Part XIX - Confusion So Utter

“TIA!”

The shout bellowed up through the rickety old tool shed at the sixteen year old girl, quaking her world like roar of Zeus himself.

OhmigodomigodomiGOD!

She stood petrified, her father was coming! He was coming here RIGHT NOW and she was upstairs in the tool shed with a BOY! A boy who was kneeling before her, pants down and penis out! And--And his ... his STUFF--it’s on my f-f-face!

It’s smeared all over it--and my hands!--like a f-f-facial!

Oh crapola! What the frig am I gonna DO?!

“Tia! Are you in there?” Steve Jalone was nearing the door to the shed, he would be at it within seconds and if he wasn’t already suspicious he would very soon be because the door was latched from the inside.

And why would his daughter lock it unless she was trying to conceal bad behavior on her part?

I am soooo dead! Daddy isn’t just going to take soccer away this time, he’s going to literally KILL me! Or send me to a private Catholic Girls School which is the same as death, where they will beat me bloody with rulers and I’ll get assaulted in the showers by religion-crazy lesbians!

Randy Blavin stared up at her, so terrified by the approaching hurricane that was her father that he was actually quivering.

“T-Tia ... you gotta do something! Dude, please!”

“Shut-up, Randy, I got this.”

The confidence in her snap reply shocked the little brunette even more then the sound of her father shaking the knob of the shed’s door. Where did THAT come from? I got this?! How exactly do I got this? I ... but ... um...

... yes. Yes, I’ve got this.

Why? Because she had no choice, and desperation breeds resourcefulness, Tia had read that in a Nancy Drew once. And if her childhood hero were in her place she wouldn’t be panicking, nope! She wouldn’t be hesitating, right? Right!

So move it, you big dope!

And with that private chastisement urging her on, Tia spun around and raced for the stairs, skipped down them as fast and quietly as possible, jumping when she was three from the bottom and landing in a crouch, wide eyes locked on the shaking shed door a mere ten meters away.

That would be one strange Nancy Drew story though. Nancy Drew and the Mystery of the Sticky Face. Ewww! This gunk is starting to harden!

“Tia!” her father’s voice growled from outside, “Are you in there! Girl! Where are you!”

The knob began to jigger as Steve jiggered with it in annoyance.

Ohmigod! Two inches of flimsy oak is all that separates me from Daddy, holy heck! I need to clean this stuff off of me, NOW! But--But how?!

She looked back-and-forth desperately, but there was no plumbing in the shed, so no handy tap or water hose. There isn’t even an old bucket filled with dirty water, jeez, what kind an old shed IS this, anyway?! This is my fault for always being so careful to clean up after myself after finishing chores. Being a good girl really sucks sometimes!

Then she froze!

OHMIGOD! VEE! Veronica--she’s up there with Randy, knocked out cold with my cricket bat beside her, all tied up! How could I forget!! Ohhh, forget about Catholic Girls School, I’m getting the electric chair, unless I do something ... RIGHT ... NOW!

“TIA!” shouted her father for the final time and with a crunch of the lock and a shriek of badly rusted hinges, the door was torn open and the bull chested man burst into the shed and ... halted in surprise.

“What the ... what the hell is all over you?” he cocked his head in confusion.

“Oh, Daddy!” and Tia turned round to face him, “I--I had an accident! I’m so sorry.”

She stood before him, a can of now empty paint in her hands, while the sky-blue liquid thickly covering her face and hands dripped down onto her t-shirt.

Please let this work! PLEASE let this work!

“What the--you’ve made a mess!” Steve glared down her length and scowled at the paint drops on her legs getting dangerously close to staining the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy, I was putting it up on the shelf and it slipped-”

He sighed, then actually laughed, and Tia felt a massive surge of relief. It worked! The paint hid the ... the gunk! Ohhh, that was sooo close...

“I think there’s some old rags upstairs,” said her father, stepping carefully around her to get to the back stairs, “I’ll just go get them-”

“NO!”

Tia’s sudden exclamation made him jerk to a stop and he turned back around, “What?”

“Um ... no time, Daddy! I can feel it starting to harden! Oh, it’s getting itchy!”

Gotta think of something to get him outa here! Gotta think of something, think of something, what’s something he can only do outside that’s related to this--got it!

“Um ... Daddy! You--You need to hose me off!”

“Hose you off?” Steve Jalone’s eyebrows went up.

Hose her off?! Randy Blavin’s eyebrows went up.

Terror forgotten for the moment, the seventeen year old crept across the length of the attic storage room and made it to the front window just in time to see Tia emerge from the tool shed, her big father in tow. Randy stared down through the stained glass, mouth wide, as the petite girl went to a nearby faucet and twisted the knob, then stepped back.

Holy crap! This--This is actually HAPPENING! Dear Hustler magazine!

Randy watched enraptured as Steve Jalone picked up the nozzle and turned to face his daughter, raised it.

He ... he’s saying something to her, what is it? Can’t make ... it ... out ... shiiiit...!

“What, Daddy?” Tia asked her father to repeat his command, she had paint clogging her ears.

“Your clothes. Take them off before ... before they get completely ruined.” Steve Jalone fought to keep his voice steady.

“What? Why?” asked his daughter innocently.

“It--It’s an oil-based paint.”

“Oh? Of course!”

And keeping her eyes closed, Tia hitched up her t-shirt and peeled it off, tossed it away, then kicked off her sneakers and unbuttoned her shorts. Down they went and she chucked them over where she thought her shirt was.

Up in the attic, Randy was nearly having a conniption, he stood before the window, his pants at his ankles, and his formerly flaccid dick was beginning to rise.

Tia Jalone is in her bra and panties! Tia Jalone is in her bra and panties! Tia Jalone who just gave me a hand job is in her bra and panties!

Steve took aim with the hose, but Tia put up a hand, “Not yet, I’d better remove this too.” and she reached behind her back and fiddled with the hooks of her bra.

Her father’s jaw dropped, then quickly snapped back up, making his teeth click.

“It’s Ralph Lauren, cost me three weeks of allowances.” and shrugging out of it she tugged it free of her arms and threw it down on top of the discarded shorts.