What a wonky way to start my next fucking day in Hell, Aubree thought as stepped into the shadowed entrance of the shop to look for her father.

30 minutes earlier he had pulled in and parked, said to her he’d be gone a couple of minutes, and told her to wait. The parking lot had a sign pole with five faded company names but it was old, dirty, and so faded in the evening light that Aubree couldn’t even guess what was in the store. To keep from staring at the graffiti-enhanced cement block building through a rain-splatted windshield, she set the stopwatch on her smartphone. She wanted to see just how long his ‘couple of minutes’ would last. Aubree fiddled with the Bluetooth radio and her smartphone but got quickly bored. When the digital display on her phone screen announced ‘30:00 minutes’ she threw open the car door and trod through a couple of fresh mud puddles as she went to find her father.

She stepped into a spot of light just inside the front door, a customer coming into the shop would be seen in the light and the assistants could assist. Aubree squinted into the dimmed atmosphere of the shop, she couldn’t see her father immediately but her curiosity was stirring quickly, trying to figure out what she was looking at.

Directly in front of Aubree was a glass-top counter, a cash register, and a young woman, or maybe it was a man. The counter displays included a grab rack of condoms and a sign that advertised generic Viagra and was filled with baubles, gewgaws, and trinkets that were hard to identify from where she stood. Aubree decided the person at the counter was a girl dressed in a snug red velvet skirt, white spike heels that were taller than the skirt was long, and a black satin tie top. Her stomach and left leg were covered with weird multicolored tattoos and a blue crystal hung from her navel, “May I help you?” the welcome lady asked. Who in the hell wears velvet skirts?

Aubree looked around the room, there were shelves stocked and stacked with things the girl had never seen before. She’d heard rumors and she was old enough to guess what she was looking at, so it took the girl less than an eye blink to realize she was in an adult toy store. As a junior in high school, she was aware enough to recognize the displays in front of her, but in her life, she never thought that the variety of stuff in front of her could be classified under one umbrella: seX-Toys, as the big sign over the counter proclaimed. Her father had left her sitting in a dark muddy parking lot under a dripping-wet sky while he sneaked into an adult store? What the fucking hell? Aubree looked around the room but still didn’t see her parent. The tainted lady came around the end of the counter, “Excuse me, but I don’t believe you should be in here.”

“What? Why not, I’m 18 (she rounded up) and I’m only looking for someone, I’m not gonna buy shit.”

“As you can see, there is just me and Ralph over there, nobody else. Maybe they went to another store. Please, you’re not allowed in here unless you prove you’re 18, do you have an ID?”

“Fuck the ID. No, he walked right through that door a half hour ago, I’ve been sitting on my ass, shivering in the fucking rain, watching that ugly fucking door, waiting for him to come out. You got a back door?”

“Always locked.”

“Then where in this little playland is my father?”

“I told you, nobody else, just me and Ralph.” Just then ‘nobody else’ drew a plastic screen aside and stepped into the room. I hadn’t noticed the fake door before, it looked like part of a bedroom display. He pulled the curtain closed, said something to the man at the other end of the counter then paused to ask me as he walked out, “Are you going to be here next time I come in?”

I turned to the girl, “What’s back there, is that where he went?”

“You do need to leave, please, show me some ID or I may have to call security.” Ralph didn’t look like a security kind of guy so I thought she may be bluffing, but she wouldn’t need security, not against me. I turned and shoved open the door then slammed it shut behind me. I stood on the stoop. My dad was somewhere in the bowels of an adult store and I was standing on the outside. It was intolerable! I was on the wrong side of the wall, but I wanted to know what was going on in the hidden room of that shop.

Just as I started to move under some cover, the asshole from the backroom stopped his car next to me, “You know, if you want to interview for a job there, I’m a regular, I could give you a good recommendation after you demonstrate your skills.”

“Jack off dipshit, I’m not your kinda girl.”

The last thing he said before closing the window was, “Bitch, if you got a pussy, you’re my kind of girl.”

I stood under the roof overhang watching raindrops trouble puddles of water wondering how in hell I was going to get into the store. The painted tart looked like she was a lot more experienced in kicking someone’s ass than me, so going back in the front was not an option.

I don’t know if anybody was watching but I didn’t give a fuck. I walked to the end of the strip mall three units away. The was an alley around the building so I shrugged my collar a little higher against the rain then stepped off into a rivulet toward the rear of the building. I counted down three rear exits until I knew I was behind the sex shop. I tried to open the door but it was locked. At least the troll didn’t lie about that. There were no security cameras in the alley or on the building so I felt free to snoop. I ran my hands around the door sill and kicked over a couple of rocks, maybe somebody hung on to the good ole ways and kept a key lying around. No luck.

