no sign of the woman she'd been with Brooke.

When Mike stepped in, Brooke stood half on to him, looking over her own shoulder. Martha had teased her hair out to add a lot of volume to it and it had just the right amount of just-fucked tangles in it. Her skin was pale, and almost every bit of it was on display. Brooke wore a bra and panty set, black with mesh and lace overlay panels. The strap on her arm nearest Mike was pulled down onto her upper arm and Brooke held it with her other hand across her body, pushing her breasts up and drawing her chest in to make them look more pronounced. The look she gave him was obviously practiced, mouth parted just a little bit and a come and kiss me look on her face.
 
"Break up with me and I'm taking everything I ever bought you back to the store." He teased, walking up to her and slipping his hands on her waist, giving them a tight, ticklish squeeze for a moment. He hadn't had his hands on her body like this before, and his muscular hands pulled the fabric of her dress up a bit to bunch on top of the slight curve of her hips. He let his hands linger there for a moment, his smile fading a bit as he began to lose his train of thought in her eyes. His gaze was broken, however, when Martha came back with a box.

He was excited. Something that needed it's own box? He couldn't wait to.. Oh, damn.. the dressing room? He let out a grunt of displeasure and folded his arms across his chest in his signature disappointed look. The curtain was drawn and he sat on a small wooden chair off to the side with a fabric top embroidered with a red and gold floral pattern. It wasn't until he sat down that he realized his manhood had become a nuisance to him again. The feel of Brooke's hips still lingered on his hands, the faint feminine smell of her hair when he hugged her, and of course, the not-so-subtle eroticism of going on a clandestine errand to an upscale lingerie store with his daughter's 16 year old best friends had made him swell.

He reached down, straightening one leg and gripping the tip of his thick member, adjusting it down one leg between the dark denim and tight elastic of his boxer briefs. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on his knees and looked down at the ground, recalling the last few days that had led him here. Was he really going to go through with "it?" Whatever "it" was? Looking? Touching? More? He didn't know but he knew if he were put to the test now, his quickened pulse and flushed skin would easily win out over his logical mind. He bounced his leg a bit as he waited. Impatient. Glancing over at the thick curtain that obscured their hushed conversation, and worse, his view.

He was sure that they would try it on, put it back, and Brooke would come out dressed.

He heard some giggling, some shuffling, and soon, the curtain rustled open, Martha emerging and telling him he could go in. His heart jolted - in? He paused for a moment, and then realized quickly that he'd better go in or risk blowing his cover. He stood up, looking down at the hard wood floor as his feet carried him into the dressing room. He entered and closed the curtain behind him, his gaze still cast downward slightly. He saw pale, perfect bare feet and swallowed. As he clenched his fists, his muscular arms rippled and tugged against his shirt. He took a quick breath and slowly glanced up. Bare calves, then pale, shapely bare thighs. She'd obviously not tried on another nightie.

Then.. 'Oh god.' He thought, that perfect shape of the ass he'd seen that morning, only more exposed and split by an erotic strip of lace fabric. He let out an involuntary gasp, and his mouth opened wide. His eyes trailed up the sensual dip of her back, her shoulders, and then her perfect face. "Oh my god, Brooke.." He said in a half whisper, as he locked eyes with her, and then sent his eyes back down the journey they'd just been on two or more times. His reaction broke into an incredulous little chuckle and he covered his mouth.

"This is uhh.." he smiled, taking a few steps up behind her. He'd passed the 'looking' part. Would he allow himself more indulgence? He got right behind her and placed his large hands on her hips, glancing down the length of her back and the angle her bubble butt made when he looked at it from the top - the way it swallowed the black material and covered it's secret places. He moved his hands up from her hips now to her shoulders and he allowed the full length of his stomach and waist to press against her back, not caring that she could surely feel the shaft that had only grown in size and hardness since he entered. The mirror in front of her allowed him to see the full front of her pale, red freckled body, now almost fully exposed in front of him.

"This is definitely the opposite of innocence." He leaned down a bit as he caught her eyes in the mirror, his chin adjacent with her cheek, sliding his hands down to her arms now. "I knew you'd look better in something like this." The quiver was gone from his voice now and he spoke with someone confident that he belonged next to her, beside her, behind her. "How do you feel?"
 
"Like I can't breathe," Brooke said, skin twitching slightly under Mike's hands. They were on her shoulder, then on her upper arms and she could feel the loose bra strap caught between them, as if he wasn't her best friend's father but a lover, a real lover, about to slide them from her body and reveal Brooke to his eyes for the first time. Her chest hitched, breath truly caught in her throat, and she felt the hard bodied man behind her as he pulled Brooke closer to him. In the mirror the not fully a girl, not quite a woman, looked like an angel dressed in sin with a blondely handsome Gabriel behind her trying to divest her of it, to make her pretty and pure again.

Brooke gasped, breath suddenly rushing out, then drew a shuddering breath back in. Her hand came atop Mike's and hesitated before slowly starting to move his downward, dragging the bra strap with it. She felt it grow taut as the slack disappeared, then tauter still as their hands reached her elbow. A few more inches and she felt the cup lift away from her youthful breast and knew that Mike could see inside it now, see her pink-nippled breast laid open to his eyes. She looked down at it herself, breathing hard, then turned her head to look at Mike from the range of a point blank kiss. Her lips were parted, eyes heavy and doe frightened at the same time, and Brooke looked more beautiful, more available to Mike than any woman ever had.

