Chapter 5 - Sleepover Invitation

TREVOR TWIST

I pull my cab up outside my ex’s and her boyfriend’s olive green Maserati is on the driveway again. Right alongside the lighter-shaded Leylandii hedges I planted years ago. When my daughter was still little. I feel my stomach acid flex again and I reach for the pills from the center console. I sound the horn.

I peer at his shiny motor a second time. It’s not a new one. It’s seen better days. But the guy is an asshole. The car’s all show. Like him. And like my ex. I bet the alimony I pay her helps the pair of fuckers fund the motor.

I take a swig of water from the plastic bottle next to my pills, to help me swallow the tablet and then I turn my thoughts to my daughter. I sound the horn again. I’m only grateful that at her age, McKenzie still wants to come stay with her old man the odd weekend. I guess me having a dog now at the apartment helps her motivation. But I’ll be seeing a whole lot less of my daughter when she goes off to the cruise ship and that singing gig. This time around though, I could have just done with a bit more notice that she wanted to come to me. A day or two to straighten out the apartment. So Kenzie doesn’t think her old man’s life is falling apart.

But time ain’t something I get a lot of these days.

I check the Maserati out again. It might have four doors, but Stella my ex is deluding herself if she thinks a guy who drives one of those is planning on settling down any time soon. I smile to myself. Serves her right.

“Hey Dad!” McKenzie calls out as she comes through my old front door. She’s got her holdall over one shoulder. Then Stella appears behind her. And much as I try to hate that bitch whenever I see her, she looks good. Better than ever maybe, and my blood runs cold.

She hugs my daughter and when Stella half-turns back toward the house, I get a glimpse of the witch’s ass in jeans.

Most other separated (or divorced) guys that I talk to think their exes look hotter when they’re with someone new too. Maybe cos the women try a little harder to impress. They dress a little better and they shed those excess pounds. Shit. I bet I wouldn’t even notice how good Stella looks if I was getting some myself. I need to make time to get back on Tinder. Start dating again.

He appears on the step and curls an arm around Stella as the pair of them watch my daughter head down the path toward my car. He’s only stood there to try and rile me.

“Kid Condom’s at the house again I see,” I mumble to Kenzie once she’s inside and I put the car in gear.

“Dad, don’t call him that,” she laughs and buckles up.

“Sorry Hun,” I smile and pull the car away from the curb, “I just like to imagine he’s an asshole. It makes me feel better.”

“He is an asshole,” Kenzie gazes through the passenger window, “but he’s Mom’s asshole.”

I laugh and check my rearview mirror.

The traffic is thick this time on a Friday and later, while we wait at a red light, Kenzie looks over at me, “Dad, you know I said I might be going to a party in town tomorrow night?”

“Uh-huh,” I nod.

“Are you working then?” she asks.

I know what’s coming and I smile at her. “Nope. Be watching the game on TV.”

“Could you give us a ride into town?”

“Us?” I ask.

“I was going to ask Lanie round for pre-drinks at yours too. If that’s OK?”

“I guess,” I shrug. I’ve given that pretty young daughter of Sophie Machin’s a ride several times, but never had her in my apartment since I moved in there.

“And I was wondering Dad…”

“Go on,” I glance over again as the light changes. What else have I been signed up for?

“How would you feel about her staying over too when I get back tomorrow night?” Kenzie asks, “She’s going through another rough patch with her boyfriend, and at home with her Mom as well. She could share my bed. Otherwise, she has to take the Uber back to hers on her own, once it’s dropped me off at yours. Mom lets her stay at ours sometimes.”

I’ve seen the way that other girl dresses on a night out. I wouldn’t want my daughter traveling on her own like that in the back of any guy’s cab after a night out partying. Not with a body like that one’s. And especially not if she’s been drinking to forget boyfriend trouble. Or problems at home.

If I’m totally honest too, I can think of worse things than having one of the Machin girls in my apartment dolling herself up tomorrow night, getting ready to hit the town. And then maybe even seeing her lounge around on my sofa for a while on Sunday too, keeping Kenzie company.

Shit, I sound like a real dirty old man. I need to get myself another girlfriend.

