Take My Daughter

Take My Daughter

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Being six months behind in rent, an apartment building owner works out a plan that is beneficial for everyone. But is it?

Summary

Being six months behind in rent, an apartment building owner works out a plan that is beneficial for everyone. But is it?

Chapter1 (v.1) - Take My Daughter

Author Chapter Note

Being six months behind in rent, an apartment building owner works out a plan that is beneficial for everyone. But is it?

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 20, 2014

Reads: 28599

Comments: 20

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 20, 2014

A A A

A A A

“Damn it, Dad, can’t you ever get off your ass and answer it?”

I throw my magazine on the coffee table and pounce over to the door. Flinging it open, I expect it to be one of my dad’s so called friends or one of our neighbors complaining about how loud the T.V. is again.  I stop dead, looking up into a face that is vaguely familiar. He definitely isn’t from around here; not dressed like that! Tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t even cut it!

“May I help you?”  I ask meekly as I shift behind the door trying to cover my way too short boy shorts and way too thin matching tank top.  I see Jack, the building manager, standing sheepishly behind this extremely domineering man.

Seeing my discomfort, his glare softens some, “Hi, I’m Michael Wilcot, the owner of this apartment building. I need to speak with a Mr. Archibald Webber.”

Not being able to take my eyes off his face, I squeak, “Ahh, yeah, he’s my Dad,” glancing over to where Dad was sitting only to see the chair empty but still rocking as evidence.  I groan silently, “May I ask why?”

Mr. Wilcot turns to look at Jack who shrugs and nods his head.  “We have a rather huge problem I need to discuss with him regarding the rent, or more so, the lack of it.”

My eyes bulge.  I motion for them to come in glancing quickly both ways down the hall hoping no one heard him.  I quietly close the door.

I pull my arms around trying to cover my chest, “DAD!  There is a Mr. Wilcot here to talk to you.  Get out here!”  I offer my unwelcomed guests a seat on the sofa as I scurry over to clear it of newspapers and betting sheets.  They remain standing.  I look over to Jack who is now staring at the floor nervously tapping his foot.  “Mr. Wilcot, I…I know we are a little behind, but I have been working extra hours and doing some things to bring in extra money so we could get caught up. I know we got behind but I thought we were doing good now.”

He cocks his head to the side, lifting a brow, “Being 6 months behind is not what I call doing good.”

“Oh, my God!  Six months behind?  No way!”  I shake my head, “No way!”Looking over to Jack, I blurt out, “Jack, Dad’s been giving you rent money every week.  What’s with this?”

Jack just shakes his head, his voice cracking, “He hasn’t given me anything for a long time now.”

“What the hell do you mean?  I give him all the money I make every week to pay…Oh God, I don’t believe this…he hasn’t been giving it to you?  He promised me he was turning it in.  He promised.” Looking down and blinking quickly trying to hold back the moisture welling in the corners of my eyes.  “I can’t believe this!  Shit!” I yell, “DAD, get out here now!”  My hands start to tremble as I fidget with my hair.

“What’s your name?”  Mr. Wilcot asks in a deep calming voice.

“Maggie, umm, Margaret, but I hate it, so please call me Maggie” Looking down afraid to make eye contact mostly because I am so angry, but more so, because I don’t understand why this man is affecting me the way he is.  His very presence is mesmerizing.  I throw my hands up in the air, “But Jack, why didn’t you say something to me?”  Jack shakes his head again and looks up meekly at Mr. Wilcot.

After a very visible perusing of my body, Mr. Wilcot ascertains, “Well Margaret, let me explain.  It’s not Jack’s job to deal with delinquent accounts, but even so, he told me that your father threatened his life if he ever said anything to you.”

I looked over in shock at Jack, shaking my head, “My Dad can be a mean son-of-a-bitch and has been known to smack me around a few times, but I doubt he threatened your life. But really, Jack, I thought we had enough of a friendship that you would have still found some way to tell me.  You know I would have kept your confidence. Six months?  How can that be?  We never received any notices, no warnings, nothing!”

Jack holds out a handful of papers and open envelopes that Mr. Wilcot takes. “Yes you did, or I should say your father did.  I have proof of 3 certified letters, all signed by him, informing him of the delinquencies and the last one warning him of eviction.”

