My father sat at the head of the dining room table, just as he did during every Thanksgiving meal we’d ever shared. But while I took my usual seat to his left, his new wife, Evelyn, now sat to his right. On the other side of Evelyn was her father, Gabe.
“This table,” Dad said, “always seemed too big for just me and Opal.” Smiling at me, he reached to pat my hand. He’d never been one for physical affection until he met Evelyn.
“We normally ate our meals in the kitchen,” he went on. “This Thanksgiving, I’m so grateful we have new family joining us.”
I made the mistake of meeting Evelyn’s eyes. She beamed at me from across the table, and I forced a smile before lowering my stare to my plate. The slice of turkey swimming in gravy was only slightly less revolting than the praise Dad constantly showered on my stepmother.
“This looks delicious, honey!” he told her. “I know it was a lot of work.”
I’d offered to help Evelyn in the kitchen, but she insisted on preparing the holiday meal by herself. Though she and Dad had married in July, and she’d moved into our house immediately afterward, my relationship with her felt as awkward as the smiles we exchanged. I’d sensed her relief when I left for my first year of college just a month after the wedding.
The school was two hours away, within easy driving distance, but I’d waited till fall break to return home. As soon as I’d stepped through the front door yesterday, I was struck by all the changes Evelyn had made to the décor. Gone was the old, comfy couch where Dad and I had watched countless movies together. It had been replaced by some leather monstrosity that discouraged any type of lounging. The little figurines I’d collected and placed in the bay window? Packed away and carried up to the attic.
My old room was untouched, at least for now. Still, I had to fight back tears while walking through the house where my father had raised me on his own. I felt like a stranger in the very place I’d grown up.
I would have been content to spend the entire Thanksgiving dinner quietly stewing in my resentment, but Gabe interrupted Dad’s stream of flattery to ask, “How do you like college, Opal?”
Looking up, I blinked at Evelyn’s father in surprise. “Uh, I’m enjoying most of my classes,” I replied. “Not Calculus, though.”
“Oh, I hated Calculus!” Evelyn interjected. “I always struggled in that class.”
“Now, I find that hard to believe,” Dad said between bites of turkey. “You’re absolutely brilliant.”
As Evelyn blushed and giggled, I looked from her to my father. For the briefest of moments, I allowed my mask to slip; the derision I felt must have been obvious. Fortunately, the newlyweds were too wrapped up in each other to notice.
But Gabe did. Glancing his way, I discovered him regarding me with slightly narrowed eyes. My cheeks grew hot under his scrutiny, yet I refused to avert my stare. Jutting out my chin in defiance, I searched his face for any sign of judgment.
Instead, he offered a smile, faint and knowing. Crazily, I felt he was commiserating with me.
And I found myself smiling back.
Though Dad and Evelyn dated for a year before marrying, I knew little about her past. Not long before the wedding, Dad mentioned that Evelyn had invited Gabe to attend. “It’s a big step for her,” he told me, “seeing as how they’ve been estranged for so many years.”
“Estranged? Why?” I asked.
My father seemed to consider his words carefully. Finally, he said, “Gabe wasn’t the best husband, and when Evelyn’s mom divorced him, he pretty much dropped out of Evelyn’s life. It’s a sensitive topic for her, so don’t bring it up, okay?”
“Of course not.” I felt only a little guilty for secretly hoping there would be wedding drama on the bride’s side of the family.
But the wedding went off without a hitch. Well, if one ignored the fact that Evelyn’s mother did everything possible to avoid being within ten feet of Gabe. She refused to stand next to him while the wedding photos were taken.
As I now studied him, I wondered just how horrible of a husband he’d been. He’d never remarried, and he brought no plus-one with him to the wedding. In fact, he and I were among the few single people there.
I remembered sitting alone at the reception while other couples danced to a slow song. Evelyn had asked me to be a bridesmaid, and for my Dad’s sake, I’d agreed. My dress was hideous, making me look like a peach gumdrop. It didn’t help that Evelyn’s other bridesmaids were tall and willowy, almost carbon copies of her. Curvy and dark-haired, I was their exact opposite.
It was Gabe who had approached and asked me to dance. I started to decline, for I assumed he merely felt sorry for me. But he quietly insisted, flashing a charming smile. As I took his hand, I had to admit the man looked fine in his tux. Silver-haired and blue-eyed, he had a wiry frame and a slightly craggy face. I figured he was in his late fifties, since Evelyn was just thirty-four, ten years younger than Dad.
At first, I was stiff and awkward in Gabe’s embrace. Gazing up at him, I found myself blushing.
