My Daughter's Friends: Brooke

"Really," I barely said aloud. Although behind my façade, my mind berated me.

If Sophia wasn't drunk, not only did she knowingly tease me but she also heard everything I said about her, which included how she was too sexy for her own good and how she was my favorite.

Either one of those was bad enough. But put together... I was screwed.

Part 18: Lonely

For the longest moment, I stayed hunkered, head hung, sickened as if the shame festered in my stomach. What if Sophia told Aubrey? How would things change between us? I didn't really care if I never saw the Blonde again. But if I lost my daughter's respect. That would crush me.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Brooke spoke up a bit later, still leant on her arms with her legs crossed. "You don't have to answer it if you don't want to."

"If's fine." I nodded, trying to ignore the once flawless ambience. Now it was just a headache.

"Where's Aubrey's mom?"

"She lives a couple miles north of here," I answered, nearly without a flinch.

"Are you two divorced? Or separated?"

"Divorced."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine." I forced a smile. "It was mutual. Towards the end, we fought a lot so we figured it was best for Aubrey if we went our separate ways. Aubrey doesn't seem to mind. She still goes over there most days and stays over there most weekends. So it works."

With another fake smile, I then raised my eyes and met hers.

"Do you two talk a lot?" she asked, the soft lines of her face sharpened by the shadows beneath her cheekbones.

"Not really. I see her every couple days or so and sometimes we bump into each other at the grocery store. But that's about it."

Purposefully, I left out the part about our 'rekindlings.' Aubrey didn't even know about those.

"Can I ask you another personal question?" She smiled.

"Of course." I smirked back.

"How old were you when you had Aubrey?"

"Seventeen," I told her, pausing in surprise of her gall. "We were both seventeen."

"Wow... That must've been tough."

"It was at times. But to be honest, as cliché as it's going to sound, it was the best thing to ever happen to me."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"Well," I started. But then strangely, my chest started to warm and I went quiet. I wasn't sure what it was but in the seconds that followed, all I wanted to do was open up.

"Well," I repeated. "Having a child kind of kicked my ass. Before her, all I did was get in fights and party but after her, all I did was study and work."

"Really?"

"Yeah." I took a breath. "And again, as cliché as it is, I guess you could say she made me who I am today."

"Well then." She snickered. "I'll be sure to thank her for that."

I chuckled and dropped my eyes to my lap. "I just want her to be happy."

"I think she is," Brooke said, bouncing her leg as if to kick my attention back to her. "You should see her downstairs. That girl is crazy."

I chuckled again.

"But hey... Can I ask you another question? I know I've asked a lot but I promise this is the last one."

"I don't mind."

"Well, I was just curious." She cocked her head and smiled. "Did you ever want more kids?"

Once more, I paused in surprise. "I used to. Unfortunately Aubrey's mother and I were never on the same page."

"And what about now?"

I shrugged. "I think Aubrey may be too old now. That's quite an age gap."

"Not really," she said. "My brother's fifteen years younger than I am."

"Wow. Was that hard for your mother? She must've had him in her what, forties?"

She giggled. "No, she's about your age. My dad on the other hand, he's the one having the problems."

"Really? Is everything okay?"

"Oh yeah, everything's fine." She smirked. "He's just sixteen years older than my mom. Figure that huh?"

Although I tried to keep stone-faced, I couldn't help but grimace at that. If my numbers were right, Mrs. Chang was in her teens when she had Brooke. Mr. Chang, in his thirties!

"I know, right." She laughed. "It's a little weird to my friends but as long as my parents are happy, I'm happy."

I smiled. "And I'm sure as long as you're happy, they're happy."

"Oh no I doubt that." She rolled her eyes. "Some of things I do that make me happy, make them very angry."

"Well I didn't mean it like that." I laughed. Aloud.

At that point, my chest started to warm again and seconds later, I felt as if I was the one who was tipsy. However, there was no urge of lust that followed that warmth like there usual was. It was odd. There the Asian Goddess was, leant back, legs crossed, hair up, dressed in a nighty so scant a breeze could've blown it off her, and I felt nothing sexual. Not a trace. In fact, I only felt soft. And because of that softness, I did something I never did with Renee. I opened up completely.

"You know," I said just louder than the music. "I really wish I could spend more time with my daughter."

"Why can't you?" she whispered as she shifted her pose from two arms to one and angled towards me.

