It was the middle of the night and I was in a deep sleep. We buried my wife two weeks ago, the result of a car accident, and I was under some heavy medication to help me settle my mind. My 14 year old daughter had been sullen, but it was on this night that her sleep, too, was disturbed. I hadn’t even realized she had gotten into the bed until she tried to back into the spoon position. She was trying to be delicate, but she bumped me a few times and I woke up with a “Mmmff. Whas goin on baby?” I slurred.

“I had a bad dream,” she replied.

I readjusted my arm so that my hand was on her hip instead of trapped between us. My eyelids heavy, I fell back asleep quickly.

When I woke up in the morning, we were in roughly the same position. My arm had slid down around her waist, holding her close to me. Her hand rested lightly on top of mine. It was Sunday morning and there was no alarm to disturb my peace. I gently rolled onto my back, trying to leave her in place. She rolled over and pulled herself close to my side.

“Don’t go daddy,” she murmured.

“I’m right here, baby,” I replied.

My brain started thinking about various things and I realized I was not going to fall back asleep. She dozed lightly against my chest for about 30 minutes before she rolled over and stretched.

She said “Thank you, Daddy,” and then got up and headed into my bathroom, closing the door behind herself. She was wearing a t-shirt, one that used to be mine. She borrowed it once and decided to keep it. Early on she would sit with her knees pulled to her chest, tucked inside the shirt, while watching tv. As she grew older, the material got thinner and now it only came a few inches below her butt. I thought about how much she had changed physically, and yet since my wife’s death and regressed somewhat emotionally. Perhaps some of that was my doing, treating her as though she needed to be protected more.

I tucked her in that night, making sure her alarm was set. It was time to go back to school. She said she was ready, although I think she may have been getting bored sitting around the house. During the week I would work from the little office I had in the house. She had dragged a beanbag chair in there and when she got tired of the television she would come in and sit and read. Some days she would read first, her legs tucked inside that t-shirt. She had a few other shirts to sleep in, and even a pajama set I bought for her, but she favored this the most and only used the others when it was in the laundry.

I woke up in the middle of the night with her in my bed again. This time she’d managed to get in without waking me. My arm was around her, my palm over her shirt and against her chest. Her arm had me trapped there. I was too tired to fuss, so I went back to sleep.

The alarm jolted us awake. I hate Mondays. I sent my daughter down the hall to start getting ready for school and went into my own bathroom to do the same. I climbed into the shower and thought I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I chalked it up to still being groggy and went back to washing. When I got out, I noticed the bedroom door was slightly ajar. I closed it before unwrapping the towel from myself and getting dressed.

I drove her to school that morning since I needed to take care of some paperwork in their administrative office. After that I went into my company’s office for some face to face meetings. I felt energized by the interactions, but started feeling myself again.

She got home before me and was doing homework at the kitchen table. I asked her how she was doing and she said she was feeling a bit better. I even saw her smile a few times.

About an hour after she went to bed, I turned in. I only took half the dosage, hoping my mind would now be quiet enough. Before, either I couldn’t fall asleep, or I’d wake up and couldn’t fall back asleep. The lights were off and I made myself comfortable. I heard a light knocking and she came in again.

“Sweetheart, you need to sleep in your own bed.”

“Just one more night. Please, Daddy?”

I agreed and she got in, backing into me. She grabbed my arm and pulled it around her. Her shirt had ridden up and she placed my hand on her belly.

“It feels better on my skin,” she said, and she stayed there quiet and motionless.

I thought back to the night before, my hand on her chest. My hand on her breast. My mind played a tug of war with itself and I forced myself to try to think of nothing. Her skin was warm and soft. I decided to just enjoy the moment, knowing that tomorrow night she’d be back in her own bed.

My alarm went off and as I rolled over to hit snooze, I realized I had been holding her bare breast.

“Daddy. Come back, please.”

I spooned her again and she slid my hand up inside of her shirt. Her nipple was firm and pressed against my palm. Her hand covered mine and lightly squeezed. Her butt pressed back into my crotch and I realized how hard I was. It was a long five minutes. Her movements were clearly sexual in nature. When the alarm sounded again she gave my hand a firmer squeeze, thus squeezing herself, and then released me. She hopped out of bed and headed down the hallway.

As soon as I got in the shower I masturbated. My eyes were closed tight and I replayed what had just happened. I came hard and a month’s worth of semen shot out of me. I opened my eyes and again thought I saw motion. I spun my head but if my daughter had been standing there, I didn’t catch her. I cleaned up my mess and then finished my shower.

My daughter wasn’t ready when I came out of my bedroom. I encouraged her to hurry up, and poured bowls of cereal and packed her lunch. Between hitting the snooze button, my extra time in the shower, and whatever delayed her, she needed to hustle. She hugged me goodbye and gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek. She didn’t usually show me that much affection, but I chalked it up to gratitude for helping get her out the door.

I decided to do a load of laundry and gathered up my stuff and changed my sheets. I went into my daughter’s room and stripped her bed as well. When I pulled back the blankets I found her sleep shirt and a pink pair of underwear. I grabbed them, and on a spur of the moment held them to my nose. Her scent on her underwear was strong, and they were still damp. I shook my head to clear it and continued with the neglected chore. I started the load of linens and went down to my office to start work.