“Eviction!  No, you can’t do that,” I plead.  “We have no place to go…we have nothing…I mean we would be out on the streets…I can’t”

“I’m sorry Margaret. Jack will provide you with names and locations of shelters and community help programs.”

“DAD!”  I walk back towards the bathroom knowing he always hides there when necessary.  I bang hard on the door.  “Dad, get your fucking ass out here and deal with this.  We are being evicted!  DAD, get out here now!” Dad sheepishly opens the door knowing he can hide no longer.

He hisses and quickly smacks me across my face, “Why the fuck didn’t you just take care of it and get him out of here?”

“What the hell do you expect me to do?”  I wail, rubbing the red welt rising on my left cheek.  “I gave you the money.  What the hell…Oh, forget it; I know what you did with it, you bastard! Now we’re being evicted.” Tears welling in my eyes; I wipe them away before anyone else sees them.

Mr. Wilcot had come around the corner and is standing staring at me; the look of shock now covering his face.  He walks over to where Dad and I are standing never taking his eyes off me.  He firmly grasps my right arm pulling me around behind him; placing his towering body between mine and my fathers.  Turning back towards my dad he holds out his hand.  “Mr. Webber, I am Michael Wilcot the owner of this building.  I have tried unsuccessfully to contact you several times.  You are a hard man to get a hold of.”  Dad shakes his hand reluctantly.  “I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to vacate the premises due to being 6 months in arrears of rent.  I have tried to be fair and have really let this go on much longer than I should have; now you leave me no choice.  Sadly, I see that this is not only going to affect you, who I don’t give a crap about, but also your beautiful daughter who I wasn’t even aware, until today, was also living here.”

My Dad whimpers, “Mi…Mister Wilcot…can you please give us more time?  My daughter here, well, she can…”

“What, Mr. Webber?  What exactly do you expect her to do?  From what she has told me, she has been turning over all her earnings to you to pay the rent. Apparently, you chose not to do so.  Hasn’t she done enough already?”

With an indignant look rising in my dad’s face, “She…she can get another job and I can…I can stop playing the horses.  I’ll make sure you get all the money this time.”

Turning back to me, softening his glare, Mr. Wilcot asks, “Margaret, please tell me, what do you do?”

Looking down nervously, still not being able to make eye contact, “I’m a waitress at the small burger shop down the street during the day and then I clean offices in the building across from it at night.”

Raising his eyebrows and smirking slightly, “Anything else?”

I look up questioningly and shake my head.

“What about these?”  Mr. Wilcot turns and holds out his hand.  Jack reaches into the manila folder he is carrying and pulls out some pictures.

I gasp. “No, oh God, no!  Where did you get them?”  I feel the heat rise as I continue to fight back the tears.

“That is not important.  Does your father know about these?”  Mr. Wilcot questions snidely.

I gulp, feeling the heat now cascading over me along with the tears.  “No. I don’t think so.”  Gulping again, “Ronnie...well, her Dad took them and sold them to his friends at his office.  No one else was…Oh, God, how did you get them?”  I look at Jack while wiping the tears now burning the welt on my cheek.  My Dad reaches over and grabs them from Mr. Wilcot’s hand.

He looks up at me in surprise, “Shit Maggie, when did you do this?”

“A couple months ago,” I stammer.  “Ronnie said that that is how they get enough money to pay rent.  She promised that only a few guys buy the pictures but are willing to pay good money for them.  They are only tit shots.”  Now sobbing, “I figured it…it would be much easier than trying to… find another job.  I had to do…something.”

Mr. Wilcot stares at the pictures in my Dad’s hand and asks softly, “How much money did you get for them?”

I try to control the sobbing which is only adding to my already brightly reddened face, “Not much, around thirty dollars…after Ronnie’s Dad took his cut.  He said only a couple guys bought them.  I thought I would make more than that, but I guess they didn’t like them!”

Mr. Wilcot slowly raises his eyes to my dad’s face who was now shuffling eagerly through the pictures. “So let me understand this, you work two jobs and you pose for these pictures and you give all the money to your father to pay the rent?”

With a slow nod, “Yes.”

Still watching my dad’s face, “But he hasn’t been turning the money over to Jack in months and you didn’t know this?”

I shrug, “No.”

In a concerned tone now, “What about food, clothes, and your other bills?”

“We use his disability check for food.  He doesn’t get that much but…I do the best I can,” relieved that the topic is no longer on the pictures.