"Mike," she whispered, breaths now coming in hard little pants. "Mike, what-"
 
He wasn't quite sure how she'd react, but the fact that she hadn't screamed when he entered, as if he'd opened up the bathroom door by accident when she was sleeping over, was a good sign to him. When she said that she couldn't breathe, he knew exactly what she meant. It was an out of body experience for him, otherworldly, and yet, exactly where he needed and wanted to be. He didn't need to say anything. He knew.

When her small hand rested on his, he felt that same shiver as before, sending sparks through his veins with an electrifying heat. Then, she began to guide it downward. He felt his vision go blurry for a moment and then back into focus - his head grew lighter and he swallowed as his hand allowed hers to move it. Never in a million years could the thin red-head over power the svelt older man, but in this instance, it was as if he was powerless to do anything to resist.

He let gravity do much of the work as his finger hooked into the black elastic band, taking with it the lace cup. His eyes fell from her gaze and traced down to the soft, supple curve of her untanned breast, capped with a perfect pink bud, slightly hardened. His breath hitched as well and his eyes grew wide. He glanced up at the mirror, seeing her naked flesh from a different angle, one cup on, one off, and him behind her. His other hand slipped from her arm to her waist, his fingertips making light indentions in her soft skin. He slid his hand around to her stomach, dragging his palm along it firmly and pulling her in to him more.

His head was still resting near her cheek when he felt her red hair brush against his cheek as she moved her head. Her parted lips inches from his. He could taste her from there. The subtle sweetness of the cinnamon pretzel she'd had earlier, combined with the scent of whatever fruity shampoo she used, it made him salivate. His mouth hung open as well, breathing heavily as his shoulders heaved. His eyes darted from her mouth to her eyes and back. This was a look he knew, but hadn't seen in a while. When he and Claire first got married and they actually had passion. The kind of look where the blood has rushed from your brain to other parts of your body and left you completely senseless - completely carnal. This is the look that donned Brookes face. It was the same look he had on his.

His hand that was on her stomach travelled upward. He dared not, did he? He'd seen. He'd touched. Would he take? The truth is he'd made that decision when his eyes first saw her bent over in the fridge that morning, but he wouldn't admit it to himself. His forearm was almost the width of her whole body, firmly sliding up and passing over her breast. He felt the soft nipple as his fingertips passed it on the way to her neck, sliding into her red hair and resting his palm on her chin, holding her inches from his mouth.

He cut her sentence short as his lips closed the gap to hers, still parted. His hand gripping the back of her neck and under her jawline, tangled in her hair. His tongue ventured past her teeth and touched hers playfully, gretting her with a wet, warm embrace and a soft moan of relief, muzzled by her own mouth. "Mm..." he groaned and breathed hard out of his nostrils as he tasted her for the first time.
 
Mike's forearm dragged a delicious fire in its wake as it traveled up her body. Brooke felt the irresistible strength of it as her flesh was smoothed under its weight, its hard muscled feel as it ignited her skin. When it pulled across her breasts, pushing them upward into Mike's gaze, Brooke felt her knees go weak and then they shot into clenched rigidity when Mike's arm crushed her hard aching nipples into her breasts and tugged them upwards as his arm passed. "Mike," she moaned and let her arms drop, the cup of her bra spilling almost completely off now, only held in place by its twin that still had the strap across her shoulder. It was primal the way he twisted her head, his hand so large and strong on her chin, the other part of it cradling her neck. Brooke felt like a child, helpless and weak, unable to stop Mike from moving her body and utterly unwilling to want him to stop. She started to speak again but Mike's lips settled on her own, denying her words, and he tasted her in a wet, possessive kiss.

Mike's tongue slid into her mouth and teased her teeth into parting as much as her lips and then he was deeper, his tongue demanding that she respond. Brooke's met Mike's and it was uncertain but eager. With a moan she arched backwards into him, trying to turn her body and head even more, too fuly face into him, but Mike denied her that, holding Brooke exactly as he'd positioned her and making the young girl's motions nothing but agonized squirming. Brooke's almost bare bottom wiggled across Mike's hard length and she pressed back into it, needing to feel more of it. Mouth parted even more, Brooke continued to kiss Mike, to be kissed by him, and she felt like floating from the sensation of his tongue sliding along hers, teaching her how he liked it and how he wanted her to respond. Brooke's arms came up, bent at the elbows, and her hands settled on Mike's forearm, clutching it as a support. "Mike, oh Mike, yes," she whimpered when they broke the kiss for a second, her lips feeling naked and cold without his. Almost frantically her mouth searched for his again and there was no hesitation when she found it, no coyness, only a frantic almost panicked need as she slid her tongue into his mouth, taking the taste of a man and loving it. "Yes," she said again and squirmed, trying to turn, to press her deliriously tingling tummy into his body. Brooke's hands tightened hard on his forearm, squeezing as tightly as she could, and she writhed against him, bottom squirming against his trousers and against the rigid feel of his cock. Breaking the kiss, she arched her head to the side, opening her neck and jaw to his gaze and Brooke moaned loudly in the dressing room, the sound threatening to carry far beyond the curtain.
 
The feel of her tongue meeting his once, then again and again was heaven to him. His eyes melted closed and he felt as if they'd collapse into a pile of muscles and curves on the floor at any minute, his body overrun with shivers that massaged his skin. He loved the way she tasted, the way her soft skin felt against him, the way she moaned his name, the way she rubbed against him.. It took him a few seconds to notice that she was even doing it at all, his mind was blank and only capable of taking in senses for the first few tender, passionate kisses. When he'd regained a bit of perception, that was what he noticed. Her full, perky ass rubbing against his shaft, which was now painfully hard - his biology was ignoring any sort of laws or social morays that would keep them from the nubile flesh only centimeters from it's skin.