There were two blacked-out windows but I caught a hint of glow from the corner of one glass pane. I pressed my eyes to the small paint scrape and immediately knew what the hell was going on with my father.

He was letting off pressure. Blowing steam, bringing relief to his aching balls. My dad was fucking some nasty-looking skag who looked like a sister to the unrefined lady on the front counter. Only this one wasn’t wearing a short velvet skirt. In fact, she wasn’t wearing anything below her bra and my father was hammering her as if he had a time limit. I’ve been on a few cocks since I found out my pussy is a good source of favors and influence, but the sight of my father’s ass and his swinging nuts as he banged the bitch drove spikes of nausea directly to my stomach.

I pulled away from the window and then stood quiet, I was puzzled, not upset or mad. I mean, I couldn’t be mad because he needed to empty his nuts and took a side trip on the way home. But what could make me mad was that he made me wait in the fucking rain, in the fucking cold car, and ruin my fucking shoes. I was standing in the relentless drizzle while he was nice and dry, getting his rocks off. That’s what pissed me off.

I calmly opened the shop door again, stuck my head into the spotlight then requested of Ms. Tattoos, “My father is back there getting screwed by your sister. Please tell him to get off and get out, his daughter is waiting. I closed the door and then went back to the car to wait. I’d never seen a velvet skirt before.

Three minutes later my contrite parent slipped quietly into the car to continue to my version of Hell. I didn’t challenge or question him, but I did ask, “Feel better?” He didn’t answer but started the car and then backed away from the storefront.

I hated living on the third floor of the apartment building. The elevator was usually jammed by some impatient asshole who wanted to keep it on an upper floor so I had to go up the cement stairs that had no step backing or walls. Anyone behind or below the stairs could watch someone walk up the stairs. It wasn’t uncommon that Wally Osmmit would stand under the stairs when I came home so he could see up my skirt as I went up the first flight. Even if I had pants on, he stared. I hated that fucked up punk asshole; it was probably him who jammed the elevator. I hated the dump we lived in, but it was better than the last. The best memory I had of that place is when my mother would take umbrage with something I did and beat my ass black and bruised. One icy morning when mom was taking me to school, some fucked up crackhead tried to outrun the cops. Didn’t make it. The druggie went to a halfway house for three weeks, Mom went to heaven, I had a pleasant visit at the health factory, and my dad slept inside a bottle until we were kicked out of the old apartment for not paying up. As I walked through the front door, I thought the newer place was at least an upgrade, but barely.

I went in to change into house duds and start dinner. My dad went to his adjoining bathroom to shower away his afternoon delight. It wasn’t until we cleaned up after dinner that I asked, “How often? When?”

My father and I had been talking shorthand ever since I could talk, “A couple of times a month, about a year after your mother died.”

So, my dad had been buying relief for over a year? “And you pay?”

Dad looked at me directly for the first time since we got home, he deflated as he admitted, “Yeah, I don’t have time or energy to start dating and dancing around hints and promises. At my age handing over a few dollars once in a while is a lot quicker and more convenient.”

“Is that why we got kicked out of the last place, the rent money was collected by a condom?”

He frowned, “No, I can afford to get screwed occasionally.” That short assertion was the last said about my father’s spending habits.

I have a part-time job after school and on Sundays. Saturdays are mine. I’m saving to buy a car but my savings account is kind of tidal, rising one day, receding the next. Dad can’t help, his job keeps us afloat but we won’t be going to Cancun for a vacation anytime soon.

One night I was lying in my room agonizing over the withdrawal of $24 from my savings when I recalled the day my dad paid to get laid. How fucking much did he hand over? I’m struggling just to keep lunch money and my dad is cashing his paycheck for his dick? Where’s his loyalty? To his daughter, or to what’s hanging between his legs? And what was his Sex Budget? I decided to ask both questions and just then was the right time. I got off my bed then went to my dad’s bedroom and clicked my nails on the door, “Dad? You awake?”

“Mmm? What? Something wrong?”

I sat on the end of the bed facing him, ankles crossed with my nightgown pressed between my legs by my hands which were laced together by the fingers resting between my knees, “How much and how often?

“What the hell?”

“How often do you run to the ghetto to buy some cheap ass? How cheap is that ass?”

“What the fuck time is it?”

“Time we talked about your hobby.”