Chapter 1: Escape

“C’mon have some, it won’t kill ya,” he was pushing the glass of fruit punch at her, leering at her, as usual, with his manner that was such a fail: trying to make her like him but being disrespectful, all at once.

“No thanks,” Ellie forced a smile at him, “we are six years under age you know.” She looked away, feeling her heartbeat rise as the other guys started to come over; her dad’s friends all here in the family room.

“It’s a party,” Allie’s dad, all short and aggressive, joined in, “your dad’s forty-third birthday. Go on, have a drink with us.”

“Go on Ellie,” her own dad came up, looming over everyone but Harry, “we’re giving you permission, don’t be a pooper.”

He took the glass and pushed it right into her tummy so she had to take it, the glint in his eye saying he’d be on her case if she didn’t. All his creepy friends round them now.

Allie was taking a glass from her own dad, feeling the pressure; Allie her best friend since forever, trying to stay out of trouble.

The problem was the two of them had bodies now, at fifteen, even if Allie hardly had any tits. Somehow that didn’t seem to matter on Allie’s slender five-foot-eight body, while Ellie’s sticky-out C’s were the first thing guys noticed.

Ellie took a sip, under the stares of the half-dozen men who made up their dads’ gang of dipshit buddies. Dipshit guys who hung together being dipshits, just like decent people hang together with other decent people. Ellie knew what her friends at school thought of her dad, and Allie’s dad, and how their folks told them not to come round.

The punch just tasted fruity anyway. Hoping to avoid causing any bad feeling she had a proper drink of it, then another. Allie gulped the whole of hers, as though to get it over with. It was tense.

“And why’re you standing there in jeans?” Allie’s dad challenged them both, “you don’t wear jeans to your friends’ parties do you?”

“You’re wearing jeans,” Ellie looked round at the men, feeling the injustice but powerless to do anything about it. She knew why they wanted her and Allie to change.

“Guys wear jeans to parties, girls wear skirts or dresses,” Allie’s dad pressed the point.

“Yeah go and change,” Ellie’s dad told her, “and lend Allie something too. Something suitable for a party instead of disrespecting me on my birthday.” He was a bit drunk already, like the rest of them.

“Yeah go on,” the others all joined in, nodding and murmuring.

Ellie sighed. Her mom was staying out of the way in the kitchen, in a long dress, and as usual none of their dads’ loser buddies had brought a woman with them; so she and Allie were the female interest at her dad’s birthday party. That’s how it was these days.

The girls trailed down the corridor to Ellie’s room and looked through her wardrobe. “It’s no good choosing anything long,” muttered Ellie, “we’ll just be sent back again.”

“I know,” Allie was rolling her eyes, trying to mask her anxiety.

Ellie took her jeans off and offered up a brown pleated mid-thigh skirt, seeing her legs looking way too interesting but knowing there was nothing to be done about it: five foot seven and with her waist and hips - not to mention her freaking tits - her body was hot now. She put the skirt on and looked in the back of the wardrobe ... there was an old dress she’d never wanted to throw out; a floaty red one she’d loved when she’d been thirteen and two inches smaller round the hips.

Allie tried in on and it fitted, since it didn’t really have a waist. It would’ve been too short normally, but tonight it would have to do: it’d just be trouble if they didn’t follow what their dads said, especially with them all being drunk and not in a mood to listen.

The girls went back and were cheered and whistled stupidly. God it was embarrassing. Ellie tried to smile at the so-called compliments about her blue eyes, her long wavy blonde hair and her cheekbones and her freaking, freaking tits. Yes her legs too. About Allie’s legs and slanted gray eyes and the freckles on her fine pale-coffee skin.

The girls had to have some more punch and dance with each other to the old music the guys liked, then dance with their dads and then, Christ, with each of the other guys. It was shitty, these men trying to make like sexy when if they had any choice Ellie and Allie obviously wouldn’t touch any of them with a stick.

All singing along to “Let’s Get Physical” from nineteen-eighty-whatever and one that must be called “Centerfold”, that was about girls obviously. Anyway the drink did help, at least, making Ellie feel lightheaded after her third glass, and bold enough to slap Ray’s skinny hands away when her dad put on a slow number.

By the time she was half-way through her fourth drink Ellie was starting to feel a bit weird though. Everything was a bit fuzzy. She saw Allie stumble so Harry had to grab her to hold her up. But he didn’t have to keep hold of her that way, did he, clutching her to him?

Ellie went and pulled Allie out of Harry’s pervy grip. Luckily Ellie was quite strong for a girl so even Huge Harry would’ve had to make it obvious if he wanted to fight her. Allie was really wobbly. Ellie pulled her into the kitchen and as her dad tried to follow she closed the door in his face.

Her dad opened it again, looking pissed. Grabbed her shirt, pulled her to him and groped her tits, Jesus freaking Christ, squeezing them with his big, fat fingers! It was disgusting and it hurt. Ellie struggled but her dad was so big she couldn’t get away. Shit. Fuck! Being held and molested, by her own father!

It went on for half a minute before her mom finally came over and said “Andrew, Andrew,” pleading, and he stopped.

“We can wait,” he said ominously; went out and closed the door again.

Ellie’s mom was in a state: “Ellie ... I didn’t know hon ... well I heard them talking, over the punch...” She was looking guilty and frightened.

“Mom, what did they do?” Ellie was finding it hard to speak, hard to concentrate even though some instinct was telling her it was an emergency. They can wait? For what?...