Later that night I’m working and as busy as a blue-assed fly. Near the end of my shift, around three in the morning, some drunken asshole pukes up in the back of my cab. I want to batter him, but I settle on an extra thirty off him in compensation. Then I head back to the taxi stand to get it all cleaned up before I drive home.

I reach there a little after five a.m. and then crash out until some time after mid-day. I’ve got another shift in a couple of hours.

“You didn’t forget you said Lanie could stay over tonight, did you Dad?” Kenzie leans over from behind me while I’m at the breakfast table chugging down some granola. She kisses one side of my unshaven face. Freddy my little terrier is at her feet.

“No. I didn’t forget,” I sigh and shake my head. But now she’s reminded me, my brain fog and lethargy are eased a bit by the picture in my head. By the prospect of that young friend of hers in my apartment. Maybe it’s a bit sad, but that mental picture will give me something to look forward to this afternoon while I’m working.

“And that you’d give us a ride into town after pre-drinks, right?”

“Yep. I remembered that too,” I nod, “I could probably pick you up when your party’s done too. Save you the cab fare back.”

“We’ll be fine getting back here Dad,” she moves from behind me and switches the coffee machine on. “I know you like a beer when the game’s on. If you can just take us into town, then at least we save on that fare.”

“I won’t be drinking tonight,” I say, “I could do with shedding a few pounds,” I pat my stomach. That last bit is true. The way I’ve been thinking since she told me about her friend coming here has convinced me I need to start dating again. No matter how badly it turned out the last time. Last night while I idled away the time in between fares, I even sneaked a look at her friends’ Instagram and Facebook pages. That’s not normal behavior for a guy my age. Nor is offering to pick my daughter up in the early hours partly in the hope of catching an extra eyeful of the same friend off-guard in one of her little skirts and after too much wine.

“I can’t ask you to do that Dad,” Kenzie takes my coffee mug and refills it, “It’ll likely be real late.”

“What, and I’m not used to that?”

“Yeah, but it’s your night off.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t sleep well when I’m not working. Too much caffeine in the system.”

In the afternoon, the time between fares is spent trying not to dwell on the vague feeling of excitement about Kenzie’s young friend being in my apartment later.

I’m her best friend’s father, for fuck sake. She used to come and hang out with Kenzie when I lived with Stella.

Is it any wonder my ex cheated on me?

I end up laughing it off and then brooding about the girl I met online after Stella kicked me out. And how that younger woman played me. If I could afford it, I might even go to a hooker. Less complications. This level of sexual frustration can’t be healthy.

A little after eight p.m. when I’m back at the apartment Lanie’s Mom Sophie drops her off. There’s some old dude at the wheel of the silver Chrysler that brings her. Kenzie’s friend is dressed down in a sloppy blue sweatshirt and jeans and with her gold-colored hair tied back.

It’s still hard not to stare at her though, especially when she crouches to make a fuss of Freddy. A girl with an ass and legs like hers are always good in jeans. Even if she’s not especially pretty.

But Lanie’s always been real pretty.

I occupy myself with the TV while the girls laugh and chatter away in Kenzie’s room.

Sometime later, with their voices more boisterous and closer in the kitchen now, another Prosecco cork pops as I head through to put the coffee machine on.

The girls are dressed up and ready to go out. Citrusy perfume is strong in the air. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes on my daughter and not her friend’s figure when Kenzie asks me something about what I’ve been watching on TV.

But then Lanie herself speaks to me too and she looks right at me so I have an excuse.

The girl is in a plunging white top with tiny, thin shoulder straps and her boobs look fucking amazing and the lower part of what’s pretty much a ‘bra’ top only covers half her flat belly. Her flesh might be fake-tanned because it’s almost as dark as her hair. And although I don’t look down as far as I’d like, the shiny, gold-colored miniskirt shows way too much thigh for any man’s eyes to avoid. I leave the kitchen with my coffee way faster than I want to but at a speed that’s probably better for my health.

I sit back down in front of the TV with the dog and my drink and I channel-hop to distract myself from the way that young girl just made me feel.

Half an hour or so later Kenzie asks if we can leave.

