(this is part one of the first story that I have ever submitted, any feedback is welcome and helpful) I read my step daughters tweet. My wife had encouraged me to open an account and subscribe to her. Most of what she tweeted was about the misery that was her life since her real father died, and how inadequate her new father was when it came to financial stability.
Except she said it more direct with such tweets as "life sux. #poorhouse." I slipped my phone back into my pocket as I was coming off break.
"Customer needs assistance at the fitting room" rang in my ears over the PA system. Normally I wouldn't bother but I was close to it and I knew where the keys to the dressing rooms were kept. Besides, on rare occasions one got lucky and some random high school or college girl wanted in holding a sexy bikini, or even lingerie.
I often imagined accidentally opening the door after they had been in there for about 30 seconds and claiming accident, but I knew it would cost me my job, and as low paying and crappy as the job was, I needed the extra income to help my own daughter keep up with my step daughter, a task my wife never made easy. My daughter Tilby was 13 and my step daughter Mya was 12, both in the 7th grade this year. When I got married, I thought Tilby having a "sister" so close to her age would be great, but Mya only say her as an extension of me and treated us both like the intrusion she thought we were.
I rounded the corner to the fitting room and the tweet made a lot more sense, there stood my step daughter Mya, having to stoop so low as shopping at wal-mart instead of the so many name brand stores she was used too. She looked up and chirped "oh didn't expect you" as she faced me and pointed her tits right at me as she beamed.
She always had the look of the cat who ate the canary, and why not I guess, maybe this was some kind of personal victory for her having me wait on her while I normally worked in the tool section.
Mya was curvier than most girls her age, it wasn't that she was big in any area, just that her tits and bottom held the perfect amount of perkiness and plump that was held together from a lean body only genetics could produce.
She also always seemed to have a naturally tan skin that was topped off with a brown head of hair that was almost golden.
She looked a little bit like her mom and nothing like her birth father, and I often wondered if maybe she did and maybe my wife had held a secret for the last 14 years.
If I didn't know Mya, I would have been sure she had a touch of black mixed into her genetic pool. "Well, I was close by and I just left the older lady who is normally here is in the break room." I replied in a light tone. "Can I try these on?" she asked without any hesitation.
I glanced down at what she held up and swore I could see a thong mixed in with some clothing that looked way to small for her. Then again, everything she wore outside of school looked like it was painted on. She really never even wore anything that showed off any cleavage but she wore the tightest shirts and pants she could find. Although I did spot a tank top among her choosing and a part of me I didn't want to admit too wanted to see her in it. I tried to pretend I had not noticed what was in her hand as she continued staring at me expectantly with her broad grin that made her cheeks glow and her eyes light up.
"Ummm I am sure wal-mart doesn't care what you try on" I said trying to sound like it was the last thing I cared about. So I went over to one of the doors and knocked, and when there was no response, I unlocked it, opened it, and Mya walked in. As I was closing it, she turned to me with that same Cheshire cat grin and her large eyes and said "thanks daddy" as the door shut.
Rarely did she ever call me that and usually, in fact always, it was only when she wanted something.
I sighed outside the dressing room door as I realized the next thing she would probably be asking me for was my credit card. I had to wait though because policy was that you could not leave the dressing room unattended while a customer was in there and I remembered the older lady that was supposed to be here was on her hour lunch. I mentally started doing math trying to guess at how much the items she had in her hand were worth and at how much was left in the checking account.
This kid is going to go through one of my whole wal-mart paycheck in one fail swoop I thought with another sigh as I waited. Her mom worked too at a local restaurant as a waitress and spend all her funds on Mya. My funds had to go to the bills that my wife would never help out with, not at the expense of her little girl.
This mean Tilby was often left out in the cold when it came to new things. I got most of her clothes from thrift stores and could never afford the makeup that my wife Kristi always provided Mya to wear. It was ok though, Tilby had a natural beauty about her, and when she smiled her whole face scrunched up in a devastatingly cute way.
She was a little taller than Mya, and had a cute little figure under the thrift store clothes. I hated that her clothes hid her form just because all the little girls liked to dress cute and show off at her age, but as her dad, I was also glad the hormone ridden boys could not roam their eyes over what they could not clearly see.
I sighed as Mya took her time in the dressing room and wondered if it was on purpose just so she could make me wait on her longer, and felt she would want to buy all the clothes where she liked them or not as long as she got to make me pay. I had only been married to her mom for about six months and tried in the beginning to tell Mya no to her constant demands for money from her mom and recently from me.
Mya responded by begging her mom to divorce me, but when her mom refused(the only thing she ever refused Mya to my knowledge), that's when Tilby started getting viciously picked on at school. She would come home in tears, saying that both the girls and boys were mean to her.
One day when she had came home with her thrift store blouse torn at the shoulder, she told me that some girls had pushed her into the boys locker room and one of the boys was trying to rip off her shirt when the PE coach walked in and stopped it. I called the school and complained but no one was talking and the coach said she walked in and was just accidentally pushed. When I asked Tilby again if she was sure that her original story was true, she said yes, and then added in a small voice "I think I saw Mya watching from the corner.
