Running Home to Daddy

tagIncest/TabooRunning Home to Daddy

While this is not to be considered a sequel to 'Solomon and Jadzia,' they are major characters in this story, which takes place after the events of that story. It's not necessary for you to read 'Solomon and Jadzia' to enjoy this tale, but their story is kinda cool, too.
This is a work of fiction. None of these characters exist in real life and none of this actually happened, except in my own imagination.
All characters engaging in any sexual activity are over 18 years of age. Please vote, and comments are absolutely yearned for. Enjoy!
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As his mouth spent longer than the regular two seconds gnawing at her breasts, Yvaine thought that this time, maybe Rod would at least try to please her. But two more seconds later as his face began to trek south, she tensed up, as she started dreading his real intentions. It wasn't like she didn't like cunnilingus… what woman didn't like a tongue on her pussy? Like the saying went, even when it's pretty bad, it's still pretty good. But even before his mouth reached her soft hairline, his thick, clumsy fingers were clawing and pawing at her butt, trying to force themselves into her tight, virgin sphincter. She didn't want that, and angrily pushed him away and got up off the bed.
"Jesus, Eva! Don't you care what I want?! Won't you even try?" Rod shouted at her retreating form.
She turned around, her face in an angry frown. "I've told you, I don't like it!"
"You won't even try! As soon as I touch you there, you get up and run away!"
"That's because what you're doing HURTS! It's like you just want to jam yourself in, and that shit hurts! Don't you care that you're hurting me?"
"Yeah, it'll hurt at first but—"
"No, Rod. No. Even when you're living together, 'No means no.'"
"If we—"
"And no, I am not letting you bring some skank-ass slut into our bed to be some kinda freak by proxy! No!"
"Damn, Eva, I'm tired of vanilla sex. Gimme something! Let me spank you or something."
"Fine! You can spank me if I can kick you in the balls. Deal?"
"Boring-ass bitch!" Rod said with contempt.
"FUCK YOU!" she yelled, and then she turned and went into the other bedroom, slamming the door so hard, something fell in the kitchen. While she cried herself to sleep, Rod stormed out and got into the car to take a drive.
Roderick Toth figured he needed to get away from her before he did something stupid like rape her ass. Bitch was giving him blue balls. He couldn't understand her. They'd been living together a little less than a year, and they dated for six months before that. She'd been 21 and he, 23. They met during her senior year of college. She was never a freak in the sheets, but he figured she'd loosen up eventually. They'd always had good sex. Mostly vanilla, but still good. He just wanted to spice things up a little. There was all this freaky ass shit happening all over the internet, and he just wanted a taste of that. But no! No anal. No swinging. No S, no M. Just 'Be happy you're getting pussy.' 'That's not enough! This,' he told himself, 'is how affairs happen'. As he drove aimlessly, he finally calmed down enough to head back home.
He walked back into their little apartment. It was just a two-bed, two-bath flat, but here in the heart of Orlando, the rent on this shoebox was as much as a house payment. Yvaine was a teacher, so her job and income were good, but if they were gonna get married one day and buy a house, he needed to either sell a story, or he'd have to find a real job. He was so close, though. He could tell. If Little Miss Vanilla would just give him what he needed, it would clear his head and he could figure out how to write something that would finally hit it big. He'd been chasing the dream of being a writer for years now. So far all he had to show for his efforts was one or two free-lance articles published a year, and even then, they were in second-rate rags. He needed to get published in a major. This was all her fault. He couldn't write for shit because he was too horny to focus. Like he'd said earlier… boring-ass bitch. He tried the door to the other bedroom, of course it was locked. No point arguing with her tonight. He'd apologize in the morning, and they'd start it all over again.
The next morning, Yvaine left the apartment while Roderick was still asleep. She was still pretty mad at him, and she hoped she'd relax once she got into her classroom and got busy, getting her mind off all of this. As she parked, she saw her best friend and fellow teacher, Jadzia Zahn with her daughter Cynthia, who also went to that school. "Wow, rough night?" asked Jadzia when she saw Yvaine's face.
"I didn't sleep well. Me and Rod were fighting. Again," answered Yvaine.
"Wanna talk about it?"
Yvaine nodded her head and said "I need to talk to somebody. I don't know how long I can deal with this."
Jadzia said, "Come to my classroom with me. Cynthia stays there with me until the 8:00 bell. That'll give us a few minutes to talk, okay?"
