You can ber forced to do the unthinkable when certain circumstances prevail.
Greg Anderson cut a sad profile of humanity as he sat slumped in his easy chair. The same one he had been seated in that day so long ago, when his wife had announced breathlessly, "The doctor confirmed it this morning honey...we're finally going to have a baby," He had leaped up, held her tightly and kissed her lovingly....inarguably the proudest husband in the small residential conclave of Madison Heights at that moment. Now, his greatest happiness was all but a memory - only the discolored ice remaining in the glass in his hand, offering but the vaguest evidence of his very last bottle of bourbon. How had it come to this? As if he needed a post mortem!
The gambling had started shortly after Debbie was born. Nothing major just the usual suspects. Trotting, greyhounds, big-time horse racing, all of which were "retired" from the game-plan once he got a taste for the poker machines. At first he fed them casually. Loose change - then the odd five and ten dollar note. But they were always hungry and he couldn't bear to see them suffer. Thus twenties and fifties became part of their regular diet and when that didn't seem to quell their seemingly insatiable consumptive urge - it had to be his entire pay-packet. Well, he could hardly watch them nudging starvation could he? On the occasions they returned him a pittance, maybe $200 or so, his faith in the Gods of gambling was restored - had not they promised him that big pay-day...and soon?
The home was re-mortgaged, though his wife never knew. Two hundred and fifty-eight grand - a king's ransom to be sure. Shame he never took the time to check out the hostages - a young wife and a (then) ten year old daughter. You'd be surprised how brief the acquaintance with just over a quarter of a mill can be, when you're talking compulsive gambling disorder. Greg Anderson found out - the hard way. So what does a man do when the cash-pool runs dry or in his case, to stone-cold fossilized rock! Yep, you sign on the dotted line ...whatever...whenever. Forty percent? no problem!
If there was an upside to this tale of a wasted if not disenfranchised and potentially great script-writer, it is that his income somehow managed to stave off that final denouement. He still lived in the home although the Bank now owned nine-tenths of it. The crippled paper boy that smiled up at him from his small trundle board on the corner of Fourth and Rickard as he collected his nightly headlines, was about God's only creature he didn't owe money too...and there was no guarantee how long that situation might remain even.
Could things worsen? A dumb contemplation at the best of times and for Greg Anderson, pretty much par for the course.
Both cops were expressionless that night as they had told him there had been "a serious accident" on the Madison Heights off-ramp of the local Interstate. He had no need to ask "How serious?" He didn't even enquire as to the identity of the 'victim.' He heard more words but none of them translated meaningfully in his head. Jenny had mentioned not two days earlier that the two front tires were smooth - he hadn't had any free cash to give her.
Debbie provided him now with the one thing that absolutely nothing else in his life did. A reason to live! Eighteen now, she was a stunningly beautiful young girl and this was no alcoholic exaggeration he knew. Shoulder-length light brown hair that curled up naturally, framing an exquisitely pretty face. Perfect unblemished skin. pale blue eyes, the merest 'application' of eyebrows yet with impossibly long lashes. Her designers were a shoe-in for an Oscar he figured. Little more than five three, she probably looked slightly younger but carried an air of total innocence that indeed reflected just how it was. She was still his little girl, womanhood was queued-up just around the corner and there it could stay for all he cared! Her school work showed a keen intelligence and willingness to learn - she would yet prove his own existence to have had purpose, despite his every other seeming failure.
For several months now he had been skating on thin ice, four weeks ago it had caved-in big time! With gambling debts mounting, utilities close to disconnection, school fees unpaid and myriad smaller bills playing 'follow the leader,' he had pulled down a twenty grand loan from a 'friend of a friend' principally to buy some time and to seek professional help. The "help" he had gotten, the monthly repayment - he hadn't!
Jack Bernstein wasn't the kind of guy you call up and say "Hey Jack, about this week's payment...." You tended to either 'have an accident' or 'disappear' trying that one on.
Having checked to make sure Debbie was upstairs and way out of earshot, he dialled Bernstein's number. Just two rings.
"Yeah?" Not a man to waste words.