"Oh my god, Brooke.." he said with a breathy gasp, seemingly, their vocabulary had been reduced to saying each other's first names only. He winced a bit as the sensitive tip of his penis lurched out in an attempt to break itself from Mike's pants when Brooke let out an unexpected moan of pleasure. It was dead quiet in the store other than their rustling of bodies, and they would have noticed how loud Brooke's noise was, were it not for the blood pumping in their ears. He couldn't get enough of her mouth, of the feel of her body against his. He drank her saliva hungrily with each kiss, and continued to hold her in place, keeping her head turned towards his as he felt her body from behind. His other hand crept slowly down her stomach, his palm feeling passed the soft dip of her navel, and then were greeted by a ticklish band of lace. He pressed his fingertips downward, firmly, so that the elastic band of her panties separated from her skin ever so slightly; as he inched downward he felt heat escape across his fingertips.

"AHEM!" A voice that wasn't his and wasn't Brooke's came from the other side of the curtain.

His hand froze in it's position, his fingertips encroaching not even half an inch past her waistband. He opened his eyes widely - the feeling of shivers replaced by a quick turn of his stomach almost instantly. He separated his mouth from Brooke's slowly, a glistening of saliva on his lips. He had not realized how tightly he'd been holding her against him until he loosened his grip on her, letting go and standing up, panting heavily and glancing from the closed curtain, and back to Brooke.

"You have to BUY that, and wait till you get HOME to try it out." the stern, yet understanding voice of Martha, the lingerie saleswoman, came from the other side of the curtain. Mike swallowed hard and turned back to Brooke, his face flush, and his eyes unabashedly taking in the site of how different she looked even in the last 3 minutes of him being there. Flushed skin, exposed breast, red, glistening lips, panties raked at the angle at which his exploring fingers had disturbed it. "R.. Right, sorry." he replied, his voice cracking a little. He took a step back towards Brooke and grabbed her arm, whipping her around towards him and placing a hand on either side of her neck, craning her face up towards his with his strong hands. He planted one last kiss on her mouth, parting her lips with his own and moving his tongue in two slow, heavy circles before separating with a wet smacking sound.

"You umm.. Get dressed.." He said with a dazed smile. "I'll meet you out front.." He backed out of the dressing room, eyes locked on to hers for a moment longer before disappearing behind the curtain.

______________________

When Brooke emerged, he was leaning against the counter, smiling like a damn fool. He had an extra, larger pink package with a silk black bow tied around it tucked under his arm. Martha's eyes flitted from Mike to Brooke and back again, and she gave Brooke a knowing wink as the two left the store. The drive home started in a bit of silence before Mike reached out a hand, placing it lightly on Brooke's exposed thigh. "So umm.." He paused "Obviously what happened in there it.." For a moment, one last bit of logical, proper, principal Mike piped up. 'You can still stop this!' he said 'Just say it can never happen again!' Then he remembered the way Brooke looked when she was turned away from him when he first entered the dressing room, and Mike's logical side was squashed hard. "It has to stay between just you and me, right?... Oh, and Martha." He let out a chuckle - letting Brooke know he wasn't mad or scared. "It's not just about Claire and Sam and the school but.. I could really go to jail for something like that."

His face got red and his strong jaw line clenched as he realized how serious things just got, wishing they could go back to the passion of the curtained dressing room. He slipped his hand under Brooke's, interlocking his fingers with hers. "Why do you have to be so damn beautiful, huh? Why couldn't Sam have picked an ugly one for a best friend." He teased.
 
Brooke didn't reply, just took his hand and leaned her head against the window, the glass cool on the side of her face. Worried he'd interpret it was her pulling away, Brooke squeezed his fingers hard, hard for her anyway though not nearly as strong as Mike could be even when he wasn't trying to run off an older boy who was trying to make time with Brooke. Was that why he'd done it? Why Mike had been so incredibly protective? At the time she thought he was just being, well, a dad if not her dad. Dads were supposed to do that sort of thing, to make sure that any man who got close to their little girl was worthy of it and would cherish her like her dad did. It was so confusing! There was Mr. Stevenson, her assistant principal who made sure she and every other student toed the line but who loved them in a, not detached but avuncular way that didn't put him above seriously coming down on them when needed. Then there was Mr. Stevenson, her best friend's dad, the one who'd always been there and teased her just like he did Sammie, who took the girls places and bought them ice cream and told the most awful dad jokes ever. The Mr. Stevenson who she felt comfortable around, even asking him to get her pads one time when she was at Sammie's and ran out and he hadn't made it awkward at all. The last several days though, Brooke realized, Mr. Stevenson had started to become someone else, someone who really made her want to look pretty and be told she was pretty and that Brooke wanted to be paid attention to in a way that Brookie from last summer hadn't. Then there was...Mike.

Even thinking his name made Brooke's heart flip in her chest and she squeezed Mike's hand in sympathetic response. When he was kissing her Brooke hadn't known anything but the touch of his hands, the way he held her possessively and like a man not like a boy. How his mouth tasted and how it took her soaring and made her tummy flutter and her nipples ache with their arousal. Mike who said her name like she wasn't a little girl, like she was a woman he wanted. She knew he did, Brooke had not missed the feel of his arousal or the way her breathing stopped and her heart slammed erratically in her chest as his fingertips slipped beneath the edge of her panties. Panties she'd worn for him, teased him with, kind of even been slutty about and that made her blush. She had been kind of a slut, and it was wrong for her to be doing that around her best friend's dad, but another part of Brooke didn't care. That Brooke wanted to be sexy and flirty and tease Mike and, okay, maybe be a little slutty for him. Whatever that meant. It was so confusing.