"My job. I don't have the time to. It's like I worked so hard to climb the latter that now I can't see what's really important. I don't mean to sound ungrateful but the time commitment is frustrating. At least when Aubrey was young she was nuts about me. That made the little blips I had with her between school and work worthwhile. But now, when I actually have an afternoon off, she's too old to want to hang out with me. I know they say children grow up so fast but that doesn't make it hurt less. It sucks. Sometimes, I just feel so damn... I don't know." I sniffled. "So--"

"Lonely?" she interrupted, her tone drawing my eyes back to hers where I found her irises glistening.

Like mine.

"Yeah..." I rubbed my eyes. "Lonely."

Part 19: Dare

In the silence that followed, I let my focus sink back to my lap. On the radio, in what were probably fake voices, a gruff man and ditsy woman chitchatted about something some celebrity did last weekend. I ignored most of it. Fortunately, their banter didn't last long and soon enough another base-heavy beat thumped from the speakers.

One of which that changed the mood, as well as the pace, of the whole room. Within a blink.

"Oh my gosh," Brooke yipped. "I love this song!" With a pop, she sprung from the bed, galloped to the radio and cranked it until the base shook the walls. "I have it in my car!" she yelled, faced away from me. "I probably listen to it every day!"

I winced. It was a good thing I shut the windows earlier. No neighbor would've let this volume continue on for any longer than it would've taken them to call the cops. Hell, the music wobbled so intensely I couldn't even hear myself think. Then again, once Brooke began to slither like before, I didn't want to think. I didn't want to do anything. Except stare.

At first, her moves were small, almost innocent. But that innocence didn't last. Even though it looked like she planned to stay faced away from me for the entire track, when the dubstep dropped, she whipped her ponytail in an arc, spun around and started to gyrate like a stripper.

I jarred back.

"I love dancing!" she said with a giggle.

"Oh yeah?" I shouted. Like an idiot. "You're really good at it?"

"Thanks!" she yelled as she stomped out and swung her hips, kicking the frilly hem of her gown high enough to flash me her purple G-string. "It's why I'm friends with Aubrey, right?"

I shuddered, far too enthralled to even nod.

Every second from then on, she got sexier and I got shakier. But despite how feral my heart beat, despite how much I wanted to jump out of my chair, grab her and throw her on the bed, I stayed put.

For the next four minutes, she danced for me, spinning, popping and flashing me glimpses of her panties with each drop, twist or kick. And she had to know what she was doing. Right? Between the lyrics and the beat, her figure moved like she meant to showcase her experience in both dance, and in bed. It was torture. Torture that was topped off by her smile.

When the song finally ended, I took what felt like my first breath since it started and sat there while she turned down the radio. Afterwards, however, instead of returning to her spot at the corner of my bed like I hoped, she walked to the door and put her hand on the knob as if to leave without saying a word.

In an instant, I perked up in my chair and tried to tell her to wait. But I couldn't get anything past the lump in my throat.

"So yeah," she said a moment later with a couple strands of hair clung to her forehead. "I think I'm going to go back to the party now. I'm a little embarrassed."

"Don't be embarrassed," I said. "It was good."

"Thanks." She turned her head to me and smiled, which revealed a tiny beauty mark at the corner of her lips. How I hadn't noticed it before was beyond me. "But I should get going. That was my dare."

At once, my heart dropped into my stomach.

"You were dared?" I stuttered, finding the words between the cracks in my voice.

"Yeah... When I heard what Sophia and Jasmine did, I wanted to play too."

"Play," I barely mumbled. In the same breath, I then wondered if everything between us that happened over the last several minutes was just play.

"Anyway." She opened the door. "Have a good night, Mr. Erickson?"

"You too," I said, my body like putty in my desk chair.

While my peripheral watched her cross the threshold and shut the door behind her, I waited to react until I heard the latch click shut. Shamefully, during this wait, I had to blink my eyes once or twice to prevent a tear from dripping off of my lids.

After about a half a minute though, I realized the door hadn't clicked yet.

"Hey," Brooke whispered, yanking my gaze up to find her smiling face in the crack between the door and its frame. "Next time I dare myself to come up here and dance for you, I'll make the dare for two songs. Okay?"

My brow furled and before I could respond, she winked at me, dipped into the darkness and shut the door behind her.