The pair of them chatter away in the back of the cab but I take regular peeks at them in my rearview. The other girl’s wide eyes are exaggerated even more by the dark, eyeliner that frames them. Her thick hair tumbles around her bare shoulders and above that chest. She and Kenz will get a whole lot of attention tonight. And where my daughter is concerned, that always worries me.

“You two make sure you stick together all night, OK?” I say above their chatter.

“We will,” they chorus and then giggle.

“And call me when you’re ready to be picked up.”

I drop the pair of them off in the center of town and as they walk away still chattering and laughing, my emotions swing from love for my little girl who grew up way too fast (and lately without me around to see it), to the equally unsettling swell and swagger of Lanie’s tail. The supple sheen of her long bare legs under the street lamps in high heels.

Later, back home after more coffee, I head to my daughter’s room to do what I always do when she’s staying over but gone out partying. She teases me about it, but I know she appreciates it. I always straighten the mess she’s made getting ready so that she doesn’t fall over shit when she gets back home after too much to drink.

Tonight though, despite her pink-themed room being thick with the smells of dual perfumes, and her discarded clothes and bath towels on the carpet and bed, I’ve seen this room in worse states. Maybe Kenz was tidier than usual cos of her friend staying over. I pick the clothes and towels up and fold them away.

The holdall Lanie arrived here with is on the floor too near the bed. Her sweatshirt and jeans are already neatly folded on top of it. I pick the pile up to set them down on the dresser out of the way, but the clothes slide from the top of the holdall and reveal some of the contents beneath.

For a split second, I gaze at the top of a pair of turquoise Converse nestled alongside Lanie Machin’s worn white underwear. Her bra and matching panties scrunched into a ball. With them too is a little navy blue, unmarked book.

I touch the soft underwear with my fingertips but I’m not that desperate. And doing anything more would be so wrong.

The book though, has me a bit curious. If it’s a diary, then maybe there’s stuff in there about Kenz. The pair of them are best friends and I feel so out of touch with my daughter’s life since I had to move out of the family home.

I open the book up to lined pages filled with real neat handwriting in blue ink. I ignore the feeling that my motivation for what I’m doing here isn’t quite as pure as I’m telling myself. I flick through the pages to the latest entry.

‘I’m not ready to be anyone’s wife. How could I be? But Roy’s kind. He puts me first. He’ll do anything I ask him to. Why can’t that be enough?’

So her boyfriend proposed to her. Kenzie didn’t mention that. But maybe my daughter doesn’t know. So maybe Lanie turned him down and that’s what the ‘Rough patch’ with the boyfriend is all about.

I flick to another random page. I can’t see any significant mentions of Kenzie but there’s an entry about someone called ‘Phil’.

Another guy?

‘The thought of an older guy is hot. Someone experienced and self-confident with me. But Phil’s a user. That much is obvious. He could never love me like Roy does. Someone like Phil would be unmanageable.’

That last word’s an odd one to use. I look up and away from the journal. Fuck. Is she having an affair with some older man?

I read some more and finally understand that Lanie Machin is not having an affair with an older guy called Phil (or with anyone else for that matter). Then, I’m in the living room with the girl’s journal returned to her holdall in Kenzie’s bedroom. I watch the game on TV but my thoughts frequently drift back to my daughter’s friend and her written confession that she suspects she might ‘need’ an older guy.

I’ve heard about girls like her. Hot young things who get together with guys decades older than them. Hell, didn’t I think that’s what I’d managed to pull on Tinder until the reality came crashing down around me?

But one of the other cab drivers left his Mrs for a girl in her early twenties, didn’t he? And that seemed to work out. I mean, that girl wasn’t much to look at, but it shows it can happen.

I focus on the game again because it makes no difference to me what Lanie Machin wrote in her diary, does it? She’s the same age as my fucking daughter. And she’s Kenzie’s best friend. Girls like her aren’t attracted to broke older guys like me. They want someone who can treat them, buy them shit, and take them to swanky places. Guys who keep themselves in shape too.

And I shouldn’t even be thinking this way. About any women her age. Especially not her.