"I won't tell anyone," she promised as they pulled into the garage. Brooke let go of his hand and turned in the seat as she undid her seatbelt. "It's okay, I promise. I don't want us," not you, us, "to get in trouble. And...and I want more," she said then before her courage completely broke got out of the car and rushed into the house with her package and the larger one Mike had bought. It was a sign of how confused Brooke was that she hadn't even pushed him or asked about the package, and it was really pretty with the black silk bow around it.

"Watch where you're going, Brooke!" Claire was just inside the kitchen where the garage door led into it and Brooke had bumped into her with the package. She took Brooke's stuttered sorry as a sign she had made Brooke feel chastised where in reality Brooke was terrified. She, Mr. Stevenson's wife, was right in front of her, right after her husband and Brooke had kissed and been about to do more just a little bit ago. "What's that?" she said and pointed to Brooke's small bag and then the larger box.

"Uhh, oh this?" Brooke held the bag up then quickly put it down by her side, "just a new bra for an outfit I got last week."

"You and your mom," Claire said disapprovingly. "I know where you get it from. She's always trying to drag me to the store with her. And that?" she asked pointing to the larger box, the one with a ribbon and bow the color of the sin Brooke felt she'd committed.

"Oh, um, well you know my mom," she said and laughed though it felt hollow and fake. "It's a, uh, wedding shower gift for a friend's daughter. You don't know them," she added hastily, "they live in Connecticut." Brooke tried to go past but Claire reached out and took the box from Brooke.

"I can only imagine," she said and slipped the edge of the ribbon off the side so she could open the box without untying the bow.

"Wait! I mean, it's just they did a nice job wrapping it and-"

"Brooke, It's fine. I just want to see what your mom got her." Mrs. Stevenson sat the now ribbonless box on the counter and pulled the top off with a sucking noise of cardboard and tissue paper.
 
Mike pulled in to the garage and Brooke hopped out and headed for the door, his eyes watching her perky backside tug at the sweater dress as she moved - a soft smile spread across his face. Before he even got out of the car, Brooke was already opening the door and heading inside. Even though he was in good shape, age had made him more patient and he moved at the pace of a man in his late-middle ages. He had stepped out of the car and immediately knew something was off. 'Claire's car.' His eyes went wide.

Sitting in a space he hadn't seen it occupy in weeks was her silver Prius. He swallowed hard and turned to see if Brooke had already gone in, trying to warn her, but the door shut behind her with a click. He stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. He knew Brooke wouldn't just spill everything right there. Maybe. Who knows? Maybe she wouldn't even run in to Claire? He headed for the door and opened it only to see his worst fears confirmed. Claire had already set the box down on the counter and was opening it.

The tiny principal in his head yelled 'TOLD YOU SO!' He had only been inappropriate with Brooke for a day or two, and was already caught. But wait. Did Claire know? What was said before he came in? It was only a few seconds, and his wife wasn't yelling or throwing things, so obviously nothing too incriminating had been shared. "Claire, what are you.." she cut him off with a wave of her hand, not even glancing back at him. "Oh, everyone relax! I just want to see what Eleanor had Brooke pick up at the store for her friend in.. Connecticut or something. You know she always picks out the most scanda.." she stopped her sentence as she opened up the box and revealed the lingerie set lying on the crinkled pink paper. "Oh, my god.." She turned to Mike, holding it up. A sheer black lace set, not unlike the one Brooke had worn, but complete with garter belt and matching lace stockings. "We're never letting you go shopping with Sammy for this kind of stuff.." she let out a disgusted scoff and tossed it back in the box, raising one judgemental eyebrow at Brooke.

She reset the bow, handed the box to Brooke and shooed her off to her room, turning to Mike and folding her arms with a scowl. "Did you know she was getting that?" Mike felt instantly relieved that Brooke had thought so quickly about turning it into a gift for her mom's friend. "Uh.. no, no of course not." he shrugged, leaning against the counter. "I stayed in the car." He bit on his lower lip, feeling his face turn a bit flush. He'd never been a great liar, but to his credit, he'd never had the need to do much lying. He was an honest, selfless man. Most of the time. Claire scowled "Well, just make sure you watch her and Sam if they go to the mall together or anything. Don't let them go into any of those kinds of stores." Mike nodded "Of course, dear." He leaned forward to give Claire a consoling hug and peck, but she had already begun to sidestep him.

"Well, I have to go back to work in about an hour. I just came because I forgot my briefing notes for this afternoon's meeting." She was pouring over an unfolded binder on another part of the counter and already disinterested in her husband. He just rested a hand on her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, walking to his bedroom. When he was out of site, he nearly collapsed against the bedroom wall, breathing heavily. "Oh my god.." he whispered out loud to no one inparticular, slightly reeling from the tense situation in the kitchen. He went into the bathroom, and shut and locked the door, turning on the sink to splash some cool water on his face. When he shut his eyes though, the site of Brooke standing in that curtained dressing room flooded his memory. He had almost forgot how aroused he'd been in that room, and how unsatisfied he'd left.