I was to mad to approach Mya that night but when I saw her come through the store with her mom the next day, I asked her about it. She simply help up some earings she had and said "if you buy these for me, I will make sure no one touches her, but if you don't, I can't make any promises that someone won't" and she lowered her voice "touch her when the coach isn't around" she finished. Tilby was my little girl and I was terrified that if Mya did have some control over what was happening and I bet the wrong way what could happen to my baby girl.
I bought Mya the earrings and Tilby came home from school the next day talking about how nice the kids were suddenly being to her. So when Mya finally came out of the dressing room and ask for my credit card without any pretense, I handed it over knowing that I was doing this for my daughter.
I went back to my own department after that trying to push what had just happened out of my mind, when I was surprised to see Mya walking back up to me with a stormy look in her eyes. "The card was declined!" She huffed in a tone that was no where near quiet. I then thought about all the recent purchases that Kristi had made for her daughter and realized suddenly that there is no way she made enough money to cover it and I knew all her cards were already maxed out.
I had no idea how long my card had been used exclusively for Mya but it seems it was past it limits. "Sorry Mya," I said without dignity, there is no money left until payday. She seemed to calm then and I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't know I was holding in.
"Well Travis," she said using my real name as she usually did, "I know you have an emergency fund in a different account, just get some money from it." My emergency fund I thought, how did she know about it. Kristi must have told her. By the look on Mya's face I didn't think lying about it would do any good and would probably only make her more angry. "Mya, that money is for the mortgage and groceries, your mom never helps out with any of it so I have to hide some," I said, my being feeling with regret at the crack about her mom.
I could tell by the look on her face it did not go unnoticed. "Hide some," she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "from mom." I was glad she chose not to yell, but her tone had a deep connotation of anger that surprised me coming from a 12 year old, even this 12 year old. Without any further ceremony, she turned and walked off toward the exit.
The restaurant her mom worked at was in this same shopping center so I figured that where she was going as her mom was also always her ride home since the bus dropped her off here and she didn't have anywhere else to go but usually liked to hang around and bounce from store to store. I couldn't see Kristi getting very mad at just hiding money to keep a roof over our heads, but my real twinge of fear came when I thought of Tilby After me and Kristi got off our perspective jobs that that night, it was already past eight o clock.
Mya seemed to back to normal, or as close to that word as she gets and Kristi never uttered a word about the money. The girls shared a room and and when I went to tuck Tilby in, Mya was on her laptop sitting in a corner of the room furiously typing away. I couldn't afford to give Tilby one, but I thought with disgust that some of my money had probably bought Mya hers. I didn't tell Mya to go to bed, but went over to her and softly asked if everything was ok.
"Everything is fine," she declared in her fake sing song voice and then added "I didn't tell mom, but I will take care of it." "What do you mean by take care of it? Take care of what?" I leaned over and asked in a whisper. And she leaned her head up and answered in a dangerously quiet voice, and while it was unsettling, I was glad it was low enough that Tilby would not be able to hear. "When my other dad was alive, he was responsible for his life.
He went to college, had a great job, all the money we could spend and some left over." She paused letting her demeaning whisper and little jabs at me sink in before she continued. "So I figure you owe us something for being the piece of crapt husband and provider that you are, and let me tell you, if you don't pay the price, Tilby will," and she glanced around me to where my other daughter had already fallen asleep sending a shiver down my spine and sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"What do you want?" I said realizing the absurdity of having this conversation with a kid. "Look I know you don't have the money like you should," she said putting emphasis on that last word as it came out like a hiss from her lips, "so here is what we are going to do. My mom dated a lot of interesting losers after dad died, one liked to be really submissive with mom, I used to watch them through a hole in the wall.
He loved to be dominated and really liked it when mom put things in him and called her his master. So I placed an add on craigslist for you a master, and apparently a lot of guys want to break a straight guy in for his first time." With each word I could tell she gained excitement as her little chest heaved up and down at her increase in her breathing. "Even though there were a lot, I picked the creepiest one I could find.
Mom has already had her sleeping pills, so you won't even have to make an excuse for leaving the house. I promised him that you would come over there, and that you had to do anything that he wanted for one whole hour and when he was finished with you, he would e-mail me a code word to let me, your master, a secret word to let me know you did what he said.
If you refuse this, or back out once your there and I don't receive the right word from him. Tomorrow at our k-12 school, I know a few randy high school boys who will have a good time with Tilby out in the old storage shed that is far enough from the school that you can't hear screams, not that she would be able to scream with her mouth so full anyway." She finished and watched my mouth hang open as I struggled for sound to come out.
Before I regained the ability to form words she added "be his slave for an hour tonight, and I promise you, I won't give you any more money problems and Tilby won't have anymore problems at school." I stood there, defeated. I would do anything to protect my daughter, but I wasn't gay or even slightly curious. The thought of any action with a man turned my stomach. I glanced back at my princess in the bed, so pure and beautiful and I knew she would never be the same girl if that happened tomorrow.
I managed one word to Mya, "Where?" She handed me and address she had written down and said "I told him you would be there within 30 minutes, hurry up and don't keep the nice man waiting for his fun." I walked out to the car in a daze and got in and started driving to a sub division nearby as my stomach churned and I felt like I could barely breathe.