Loving Alina

What did I just do?

3. ALINA

I thought constantly about conversations I would have with Owen when I saw him and things I should have said to Callie when we were in the house. I cursed myself for not being quick enough at the time to think of intelligent or powerful retorts. I imagined Owen begging me to go back to him and me jumping into his arms. I daydreamed nearly all the time I was working on the house on my own. It felt a little more comfortable being with my Dad again and we seemed to be warming to each other. His features became more familiar and I stopped blushing so horrifically when he made little comments to tease me. He really was a little bit of a flirt and it made my heart lighten just a little. I mean, who doesn’t like to be liked? I wondered what drew my Mum to him and if he missed her. It didn’t look like he’d thrown out any of her belongings, although lots of them had ended up in my room in boxes. I found myself casting a critical eye over him. He worked a physical job and his arms looked flexed even when he was relaxed. I imagined he was ripped underneath his clothes and that a lot of women would find it very sexy. Did I find it sexy? Oh god. Stop that. I looked away. ‘Umm. Lots of Mum's things are still here’, I said. He didn’t reply right away. ‘Yes’ he replied, confirming what I’d said. OK. ‘Didn’t you like to let them go?’ I tried again. ‘I didn’t think it was my place to do that’ he said matter of factly. Oh. He’d been living with all of this stuff for years because he kept it for me? Well, that made me feel like crap. Why do I just constantly feel like crap right now? ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. Having her things here must make you miss her more.’ I said, trying to be understanding. Again he paused. ‘Your Mum was a good friend and yes, I do miss her, but not because of her belongings. She was a good soul’ he said calmly. Good friend? Good soul? That’s an odd choice of words to describe your wife, I thought. I wondered if he didn’t really love her and felt a bit defensive over my Mum. ‘I’ll start cleaning through her things. Will there be anything you’d like to keep?’. ‘No’ he confirmed. Ok then. So my husband has been cheating on me, I’m living with my stepdad clearing out my dead mothers belongings. How is this my life?!

Going through her things was hard. Her clothes still smelt slightly like her. I was surrounded by them crying when Dad arrived home one day. He stopped and assessed the scene. I was aware he was there, but the silence dragged on.

‘Are you keeping this?’ he eventually asked, waving vaguely in the direction of everything I had splayed out on the floor. I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve like a child. I shook my head ‘No. No, not really. I think most of it needs to go to charity or the skip. I’m not sure why I started going through it all really’. Dad launched into action, grabbing items and throwing them back into boxes. He hauled me up on to my feet and quickly dusted me down, making me laugh. His hands wiped away my tears. ‘There’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re beautiful again’. I blinked. He thought I was beautiful.

‘Get your shoes on. We’ll take this lot to the charity shop on Cheeke Street, it’ll still be open’. He picked up a large box and carried it out to the car and I followed suit feeling recharged. After a few journeys to and fro the car and catching his glances, I was conscious he was right behind me and I lent right over to put the box I was carrying in the boot knowing it gave him a good view of my ass. I checked myself, realising I did it on purpose. The f**k am I doing? I just liked the little bit of flattering attention, I reasoned. He probably didn't even notice. On the way home, Dad swung into another shop and came out with hot fish and chips. He drove us to the seafront and we sat eating them in the car chatting. He was actually a good conversationalist once you managed to get him talking. I didn't need to cook dinner now either. That was sweet of him. Or maybe he just fancied fish and chips. Either way, I can honestly say, for the first time since I left Owen I had a nice evening. What a strange, strange day. ‘Thanks Dad’ I said, looking at him with gratitude. ‘Don’t call me that’ he said, still looking out to sea. Mum asked me to call him Dad when they married. I didn't know what to say. ‘Please, don’t. It feels so damn awkward’ he said, throwing a chip in his mouth. ‘What about Daddy? Should I call you that instead?’ I asked with a smirk. See. I can be a flirt too. He laughed and I loved hearing it. ‘Definitely don’t call me that unless you want me to smack your ass’ he replied. Butterflies erupted in my stomach and a little heat rose to my cheeks. Did he just suggest smacking my ass? Would I like that? Is this getting a bit inappropriate?, I wondered. Did I care if it was? It felt nice to have a little bit of a flirt. He didn't feel like my Dad, he was just a stranger really. We finished our meal in a compatible and comfortable silence.

‘Plans today?’ Dad asked. We'd been talking more lately and he initiates conversations now too, which makes living together much more pleasant. Yes. I brightened slightly. ‘I’m going to the hairdressers’ I replied. I wanted to make an effort and show Owen what he was missing. I knew I should have been taking better care of my appearance, but I’d gotten too comfortable.

The hairdresser did a great job, she added some soft highlights and when she finished, my long soft curls looked luscious and fell over my shoulders in cascades. I looked at my reflection and for once I was quite satisfied. I gave myself a nod and felt my tummy turn over at the thought of going to see Owen. I knew he’d be on his lunch break soon. The salon was full of people chatting and having a nice time. It made me realise that for everyone else, life was just carrying on like normal. As I waited for the hairdresser to ring up my bill, snippets of conversation reached my ears. ‘They were f*****g around for MONTHS Karen. Brian caught them in the toilets going at it one day and they didn’t even stop when he walked in. No shame whatsoever.’. I felt my face flush. Another lady's voice chipped in, she made it sound like she was trying to whisper but her volume level was average as she said ‘Well, I heard that she finally forced him to tell the wife because she’s only gone and fallen pregnant the stupid cow. I did think better of that Owen though’. And there it was.