"You sure you don't mind?"
"This is the very definition of 'What friends are for!'" They walked to Jadzia's classroom, went inside, and Jadzia got Cynthia going with a video on her tablet. With some headphones… this was gonna be grown folks talking. She turned to her friend and said, "Alright, girl what's wrong?"
Yvaine whispered, "We're fighting about sex. He wants to try, well, different things that I'm just not ready to try. But he keeps asking and trying, and then he gets really mad when I keep saying no."
Jadzia said, "And?"
"And? And nothing. That's it. That's what we fought about last night."
"That's not a problem. That can't be what you're fighting about. What's the real reason you won't try those things?"
"How do you know that's not the real problem?"
"Because that problem has a simple solution… just try it. Look," Jadzia said before Yvaine could interrupt. "If my husband wanted me to try some weird, freaky stuff that I didn't want, but I know that it was important to him, I'd go ahead and at least try it. But Solomon is a really good lover and we're really in tune with each other. If he knew I didn't really want to do it, but I was willing to try, just for him, he'd do everything he could to make sure I enjoyed it. So if you're not even willing to give this stuff a shot, then something else is going on."
Yvaine looked at her friend and considered that for a moment. "I don't know… maybe you're right. Maybe the real problem is that he's just not a good lover. He's selfish, impatient, and uninspired. I thought that, over time, he'd get better, but he isn't. He's just so… rough. He just barges ahead, and when I cry out in pain, he thinks that means that I'm 'into it.' Most of the time, what he thinks are caresses, is actually him just man-handling my delicate parts like some kinda caveman. And now, he thinks a threesome would help us. Zee, you tell me, how would TWO unsatisfied women in the bed make this any better? I'm willing to be patient so we can get better together. But if you can't operate the toaster without burning the toast, they're damn sure not gonna let you move up to the omelet station!"
Jadzia cracked up laughing at that analogy and had to take a minute to compose herself. "So as I understand it, staying with the food theme, your problems are like ice cream."
"Ice cream?"
"Yeah. Rod's mad because he's tired of vanilla, and wants some strawberry cheesecake, or maybe some Moose Tracks or somethin', and you ain't servin' up nothin' but vanilla, no sauce, no toppings. You're mad because you want at least Edy's quality or maybe some Haagen-Dazs, but he's just serving up some cheap-ass store-brand generic ice milk crap. You're not offering any new flavors until he ups the quality, and he ain't interested in quality-control until you offer more flavors. Sound about right?"
"Yeah, that brings it into focus," Yvaine laughed, "and it makes me want some ice cream later. So what should I do, ask Ben? Consult Jerry?"
"Go explain the problem to him like I explained it to you, ice cream and all. Then, offer a compromise. You pick the least objectionable thing he wants to do and agree to try that, in exchange for his solemn promise to listen to you so you have a chance to enjoy it."
She looked at her watch… it was 7:40, so she needed to get to her own classroom to get started for the day. 'You're like a smart big sister! That sounds like great advice. I'm gonna try it tonight! Gotta get to my room. See you at lunch?"
"See you then," Jadzia said. 'Young people,' she thought, smiling to herself. Though she did have to admit that her situation was better than most. As always, she smiled as she thought of her husband.
Yvaine really liked Jadzia, or Zee, as she called her, and the two had quickly become best friends. They'd met at the beginning of the school year. What first got them talking were their first names.
"Hi, I'm Jadzia," she'd introduced herself.
"Jadzia? Like in Star Trek?" asked Yvaine.
Jadzia was surprised. Not many people made that connection. "Yeah," she said, a little sheepishly. "Exactly."
"Nice to meet, you, Jadzia. I'm Yvaine St. Claire," she answered, shaking her hand.
"Yvaine? Like in that movie… Starlight? No, that's not it… 'Stardust,' right?"
"Yes," said Yvaine, smiling and impressed. "I'm the star that fell to the ground! Not a lot of people get that reference. My dad loves that author."
"So," Jadzia said, "our dads are geeks, then." It wasn't a question. "And if we're honest, we are, too!" she laughed.
"Oh, yes," agreed Yvaine. "Very much a geek. Or nerd. I'm not sure which term is in fashion now. But either way, that's just one of the many reasons I love him so much!"