"Anderson here Mr Bernstein, Greg Anderson. Just calling to tell you......" Bernstein cut him off...
"That you're making that payment tomorrow?...right Anderson?" What he would have given at that moment to have another bottle of bourbon on hand...even "Southern Comfort" at a pinch.
"Er, not exactly Mr Bernstein," he paused, staring at a picture of Jenny on the coffee table. "Look, the fact is I just won't have it tomorrow...I need another week. I'm working on a few TV scripts should bring in a couple of good checks next Wednesday." There was no immediate response from Bernstein. Never a good sign.
"That's not what I hear you're working on Anderson," came the reply. "Word is you're a machine junkie.....pouring it into those suckers quicker'n you can borrow it?"
Greg was stunned. "I...I" he stammered. Again, Bernstein cut him short.
"Anderson," he said, "I like you. Wouldn't stop me having your arms and legs broken but still son, I like you. I'm gonna make you an offer you might like to think about.
" Greg sat there unable to make any constructive reply.
"Fact is Anderson, you do have something of value....something just might help you, given your predicament right this moment. That young girl of yours...how old is she now? seventeen, eighteen? Real cute kid as I recall."
Greg remembered how Bernstein had looked at her that night he had dropped by to give him the money and get his signature on the paperwork. Debbie had brought them both in a cup of coffee. He hadn't liked it then, he knew he was going to like what was coming even less! Bernstein was continuing.
"Now you probably know I run a few little - lets just call them "entertainment services" for a few selected clients. You listening Anderson?" Greg just acknowledged his existence with a soft "Uh-huh!"
"OK well I have a couple of particularly well-paying clients let's say, that have specific needs. You getting my drift here Anderson? Needs, like ..photos. hot photos of cute young girls for instance. Now, if I was to say to you that we "overlook" this month's repayment and perhaps the next couple, maybe even a few dollars back your way?....on condition you get me what I'm sure you know I want...then we won't need to be breaking any unnecessary limbs will we Anderson?" The voice turned ultra menacing, "I want that cd on my desk Friday afternoon. Don't disappoint me and don't disappoint yourself Anderson. The phone-line went dead.
His first coherent thoughts were to get himself and Debbie on a train out of Dodge that night.Then the reality of the situation hit home. A train where? and what with? Debbie's school in the morning? Her friends? His job? That left the Jim Jones approach - convincing her to suicide with him. Hell, he couldn't even afford a bottle of bourbon, let alone a couple of vials of hemlock! He sat there stunned, running the numbers. He cradled his head in his arms and cried like a baby. He didn't hear her come down the stairs.
"Dad, what is it?" She knelt down alongside the chair.
Embarrassed beyond words at her seeing him cry, he wiped away what tears he could, his eyes still stinging.
"We're in a heap of trouble Deb," he muttered. "I just don't know how to handle things at the moment. But don't you worry about it sweetheart. I got us into to this mess and I'll get us out of it."
"Dad, I know about the money..I know about..." she hesitated, trying to find the right words, "...about your problem dad. I'm eighteen you know, not a child."
He looked at her. God, she was anything but that! She was holding his hand now and her presence was very comforting.
"Tell me the truth dad," she added, "I know you were on the phone just now. What happened?"
He desperately wanted to unburden himself to her. It wasn't that he expected that she could help in any way. Simply that she would be in the loop, and not on the outer periphery any longer. He relayed the facts about the loan, his defaulting and that he had only two days to come up with the money.
"You're not telling me everything dad," she said when he had finished. "I can tell. What else did Mr. Bernstein say to you? I remember when he came here. He was a real slime.....sorry, but he was!"
There was really nothing else for it, so he told her everything that had been said."
Debbie sat there, still holding his hand. She put her head down for a second, deep in thought.
"And what will happen dad if he doesn't get his money on Friday?"
"Nothing you'd want to know about sweetie," replied her father, "But trust me, it wouldn't be good!"
"Dad," she said at last, "Look at me!" He gazed down at her beautiful face, creased now with serious deliberation. "You really don't have any choice. I don't either. How would I survive if anything happened to you?" He was about to reply, but she continued.
