A little while later, we pull up in the circular driveway in front of my parents’ place. The house is dark except for a single light shining from an upstairs window.

Dad’s office.

“Someone waiting up for you?” Mark asks, quietly.

“My dad,” I answer.

“You want me to come in with you?”

“No! Hell, no,” I laugh, as I unbuckle my seat belt.

“You sure? Because I’d be happy to,” he says, pulling me into his arms.

“Let’s save the whole Dad thing for a more reasonable hour,” I say, hugging him back.

We cling to each other quietly for a moment. “Thank you so much for a fantastic first date,” I say, smiling into those blue eyes, now looking dark and mysterious in the shadowed interior of the truck. “Thank you so, SO much!” I grab his hand and kiss it and then tuck it under my chin. “I had so much fun! And the thing in the pool…oh my gosh! I…I mean, that was…that was…so… naughty!”

My face burning, I give him my best smile, right into his face from an inch away.

He chuckles. “No, thank you. For being so sweet, so easy to please…and so sexy,” he says, his eyes roving from my mouth to my eyes and back again. “I can’t wait to pick up where we left off…sometime soon.”

One last kiss and I get out of the truck, to stand and watch him drive away until his taillights disappear down the street.

I wish we could pick up where we left off right now, upstairs in my room.

But…I appreciate his restraint… which just makes me want him all the more.

Smart and handsome.

Sigh.

Turning to go inside, I check my phone. Only quarter to one in the morning…not that late.

Still, I steel my spine and remind myself that I’m not doing anything wrong.

I’m allowed to date and stay out as late as I want.

Furthermore, I’m not in trouble and I don’t have to explain myself.

But my knees are knocking a little, anyway. Dammit!

As soon as I touch my key to the front door, it swings open…and there’s my father.

Tall, bald, built and imposing, his sharp eyes are clear and alert, even at this late hour.

“I thought you’d be home before midnight,” he says, holding the door open and standing back so I can come in.

“Hello to you too, Dad,” I say, glumly. “What gave you that idea?”

“It was your first date, for one thing. First dates are for getting to know one another over dinner and drinks, not hanging out until the wee hours.”

Oh man…here we go. Words sure travels fast.

“Says who?”

I contemplate going straight to my room, but that will only put off the interrogation. Since I might as well get it over with, I go down the hall towards the kitchen, with Dad right behind me.

“Says common sense and tradition,” he asserts. “Also, I’m concerned that you skipped practice.”

“I practiced last night.”

“Yes, and you’ll have to practice tonight now.”

No discussion, just do as you’re told.

“Dad…”

“About your date,” he interrupts. “I’m sure he’s a nice enough fellow, but I don’t get the sense that Mr. Mollenkamp has much money.”

“Geez, Dad, don’t beat around the bush or anything. Tell me what you really think.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he says, ignoring my sarcasm.

“Does everything always have to be about money with you? You know he just started his business. He’s doing fine so far, and, he has big plans for the future.”

In the kitchen, I open a cupboard, rummage around and pull out a pack of cookies.

“Is that what he says? I’m not so sure. He doesn’t have the means to…”

“The means to what? Sprinkle me with diamond dust and shower me with hundred-dollar bills? It’s one date, Dad! He hasn’t asked me to marry him yet.”

No one ever will, with you breathing down their neck, I think to myself, sourly.

“I’m just saying that you’re always going to be better off dating someone suitable, Marie. That means someone with money.”

“I didn’t ask to see his bank statement. But since he had the means…and the guts…to start his business, I’m going to assume he has the potential to be successful. You were, and you started out with nothing.”

“Times were different then. You know that nowadays, most new businesses fail inside of a year.”

“How about we give the man a year then, and see what happens?” I take a carton of milk from the fridge to the island seating area and pour a glass. Then I take a cookie from the pack and prepare to dunk it in the milk.

“He won’t last that long.” Dad takes a seat in one of the tall stools on the other side of the island and helps himself to a cookie.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Two days ago, he applied for a big increase in his line of credit with us. When I talked to Gary at the bank, I was told he was turned down for a loan. He’s under-financed.”

Gary. Everyone knows Gary the loan officer at then bank.

