Chapter 2: bubbles, frothing

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Adult Romance  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

Reads: 109
Comments: 1

‘Watch me do a forward roll, Daddy!’

‘I’m watching! I’m watching!’

Marc relaxed in the hot tub and watched his darling little Sienna bounce higher and higher on her black trampoline. She flipped over headfirst, head-over-heels, landing with a firm thump at the centre of the mat. He breathed a sigh of relief: no bones broken, no twisted neck. Marc dreaded to think what he would do, how he would cope, if his little Goldilocks fell on her face, broke her neck, and swallowed her tongue. Sienna’s daring exploit on the bouncy netted turret was one of few risks he permitted himself in his life.

The greatest risk, he kept secret.

The proud father closed his eyes, rested his strong arms on the rim of the tub, then opened his hairy thighs, thrilling to the forceful sensation of bubbles frothing in his crotch. He took a sip of pink gin, refreshing his palate, licking his lips at the notion of Michelle preparing herself for him. Her sexy musk, that carnal link between her smell, her body’s odour, and his seduction, his nasal-oral-optical-tactile-stimulation, his arousal, by her.

He checked his sub aqua diver’s watch, moving the phone in closer to him. The outside extension was his idea, purely for personal pleasure. He opened his eyes, staring at the night sky, a thick blanket of black cloud obscured all but a thin smattering of stars, the faded crescent moon,

Where is she? We’re due to perform.

Sienna, tomboy in a pink dragon t-shirt and floppy red shorts, sat cross-legged on the mat watching him,

‘What is it, Daddy?’ she said.

It had been a tough week, constant interruptions, late calls, false leads, restless nights. He blinked his weary eyelids, ‘Just dreaming.’

‘Happy dreams?’

 Marc wasn’t paying attention. His mind was elsewhere. In the forest. By a muddy pond.

‘Sorry?’

The girl sucked her withered thumb, and looked at him, ‘Are you having happy dreams?’

‘Yes, happy dreams.’

He thought of the two girls, still missing, the hell their parents must be going through, thankful it wasn’t his treasured daughter the team of frogmen were searching for, smiled,

‘Show me another forward roll.’

The girl stood, wobbled a bit on the trampoline, then started to bounce, higher and higher.

No traces, clues. That’s what he didn’t understand. Despite the endless appeals, the house-to-house interviews, pulling in the usual scumbag of suspects, perverts, stalkers, prowlers, paedophiles, trolls, voyeurs, for questioning; the investigation had yet to yield a lead. Add to that the fact that Madison Hendricks was baby-cute, emotionally regressive, bordering on a child, mentally, and it was difficult to imagine how the girls could have survived in the forest undetected. The weather, when they went missing, was atrocious - endless rain, an occasional heavy shower, thunderstorms. Yet there had been no sightings. No-one had come forward since the girls were seen by a passing motorist entering the forest.

The team had begun the gruesome task of dredging the dozens of dewponds scattered around the forest, diving into lakes, searching for their bodies. Pritchard had no doubt this was where his search would end: the discovery of two drowned girls. Pressure was on him from on high, the girl’s distressed parents, the media, to find the girls, to achieve a kind of closure. He struggled to cope. The notion of having the blood of two dead girls on his hands was too much to bear, tearing at his insides.

Marc needed a break, soon, and he needed relief. He shook himself awake, increasingly impatient, concerned at the risk he was taking with her, in the tub tonight,

Come on, Michelle.

He heard his daughter giggle. Sienna climbed off the trampoline, and ran, to be with him. He felt her soft little fingers tickle his shoulder,

‘Daddy?’

‘Yes, precious.’

‘Will you and Mummy be handsome in the tub tonight?’

Handsome! Her favourite word! Who did she learn that word from? Mummy? Had to be!

‘I hope so,’ he replied, grinning from ear to ear, ‘I really hope so.’

The little girl clapped her hands with glee,

‘Goodie! I like it when you and Mummy are handsome. Handsome as the day I was born!’

Marc took a large swig of gin, swallowed hard, the thought of his adorable, beautiful wife, running his coarse fingers down her scar,

‘Daddy?’

‘Yes, Sienna?’

‘Do you love Mummy?’

‘I…’

‘Come along, young lady,’ Michelle interrupted, ‘Think it’s bedtime, don’t you? Let’s get you to bed.’

Marc couldn’t bear to watch her, not in front of Sienna, his blush, his embarrassment, the pole-like swelling propping up his thong, her feline display, her beautiful face, her body, her musk, would be too much for him to bear, in front of their child.

She smelt of vanilla.

Long touted as an aphrodisiac, the scent of vanilla causes arousal and stimulation in men. Vanilla may be soft, almost sweet, but it has a strong, intense, aroma, an animalistic effect.

Sienna, just 5, starting school next term, was bright, smart, too smart for her own good sometimes. She would notice them, make one of her smart childish comments, tell all her friends at their birthday parties, in the park, on the slide, the swings. Tell their mummies all about them, and the strange games they played, handsome, in the steamy, bubbly, tub,

‘Must we, Mummy?’ she said.

‘We must. Now say goodnight to Daddy.’

Marc felt Sienna’s small lips kiss his shoulder, the faintest touch, heard her tiny whisper,

‘Night, night, Daddy.’

‘Night, Sienna. See you.’

He had no idea when he would see his precious girl again. Her voice faded as she was led away to clean her pearly teeth, comb her golden hair, say ‘Night, Mummy, love you, lots’, read her story - about the little girl who lost her name…

The telephone rang.


Submitted: July 21, 2021

© Copyright 2021 hjfurl. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Missink31

God, you are an exciting writer and more. Xxx

Thu, July 22nd, 2021 12:24am

Author
Reply

Thank you so much, Miss! xx

Thu, July 22nd, 2021 4:03pm

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