He walked into the separate alcove where the toilet was and unzipped his pants, dropping them to his ankles and sitting down. His shaft flopped out heavily, red and angry from the teasing an hour before. He leaned back and closed his eyes, replaying the sites and smells and touches from the short but powerfully erotic interaction. Her half naked body, the way she felt.. His cock twitched upward and he took it into his broad palm, gripping it and causing his body to shiver. Masturbation was becoming an increasingly normal part of his routine since Claire worked late, but it was more of a means to an end, usually. Relieving some stress from the day. This was a necessity right now. He'd never been more enticed sexually by something he couldn't have.

He began to stroke his tip upward and downward, working fast and quick along his length, biting his lip and imagining the way her lips felt on his for those brief moments. The way her full, round backside ground into his crotch and sent heat waves up into his stomach. His other hand reached down and cupped under his heavy balls, rubbing them sensually to provide more stimulation. His shaft grew harder and redder, thick veins forming along their sides. Then he began thinking of things that hadn't happened yet. Pale skin and red hair rolling in different positions on his bed, around him, under him, on top of him. A few strokes later and he bit his lip even harder, grunting as the familiar twinge of orgasm emanated from his scrotum, up the length of his veiny, red cock and out one end, shooting a thick glob of white cum over and down his knuckles, splattering on the toilet seat and the tile below.

He stood up, his shaft drooping slightly, but still hard and full from the smutty daydreams he'd just had. He cleaned up and exited the room, heading back to the Kitchen where Claire was just where he'd left her.


____________________

The rest of the afternoon Brooke stayed in her room. Obviously, he knew why. That night, after picking up Sam and after dinner with the everyone, in which he and Brooke tried their best not to stare too long, he laid in bed wondering about what had happened that day, and where they would go from there. Before Claire turned out her lamp, she said "Oh, dear, I forgot to tell you I'm working late again tomorrow. Goodnight."
 
Hiding at the corner of the window of Sammie's bedroom, Brooke had her thumb in her mouth and was chewing at the cuticle. It was going to be a mess later, and she knew it would take some serious time with cuticle oil and her special scissors to make it right, but her nerves kept bringing it to her mouth seconds after she told herself to stop it. When she saw Claire's car back out of the garage, Brooke gasped and pulled back further, afraid she'd be seen. There was no chance of it, the gauze curtain, the dark room, and Claire's angle from the car to the upstairs window prevented it but Brooke felt like Claire would be watching, looking to see if Brooke was... Was what? She couldn't know, could she? There was no name on the box or the bag, so Claire didn't know what shop they'd gone to. Not unless she tracked Mike's phone. Did she? Again her thumb was ravaged by the worrying shame Brooke held inside. What if Claire found out where the shop was, and went and started asking questions? What would Martha say? Oh God, what had she done!

Brooke sat on the edge of Sammie's bed and held her forehead in her hands, red hair falling around her face like waves of sullen flame waiting to burn her at the stake. Mike was married, and her best friend's dad, and her principal! What if she'd ruined everything for him, for Sammie! Oh God, what if Sammie found out? What would she do? Brooke's hands turned into fists, tugging painfully at her hair and she shook hard, trying to squeeze the bad thoughts and worries out of her head. She was so stupid, so amazingly thoughtlessly childishly stupid! What had she been thinking taking Mike there, and telling him he was her pretend boyfriend and then letting him see her like that, posed like sex for the taking? He was married! His daughter was her best friend! Oh, she was so so so stupid! Brooke knew she was pretty, knew she turned heads and knew also that this thing she felt - she wanted! - with Mike was wrong and was dangerous for both of them.

And she wanted it.

Brooke pushed herself backwards onto the bed, still holding her head and her hair in her fists and kicked angrily at the ceiling before rolling onto her side and curling up like a miserable little shrimp. The pillow she pulled into her tummy was hard and Brooke held it tightly between her legs with the other end of it just under her chin. Wanting to cry but not able to, Brooke felt like the anxiety and guilt inside would never go away and would eat and eat and eat at her until she exploded. It was making her restless and almost and Brooke kept squirming around, trying to find a position that would be comfortable. Without fully realizing it, Brooke began to rock her hips against the pillow. The sweater dress had pulled up during her squirming and Brooke's panty clad crotch was in direct contact with the firm pillow. Instinct made her shift so it was in better contact with her body and she rocked, then began slowly arching her hips up and down, grinding her pussy onto the pillow and creating a delicious friction. It felt so good and worry began to drain out of her body. Brooke wasn't thinking about it, her mind still going a million miles an hour down pathways that led to ruin and discovery, but her body knew what it needed to bring comfort and release. Stronger now, more insistently, Brooke humped the pillow, twisting it to position it better between her legs so she could bear down on it more. It was the downward strokes that felt the best, the pressure slightly parting her lips and opening her pussy up so that her clit came in better contact with the pillow, and the upward movements closed them again, sometimes catching a quickly growing slippery bit of her panties inside before pulling away like a lover's lick. "Mike, I'm sorry," she whispered to the room, then turned onto her tummy and continued to make love to the substitute for him between her legs. It wasn't enough, wasn't hard enough or strong enough and Brooke felt a new anxiety rising, a frustration that she couldn't finish. Aware now of what she was doing, and beyond the shame she normally felt when touching herself, Brooke brought her hand to her mouth and wet her first two fingers, coating them with her saliva and making them slippery. It was usually necessary, she didn't lubricate much because she felt so guilty about touching herself like it was a bad thing. Brooke needed her fingers to be wet so she could slide them across her lips and her button. Never inside, her nails always hurt, but circling and rubbing her pussy lips and clit usually brought her to orgasm even though Brooke felt there was always something missing. This time when she slipped her hand inside her panties, Brooke was shocked to find them all but dripping wet. It was hot and slick on her fingers, so different than the lubrication her mouth had given them, and Brooke buried her face in the comforter and cried out at the strong shuddery feeling her fingers evoked from her clit. It was almost too powerful, too strong, and she ached for something different, something that made her legs clench against her hand wanting to trap it there like a lover's body. Like Mike's body. Oh God, his cock had felt so good and big against her butt. Brooke's hand began rubbing faster, now embracing the strong feeling as her mind played Mike's image, his words, his smell and the feel of his strong, manly body against hers. He would have touched her like this, she knew, and Brooke cried out again into the comforter, head shaking from side to side as her orgasm built. He would have touched her and made her wet like this and then pushed her up against the wall of the fitting room and pulled her slutty panties down and then shoved himself inside, filling her like a boy never could, filling her with his powerful big cock and making her scream his name. "Mike!" she shouted into the bed, voice muffled by the desperate arch of her body into the mattress that pressed her face deeply into the comforter as she rode out an orgasm that had a hard body, blonde hair, and that her best friend called Dad.

