Daddy's Dirty Lil' Helper

I’m tingling with excitement as we approach the front door of my house.

As usual, there’s also a touch of guilt, but not too much. I mean, with a name that stupid, this bitch deserves everything that’s coming to her.

“Wow, you really have a nice house,” says Saige, her eyes wide as she takes in the three-story mansion my daddy paid an arm and a leg for.

“Wait until you check out the pool,” I say with a little giggle.

I use my keys to let us in, and then I lead her into the foyer. My daddy always says you never get a second chance to make a good first impression, and the entranceway never fails to impress with its twin curving staircases leading up to the second floor and the immense chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling far above our heads.

“Woah,” says Saige. “Gosh, I’ve never been in a place this fancy. I’m starting to feel a little underdressed.”

“Nah, you look perfect,” I say.

And she does, at least in the sense of how my daddy likes ’em. For starters, she’s got on a crop top that makes it abundantly clear that she isn’t wearing a bra underneath. And then she’s wearing a short skirt that’s the universal symbol for being a cheap slut. Best of all, she has dyed blonde hair, which is his favorite.

“Really?” says Saige, too stupid to know she’s walked right into my little trap. “So, what does your dad do? He must be some kind of important businessman or something, huh?”

“Something like that,” I say with a little snicker. “He’s probably in his office. You wait here while I go check.”

“Oh, what? No, that’s not necessary,” says Saige.

“Sure it is,” I say with a sly grin. “My daddy always likes to meet my friends. He’s a real gentleman in that sense, you could say.”

“Well, alright then. Gosh!” says Saige, her eyes wide as she drinks in all the opulence specifically to wow dumb rubes like her.

As quick as a wink, I make my way down the hallway and then rap on my daddy’s office three times in quick succession so he’ll know it’s me. I then ease open the oak-paneled door to see him sitting at his desk, a look of deep concentration on his handsome face.

“Hey, Daddy,” I say, my pulse racing a bit. “I brought home a new one. I think you’ll really like her.”

“Yeah, I saw,” says my daddy, gesturing in the direction of the bank of security monitors in his office.

“You want her details?” I say, feeling a bit nervous that he’s not as excited as I anticipated. “Or maybe later, if you’re busy.”

“No, no, go ahead,” says my daddy, slamming a leather-bound ledger closed with a quick frown.

“Okay, her name is Saige,” I quickly recite. “No piercings, but she’s got three tattoos: a rose on her left arm, a dolphin on her ankle, and a butterfly on her back just above her waist.”

“Typical,” says my daddy with a snort of derision.

“She’s five feet six, weighs around 110 pounds,” I say. “No hard drug use, but she loves to get wasted on weed and alcohol, especially on the weekends. Her body count is at least seven, although she can’t be sure because sometimes she passes out.”

“Any chicks? Or is she strictly into dicks?” says my daddy.

“No girls, no, as far as I know,” I say.

“Hmm,” says my daddy, pausing for a long moment. “All right, fine. I guess I could use a little refreshment to clear my head. This Valenciano case is driving me up the wall.”

“Okay,” I say, trembling with excitement a bit now that I know the game is afoot. “How do you want to do this? Take her to the swimming pool or maybe...”

“Whatever, I don’t care,” says my daddy. “I’ve got some phone calls to make, so it’ll be an hour or so. Just take her up to your room and make sure she's primed.”

“Okay, Daddy,” I say with a little curtsy.

I stand there, waiting to see if he has nothing else to say to me, but his attention is back on that ledger on his desk. I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed, but I understand his work has him distracted. Maybe after he dispatches Saige, he’ll be in a better mood.

“All righty,” I say, plastering a big grin on my face as I rejoin Saige in the lobby. “My dad’s a bit busy at the moment, but he told me to tell you that you’re a welcome guest and to make yourself feel right at home.”

“Wow, that’s so nice,” says Saige.

It’s pretty obvious that she’s not used to being treated with this much hospitality and generosity, but I’m starting to think maybe there’s a good reason for that. Why put out your best silverware and glasses for cheap trash? Save that shit for people who deserve it, you know what I mean?

“Come on upstairs,” I say. “Let me show you my room.”

I intentionally let her get ahead of me on the staircase so I can take a quick peek up her skirt. Sure enough, she’s wearing the kind of panties you can find on sale at Wal-Mart just a few aisles over from where they keep the Miracle-Whip and hot dogs.

“Woah, this is like something out of a fairytale,” gushes Saige when she gets a glimpse of my bedroom.

Well, I still call it my bedroom even though I haven’t really slept in there since I was about 7 or 8 years old. It’s all done up in pinks and purples, and there’s a large mirror and dresser off to one side framed in colorful glitter. There’s also about a hundred stuffed animals on the bed, making it obvious to anyone with a brain that this is a child’s room.

“You like it?” I say, unable to suppress a sneer as I watch her gawk at all the furnishings and decorations.

Doesn't she realize that no self-respecting young woman would ever be caught dead in such a bedroom?

“Yeah, wow, it’s all just so pretty Teagan,” says Saige, giving me a curious look. “I mean, I never would’ve guessed you lived in such a place.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say?” I say with a low chuckle. “I’m just full of surprises.”

“I’ll say!” says Saige. “Gosh, is there some place we could go to smoke? I’m dying for a cigarette.”

“Sure,” I say, unfastening and throwing back the shutters to reveal the balcony just beyond. “Just through here.”

“Woah, and your own balcony, too?” says Saige, following me outside. “You really are living the princess life.”

“Ha!” I say with a bitter laugh.

I fish a battered pack of Kools out of my shorts, and then we both spark up. I got rid of all the furniture on the balcony a long time ago, so we’re forced to lean against the brick retaining wall. Saige doesn’t say anything for a long moment, too busy checking out the view.

“Wow, when I met you, I really thought...” says Saige. “I dunno. I guess I figured...”

“That I’m trailer trash, just like you?” I say, the harsh smoke making me cough.

“Hey!” says Saige, frowning. “I meant, I never would’ve guessed you came from money.”

“I don’t,” I say, giving her a hard squint. “Everything you see here? This is all my dad’s shit. None of it belongs to me.”

“No, no, I know,” stutters Saige. “I just meant...”

“My daddy does his thing, and I do my thing,” I say. “Got it?”

“Sure, no, I understand. I didn’t mean to offend you, Teagan,” says Saige.

“No offense taken,” I say, giving her a tight-lipped smile. “So tell me. What would you do to get a taste of this life?”

“Huh?” says Saige.

“How far would you go to live in a house like this?” I say, studying her carefully.

“I... I don’t understand,” says Saige, squirming uncomfortably under my gaze.

“Would you suck a guy’s dick for a chance to ride in his Ferrari?” I say. “Or take it up the ass for the opportunity to spend a week on his yacht?”

“Teagan? Why are you asking me all these questions?” says Saige, her hand trembling a bit as she puffs on her cigarette.

“Hey, I’m just asking,” I say, giving her a shit-eating grin. “I saw you looking around, calculating what it would be like if you set up roost here. I’m just curious how badly you want a taste.”

“Um... I’m not some kind of whore or anything,” says Saige. “If that’s what you’re implying.”

“Are you sure?” I say, taking a step closer to her. “Because in my experience, everyone’s a whore if the price is right.”

“Well not me,” says Saige, folding her arms over her chest in a ridiculous display of trying to maintain some kind of dignity. “I may not have been raised in such a fancy neighborhood, but I’ve still got my standards.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” I say with a chuckle as I stub out my cigarette and send it sailing in a wide arc over the edge of the roof.