His expression was strangely tender as he said in a quiet voice only I could hear, “Not long from now, this day will be nothing more than an unpleasant memory for you.”
My eyes widened. Had my misery been so apparent? I’d tried to appear happy for my dad, but this man saw right through my façade.
He saw right into the rotten core of me.
As we now lingered over the Thanksgiving meal, I felt utterly exposed to him once more. Yet there was no condemnation in his eyes, only recognition.
I busied myself with clearing the table and putting away leftovers in the kitchen. It was as if I could still feel Gabe’s stare on me, for the skin at the nape of my neck tightened.
“Need any help?” Evelyn asked me in that excessively cheery tone I’d grown to loathe.
“I’ve got it,” I assured her.
I was glad when she left to join Dad and Gabe in the living room. While I was loading the dishwasher, I heard Dad mention something about snow in the weather forecast.
Finally, I was able to retreat to my room upstairs. I spent the rest of the evening scrolling through my phone. Andrea, my college roommate, sent me a belated Happy Thanksgiving text. While she and I weren’t all that close, I appreciated the gesture.
Occasionally, Evelyn’s laughter sounded from downstairs. I decided to get ready for bed, changing into an old T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. In the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and washed the makeup from my face. Now, my freckles were clearly visible. My wavy hair was a little tousled, but I didn’t bother to run a brush through it. The T-shirt I wore stretched across my large breasts, and I realized I could see the deep pink of my areolas through the threadbare fabric.
Even after the house grew quieter, and Dad and Evelyn came upstairs to the master bedroom, I remained wide awake. My thoughts kept returning to that evening’s dinner, and the bitterness I’d felt upon seeing Dad dote on his new wife.
I told myself it was normal to be jealous. After all, my mother had left us many years ago, and in all the time since, I’d monopolized my father’s attention. Even in high school, I preferred to stay home rather than hang out with friends.
But what if that wasn’t the real reason I felt such resentment? What if it was my father’s happiness that made me jealous?
Instead of exploring that dark mental avenue, I threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Evelyn had made a pumpkin pie for dessert, and though I’d declined a piece earlier, I planned on helping myself to it now.
I was quiet in creeping past the master bedroom’s closed door and then down the hall. My feet were light upon the stairs. In the kitchen, I turned on the light and started toward the fridge.
It was then that I heard a sound from the dark living room. Immediately growing still, I strained my ears to listen. Though only silence greeted me, my curiosity made me slowly approach the doorway.
The kitchen’s light offered enough illumination for me to see a figure sitting on the couch. Knowing Dad and Evelyn were asleep upstairs, I whispered, “Gabe?”
“It started snowing earlier,” he said in a low voice. “Evelyn was worried that the roads would get bad, and she didn’t want me driving back home, so I agreed to spend the night.”
I was aware that Gabe lived halfway between here and the university I attended, so it would have been an hour’s drive for him. Peering out the bay window, I could see that the night held an ethereal glow, the kind only snowfall brings. Flakes fell in a relentless, white cascade.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.
“It is,” he agreed. “I wasn’t feeling tired, so I figured I’d sit up and enjoy our first taste of winter.”
Already, I’d grown a little cold, and I could feel my nipples poking at my shirt. I knew I should wish Gabe good night and return to my room, but that realization didn’t stop me from asking, “Mind if I join you?”
“Please do.”
Some unexplainable impulse made me turn off the kitchen light. I was barely able to see as I headed toward the couch. If Gabe was surprised that I chose to sit next to him instead of in a nearby chair, he didn’t comment on it. Reaching behind him, I grabbed the neatly folded blanket from the back of the couch. It, too, was new.
Though Gabe was still wearing a sweater and cords, I shook out the blanket and draped it over him before slipping under it myself. He was near enough that I could feel the warmth of his body against my bare arm.
For a little while, the two of us didn’t speak as we watched the snow fall. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt strangely natural, as if we were old friends. When Gabe propped his socked feet up on the edge of the coffee table in front of us, acting like he owned the place, I couldn’t muster up any outrage. That coffee table was brand new as well.
“This is a nice house,” he finally remarked. “Quite large for just two people, and yet you grew up here, didn’t you?”
“Yes. After Mom left, my dad’s parents helped him out with the mortgage payments so he could keep the place.” In my mind, my paternal grandparents were distant, benevolent figures. I rarely saw them since they lived ten hours away.
I grew brave enough to turn my head toward Gabe. Noticing the movement, he looked over at me.
“You were kind to me at the wedding,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “And tonight, when you asked about my classes.” My eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough for me to see the flash of his teeth when he smiled.
“You looked absolutely miserable on both occasions.”
I grimaced at his words. “It was that obvious, huh?”