Jadzia wasn't sure exactly what Yvaine meant by that, but it seemed to have an air of wistfulness to it. Still, she answered only, "I know. Me too. He's wonderful," she said adoringly. She and her father were, after all, very close.
Jadzia and Yvaine were as thick as thieves from point on.
Yvaine never had a sister, and her close friendship with Jadzia was the next best thing. Zee was a couple of years older than Yvaine but was just starting as a teacher. Her degree was in marketing, but by the time she'd graduated, she had no desire to do that at all. Then she had her daughter, and when she took her to school the first time, she knew that this was what she wanted to do. She didn't care about the low teacher pay, since her husband was some kind of big-time lawyer or something. Apparently, HER marriage was perfect. All she did was gush about him. They traveled a lot, and every time she turned around, he had done something sweet and unexpected for her. At the start of the school year, she met Zee's husband, Solomon. She was surprised to see that he was a bit older than her, and he was black… Very smooth-looking. He looked confident and sure of himself, but not cocky. It didn't seem fair… how did these white girls always seem to snag the most eligible brothas? Compared to Solomon, Roderick was like a high-school sophomore. She'd mentioned to Jadzia that her parents were interracial as well. Jadzia said, "We're not mixed. I'm black." Yvaine must have looked very surprised, because Jadzia continued, "I know. I look like I'm white, but I'm not. I'm just black. Not biracial, not mixed, just plain black. It's cool. The only reason I mention it is because I like you. Most of the time I just let people think what they want," she explained. "But you're my best friend… friends know each other." Yvaine was touched.
This was Friday, and at the last bell, the teachers left the building like it was on fire. Yvaine waved at Jadzia as they both headed out. She was anxious to try Zee's advice. One nice thing about teaching is that when you're headed home, the worst part of rush-hour traffic hasn't begun. So she got home fairly quickly. The way to her apartment took her near the neighborhood where she grew up. Her dad still lived there in that same house. All alone in that big ol' house. He swore he'd never leave, but SHE was welcome to move back in anytime. Just her. Her dad had never liked Roderick, said he had no ambition, and would never take Yvaine the places she deserved to go. But Yvaine was way too stubborn to concede that he might be right. Not yet. She had her reasons to try and make it work with Rod.
On the way home, she checked her messages. Nothing from Rod, no apology, no nothing. He was probably busy. She was busy, too, and she hadn't called him, either. The only message was from the apartment complex reminding them to sign a new lease by the end of the month or give notice. She'd let Rod handle that next week. He had time. It wasn't like he was busy at work.
She got to the apartment and went in, announcing, "Babe, I'm home." Nothing. She walked into the bedroom, and no one was there. But what was that smell? Yvaine had always had an extremely keen sense of smell, and right now she could smell cheap perfume. Mixed with cheap bath soap. As she walked closer to the bed, the scent became overpowering to her. It was unmistakable… the scent of wild skank, in its natural habitat: some other woman's bed! It permeated the sheets. She looked closely at the pillow, but it seemed clean. She turned it over and saw faint stains of makeup. She sniffed the pillow deeply, and again, it was all over the pillow. Apparently, while she was at work, earning the only money that came into the house, he, while not working, had plenty of time to bring some slut home and fuck her in HER bed.
Oh.
Hell.
No.
!!
She pulled back the covers and sniffed the center of the bed. To her ultra-sensitive nose, there may as well been a picture of them in the bed. Along with a couple of long, blonde hairs. Yvaine's hair was brunette and black. She went to her closet and grabbed her one suitcase and threw in as many clothes as she could fit. She grabbed some toiletries, and forced the case shut. She stalked out of the apartment and muscled the bag into her car, got in, and drove away. She was heading for the place all good girls go when life goes to hell…
"Daddy!!" She wailed as soon as she walked in the door. "Daddy!! Where are you? Daddy!!"
Luckily, Davis St. Claire had decided to sneak out of work early on a gorgeous Friday afternoon, and he was already home. He rushed down the stairs to his daughter. "Yvaine! Baby, what's wrong?"
She ran to him and fell against him, sobbing. She'd managed to hold in her tears, just barely, as she drove to her dad's house, but now it all came pouring out. Her dad just wrapped his arms around her as he let her sob against his chest. He pulled her over to the sofa and sat down, pulling her down beside him. She got back up and sat back down, pushing his arms and legs apart so she could sit squarely on his lap. Then she really let loose, bawling into his chest as if the end of the world had arrived.