For almost half an hour Brooke lay there, utterly exhausted and with her hand inside her panties, cupping her pussy. As she came back to herself she realized what a mess she'd made and how her panties felt cool and sticky now. Oh God, what if Sammie came home and smelled it, smelled the unmistakable scent of girl arousal? Brooke got up, walking awkwardly and hating how her panties felt, and went into the bathroom to change and to wash up.



"Dad, why did you change my sheets? It's not Sunday," Samantha asked.

Brooke swallowed the bit of brussel sprout she didn't really like but was eating because Mike insisted the girls eat at leas one each. "Oh, that was me," she said and laughed nervously. "I was doing a mud mask for my face, for my sunburn you know? Gotta lock in the hydration. Anyway, I fell asleep and I must have rolled over and got some of it on the comforter and just decided to wash all of it. Everyone likes a clean bed, right?" Brooke felt her ears going pink at the lie and didn't dare look over at Mike.
 
The next morning, Mike awoke from a light, disturbed sleep. Racked with anxiety about the potential mess he'd gotten himself into, he spent most of the evening tossing and turning, only dozing off in the wee hours of the AM. When he awoke, he turned to see Claire's spot already empty, and as he laid his hand on it, confirmed it was cold and that she'd been gone for a while now.

He sprawled out on the empty bed, glancing over to see a large red "5:30AM" on his nightstand alarm clock. He swung his legs over to the side and hunched over at the waist, resting his elbows on his thighs and rubbing his face with a groan. "Shit." At the very least, he didn't want things to grow awkward between him and Brooke - at the most, he didn't want to ruin his career and go to jail for years. He got ready, dressing himself in a form fitting black v-neck and grey sweatpants. Usually he was in jeans and a button up in the summer, but his mind was more preoccupied on keeping a certain secret than it was looking presentable. He went to the bathroom and raked a hand through his blonde hair, pushing it to the side. It was short on the sides, and slightly long on top; Sam always teased him that his hair was too trendy for his age.

"Oh no, Sam.." he squeezed his eyes together and pinched the top of his nose between his thumb and forefinger - as if waiting for an intense headache or brainfreeze to pass. He'd completely forgotten that Sam and Brooke tell each other everything. What if, in last night's gossip, Brooke had revealed to her best friend that her dad perved on her? It was all becoming all-too real, and without the beautiful red head in his view, he had no incentive to push those paranoid thoughts down. But she wouldn't dare tell Sam.. would she?

He took a deep breath. Steadying himself against the counter as he stared at himself in the mirror. Was this even worth it anymore? Were his summer's plans of being self-indulgent just a misguided attempt at a mid-life crisis? He went to the kitchen quietly, relieved that Brooke wasn't there, and made himself some coffee. Skipping his usual breakfast of a protein shake. He wasn't hungry. He sat in thought at the kitchen table, staring out the window and being far too pensive for his usual liking. As he stewed on the matter, he tried to appraise his feelings accurately. Was this just a crush he was having? Would the boredom with his life have eventually sparked an affair with just about any student? Or was it Brooke herself that made him want her?

After what had to be 2 hours or more of deep thought, struggling over every pro and con, and remembering every detail of his long history with the young lady, and the last couple of days with her and how she made him feel - he settled on one undeniable conclusion - he wanted her. Still. After all of the hand wringing and tense situations, he wanted her. Now, would he act on it? How would he act on it? Those were all questions left unanswered. But the troubling conclusion at which arrived meant he'd have to struggle with it for the time being.

He heard the door open upstairs and a small wave of panic rushed over him. He sat up straight, his fight-or-flight instincts kicking in as he whipped his head around to the staircase, only to see Sam shuffle in her blue soccer shorts and oversized Michigan t-shirt. "Oh, morning sweetheart." Mike said and Sam responded with a comatose nod and grunt. "Ugh, morning da.." her words cut off by a large yawn. She went to the fridge and got out some OJ and sat down at the table with him. Mike kissed her on the forehead and got up to the kitchen. "Want some breakfast?" "Mmmhmmm." came her reply. "It's Saturday, isn't it?" She was perking up. "Brooke should be down here, soon, too, so make some for her too." Sam's calm demeanor could only mean that Brooke hadn't divulged anything incriminating to her. Sam was terrible at hiding her displeasure, so he was certain his secret was safe for now.

