Chapter 1

“Okay, am I picking you up today after school?” I asked as Allie loaded into the car. Her blonde hair bobbed in a short ponytail whenever she moved. She buckled in and adjusted her uniform, smoothing out the pleated skirt and straightening her jacket over her white blouse.

“Yes, daddy. I have soccer today and lacrosse tomorrow.” She smiled as her soft, brown eyes met mine in the mirror.

Looking at her, no one would peg her for a big sports player. It wasn’t because she was fat or out of shape. It was the opposite. It was her rather voluptuous shape she had inherited from her mother’s side of the family. An hourglass figure was what I would call it, but I think she said something about “slim-thick” being the appropriate term these days. Funny enough, her mother was a petite woman with modest bust and bottom and was somehow the only one in her family who wasn’t built like an absolute dump truck. Her sisters could turn a man’s head clear around from a hundred paces, and every extended family portrait was a sea of double D’s or more.

It seemed like everyone in Sanderson shared the same genes, because I’d swear that over 90% of the female population was rocking at least D-cups. That had to be one of the weirdest things about moving here. Small and petite women like my wife were few and far between. And the women here were fit as all hell to boot. Maybe it was just a combination of a heavy meat and potato diet coupled with plenty of exercise and little to no electronics.

“Alright. Don’t be late, okay? I need to make dinner for your mom and her sisters.”

“Yay, the aunties are coming over today?” Allie clapped her hands happily. “Do you think they’ll take me out bra shopping? These old ones are getting kind of tight.” She unbuttoned the top of her shirt and tugged at her bra strap. “See, daddy? I’ve gotten bigger again.”

I averted my eyes from the rearview mirror as her creamy bosom jiggled. “Baby, I don’t need to see it. We can just swing by the store and pick up something bigger for you.”

“Ugh, no daddy. We aren’t bra shopping at Walmart again,” Allie complained. “The cheap materials are uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel as nice as Aunt Candy’s.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call her that. It’s Candice.”

“Why, daddy? Don’t you like her candy?” she snickered.

“I get enough of that from her, I don’t need it from you as well,” I grumbled before realizing how that sounded.

She burst into laughter at that. She had picked up way too many bad habits from her aunts, especially from Candice. The woman practically oozed sex appeal and wasn’t shy about teasing me. It had only grown worse in the last year since her husband had passed.

Allie spent the rest of the trip discussing cup sizes, material, and style, knowing that I really didn’t want to hear any of it. I could only shake my head and grumble at being used as a sounding board. Prior attempts at forestalling these kinds of monologues from her just ended up with her going into greater detail until I finally kept silent. I learned far too much about my daughter’ preferences, which were apparently silky and lacy.

I pulled up to the school drop-off zone and she climbed out in a swirl of soft perfume and flicking hair. Allie turned to the passenger window. I was about to lower it thinking she wanted to ask something, but she instead bent forward and used the reflection as a mirror to button her shirt up again. A flirty wink to herself later and she was hopping off, the skirt bobbing dangerously high on her white legs.

As I pulled away, I caught sight of Ms. Kenzy, the head teacher and yet another distant cousin of my wife’s. She was in her late thirties, her blonde hair in a tight bun, large, rounded glasses on her button nose, and looking completely professional in her pencil skirt and blazer. Professional, but no less enticing. The skirt only highlighted her generous curves and her blazer pulled tight below her chest, presenting her equally generous bust within her white blouse.

A lazy smile spread across her lips as she shifted her weight, striking an alluring and seductive pose. Her smoky eye shadow gave her a softer edge, but there was no missing the predatory gleam in her blue eyes as she watched me leave. I swallowed hard.

Those kinds of looks around town seemed to be getting more frequent. Maybe I was just imagining things. It wasn’t like I was any particular catch or anything, I was just some guy desperately staving off a “dadbod” as Allie put it. Amy assured me that it was all in my head.

I racked the weights that afternoon and wiped the sweat from my brow. One of the benefits of working from home was being able to squeeze in some strength training between meetings. It wasn’t as good as a gym, but it saved a ton of travel time and had helped me get into shape over the last few years. I wasn’t rocking a six-pack or anything, but even I could admit that I looked pretty good for a man in his early forties. Just in time for my midlife crisis, I joked.

“Hello? Dan? You here?”

That had to be Candice. She was a few years younger than Amy, and several years older than their youngest sibling, Bethany.

“Yeah, come on in. Just let me towel off.”

The clacking of her heels and sweet scent of honeysuckle announced her arrival as I grabbed my shirt. I pulled it on only to discover her leaning against the doorway, watching me with a little smile on her lips.

Candice had always been gorgeous, but she looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine today. Her silky, blonde hair was pulled back playfully over her ear, displaying her long and elegant neck adorned with a sapphire pendant that hung heavily in her plunging bosom. The pendant matched her crystal blue eyes which sparkled as she watched me. Her silky sundress pulled tight around her, showing off her perfect hourglass figure, complete with perky D-cup breasts and a tight rump. She was breathtaking.

“Looking good, Dan.” Her brow arched playfully. “Have a lot of energy to burn, do you?”

“Well, anything to fight off this dadbod,” I laughed.

Candice approached with a fluid grace more at home on the catwalk than a house. Her hips swayed as she drew closer, her eyes never leaving mine. Her fingers slid across my shirt above the navel, working themselves under and across my skin. The pads of her fingers gently traced along my muscles, sending a little shiver down my spine.

“If that’s a dadbod,” she said softly, “then maybe I should call you daddy?”