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My Best Friend’s Dad
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Marie is an exchange student living in my house. Tempting. Curvy. And utterly irresistible.
Marie came from France as an exchange student.
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The doorman smiles widely as he greets me at the door. “Good evening, Mr. Jones. How was your day?” he asks while swinging the glass entrance open.
“It was okay,” I say with a tight smile. The truth was my day was long and exhausting. It was filled with endless meetings with potential clients, all of them seeking an investment from my hedge fund. It’s risky to be in this line of business. Any move could potentially result in a major financial loss, but so far, I’ve made some very lucrative bets that have turned me into a very wealthy man.
Still, the long hours spent in my office using aggressive tactics to accumulate billions of dollars are stressful, and after spending twelve hours sitting in my office chair, a strong shot of whisky is all I can think about.
Quietly, I unlock the door of my penthouse, trying not to disturb my daughter Jenny. Even though she’s eighteen, Jenny has a tendency to turn in early. She’s not the most outgoing of teen girls, and sometimes I wonder if it’s partially my fault. After all, her mother and I divorced ten years ago. It crushed my daughter, but what could I do? My ex checked out of the marriage long before we signed the divorce papers, and I couldn’t see myself staying married to a woman simply didn’t care anymore – about me, or about our daughter. She was only a mother in the sense that she physically gave birth to Jenny. Other than that, the woman was nothing more than a ghost locked in her suite all day.
As a result, Jenny isn’t the most outgoing person. In fact, I’d say my daughter is shy and insecure, but I’m not sure what to do about it. Maybe it’s normal to be like this? Hell, I know nothing about teen girls. Should I ask her to see a therapist?
With a gentle push, I manage to open the door without making a sound. But to my surprise, the lights are still on, and there’s muted chatter coming from the living room. Jenny must still be awake. Even more odd, there are suitcases by the door. Is someone here with my daughter?
As I approach the living room, an unfamiliar voice floats towards me, lilting and soft. Curious, I step into the living room.
“Hi, Dad!” Jenny chirps as her eyes light up. My daughter’s cute, but my eyes are immediately drawn to the beautiful, curvaceous girl sitting on the couch next to her.
“Hey hon. I thought you would be getting ready for bed by now,” I say as I try not to stare too hard at our visitor’s creamy skin and flowing hair. Her long, curly tresses drop to the middle of her back, giving her a Venus de Milo look. “Who’s your friend?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even as my heart pumps furiously in my chest.
“Dad, this is Marie LeTour. Remember? The foreign exchange student from France who’s going to be living with us for the next six months. She’s going to Bradford Prep with me.”
Shit! I completely forgot we were doing this, probably because I didn’t really want to do it. But Jenny begged me non-stop for six months, and I caved. Goddamit. My daughter has me wrapped around her finger, and she knows it. I really have to put a stop to her wheedling because I always end up giving in.
Our visitor shoots me a smile. “Bonjour, Monsieur Jones. I’m Marie,” the woman says. As she walks towards me to shake my hand, her large breasts bounce up and down. Oh shit. I had no idea that teen girls could have breasts this big, and I try not to stare.
“Hi, Marie. Please, call me Chris. No Monsieur Jones or Mr. Jones necessary.” I shake her hand. Her palm is soft, and those big brown eyes are inquisitive. A smile peeks shyly from those rosy lips.
“It’s nice to meet you, Chris. Thank you for allowing me to stay in your beautiful penthouse. It’s always been a dream of mine to live in New York City.” She speaks English fluently with a sexy French accent.
“You’re welcome. I’m sure Jenny will show you all around the city,” I say as I stare at her juicy lips. Oh fuck, what the hell am I doing? My eyes snap away, and I stare at the curtains like a fool.
Jenny pipes up then. “I’ll show you all of the boutiques with high fashion couture, and I’ll take you to the best restaurants. I know a few Parisian spots, but I’m sure it’s nothing like what you’re used to having back home,” my daughter rambles excitedly.
“I can’t wait!” Marie says softly, her eyes sparkling with humor. My heart thumps a couple times in my chest, and it’s difficult to breathe. Did someone turn off the A/C? But my daughter seems to have no trouble finding oxygen. With a smile, she waves at me.