I noticed that there was a damp spot from my sexual juices where I was lying on the bed. I made the bed without changing the sheets, letting my essence intermingle with my father's. It would be entirely dry by the time he came home and in my mind it was a way of christening the bed in anticipation for that night.I got dressed and went to the store to buy food so I could make my father's favorite meal for dinner that night: porterhouse steak, batter dipped onion rings, baked potatoes, and a fresh garden salad. When I came home I showered and spent a good amount of time making myself look as attractive as possible. I did my hair up nice, I strived to apply the perfect amount of make-up to make me look ravishing, and I wore my black strapless dress that showcased my cleavage to good effect (an outfit which always drew attention), and high heels.By the time my father came home that evening I had the meal and myself ready, I also had the radio on in the background tuned to the soft rock. Scratch that, not was, am in love. I mean real love, as in maybe getting him to marry me! I’ll tell you, he’s all I think about. I used to go home at night and plan what I was going to wear the next day hoping he’d notice. I tried every girl trick you could think of, squeezing my tits together, slipping him some thigh, those quirky little come on smiles men like so much. I know where he lives, what his phone number is, what his favorite restaurants are, and I even how he likes playing computer games on the Internet. I got that information by hacking into his PC. Now would I hack into a guy’s PC if I didn’t like him? And don’t tell me I hacked in to get at his ideas, he was always telling me that stuff. Hell, I didn’t understand half of it anyway. Now I’m not stupid. I’m pretty smart, as smart as he is, but I’m not very smart in some ways. I did everything I could to get him to pay attention to me. I don’t mean being nice at work. I wanted a date, I wanted him to take me out. I.
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