I don’t last long after the game ends on TV before I tell myself that I might never get the chance to study the innermost thoughts of someone like her again. And before reminding myself too that I didn’t search every single page for any mention of Kenzie either.

I grab the journal back from between the two items of her increasingly tempting underwear and return to the sofa with it.

Does she always keep a diary? Or is it just lately, with so much happening in her life? Her old man dying, the proposal from her boyfriend, and some older guy hitting on her. I guess she has to be going through some inner shit if she wants her diary with her even when she’s staying at her friend’s.

‘I know I’ve gotten off track since Dad passed,’ she writes in perfect handwriting. She talks of her regret at dropping out of Uni and how she can’t motivate herself to study like she used to. She writes about all the things she never told her father, and how much she regrets that. It makes me think of me and Kenzie and I close the book up.

But I open it again a few minutes later.

‘I’m sure Mom had an affair,’ she writes on one page.

For a moment I look away from the page and up. I bring to mind a mental picture of Sophie Machin. She was always a looker at the school gates when the kids were young. No doubt about that.

Poor old Harry though. No wonder he was such a miserable sod.

But if the kid knew her Mom was cheating on her Dad then that might have screwed her up some. Even if Kenzie seems to have come out of it OK after what her Mom did to me.

I read several other paragraphs complaining about the ‘creepy’ guy who lives next door to the Machins but who’s been spending a lot of time at theirs since Sophie’s husband died.

That woman doesn’t waste any time.

Lanie writes some more about that ‘Phil’ guy, but this time as someone she suspects her Mom was involved with.

Shit. The guy had the Mom and then went after the daughter?

I turn another page and read of more frustration.

‘I don’t want to waste my life. I want to make something of myself. Not keep being taken for a dumb blonde. I’m not even blonde!’

I smile at her last comment.

‘There’s no one to really talk to. Mom doesn’t listen. Rachel’s too busy with JJ and Joe, and much as I love Kenz, she’s still got her dad. Even if she doesn’t live with him.’

My face reddens at the mention of me in the diary. But I kind of know how Lanie feels. I lost my Mom when I was a similar age and there was no one I could talk to about my feelings then either.

I put the diary away again and scroll Netflix for a movie.

Hours later I’ve drifted off on the sofa when my phone pings with a message.

I lift my head from the arm of the chair and reach for my phone. My neck and shoulder ache. Fuck, I must have fallen asleep in a weird position.

‘Awake Dad?’ The message reads, ‘Text me back if still OK to pick up. No worries if not. Will get Uber.’

‘NP,’ I type back, ‘Usual pickup spot?’ I head to the bathroom to pee.

It takes me twenty minutes to arrive at the appointed location on the High Street. But I can’t see the girls. Only a group of guys in that spot.

I text Kenz again, this time to tell her I’m here. But before I can hit ‘send’ she and her friend emerge unsteadily on their heels from the other side of the guys.

I watch them make their way over toward me, Lanie all legs as the guys behind them call out after her and Kenz.

“Where to Ladies?” I ask when they’re inside and they giggle.

“Good night?” I ask and adjust the rearview mirror so I can make some eye contact as I drive.

“Apart from some real basic boys and their lame one-liners,” Kenzie says and Lanie sighs.

I bet Lanie gets hit on so much that it gets boring. She could have her pick of any guy. It must break her boyfriend’s heart that she turned him down.

But then again, he probably doesn’t have that ‘experience or maturity’ she seems to be looking for.

“Guess what Lanie told me tonight Dad,” Kenzie giggles and she seems the drunker of the two of them.

“What’s that then?” I peer back at her in the mirror again, but in the process can’t stop myself from glancing at the other girl’s cleavage in her little white top. Her eyes meet mine.

“She used to have a crush on you,” Kenzie laughs.

“I didn’t say that,” Lanie squeals and shoves my daughter’s shoulder.

What the fuck?

“Oh yeah? You know it’s true Lanie,” Kenzie laughs.

“It wasn’t a crush,” Lanie yells above my daughter’s teasing, “It was only when I used to come to the house when you lived with Kenzies Mom,” she shakes her hair around her bare shoulders and we make eye contact again in the mirror.