He cooked her some eggs with a side of toast and set it down in front of her. After a few bites, Sam began to become more awake. "Oh, didn't you and Brooke want to take me to the mall sometime? We can do that today if you guys haven't already gone." Mike's face grew a bit red and he nodded tensely. Even though it was more confirmation that Brooke didn't say a word to her about their trip yesterday, it also meant they'd need to spend more time around each other today - without much of a chance to discuss what had happened between them.

"S.. sure honey." he said, sipping on his now-cold coffee. He put on another pot and just then heard the upstairs door open a second time, light feet descending the carpeted staircase. He tugged at the front of his sweatpants. He'd failed to relieve himself of his morning wood, and his mind and body were in conspiracy against him; they knew who was coming down the stairs, and the effect she easily had on him, and they didn't care about who she was to him.
 
"It's about time," Samantha said without looking over as Brooke came into the kitchen. "I can't believe I had to wake you up. You getting sick? You hardly talked at all last night."

"I'm okay," Brooke answered, seemingly in response to Samantha's question but the way her eyes were locked onto Mike's face left it clear the message was for him. "I just had a lot on my mind. Things I need to sort out."

"If I didn't know better I'd think you were about to start," Sammie said lightly. "But it's the wrong time for us." Years ago their cycles had more or less matched up, within just a few days normally, and the best friends took care of one another when boys were monsters, there weren't enough heating pads and rice socks in the world, and life just sucked. "Don't forget your pill," Samantha added. Both girls also started birth control around the same time too, though different brands because of Brooke's sensitivity to estrogen. It wasn't because of sex, just to help regulate things and maybe - a big maybe in their parent's eyes - in case of a little teenage lack of judgment. Of course Mike had taken Samantha to her doctor and got the prescription filled every month, Claire couldn't be bothered.

"I won't," she said still looking at Mike. "That would be a big problem." Finally she looked away, for a moment anyway before cutting her eyes back at Mike to see if he was still looking before Brooke really did look away for good. She sat down at the table by Samantha and pinched off a piece of toast and dipped it in the yolk of Samantha's egg.

"Well, cheer up, Brookie. Dad's taking us to the mall today. Maybe we can watch the guys practice hockey if it's not public skating time. The little kids are cute and the high school team is cute too," Samantha said and laughed.

Brooke shrugged. "I guess. I mean we need to get you some new bras and panties. Don't worry, I'll let you keep them plain. Pretty ones just aren't your thing. I won't push you but I don't want to watch if they're playing hockey. The high school boys are just, like, stupid. They're so immature. Like remember the time they hit the glass where we were standing and made us scream? Boys are just stupid and need to grow up. Then they're better."

"Well if that's the case let's just go to Wal-Mart," Samantha said, knowing that Brooke wouldn't agree in a million years.

"Mr. Stevenson?" Brooke called out and looked across the kitchen. "Can you please drug test Sammie because she's smoking crack or something if she thinks I'm going to Wal-Mart. This could be a real crisis." Brooke laughed, though not as brightly as usual. "May I have an egg please, sir? I'll help you." As she'd done so many times before, Brooke went to where Mr. Stevenson was cooking and stood right beside him, hip and shoulder brushing his as she reached for an egg out of the carton. "Show me that trick again to breaking it one handed," she asked and used her free hand to push hair out of her face as she looked up into Mike's. "I like it when you show me how to do things."
 
Mike's head was down, glancing at the bottom of the stairs as bare feat and shins passed his view, pouring himself another cup of coffee. He had no idea how Brooke would react from yesterday's events; hell, he had no idea how he would react himself. But here they were. He knew any amount of weirdness between them would be cause for suspicion, so he put on his best, broad "Mr. Stevenson" smile and looked up as Brooke came into the kitchen. Her eyes locked onto his. 'I just had a lot on my mind. Things I need to sort out.' His expression softened; a look of empathy and contrition on his face. He rolled his lips into a tight lipped smile and nodded in agreement, almost imperceptibly, to somehow get through to her that he was in the same boat.

Then Sammie started talking about Brooke's period and Mike just rolled his eyes with an audible groan. Of course he didn't actually think it was 'gross.' He'd been making pad and tampon and chocolate runs since before they were born - and continued to do so for both of them for the last few years. Of course he knew it was a part of a woman's life. But as a dad and a man, he had to 'play along' as if he couldn't stand to hear them talk about it.

He listened to them chat about pills and boys. Picking up on Brooke's not-so-subtle comments about men being better. As he set a few dishes in the sink and scrubbed them, a self-satisfied grin spread across his face, and if the water hadn't been running, the girls would have heard a mirthful 'heh.' The fact that Brooke wasn't staring daggers into him, and still talking to him about Sam's insane need to go to Wal Mart, boded well for him. Even if she wasn't acting 100% herself, she wasn't crying or yelling at him, so that was good. "Now, girls, be nice. I'll take Sam to Wal Mart when you finally decide to move out of my house." He teased, implying Brooke's 'freeloader' status that he often brought up in jest.

When Brooke walked up next to him, and her side brushed his, he slipped a hand up to her shoulder, squeezing it and pulling her next to him for moment. Not an unfamiliar gesture to them, but in the context of yesterday's tryst, an altogether sensual moment to him. The feeling of her body against his hadn't left him since yesterday, and the same sensation of quivering delight emanated from her body to his. "Sleep well?" He asked, and dared to kiss her on the forehead again - closing his eyes and lingering just a moment longer than normal before pulling away.

