God, the only thing that kept me from coming when I was stretching my pussy earlier in the women’s restroom was the steady stream of traffic in and out of the other bathroom stalls. I didn’t think I could stifle my cries if I’d let myself even begin to go there.
Plus, I’ve waited this long. What’s a few more hours?
“You’re such a good girl,” Dad whispers in my ear. “You’ve waited so patiently.”
Whoa. I look up at him sharply. It’s like he can read my thoughts. Did Dominick tell him about the plugs?
“I’ve been patient too,” he continues. “Dominick said we needed to let you heal fully.” His grip on my hand tightens as his voice lowers. “But sweet girl, Daddy’s missed you.”
When I look back into his eyes, they’re filled with such raw need and desire, he looks like he’s about to throw me onto the ground in the middle of all these people and have at me right here.
But then as if he too realizes just where we are, he pulls back from me and softens his features into something more benign. “Good things come to those who wait.” It’s a mutter, and I can’t tell if he’s reminding me or himself.
The song continues to play, and right as the last notes ring out, there are hands suddenly jerking me backwards out of Dad’s grip.
What the—?
“So this is my replacement?”
A woman wearing a tight black dress with her hair in pigtails has a grip on my forearm so tight she’s going to leave claw-marks from her sharp nails.
“Ow, let me go!” I jerk away from her but she’s got a death grip. She shakes me roughly, still glaring at Dad.
“What does she have that I don’t?” she shrieks.
Now that I get a better look at her, I see that she’s got carefully applied makeup to try to make herself look doll-like. Rosy cheeks, eye makeup intended to make her eyes look larger, lipstick painted in a little rosebud mouth even though it’s not her mouth’s natural shape.
While from far away I bet the effect is impressive, from close up, it’s just grotesque.
Dad advances on her, his features twisted in disgust. “Get out of here, Janine. I told you I don’t want you anymore.”
Her nails pinch into my skin even harder. “You don’t mean that!”
Dad glares at her, standing taller and towering over the both of us. “You’re causing a scene,” he hisses underneath his breath. He’s not wrong. Heads all around us have turned to see what’s going on.
“I don’t care,” Janine says. “They need to know. I’m your little girl. Not her.”
She still has hold of me me but her words are such a blow, I stagger back and she finally loses her grip. She’s too busy trying to get close to Dad.
I blink.
“Sarah, are you okay?” Dominick runs up and catches me before I stumble into anyone in the crowd that’s circling around us.
Janine whips around at his voice. “Dommie, make Daddy listen to me!” she cries.
Her words are like an arrow piercing my heart.
She starts to come at Dominick now but Dad catches her in his arms and starts to lead her away through the crowd. She clutches onto his lapels but looks over her shoulder at where Dominick holds onto me. “No, I want Dommie too. It’s not right without the both of you!”
I double over, feeling all the breath knocked out of me. Dominick rubs my back but I pull away from him.
Air. I need air. I start to move as quickly as my stupid heels will let me in the opposite direction Dad took that woman.
No, he’s not your Dad.
God, how pathetic have I been all this time?
What number am I anyway?
How many times have they done this?
How many women?
And I felt so special.
I thought all this happened spontaneously.
So naturally.
Because we were family. I thought that word meant something.
God, I’m so stupid.
I get to the edge of the dance floor and yank off my shoes, hike up my gown and start to run.
“Sarah,” Dominick calls. “Wait. Sarah!”
I keep running, up some stairs to the area that leads to the hotel lobby. But even with my shoes off, of course my strides are nothing to Dominick’s long legs. He catches up to me easily and grabs me around the waist.
“No.” I hit at his chest as he tries to hold me. “Let go of me. I don’t want to hear your excuses!”
“Stop. Wait, it’s not what you—”
I smack at his chest, his shoulders, his face. He ducks out of the way and tries again. “Sarah, just give me a second—”
But I don’t want to. No seconds will be given. I’m done being made a fool of. Stupid naïve little Sarah, is that what they thought? And God, I was, wasn’t I?
I just keep hitting his chest, so furious. It hurts, God, I never thought anything could hurt this bad, and I want to make him hurt—