God, she’s so fucking fit.

“It was when I used to see you on your console in the living room,” Lanie says and laughs.

“She said she always wanted to play with you,” Kenzie giggles.

Lanie punches Kenzie’s shoulder and this time it’s my daughter who squeals, “On the console,” Lanie leans forward toward me in her seat, “I wanted to learn how to play one of the games. No one at home had a PlayStation or X-box. Roy doesn’t even like them now.”

“Maybe I’ll give you a game sometime,” I say over my shoulder.

Lanie sits back and leans her head on the window looking out at the night and the passing lights. Kenzie does the same on the other side of the back seat.

“Show me when we get back tonight?” Lanie murmurs and peers up at me again in the mirror.

My heart beats fast. Like a fool’s.

“God no, Lane,” Kenzie groans and when I look back again she’s moved across the back seat and has the side of her head rested on the other girl’s chest, “It’s too late. We’re going to bed as soon as we get back. ”

Back at the apartment, the girls announce they need glasses of water to take to bed with them.

“I need the bathroom too,” Kenzie groans and staggers off out of the kitchen.

“I’ll get the waters for you,” I say while Lanie kicks her heels off in front of me. Barefoot and barelegged in my kitchen she’s several inches shorter than me.

“Kenz can drink cocktails way faster than me,” she leans back against the wood-grain worktop and picks her shiny, gold-colored hoop earrings off one at a time. She looks right at me but then she peers down at Freddy near her feet. “I wish my Mom would get a dog as gorgeous as you,” she says to him then crouches down and rubs both sides of his head.

“She doesn’t like dogs?” I ask and can’t help but admire the girl’s cleavage and strong, exposed thighs.

“She says they make too much mess.”

“Sounds like Kenzie’s Mom,” I mumble.

“She makes a lot of mess too?” Lanie peers up at me from the floor.

“That’s pretty funny,” I grin at her. “So apart from the ‘basic boys’ with their ‘lame one-liners’ it was a good night?” I ask as she rises. I hand her a tumbler of water and keep my eyes on her face, not a cleavage that no doubt commanded a lot of attention from those same basic boys.

“Yeah. It was good to get out and forget everything,” Lanie sips her water, “Kenzie’s such a good friend.”

“Did she not meet any nice guys?” I ask, “She tells me nothing when I ask her.”

“We got pestered by a few,” she shrugs.

I bet you did.

“One weirdo offered us money to let him follow us about all night.”

“That is pretty weird,” I say, but have some sympathy with the guy.

“I wonder if Kenz fell asleep in the bathroom,” Lanie peers at the hallway and she’s got a point. My daughter’s been gone a while.

“I’ll go check,” I say and find myself hoping Lanie will still be in the kitchen on my return.

There’s no sign of Kenzie in the bathroom but when I reach her room she’s there on the bed on her side. Still fully-dressed.

“Kenz?” I whisper but she looks and sounds flat out. I pull the door too and head back quickly to the kitchen.

“She asleep in her room,” I say and gaze right at Lanie, “Maybe give her five minutes to crash right out?”

“Uh-huh,” the girl nods her head and sips her water some more. “You’re a good dad,” she smiles at me and her eyes lock on mine, the unique hue of blue-gray almost mesmerizing me now.

“I try to be,” I say, “But it’s not easy when you don’t live with your kid.”

“Mr. Twist,” she says and puts her water tumbler down on the worktop.

“Call me Trevor, please. ‘Mr. Twist’ makes me feel even older than I am.”

“Trevor, have you got any booze in the house? Me and Kenz finished the Prosecco.”

I glance beyond her to the clock. It’s gone 3 a.m.

“You sure another drink is a good idea?” I look right at her again.

“If you’ve got some, it’s essential,” she nods.

“I think there’s only whiskey,” I shrug my shoulders but I honestly don’t think the girl should drink any more.

“I never had it, but I’ll try one,” she says.

“OK, I’ll have one with you,” I say and I fix two small drinks over ice and add water to them.

When they’re ready she’s crouched down again with Freddy but she stands and smiles at me as she takes the glass from my hand.

“You want to take them into the living room?” I ask and clear my throat.