“Maybe not to everyone else,” Gabe replied with a shrug. “But me? Well, I’m plenty familiar with the look of sorrow on a woman’s face.”
That revelation made my shoulders tense. The man certainly didn’t try to hide what he was. No, he was practically waving a red flag in front of my face to warn me away.
Instead, it drew me closer.
“It must be difficult,” he went on, “no longer being the center of your father’s world.”
Behind my pursed lips, I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached. For a moment, a flash of fury ignited in me, and I felt something bordering on hate. Evelyn gained a father, and I lost one, I was tempted to retort.
Instead, I experienced a flood of shame. My father was blissfully, unrelentingly happy, and I begrudged him that joy.
“I’m eighteen,” I said in a surprisingly calm tone, “soon to be nineteen. I’ve left home for college, and once I graduate, I’ll be living on my own. I’m glad Dad has someone to spend the rest of his life with.”
Gabe nodded slowly, as if in agreement. Then he said, “But it’s not that simple, is it?”
I actually snorted. “None of this is simple. Is it simple for you to be here right now?”
He was quiet a few seconds. “It’s strange. I never expected to be forgiven.”
That confession left me floundering, unsure of how to respond. What surprised me even more was the heat I felt between my thighs. It seemed to condense into a needy throb.
Under the blanket, I extended my hand and placed it on Gabe’s leg. I expected him to pull away, or at least tell me I was out of line. I was ready to insist that I’d only been trying to comfort him.
Of course, that was a lie. Maybe I wanted to make the man squirm. Or maybe I hoped my behavior would force him to retreat to the guest bedroom down the hall. Then, the twisted connection that had formed between us would be broken.
I gasped when he covered my hand with his own and moved it to his groin.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he whispered.
In response, I started rubbing him through his pants. To make the job easier, I turned my body in his direction. Releasing a soft moan, Gabe leaned back against the couch. I could tell his lips were parted, and when he again looked over at me, his eyes seemed like two dark pools, all their blue hidden in shadow.
Leaning closer, he wove his fingers through my hair. His kiss made me feel like I’d swum too far out to sea and was in danger of sinking. Effortlessly, he coaxed my lips apart and slid his tongue into my mouth. Beneath my hand, he was growing harder.
It was filthy, the way he wrapped his lips around my tongue and sucked. No one had ever done that to me before. I would have recoiled in disgust if any college guy had tried. I felt as if my mouth was no longer my own; in performing such an obscene act, Gabe had claimed it.
I was still reeling when he pulled me toward him.
“Sit on my lap, Opal.” He moved the blanket out of the way.
I did as Gabe said, all the while mindful of his erection. After positioning me so that I was facing away from him, he eased me back against his chest. Only then did I notice the snow had stopped falling.
I shivered from nervousness, and though my teeth threatened to chatter, Gabe didn’t cover us again. Instead, he slipped a hand beneath my shirt.
I let out a faint cry when he grazed my nipple. He toyed with that hard peak until I writhed in his lap. My movements drew another moan from his throat, making me wonder if I was rubbing against his cock in a pleasurable way.
Gabe worked his other hand into my pants. Instinctively, my legs spread wider until they were draped over the sides of his. My heavy breathing sounded deafening in the otherwise quiet room, but I couldn’t control it. Not when this man was seeking out my pussy with long, insistent fingers.
I shuddered from his touch. His laughter was soft, almost mocking, as he parted my smooth outer lips and began teasing my inner folds. My hips rocked as if to guide him upward toward my clit.
“What would your father think if he saw you like this?” Gabe taunted.
I squeezed my eyes shut, flinching in shame. Yet I remained spread wide, allowing this man to own my cunt the way he’d owned my mouth.
Finally, he massaged my clit, causing it to pulse. My spine arched, and my hips moved with a lewd rhythm. Though Gabe seemed completely in control, not only of himself but of me, I heard him breathing faster.
His fingers continued their languid rubbing, as if we had all night. Only when I begged did he apply more pressure while varying his pace. Slowly, then more fervently, he stimulated me until I didn’t know what to expect. It was maddening; I wanted to throw my head back and scream.
“I’m not a good man, Opal.” As he spoke, his hand between my thighs never stilled. “I’m forty years older than you. My daughter has only recently welcomed me back into her life after decades of silence.” His other hand delivered a pinch to my nipple. “The fact that I’m willing to risk hurting Evelyn so I can sit here and keep playing with your pussy… that tells you everything you need to know about me.” His voice grew hard; his touch was almost brutal.
Even more than his merciless fingers, it was his warning that made me come.
The realization gripped me as powerfully as my orgasm: this man was just what I deserved.