“Maybe you could do more?”  Dad asks with an eyebrow raised holding up the pictures.

“Daaaad! Is that what you really want me to do?"  I grab the pictures from his hand.

Mr. Wilcot reaches over, “Uh Uh, those are mine now.”

“Mr. Wilcot, please. Ronnie’s dad promised me that no one but those few horny freaks at his work would see them. Please.”  I look down wanting the floor to open up and devour me.

Dad asks as he continues to look at the pictures, “Mr. Wilcot, what would you pay for those pictures?”

“DAD!  I can’t believe you would ask that question!  No one liked them. It has nothing to do with how much. No one wanted them.”

“Well, Mr. Webber, a thought has crossed my mind while we’ve been standing here talking.  Your daughter is very beautiful, not only what I see standing here, but also what I see in these pictures.”  Holding them up in delight, “They are beautiful and every man in his right mind would want them and pay dearly to have them. Jack did.”

I jerk my head around as my mouth drops open only to see Jack looking down at his shuffling feet while his face is turning crimson red.

Mr. Wilcot turns back to my father. “Mr. Webber, what would you say if I had your daughter come and work for me, work off some of the money you owe me?  I’m thinking we might be able to work out something beneficial for all of us.”  He raises his eyebrows and cocks his head towards me waiting for my reaction.

I stand there in total shock and confusion; my knees ready to buckle under me. “I can’t do that!  I won’t do that!”  I state defiantly.

“Why?” Mr. Wilcot demands.

“I have two jobs already.  How can I find the time to work for you, too?”

Sternly he responds, “This isn’t up for discussion.  You will quit those two shitty jobs, you will come with me and work off what you owe.  If not, well then, I have no other choice but to evict you tonight.”

“Tonight?”  I ask in disbelief.

“Yes, this has gone on long enough and I have no intention of letting it go on any longer.  You obviously do not have the money, and I can’t imagine why you would want to stay with this bastard of a father you have here, so take my offer or start packing.  It is your decision."

With my stomach churning, I stand in front of everyone being forced to make an immediate life changing decision. If we don’t work something out, I will be out on the street tonight, not giving a shit about Dad.  If I do go, then what; I know he isn’t hiring me to wash floors and cook meals.  I will be nothing more than a prostitute, using my body; as I am sure that is the inference here, to pay off what we owe.

“Margaret, decide now.” Mr. Wilcot’s patience is waning.

Stammering, “I…I just don’t know what…I can do for you.  I mean, I can clean but…I...

Holding up his hand with the pictures to halt me, he bends down to my ear and whispers, “Margaret, I have to believe you know exactly what I want from you.  But to be very clear, I enjoy beautiful women and all they have to offer me. But in your case, all I have to offer you, also.  You need out of this fucked up situation and I am offering you a better option than the streets.  End of story.”

Aghast, my eyes grow wide, “But I never…I can’t…” I finally make eye contact, looking deeply into his eyes; all I see is concern and hopefulness.  A sudden shiver shoots through me followed by the calmness of surrender.

Seeing my resignation, my Dad breathes a sigh of relief.  “Mr. Wilcot, I can see you are a good man, and knowing you are also a very rich one; I’m sure you can give my daughter far more than I ever can.”  Fuck, he’s trying to make it sound like I need a foster parent, when what I am getting is a pimp!  Dad goes on, “I just want to be sure that I can stay in this apartment while my daughter is…umm…working for you.”

Sneering at him in disgust, Mr. Wilcot assures him that he may stay in the apartment but that no other money will be provided to him.

“Thank you, Sir.  That is very kind of you.  I’m sure you will be very pleased with…”

“What exactly are you saying, Mr. Webber?”  He hisses while handing the pictures back to Jack who quickly puts them back in the folder.  Mr. Wilcot saunters over to me. He wraps his arm around my waist pulling me protectively to his side. I lift my face, our eyes meeting; surprisingly, I feel a sudden rush of warmth…and excitement.  Turning slowly back to my father, Mr. Wilcot asks, “Yes, Mr. Webber, you were saying?”

“Take my daughter!”

 

 

Copyright 2014: (2014) Alyson Williams,  All rights reserved. This written work may not be reproduced or distributed or published in any form without the express permission of the author.  Send requests to:  alywilldo@yahoo.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Alyson Williams. All rights reserved.

Chapters

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Anonymous

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

Other Content by Alyson Williams