I took a deep breath and turned around to look at them. They saw me and the horror on their faces told me they knew who I was and confirmed my worst fears. I turned back, my face burning with embarrassment. Hurried whispers ensued and the hairdresser looked at me sympathetically and spoke in the kindest voice she had, saying ‘That’ll be £90 please’. I paid and I left without saying another word.

I walked all the way home. I was numb. It was worse than I thought. Was there any going back from this? I didn’t know. Does everyone know about the baby but me? I feel so humiliated. We were meant to have babies together. We'd been trying, but nothing had happened yet. Is that why he found someone else? I tormented myself.

That night I didn’t eat. Dad was working until late anyway. I undressed for bed and put on an old T-shirt of Owens to feel close to him, but sleep wouldn’t come. f**k it. I put a dressing gown on and went downstairs. I sat in Dad's chair and I drank. I drank and I cried. I saw my reflection in the fireplace surround. My beautiful hair and puffy eyes. When Dad got home, I was dozing in a drunken stupor. He walked over to me and I looked up at him with my tear-stained face. He looked sympathetic and sad, then he picked me up in his big strong arms and sat in his chair holding me in his lap and rocked me like a baby until I fell asleep. It was the most Dad-like thing he’d ever done for me and I let myself be comforted.

It felt nice to be held. ‘Good girl’ Dad said. ‘ It's going to be ok’ he reassured me, still rocking gently. I dozed on and off for I’m not sure how long. Each time I roused, I felt his hand squeezing my waist holding me against him and heard his reassuring tone. Time passed and the reassuring rocking rhythm felt nice. I felt bad for never making an effort with this man.

With one hand still holding my waist to keep me in his lap, I felt two fingers and a thumb from his other hand slowly, gently touch and squeeze my breast. ‘Good girl’ he said again. I hadn’t moved for a long time, but internally I froze. Oh my god. A finger then ran over my n****e and my body reacted to the touch. The n****e hardened and my core clenched with arousal. He groaned a little whilst he was rocking me and I suddenly became aware of his erection underneath me. This can’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening. My p***y ached for the hard c**k beneath me to fill it. My dressing gown was undone, and I realised he’d pulled it open to expose me to him. I still had my eyes closed. I heard him suck one of his fingers and then he slipped it between my legs. ‘Such a good girl for Daddy’ he groaned, making a small thrust with his hips. This was too much. I flew out of the chair, ‘WHAT THE f**k ARE YOU DOING?’ I yelled at him. He stared directly into my eyes as he replied ‘Oh like you didn’t know, moaning in my lap as I touched you, rubbing yourself against me to make my d**k hard. You knew exactly what you were doing’. He didn’t emit an ounce of shame or embarrassment at being caught. His breath reached me and he smelt of booze. ‘Maybe you’re not a good girl after all’ he said, rubbing himself through his trousers and I couldn’t stop myself looking at his crotch. He looked at me full of lust and for a moment I felt both scared and excited. This really shouldn't happen. Its wrong. I made to leave and run up the stairs but he grabbed me and threw me over his lap, holding me down. He slapped my ass hard. ‘Naughty girl’ he said. Being spanked was hot and my body wanted it, but it felt so wrong doing this with him. My dressing gown and t-shirt fell up and left me exposed with my ass in the air. I fought, but he held me in place and continued to smack my ass. I enjoyed the feeling of him holding me down. ‘Shall I teach you to be a good girl?’ Smack. s**t, he was dirty. ‘Teach you to please a man’ Smack. Yes, please. ‘Maybe then your husband won't look for it elsewhere’ Smack. I crashed down to earth. That stung and the balance was tipped. I don't want this anymore. ‘Stop it. Stop' I said trying again to get up but his grip was firm. ‘Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?’ Smack. He couldn’t be serious? I didn’t reply. Tears started to roll down me cheeks but he didn't notice. ‘Such a naughty girl’ Smack. ‘Teasing Daddy and making his d**k hard’. Smack. He moaned and shoved a hand between my legs, his drunken fingers searching for my opening. When he started thrusting his hips I knew he was cumming in his trousers. As he came down from his orgasm, his grip on me lessened and I took the opportunity to flee. I ran to my room and slammed the door shut and held it closed with my body weight. I slid to the floor crying and hugging my knees. I felt disgusting. Was that all my fault? Because I was being a bit flirty with him? Did I lead him on? I could still feel where his fingers had touched me between the legs. He shouldn’t have said what he did with regards to Owen I thought angrily. If he hadn't said it, would I still be there letting him spank me though? I put my hand over my mouth in surprise at myself. I knew I would have let him continue. I enjoyed it. What did I just do? What did he do? What was he thinking? I'm his stepdaughter! What about my Mother! She'd be so hurt. My tears overflowed as I cried uncontrollably. Why is my life so s**t right now? I just wanted to be back with Owen cuddled in bed watching a movie like none of it had ever happened.