The guy’s a weasel in a bow-tie.

“Wha…? Gary told you…Gary talked to you about Mark’s personal business?”

“Not personal. I simply asked if Mr. Mollenkamp’s account is in good standing. A perfectly acceptable query.”

“Bullshit! His bank account is none of your concern! And Gary…that rat…he shouldn’t be telling you privileged information!”

“Don’t be naïve, girl. I’ve known Gary for years. He knows he can tell me anything.”

“Don’t be naïve? Dad! You’re supposed to check credit through an agency like everyone else. Getting inside information from one of your cronies is going too far!” I’m fuming, and frankly, disappointed in my Dad. “That’s…that’s…a breach of confidentiality! I should report him to his boss!” My voice is indignant and rising in pitch.

“You will not. Keep your voice down, please, your mother is sleeping.”

“Not anymore, she’s not.” My mother’s voice precedes her entrance into the kitchen, the sound of her footsteps silenced by the soft slippers she’s wearing on her feet. “I heard you come in. Now, what are you two arguing about?”

My dad and I glare at each other. “He…Dad’s interrogating me about my date tonight.”

“Well, that’s what I was planning to do,” Mom says mischievously. And that might be true, but I know she’d mean it an entirely different way.

“I’m just trying to talk sense to her, Viv,” Dad says.

“About what? She’s allowed to date, darling,” Mom replies, coming to stand by my side.

“Of course she is. I’m just concerned about her choice of companion, is all.”

Grinning, she says, “Oh? Now, there’s a shock.”

Dad gives her the side-eye but says nothing.

“What’s this about Gary at the bank?” She pulls up a stool and sits, tucking her robe under her legs. “That man is no friend of yours. You of all people should know that.”

“Yes, well…keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Dad says, with a wink. He sidles around the island to take my mother in his arms. Dwarfed by his size, her arms encircle his waist, but she looks up into his face with a touch of skepticism.

“Listen,” he says, looking down at her affectionately. “Mark gave permission for us to look into his finances when he applied for an increase in credit. He’s asking us to take a chance that he’ll pay within terms. Besides, I didn’t ask Gary for specifics, he told me on his own volition.”

“Hmm. Sounds a tad disingenuous, my love. So, are you going to turn him down based on that ill-gotten information?”

“I never said that,” Dad says, kissing the top of her head before returning to his seat to snag another cookie from the pack. “He’s an unknown quantity at this point and I’d be well within my rights to say no.”

I glare at him.

Rolling his eyes, he relents. “But I’m not going to say no. Of course we’ll extend his credit, Marie! We’ll give him the same chance as any other customer gets. If he blows it, we’ll cut him off like we would anyone else, too. Simple as that.”

“Fair enough. After all, it’s not like he’d put Sinclair’s in the poor house, is it? But, you’re not off the hook Dad! You’ve just blabbed his personal information to a girl he’s trying to date,” I say. “Are you trying to sabotage him? Because he might see it that way, if he knew. He definitely wouldn’t like it. And neither would you.”

Mom, helping herself to a cookie, looks at Dad and raises her eyebrows.

He regards her calmly before turning his gaze back to me. “Sabotage him? I don’t care about him. I care about you. And don’t kid yourself, you mean much, much more to me, and to this family, than you do to him.”

My mother clears her throat and frowns.

Dad glances at her before adding, “Look. It’s early days yet. You’re old enough to understand that a man needs more than one date to fall in love.”

His voice stays even and cool. “And I wouldn’t put it past him to be using you in order to forward his own interests. You don’t know him well enough to say different.”

Mom and I look at each other. She gives me the tiniest shake of her head, like she’s saying: Leave it for now. Then she closes both her eyes, slowly, as if to say: Have patience. Give it time.

Or maybe: I love your father but I’d like to wring his neck sometimes.

* * *

My mother changes the subject right after that, asking how my date went and what we did. I tell my parents about the dune buggy racing and how much fun I had with Mark. At least they seem to be happy that I enjoyed myself.

I know my mother is, anyway. After that, I say my goodnights and go up to bed.

Upstairs in my room, I get ready for sleep but I’m anxious. There’s a lot to think about.

