"She's your daughter Roger, you sort it out!" my mother was saying loudly.
"She is our daughter," my father responded just as loudly, "why don't you sort it out for a change?"
Mum and dad were arguing yet again, as usual the topic was me, though for the life of me I couldn't figure out what it was I had done this time. I'd heard them arguing from upstairs, but I couldn't make out their words so I'd snuck down to listen outside the living room door.
"I've washed my hands with her," mum snapped, "she's almost eighteen and doesn't listen to a bloody word I say and it's your fault."
"Mine?" dad protested, "How is it all my fault?"
"If you hadn't spoilt her rotten we wouldn't be having all these problems." mum responded, "You let her get away with murder and I have to be the heavy that dishes out the punishment, well not any more, from now on you can try and knock some sense into her. Right outside the front door, I ask you!"
"We don't know what happened..." dad said.
"You know damned well what she was doing!" mum interrupted, "What she's always doing. One of these days she'll end up pregnant and not knowing who the father is!"
Aha, the argument was about my sex life, mind you it usually was. Okay, so I liked sex, but this time I was innocent of whatever it was I was supposed to have done, I'd not had sex for over a week, ever since I had bust up with my last boyfriend.
"I don't know what she was doing," dad retorted, "I only know what that damned interfering old biddy claims happened"
Yet another piece of the puzzle fell into place, whatever the reason for the argument it had been supplied by the old fogey that lived across the way. She was a nosy old cow that hated to see anyone else enjoying themselves.
"That is no way to talk about Mrs. Carey," mum snapped back, "she's just concerned is all."
"Yeah, with everyone else's business." dad retorted, "I tell you that woman is a menace, every other word that comes out of her mouth is malicious gossip about someone and I really don't believe a quarter of what she says is actually true. Mrs. Carey is a mean, bitter old woman!"
"She's just lonely." mum muttered.
"Is it any wonder!" dad commented.
I decided that it was time to find out what the problem was, whether I found out now or later made no difference so the sooner it was out of the way the better. Taking a breath I walked into the living room and smiled at my parents, mum glowered at me, but my father smiled back. My mother was standing there with her coat on and her handbag hanging from her wrist, obviously she was going out, she looked at my father meaningfully.
"Sort it out!" she said sharply, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Where's mum going?" I asked as she left.
"Her father's ill, she going over to help keep an eye on him." dad replied, "Martina, we need to talk, but let's sit down."
We sat on the couch and my father shuffled his feet for a moment before looking at me and starting in on the problem.
"Marty," he said slowly, "we've been told that you were having sex with a man right at the front door last night. Is it true?"
"No it isn't!" I said stiffly.
I almost wished I had been, but as I've already said, it had been a week since I had been fucked and though I felt as horny as hell I wouldn't let anyone screw me on the doorstep. Out of sight in behind the hedge maybe, but definitely not on the doorstep.
"I didn't think it was." dad sighed, "Just to satisfy my curiosity, what did you do last night?"
"I went to Rhonda's," I replied truthfully, "we spent the evening crying on each other's shoulder and getting pissed. If you don't believe me then ask Rhonda's parents, they were there too."
"I believe you," dad smiled, "I knew you had more sense than to do it on your own doorstep."
I suppose my mother was right, dad did spoil me, he always had, when I was a lot younger he always used to call me his 'girl', I wondered why he didn't call me that any more before turning my mind back to the problem at hand. Mrs. 'Nosy-Parker' Carey was claiming to have seen me having it away on the doorstep, either she was making it up or she saw a couple snogging on our doorstep and assumed I was the female. I really didn't think it likely that anyone would stand on a stranger's doorstep to get their jollies though. I looked at my father ready to tell him my thoughts in the matter and I saw him gazing off into the distance grinning, whatever it was he was thinking about pleased him and I wondered what it was.
"Penny for your thoughts." I grinned.
"Eh, oh, I was just thinking back to my youth." dad grinned, "Back to the days when your mother wasn't quite so sharp-tongued."
He gave a sigh then patted my leg.
"Anyway," he laughed, "now that we've sorted out that little misunderstanding what shall we do next?"
"Dad I don't think there was any misunderstanding at all." I said quietly, "I think that old cow has it in for me, though I don't know why, I barely know her."
"Which 'old cow'." dad asked.
"Mrs. Carey," I smiled, "the one that told you I was being fucked on the doorstep."
"Language Martina." dad said firmly, "Anyway who said it was her."
"Who else would it be?" I grinned.
"Hmm, who else indeed." dad frowned, "Are you suggesting she made up the story out of spite?"
"Yes." I smiled.
"Well there's not much I can do about it today, the old...Mrs. Carey has gone away for the day," dad sighed, "but I'll certainly be having words with her when she gets back."
"Did you really believe I'd been having sex on the doorstep?" I asked him.
"Lord no." dad laughed, "I know you too well to believe that. Behind the hedge maybe or even up the side alley, but not on the doorstep, too big a risk that either your mother or I would open the door and catch you."
His reply made me laugh, but he was right, he did know me and whereas my mother objected to my antics my father just shrugged them off.
"Don't you mind me sleeping around dad?" I asked out of curiosity, "I know mum does."
"Why should I?" he smiled, "Anyway, your mother has become a bit of a hypocrite in her old age, she was nearly as bad as you when she was younger."
"So what changed her?" I asked in surprise.
"Getting knocked up and having to marry me!" dad roared with laughter, "If it hadn't been for me getting her in the family way your mother would never have married me. She didn't want to even after she found out she had a bun in the oven, but her father put his foot down and looked meaningfully at a shotgun; I didn't have a lot of say in the matter and neither did she and that's what galls her. We've sort of grown used to each other over the years so its not so bad really."
"Don't you love mum then?" I asked quietly.
"Once, a long time ago, but not any more." he sighed.
"What about me?" I asked feeling a little worried.
I was worried in case he felt the same about me as he did about my mother, I loved my father, I loved him a lot, so the idea that he might not love me really hurt.
"You?" he laughed, "Oh yes, I love you Martina, more than I probably should."
Wondering what he meant by that I breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at him, my father smiled back then sat back in his seat with his hands behind his head. Something was nagging at me though, what had my father meant by 'more than he probably should'? At first I thought it might mean that he loved me so much he spoilt me, but that didn't make sense, he had always spoilt me rotten and we both knew it. So what the hell did he mean? I thought about it and thought about it, but nothing came to me and I eventually asked my father just what he had meant. To my surprise he blushed and looked guilty, but he didn't answer my question. So I thought about it some more and was about ready to give up on it when the answer popped into my head making me sit up and gasp aloud. Staring at my father I saw him wince and blush even more and I knew that I was right.
"Oh my God!" I breathed.
"Sorry." dad said with a weak grin.
.... There is more of this story ...