"Look, he just wants pictures. You could take them dad. No-one but you and I will ever know and I trust and love you daddy. I'll do it for you. We have that digital camera you bought me at Christmas so that's another problem solved...no pics to develop!"
He just stared at her. "I can't Deb, I just can't do it!"
"You can't get hurt or maybe even killed for me either dad." She was almost crying herself.
He knew she was right. Resignedly he pulled her to him and hugged her.
"Well, best we get started," she headed for the doorway. "No point putting it off is there?"
"Well, where are you going?" he called after her.
"To get the camera silly," she replied. She was right, it had been a dumb question.
When she came back down she gave him the camera. He knew it could store up to three hundred images. He didn't dare imagine anything more.
"So how do you want me dad?" she said, posing prettily on the lounge.
"Well, I think he has in mind wanting to see more than a smile Debbie." He replied getting the camera ready for the first image.
She leant forward for him and he was shocked to see her small but well rounded breasts with readily noticeable cleavage semi-exposed. He took a first shot, blushing as he did.
"I think we'll need to undo a couple of buttons Deb," he said to her "Like we're doing a "series" of pics."
She undid three buttons which exposed much of her pretty little light red bra. It was her turn to blush. Again she leant forward for him and this time little was left to the imagination. Although not quite revealing her nipples he could see the full curve of her beautiful young breasts. She looked up enticingly as he filled the viewfinder with her cleavage.
"I suppose its just my bra now?" she whispered to him, pulling her top off completely, sitting there in just her short skirt now. "Shall I pull the straps down for you dad?" He nodded and was aware for the first time that certain parts of his own anatomy were displaying an especial interest in proceedings.
Posing still with unassailable innocence on the lounge, she pulled the straps down to the point of both nipples teasing the viewer with their seeming imminent disclosure. He found himself seriously challenged to keep his mind on the photography. She had a definite aptitude for this he decided...probably all girls did!
"Debbie," he said to her, "Just sit back a tad near that cushion and spread your legs a little for me." He realised his voice was a trifle hoarse.
"Oh, you mean you want to see my panties daddy?" she teased him.
"Of course not Deb," he replied, "Just thinking what they'll want to be seeing."
"Just kidding you," she smiled at him and did as he asked. As she moved her pretty and very well shaped legs apart fractionally, he caught sight of the front of her bright red panties. He wondered whether or not she had deliberately slipped them on for the occasion? He also found himself thinking how much he would enjoy slipping them off, and immediately cursed his parental shortcomings.
Reluctant to ask her to do more, she seized the initiative. "C'mon dad...you have to be a bit more adventurous." Saying which, she lay back on the cushion and with no warning, pulled her left bra cup down completely freeing her breast. He simply stared at his daughter’s young exposed body feeling a mixture of disgust for himself and gratitude for whatever circumstances had brought about this opportunity of a lifetime.
"Spread your legs more Debbie," he whispered and as the skirt crept indecently high up her thighs, her panties were openly exposed to the lens. She lay there breathing heavily, but no more so than her father.
For the eighth image he told her to take her bra right off and if he wasn't mistaken he heard a slight gasp. She tossed the bra on the floor and looked up at him as he brought the camera in to photograph her at close range. "Do you think I have nice tits daddy?" she asked matter-of-factly.
"Are you trying to tease me Debbie?" he replied.
"Probably," she laughed...."But do you think so?"
"You are the prettiest girl Deb," he answered truthfully, "As for your er,"tits," yes they are perfect. I shouldn't say this, but if I wasn't your father, I think I would want to kiss them."
She seemed to shiver but looked up at him appealingly. "Well just pretend you're not my dad for a moment and kiss them. Please!"
He didn't need asking twice. Inclining his head he kissed her left breast right on her nipple and as she shivered a second time he kissed her right breast, The young milky smell was almost more than he could stand. He allowed his lips a momentary suck and she moaned the softest and sweetest little moan. He looked at her and saw a different expression there, one he knew he had best not act upon. He broke the spell by withdrawing a couple of feet.