Davis said nothing, instead just stroking her back soothingly, waiting for her to be able to talk. He suspected it had something to do with her worthless boyfriend. Obviously, he'd done something to hurt his princess, something bad. But if that bastard had put his hands on his baby, Davis was gonna go over there and beat his ass like a rented mule. Yvaine's sobs were finally slowing down, and he knew he'd soon find out what was wrong.
"Daddy," she began, sniffling and fighting back sobs, "we've been fighting, and today, when I got home from work, I could smell some woman's perfume in my bed, and there was a trace of makeup on the pillow. MY bed! MY pillow!" She started crying again.
Her dad just asked, "Did you see her? I mean, like, proof?"
She sniffed again and said, "Proof? I could smell her, with her cheap-ass dollar-store ho-ass perfume. And I found long blonde hairs in my bed and saw her makeup on my pillow. Daddy, my hair is dark and his is short. And you know how good my sense of smell is. What would you think?!"
Her dad agreed, "Yeah, You're probably right. But I think you do need to at least face him to give him the chance to answer. I mean, it's only right."
She looked her dad in the face and said, "You're saying that I should give him another chance? I thought you hated him, and you'd be thrilled to get rid of him."
"No, that's not what I said. I said you should face him and give him a chance to answer. Even in a court of law, the accused has the right to hear what he's being accused of. I'm just sayin'. Plus, if nothing else, it'll give you closure. If you don't, you'll always wish you could have faced him that one last time and told him to go to hell."
Yvaine was still not sure what advice her daddy was giving her. "So what should I do?" she asked.
"Well this is pretty serious, so you should let his ass sweat. Hang out here with me tonight, and let your old man take you out to dinner. Spend the night here, and just let him go to voice mail. Don't call him or text him back, just let him worry. Then, go there tomorrow with a clear head and calmly tell him what you told me. You're a smart girl, so don't let him lie to you. If you don't like what he has to say, then you can decide what to do then.
"You really think that's what's best?" she asked.
"I do, baby," he reassured her. "Look, you're too upset to make good decisions right now, and whatever you think you want to do right now, you can still do tomorrow once you're thinking clearly and you're sure. Okay?" She sniffed again and nodded. "So why don't you go take a shower and change, and let me make it all better. That's what I do! I promise I'll show you a good time and get your mind off it. Now gimme a hug!"
Yvaine was still sitting on his lap, and she just put both arms around him and squeezed him tightly as he held her. She instantly felt better, knowing now that it was all going to work out. "Thank you, Daddy," she sighed. "You always know just what to do. Now, I know what to do! I'm gonna go look extra nice for you, okay?" She jumped up off his lap, grabbed her suitcase, and rushed upstairs to her room to change. She felt better already now that she was with her dad. As always, she was sure he'd know what to do, he always did. That's why she'd always been such a Daddy's girl.
Davis, on the other hand, was decidedly not feeling better. It wasn't that he was worried about Yvaine. She'd be fine whether they failed or survived as a couple. If they got through this, she'd be back with Roderick and they'd find a way to work this out. And if they didn't, she'd probably move back in with him, and he'd be there for her as always. And THAT was the problem.
For all of her life, when Davis looked at his daughter, he saw just that… his daughter. Yes, they were pretty close, and fairly touchy-feely, with plenty of hugs and kisses, but nothing, absolutely nothing, that wasn't proper or was out of bounds. He saw his pretty daughter, and nothing more. Even during the summer between her junior and senior years of high school, when he added a pool to the backyard, and she spent almost every day of her summer vacation wearing a bathing suit while playing in the pool, he still only saw his little girl. When she graduated from high school and left for college, he hugged her goodbye and sent her off, the only emotion he felt was that he'd miss seeing her every day, and that this was the way life was supposed to unfold. All was well until she came home for Christmas during her Senior year in college.
Yvaine was majoring in Education, working on her dream of being a teacher. When she was little, she used to line her toys up in rows like a classroom and teach them about the birds and bees: "This is a bird," pointing to a picture of a bird, "and this is a bee. Pay attenshun, there's gonna be a test. Okay?" She was about to go into the last semester of her college studies, where she would be performing her 'Student-Teaching' class, working in real classrooms with real students. She was lucky enough to be placed at a school near where her parents lived. So, for her last semester, she could stay at home with her parents while out at the school, and then commute back to campus when she needed to be in class.

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