Part 20: Coercion

Only fifteen minutes after Brooke left, so recent her lily perfume lingered in the air, I was stripped down to just a pair of boxers, grateful to be out of those tighty-whiteys and tucked underneath my sheet. But still, even having taken a sleep aid a bit ago, I must've lain there for an hour just fantasizing about what this summer might bring. After all, if Brooke was dancing for me now, what might she be doing in months to come?

Regardless of my restlessness, I did manage to drift away eventually. Yet it didn't last for long. In fact, even before the taste of Listerine faded from my mouth, I was awakened by the silhouette of a girl leant over me with her hands pressed into the mattress.

"Psst," she whispered, muffled as if I was in a dream. "Are you awake?"

With a groan, I rolled onto my back. But because of the blackout curtains, I couldn't see anything. "Aubrey?" I grumbled. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." She giggled, peeling back the linen and sending a wallop of cool air racing in. Then, without so much as a peep, she crawled onto the bed, wiggled into the sheet and lay beside me, propped on an elbow.

"Aubrey?" I wormed away an inch. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Sh." She scooted toward me and wedged her forearm behind my pillow. "I'm not Aubrey."

"You're not?" I mumbled. "Then who are you?"

"Just relax." She giggled again as she grazed her fingernails over my chest and began to twirl circles inside the crevice of my pecs, which made me shiver.

"That tickles."

"Oh... Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Good."

In a shudder, I then arched my back and felt my passion start to rise. Whoever she was lay so close to me her breasts rested on my arm.

"But who are you?" I asked a second time.

"Guess," she whispered, swirling her fingertips down to my stomach.

"I don't know."

"Oh come on." She blew on my ear then flicked her tongue around the lobe.

"I don't know."

"Oh but I think you do," she said, her nails dug into my abs.

"I do?"

"Yes."

I clenched. And because of it, my shaft flipped up and out of the slit in my boxers. "The Asian Goddess?"

"The what?" She snickered as she fanned her fingers over my lower abdomen. "The Asian Goddess?"

"Yes." I nodded. "Are you her? Are you Brooke?"

"Is Brooke the Asian Goddess?" she asked behind a laugh.

"Yes."

"And do you want me to be Brooke?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"She's too young."

"No, she's not," the girl whispered, strumming the elastic strap of my boxers for a moment then sliding her hand to my inner thigh and squeezing. "She's the perfect age."

I rolled my hips. "But she's Aubrey's friend."

"Sh... Aubrey doesn't have to know."

"But I can't."

"But you can," she said, her breath warm against my cheek. "Now please, don't make me leave."

"But."

"But nothing." She inched her hand up my leg. "Don't think about Aubrey."

"But--"

"No buts," she interrupted. "Please, don't make me leave."

As she rubbed me, I turned out my knees and brought my arm down from my pillow where I brushed up against the velvety material around what must've been her ass.

"Please. I don't want to leave."

"Then don't," I finally blurted.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I can stay?"

"Yes."

With every word she spoke, my skin got hotter and my heart beat faster.

"Do you promise? No matter what?" she added, her hand now so close to me it tingled. "No matter what I do, you won't make me leave?"

"Yes," I moaned. "You can stay."

"Good..."

In the midst of her next breath, she pursed her cold lips into my neck and traced her hand from my thigh to the underside of my shaft. However, the instant her palm touched me, a jolt shot through my spine and I woke.

"Because I am Brooke," she whispered.

Part 21: Seduction

Like I was shocked, I flung my arm up to the headboard then skittered my fingers across the top until I found the lamp and tapped it on. A blink after, the candle-soft light illuminated the room. But that only made it worse.

Wearing the same, teddy-like, lavender nighty, the Asian Goddess rose from my neck and propped on her elbow, her dark hair everywhere, behind her, in front of her, around her shoulders. A couple strands of the thick blanket even tickled my arm.

"Brooke, stop," I tried to say. But before my voice broke, she coiled her fingers around me and started to stroke me, slowly.

"Sh," she whispered. "Relax." With her gown dimpled out around her nipples, her braless breasts hung as perky as ever.

My eyes rolled back.

"Just relax," she repeated as her strokes sped up, pressing into me then sliding up with a gentle twist. "You said I could stay, remember? No matter what."

While she caressed me, I spread my knees further and started to thrust into her grip.

"But you can't--"

"But I can," she said with a giggle. "This wasn't one of your rules."