"Hold your skirt up for me Deb...right up to your hips. Her panties were now totally exposed and he could clearly see the curve of her vaginal area, and the dark curly hair beneath. Concentration was a luxury at this stage. As he took picture after picture, she anticipated his agenda.....slipping her hands beneath the waistband and gradually pushing the panties lower. Both of them gasped as she gradually exposed her pubic hair.
"Just one of you holding your panties aside first." He asked. She obliged without resistance. Watching her lying there so seductively, holding her panties right open like that, exposing her entire wet slit, brought his erection into the discomfort zone.
"This is making me so hot Debbie, I'm sorry," he told her.
"Me too dad," she said. "I suppose you can tell!"
"No more than you can sweetheart!" They both laughed.
He had his daughter sit up in the lounge now and with her panties off and just her skirt left on for some token modesty, he had her spread her legs wide. Kneeling directly in front of her, he took several pictures of her totally exposed and spread pussy at point-blank range.
"Masturbate for me Debbie," he pleaded. She looked down at him crouched there.
"For the camera or just for you dad?" she whispered, barely able to speak herself.
"For me Deb, I just want to watch you once. Will you do it for me?"
She smiled lovingly and lowered her hands to her glistening labia. As she gently inserted just one finger he was transported by the wondrous sight before him. This was something Bernstein was never going to see. As she commenced the gentlest of rhythmic stroking, she closed her eyes and became lost in her own pleasure. He watched her hips as they moved in perfect time to her ministrations. He could see how engorged her vaginal lips were, her nipples too were incredibly erect now. He reached up and stroked one. She moaned loudly and lay back against the lounge. As she began to stimulate her clitoris, both hands down between her legs, now working towards one common goal. He laid the camera down.
"Masturbate with me dad," she whispered, eyes still three-quarters closed.
Strangely he found no shyness or emotional discomfort in retrieving his erection. Even as he did so, she opened her eyes and smiled at him, maintaining the pressure on her own pussy.
"You are just so beautiful Debbie," he managed somehow, commencing to stroke his erection in earnest. She watched fascinated as he rubbed his erection. It was having an incredible effect on her and she felt the pressure building.
From his perspective, watching his daughter wriggle and thrust her hips as she neared her own orgasm had a devastating effect on him too. He leant forwards and kissed her full on her pussy. She shivered and widened still more. Parting her hands he lowered his head between her thighs and licked her. She shuddered yet made no move to stop him. He licked her again and this time she just whispered "Don't stop dad!" He began to lap at her wetness, She was quite openly moaning now and holding his head against her slit. He licked her several more times, taking her right to the edge before replacing her hands between her legs and having her complete the cycle.
Both knew they could never do what their bodies wanted and that knowledge and desire was being transmuted to their respective genitalia. Both reached the zenith of their ministrations concurrently. Debbie, as she was gripped by her greatest ever orgasm flooded internally, just as her father found himself at the mercy of the mother of all ejaculations. "Do it here dad" she pleaded, patting her spasming pussy. He had no time to lodge a flight plan, simply shooting his super-heated cum all over her hands and pussy.
This never was about sex as such, it was about love and at that moment they had never been closer. He laid Debbie on the lounge, kissed her lips, her nipples, her tummy. Then he took her hand and together they rubbed his cum into her hot little mound, her thighs and what was left over, across her breasts. She smiled and understood. Jenny was right there with them and she too understood!
Following that, the completion of the shoot was no major challenge. Debbie was happy to pose naked on the lounge, her bed, even the floor. Greg took several pictures of her lying across the arm of a chair in just her knickers, promoting the "spanked schoolgirl" image. He had her pose in her bikini, then with one breast exposed and her pants partially pulled down exposing her bottom. The session was wrapped with a series of pictures with her in the shower and getting dressed in some hot undies. Transferring the images to a CD was the simplest of tasks.
Bernstein kept his side of the bargain, Greg got his act together and started the long haul back to extricate himself from the hell he'd dug for himself. Debbie is just twenty now and the embodiment of youthful feminine beauty, but hey, she always was.