"Enith paused at the outside of her house. It was pitch black outside, the stars shimmering in the sky like little diamonds. The house was quiet as a cemetery. Her tense muscles began to relax. They were probably already asleep. As quietly as possible she reached into her purse, looking for her house key. The porch light wasn't on so she had to fumble for it. She froze like an ice sculpture as the key slipped out of her hand and landed on the wooden porch. She clenched her eyes, cowering, waiting for the porch light to come on to hear her fathers gruff voice ushering her into the house and the stern lecture that would ensue.A few seconds passed even though it felt like an eternity. Enith reached down in the dark night, feeling around for the key. Her muscles felt tense under her tight dress. Although the evening was cool, she felt a sheen of dewy perspiration covering her body. She grasped the key tightly and slowly inserted it into the lock. She turned it slowly. She heard the door. ."Bridgette, my darling, where are you?" It was Lord Burnstein who had come to wish goodnight to his only daughter. Unlike the teens of today, Bridgette loved her parents' company - more so that of her father. On weekdays, this was probably the only time they got to be aslone with each other, although they would spend alternate Saturdays riding off into their sunsets - and it was during one of these rides that Bridgette became acutely aware of the fact that she was in love with her own father. Hence, the goodnight was a sort of a sacred ritual between father and daughter.Bridgette had, in her moment of poetic resignation, forgotten about her father's visit being due, and therefore was standing before him, nude from the waist up. For a moment, she stood still in front of him, not knowing what to do. The light in the room was certainly bright enough to accentuate her youthful and beautiful body - a fact her father apparently did not miss. He stared at her breasts, admiring their firm.
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