Naughty Sext: Chapter 2
840 Words
Bianca
The next day, I spent an hour getting ready, straightening my hair and painting my nails. I was starting to get suspicious if I was part of the deal and he was pimping me out. Dad reassured me I wasn’t, but I wasn’t sure I believed him.
Something was different this time, because he was more nervous than usual. And I wasn’t a fool—the bottle of “water” he was holding onto and sipping as if his life depended on it was full of vodka.
I wondered at times if it was the alcohol that spurred him to gamble, or if the gambling led him to drink. I guess it didn’t really matter—if the alcohol didn’t kill him, then the goons who were after him would.
I had a feeling this time would be the last time I’d see him. If his plan worked out like he wanted, then he’d disappear. If it didn’t, then he would be dead. Either way, I’d play along, because when all was said and done, he was still my dad.
I got changed in my bathroom, feeling a little awkward as I put on the sexy, short, backless black number Dad bought for me. He’d conveniently had it in his car.
“So, tell me. How do I look?” I asked as I stepped out. Dad finished the remains of his plastic bottle, looking disappointed he’d drained it so quickly.
“You look beautiful.” He sighed as I adjusted my dark hair, which was pinned up in a bun with a few loose strands framing my face.
“I never wear stuff like this,” I said, tugging at the hem of my skirt. “It’s so short that it just barely covers my butt. I feel as if every part of my body’s exposed.”
“You remind me of your mom when we went to prom.”
I shook my head. “I’ve seen the prom photos, and no way did Mom wear something this short.”
I had no idea what that had to do with what I was wearing now, but he continued to explain, even if it didn’t make it any clearer.
“Yeah, in those days it was all about the long dresses and not showing too much flesh. Not like now. I remember your prom—you wore something similar. Right?”
I just nodded, because it wasn’t worth correcting him. I’d skipped my prom—no one asked me, and I didn’t want to go alone or as a third wheel.
“You really should dress like this more often, instead of hiding away in whatever you was wearing before.”
Dad was right—I didn’t really care what I wore in general, but I did care about my health. Mom used to always drum into me about healthy eating and the benefits of it. “Healthy body means a healthy mind.” Unlike Dad, who drank like a fish and had never worked out in his life, yet didn’t have one health issue. Sometimes I thought it was just down to genes—if you have strong genes, then it didn’t matter how much you abused your body, you would get away with most of life’s illnesses. She was taken by cancer, and the idea of never being in her arms again at times still kept me up at night.
“Let’s get going,” I said as I grabbed my purse. I wanted to leave before Erika, my roommate, came back.
It didn’t take long to figure out where our party was sitting as we stepped into the Italian bistro. The four men were so loud, they were grabbing all the attention in the restaurant. I would have found it annoying, but the other diners seemed to find it amusing, waving in their direction and laughing at the noise they were making.
I knew them. Alessandro, Carlo, and Adolfo, plus an older gentleman who must be their dad.
I’d never spoken to them in my nearly four years at Yale, and I never planned to. I could quite happily continue avoiding them like the plague and feel good about it.
I’m sure I looked just as nervous as Dad as I pulled down on my dress one more time. It was silly, I knew, because the moment I pulled it down, it would ride back up again, yet I’d formed this habit in the space of thirty minutes since I put the dress on and left my dorm room.
I felt a wave of jealousy seeing them at the table. They were laughing and talking as if they were all the best of friends. Seeing them together, so close, made me wonder if one of the rumors about them was true. People said that the triplets did everything together, from eating, to studying, to even sleeping with the same girls.
“Come, let’s sit,” Dad urged as he practically dragged me to the table.
- Writer