Sighing, I kick my clothes off and pull a nightie on, my mind racing a mile a minute. I need to get things straight in my head.

In the bathroom, my morose reflection stares back at me as I brush my teeth and ponder my situation.

As annoying as he can be, obviously it goes without saying that my Dad has my best interests at heart.

And even though it’s too early yet to convince him, I think my father is dead wrong that Mark is using me.

For one thing, Mark was plainly interested…very interested…from the moment we laid eyes on each other. Despite, at that point, having no clue who I am.

Yet, when I told this to my parents downstairs, they weren’t exactly swayed.

Dad pointed out that this could have changed when Mark found out who I am. And I couldn’t argue that, either.

But nothing Mark has said or done gives me any reason to think so. I get no bad vibes about that at all.

I could be wrong, but he just doesn’t seem like the type.

He’s too… proud. Too independent.

But feeling a certain way about something is no proof or argument for anything. No use in even trying to use feelings as any kind of argument against my logical, reasonable father.

Mark will just have to prove himself to my family.

And I’m not so infatuated that I don’t understand that’s the way things should be.

After all, I’ll have to prove myself to him, as well. It’s only fair.

I finish brushing my teeth, rinse and tidy up my sink restlessly, deep in thought.

Mark’s long-term plan was formulated long before he met me. And, no way he’s stupid enough to hang his business success on the strength of dating me.

Far from stupid, in fact, his intent to attract high-end repair clientele the old-fashioned way, through marketing, word-of-mouth, and fair competition, is well-reasoned, realistic and commendable.

Quite workable, in fact.

And, according to everything I’m learning about business, very likely to succeed.

Back in my room, I sit on the edge of my bed, straighten my legs out and ponder my pedicure, wiggling my toes. I note that my toenail polish needs fixing up but I don’t make a move to do it.

Thinking, thinking.

The fact that my family has the high-end business that Mark wants is incidental. Mark would be trying to get that business no matter who currently has it.

Conclusion? It doesn’t make sense that he’s using me. And what does Judge Judy from that TV show always say?

“If it doesn’t make sense, it, can’t be true,” I say it out loud, and smile.

So I’m not going to worry about that anymore.

I flop onto my bed, put my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling.

A smile crosses my face when I think about how sure of himself Mark is. I love that about him! Not only does it make me horny for him, it makes me cheer for him, root for him, makes me want to see him succeed more than anything.

Makes me want to help him succeed.

I have such a good feeling about him!

My thoughts drift back to how Mark looked when I…when he was giving me that crazy orgasm in the pool. The remembered intensity makes my hips wriggle a bit. Jeez! That was amazing…so sexy!

And, holy crap, talk about self-denial and self-control!

The fact that he denied himself his own release, even though I had his thick, throbbing erection in my hand, is testament to his ability to delay gratification and work for his reward.

That, to me, is what a man is all about.

A real man.

Thinking about that makes my pussy give a warm, urgent throb, way up high inside.

My eyes close as my thoughts drift back to how we’d played in the pool earlier…and the way Mark felt in my arms as he held me over that tantalizing, bubbling stream. How hard and masculine his body is, and the strength and ease with which he’d positioned my hips and held me in place so I could experience that exquisite pleasure.

Jesus!

My hand, resting on my belly, finds its way under my panties and into my warm, secret folds.

I’m wet, and open, and my flesh throbs when I slide my finger inside.

Using that wet finger to slick my clit, I make small circles around it, lightly stroking the sensitive tip, feeling it grow and harden into a tiny erection.

Picturing my thighs parted, one on either side of Mark’s muscular shoulders, his head dipping as he thrusts his tongue into my waiting flesh.

Ohhh my gosh…my finger circles faster and faster.

I pretend it’s his finger, then his mouth and tongue again, then, plunging two fingers into myself, I picture his thick cock sliding in and out of me, filling my quivering pussy with its length and heat.

The thought brings me to a shuddering orgasm with astonishing swiftness. Biting my lip to keep from crying out, my hips writhe soundlessly as the pleasure rolls through me.

After a bit, I wash up, plug the charger into my phone and set it next to my bed.

Turning off my bedside lamp to lay down…and the brrr-ding of a text notification sounds.

It’s Brenda.