Page 29 of Off-Limits
“Daddy! You’re back? You said you weren’t coming back for another year or so.”
My eyes find Dottie’s before they dart away, and I stroke Arrie’s hair.
“Baby girl, I missed you.”
She hops down and swipes at the stray tear falling down her face. Then she punches me in the shoulder.
“You’re an asshole.”
“What was that for?”
“I haven’t seen you in twelve months, and you show up without telling me. What time did you get in?”
I fight the urge to look at Dottie. I can still see her on my couch with her legs wide open, that glistening pink pussy begging to be punished. I lost control, and that’s on me, not her.
“Dad? You in there?” Arrie asks, clicking her fingers in my face and I realised I spaced.
“Sorry. A lot on my mind.”
This time I do look at Dottie. Her whole face is flushed, and I can see her chest is too. She’s thinking about it, wondering how much I saw of her, of what she was doing.
Swallowing, I focus on Arrie.
“I got in late last night.”
“And you’re back for good?”
“You know the answer to that, baby girl.”
Arrie deflates, and I want to kick myself in the nuts. I can’t be here permanently. Not again. I’ll keep the workshop and the apartment, but Arrie will eventually own everything.
The thought of growing old in this damn town makes me break out in a sweat.
“Worth a try,” she says, laughing lightly. “So has Dottie showed you this masterpiece?”
I look over her shoulder to Dottie.
“Masterpiece?”
“The mural.”
“Mural? Oh shit. That’s what we were talking about before you arrived,” I answer, raising an eyebrow at Dottie to find her scowling at me.
“Woah, princess, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Dottie?” Arrie asks.
She sighs. “I didn’t get much sleep.”
“But you finished the draft for the mural.”
“I did.”
She walks into the loungeroom, and we follow. Her eyes linger on the couch where I watched her play with herself, her steps falter, but she rights herself and stalks over to the easel and canvas I put back together before I went to bed.
Dottie looks at me first and then her eyes are on Arrie. Mine follow. Arrie has her hand over her mouth, stepping closer to the painting.
“It’s fucking perfect! I knew you could do it.”
“You like it?”