When she asked him to 'show her things,' he looked down at her, giving her the look he reserved for when she was being mischievous at school; knowing she could get away with a bit more because she was the VPs daughter's BF. The double entendre of the comment was not lost on him, and he raised an eyebrow at her and stepped behind her, his hand rested on her hip so that he moved her between the stove and himself, his stomach against her back, and his other hand reaching up to grip her wrist firmly and slide up to envelop her tiny, knuckles. Loving the feeling of her soft bare skin against his again. "Ok, the trick is to get a good grip on the entire outside of the egg, but leaving enough space riiiiight..." he guided Brooke's hand down to make a quick, decisive tap on the edge of the pan, and using his fingers to instruct hers how to separate the shell, letting out a large yellow glob with a sizzle on to the black teflon.

"There you go! Boom. Great job." He said, not letting go of her hip or her hand for another few seconds. He glanced over at Sammie, suddenly aware of their positioning and stepped to the side. "You're cooking breakfast every day from now on."

______________________________________

He was waiting in the car, wearing a simple blue tshirt and jeans - fitting snugly to his body. He gave the horn a quick honk a few times, letting the girls know to hurry up.

Soon they were at the mall and perusing the same stores they had the day before. Even going so far as to stop at the pretzel shop again, because according to Sam, it had been soooooo long since either of them had one. He gave Brooke a knowing wink.

They perused a few stores, Mike waiting out on the mall benches when they went to some of the more unmentionable retailers. Something about picking out plain panties for his daughter just wasn't as sexy as picking out lace lingerie for her best friend. Still, the thrill of the secret errand from yesterday lingered, and he was often caught daydreaming by the two, more than once being called 'spacey' by Sam.
 
"What about this one? It's plain...ish," Brooke said from just inside the door at Macy's, holding out a top for Samantha to consider.

"Too girly," Samantha said, leaning her forearms on a nearby rack. "I'm not a flowers type girl. I think you want it for yourself. I mean, it's the same as your dress," she added.

The dress Brooke wore had flowers on it as well. "What? Oh my gosh, Samantha. This is totally different." When Brooke held the top just under her chin, she waited, watching her friend, then made an impatient 'well' gesture with her hand.

"What? They look the same. Flowers." Samantha moved to let a couple of college girls look at the rack she was leaning on.

"Um, hello? Different flowers, different fabric, different color. It's not at all the same. Honestly, Samantha, you can't wear t-shirts all your life."

"I would if it was that one," one of the college girls interrupted. Her friend nodded in agreement and they were both staring out the front doors that led back into the mall. "Stop staring, stop staring," she said quickly to her friend and both of them pretended to look back at the rack.

"Which one?" Brooke asked, puzzled. "There aren't any t-shirts over in this section. You don't mean Sammie's do you?" Samantha had opted for her usual attire, a t-shirt and shorts though Brooke had talked her out of her workout ones and into cuter ones. Well, cute for Sammie.

"The one on that DILF out there. The blonde guy in the dark blue one. Oh my God he's looking at us." The two girls pretended not to notice but immediately shifted their weight, putting one foot out in front of the other to make themselves look sexier and one of them tossed her head to make her hair fan out. "I want to be that shirt."

"I want to be those jeans," the other girl said and they both shared an excited, nervous laugh. "Do you think he's married?"

"Um, yeah," Samantha said, looking disgusted. "He's my dad."

"Aww, why are the hot ones always married?" the second girl asked then looked at Samantha. "He and your mom get along? Because I'm telling you he's totally hot."

"I'd like to call him Daddy," the other college girl said and they both laughed again.

"Shut up!" Surprised, everyone turned to look at Brooke, her loud exclamation snapping their heads around.

"Excuse me?" the taller girl asked. "Someone ask you to speak, girl?" She stepped towards Brooke.

Her friend reached for her arm. "Stephanie, come on," she said worriedly.

"I said shut up," Brooke replied, the hanger in her hand shaking and making the top wave. "That's her dad. How would you like it if someone talked about your dad that way."

"Brookie, it's no big," Samantha said but looked at the girl who had stepped forward. "Back off," she warned the girl. Years of giving and taking hits on the soccer pitch made Samantha confident in herself in a way Brooke never could have. Samantha wasn't looking for a fight, but she wasn't scared of one either.

"Stephanie," her friend said again. "Seriously, let's go. This is embarrassing. Ghetto," she added and pulled at her friends hand. "Come. On."

After staring at Samantha for a moment, the other girl looked Brooke up and down, a sneer on her face. "Yeah, whatever," she said and turned to leave. "Miss No Tits and her ugly bag isn't worth my time anyway." A laugh of pure scorn, dismissal, accompanied her statement as she and her friend walked off.

Samantha watched them go and then turned to Brooke. "Hey, what was that all about? I've never seen you like- holy shit, are you crying?" Samantha reached out and took the top from Brooke's trembling hand and then pulled her friend in for a hug. "It's okay, Brookie. Nothing was going to happen. She was all talk and didn't want to fight, not really. I mean, she hadn't even put her hair up." Samantha looked over Brooke's shoulder into the mall and found Mike's eyes. She let go with one hand and held it palm up, adding the gesture to the look on her face that said she didn't know what was really wrong. "Come on. Let's just go," she said and let go with that hand, moving Brooke into a sideways hug and walking her towards the mall. "It's okay. They're just bitches."

"I know," Brooke said and snuffled. "I just don't like what they said about M- about your Dad. They shouldn't have said that. God I just wanted to slap her."
 
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