I shuddered. Even the trace of her cranberry alcohol on her minty breath sent chills through me.

"Please. Don't make me leave."

"But Brooke."

"I don't want to leave," she repeated.

For moments, I squirmed, powerless, overcome by her breathy voice, her scent and the slippery pumps of her lotioned hand.

"Fuck." My voice cracked. "Then don't stop."

"Don't stop?" She giggled. "But Mr. Erickson--"

"Liam," I interrupted her. "Call me, Liam."

"Oh... Okay... But Liam, I didn't stay sober and wait for everyone to pass out just so I could give you a handjob."

My heart spiked. And in the following beat, I opened my eyes to find her pearly smile as big as her brown eyes.

"What?" She laughed at me, her strokes firm, fast and ever persistent. "Did you think this was it?" She darted her eyes down to my shaft. "Like I said, I didn't miss out on some of the fun downstairs so I could miss out on some of the fun upstairs."

My heart spiked again.

"Now relax," she told me for the third time. "There're some things we need, so I have to let go of you. Okay?"

I furled my brow. Some things we need?

Regardless of how confused I was at that moment or how much it panged me in the next, she slid her hand off of me. Soon after, she pulled her forearm out from behind my pillow, propped up on her arm and reached over to the headboard where her fingers rapped away on what sounded like her cellphone until a flowy, base-light, song streamed through the room.

To be honest, I didn't know what made me cringe more: Her stopping or her breasts now hanging in my face.

"Music first." She looked down at me and grinned.

Music first? I thought.

A moment later, she returned to her prop with something in her hand, two somethings actually, but she set them both behind her before I saw. Next, she grabbed my boxers and tucked me back through the slit as I flinched. When she had me stowed, she lastly curled her fingers around the waistband and tugged them down.

Helplessly, I raised my pelvis and let her strip me naked.

"Wow," she said when she had me exposed, my flesh coated in goosebumps, my shaft as hard as fuck. "You're really big. That's going to hurt at first."

I quivered.

"Oh well." She shifted her eyes back to mine. "I'll get used to it."

With a smile, she then crawled on top of me, straddled my thighs and pulled on the hem of her frilly nightgown so it didn't draped over me.

"Last things." She raised her right hand as if to swear an oath, a Trojan pinched between her fingers and a bottle of KY lubricant held in her thumb.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked.

Rip! Like an animal, she tore off the edge of the condom wrapper with her teeth. Then she blew the strip aside, which also whirled out a strand of her hair. "Yep."

"I want you to know it's been awhile."

The instant she rolled the latex onto me I clutched the mattress and groaned. Abruptly, she then drizzled the cool lubricant over me and slathered it with her hand.

"Me too," she whispered as she came up on her knees and shuffled forward.

"I can get carried away," I blurted. "With you, I will get carried away."

She smiled again, her nimble fingers slipping me underneath the frill of her nightgown and adjusting me erect between her thighs. "Good."

"Go as slow as you need to." I trembled. "For both of us."

"I will," she said, her breath swallow, almost nervous.

As she nestled me along the cusp of her womanhood, I looked to the ceiling and tried to clear my mind of the consequences. Whatever the repercussions would be, I would deal with them tomorrow. Not tonight. Tonight, my only concern was Brooke and the hope that she got off easily.

Part 22: Bliss

With the weakest of moans, she guided me in by an inch, her lips parted in pleasure, her eyes shut in pain. While she lowered, I placed my hands around her waist and held her, her velvet gown sliding beneath my fingertips.

"Slowly," I whispered.

For what felt like minutes, she eased me in, every second more deluging than the last. The deeper I crept, the more passionately her breath trilled. And at first, I was composed. With my hands on her hipbones, I handled her without as much as a twitch. But then her warmth began to tighten around me and soon, once I felt her body spasm from within, I lost it, flexed and drove the rest of me into her.

"Not yet!" she yipped as her palms slapped to my stomach. "I'm not ready."

At once, I yanked back to the mattress. "I'm sorry!"

"No," she said back, constricting her straddle to keep me inside of her. "It's fine. Don't pull out. Just hold on," she added with a smirk, her head still back, her eyes still closed. Unbelievably, in the next breath, despite the trace of anguish on her face, she continued to lower her pelvis to mine.

From then on, I stayed motionless, each one of my inhales as patient in as my exhales were shaky out.