“Sure,” she nods and she goes first, a little unsteady on her bare feet but the sway of her round tail hypnotic in the little gold skirt, and the backs of her tanned thighs impossible not to stare at too.

In my little living room, she sits on the sofa and crosses her long legs so I sit on the armchair instead. Freddy has no similar inhibitions and he curls up alongside our guest with the underside of his jaw on her bare thigh. I grab the remote and turn the TV onto one of the music channels for background sound.

“So how’s everyone at home been coping since your dad…,” I ask, to try and understand more about her circumstances, but almost at the same I curse the stupid question which will surely only drag her mood down.

When she doesn’t answer at all though, I gaze across at her again. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing heavily, her partly-exposed bust rising and falling in front of me, her glass of whiskey tilted dangerously in her now-limp left hand.

I better get it before it spills.

I rise from the armchair and lean over her. I ease the glass from her relaxed hand and fingers but for a second or two I stand there, staring down at this remarkable beauty in my home.

Lanie’s eyes flicker open and she frowns up at me.

“Oh, er,” I mumble, “You fell asleep. I was just taking the drink from you. In case you spilled it on yourself.”

“I don’t think I can move,” she yawns and smiles up at me. “You might have to carry me to bed.”

Carry her?

Lanie stretches both arms up at me and her tits shudder.

“I’ll try if you want me to,” I say and laugh, even though I only intend to think those words. My chest has pulled tight.

“Mmm, OK,” still she holds her arms and hands up to me.

Fuck.

I lower my head and shoulders so Lanie can wrap her arms around my neck.

She does and they’re warm, soft. But I shouldn’t be doing this.

“Excuse my hand,” I say and force myself to laugh, but the noise that comes from my throat sounds alien to me.

Lanie though seems unconcerned. She yawns again as I squeeze a hand and forearm down under the backs of her creamy bare thighs on the sofa and I lift her from it, and from Freddy.

She squeals softly but she smiles sleepily at me too as she clings to my neck. She’s heavier than Kenzie used to be and in the hallway, her hair and boobs are in my face, and her citrusy, musky perfume in my nostrils. I shouldn’t be hard, but I am. Her bare legs and little feet with painted red nails sway as I carry her toward Kenzie’s room. Her eyes close again.

I push the bedroom door open and the light from the hallway behind washes across my daughter who’s still asleep on her side with her back to us. I cross the room to the bed and as I lower the limp Lanie to it, my hand moves higher up the back of her bare thighs, almost to her ass.

She opens her eyes and smiles at me.

I ease her down alongside Kenz with my dick still shamefully hard in my pants.

“Night,” I whisper, and need to get out of here.

“Wait,” Lanie whispers back and she reaches for me with both arms again. She glances over her shoulder at the sleeping Kenzie.

What the hell?

Lanie beckons me right back down toward her.

I stoop over her and she wraps her arms around my neck a second time then before I can react, she presses her lips to mine.

Holy shit.

“Mmm,” she murmurs and closes her eyes.

“Lanie, don’t,” I pull myself free of her and her tongue, even though plenty of me wants to stay exactly where she has me.

She sighs and turns away onto her side. Her little skirt rides up at one side and at the back, and it exposes one of her hips, part of her buttocks, and strips of pink panties.

Fuck.

“Mmm, goodnight Mr. Twist,” she whispers.

“Trevor,” I say but my name sticks in my throat as I stare at her. Her round butt half-exposed, the bare flesh of her left hip, her lower back, and shoulders. Her legs and delicate feet. My dick pulses in my pants.

Author's Notes

So there it is. The first chapter with no sex scene. How do you feel about the Trevor Twist character? What do you imagine might happen between him and Lanie? Or will he steer well clear of her? And she him?

Next week we take a break from 'Lanie Comes Of Age' with the first of 3 early access chapters from the opening of 'Black Marks', my brand new interracial series.

We'll be back with Lanie and the other characters from her world later in September when 'Black Marks' goes live on Amazon.

© 2024 Tinto Selvaggio. All rights reserved.

All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are consenting adults eighteen years of age or older. As a work of fiction, any similarities to any situations or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.