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   ASSM;'My Best Friends Father #6.'{LolaScott}( Mf, reluc )[Part 6.]

   My Best Friends Father 4 (Mf, reluc)[4 of 6 ]

   Do not Copy me its not nice!  ADULTS ONLY!!  If your not an adult, where
the hell are your parents?  ##Please send any feedback you have to
ms_lola_scott@yahoo.com or IM me at ms_lola_scott on yahoo messenger!  I
love to hear from people so feel free.

   Based on my life: Names and places have been changed to protect privacy.


   My Best Friend's Father Part 6 There is a picture of my two best friends
and me at our senior prom that all three of us have copies of somewhere in
our homes.  If you look very closely at the photo, you can see that the
straps of my dress are torn.  Lisa is in the middle, looking angelic as
usual; her light blond hair pulled tightly back into some sort of elaborate
knot.  Carrie is on the right, slightly drunk, and grinning slyly.  And
there's me, smiling weakly, nervously, my head slightly tilted toward my
friend's shoulder.  There we are: Three best friends.  We'd been
inseparable since the 3rd grade.  I was the perfectionist, the brain, the
athlete, while Carrie was the bad girl, the slut - the girl very literally
from the wrong side of the tracks.  Then there was Lisa.  Sweet wonderful
Lisa.  The Homecoming Queen.  The princess.  Now ten years later, the three
of us are different, but really just different versions of the old
stereotypes.  That picture reminds me of my friends, of how far we have all
come, but when my eyes zero in on the torn strap of my prom dress, I think
of this: The night started badly.  I stood with my date in the lobby while
he talked and laughed with our friends and their families.  I wasn't being
social though, I had been looking for my parents, craning my neck trying to
locate them in the crowd of noisy parents photographing their beloved
children.  I kept praying that one of my parents would show up.  Any of
them, a mom a dad ... Hell I'd have been pleased to see either of my
stepparents walking through the ballroom doors.  Anything!  Any evidence
that someone had remembered or cared that it was my senior prom.  "Where's
your mother Lola?" Lisa's mother asked, turning to me.  She took a better
look at my face and frowned.  "Ohhh honey," she said hugging me.  "I'm sure
she... well.." I smiled weakly at my friend's kind mother.  We both knew my
mother had forgotten.  She was likely off somewhere with her husband,
somewhere fabulous that I'd get a nice post card from.  "She'll be very
sorry she missed it honey, you look beautiful." Lisa's mother looked back
at her husband who was standing close by.  "Doesn't she look beautiful
John?" My heart sank when I saw him.  Why was he here?  He never comes to
these things.  Lisa's father looked at me, then back at his wife.  She
glared at him.  He looked again at me.  Our eyes met.  I remembered the way
his tongue felt as it moved up my thigh... how his skin tasted ... I
shivered.  "Yea, of course she does," he mumbled, looking away.  I shivered
again.  His voice echoed through my head.  "You're so beautiful..." He'd
whispered that to me countless times.  I could almost feel his breath
against my ear as he fucked me.  His eyes stared at me with hostility that
I didn't really understand.  We'd decided it was over between us a month
before.  My mind flashed back to that beach in Key West where we met again
by chance.  How we found each other on that black beach, I'm not sure, but
we did.  We fucked furiously in the sand, my legs on his shoulders, his
body crushing my thighs against my chest.  The moon was uncovered by the
clouds and was suddenly blinding me with its white and I could only hear
his grunting and the soft waves.  "You're so beautiful," he whispered after
we'd climaxed together.  "So incredibly beautiful." Standing there at my
senior prom, I could still feel the rough sand imbedded into my back.  I
felt a hand on my back.  It was my boyfriend.  I had to get out of there.
"Hey wanna go up to the tower with me?" I whispered in my boyfriend's ear.
I knew he would not go.  He hated heights.  He hated the tower.  "Its
freezing up there" he replied.  I knew that.  I didn't care though.  I had
to get out of there for a minute and collect my thoughts.  "Mind if I go?"
"You're crazy, you're going to freeze!" "I just want to look!" I said,
looking at him warmly.  "It will just take a sec, do you mind?" "You're
going to freeze," he said again, shaking his head.  "Ok, I'll be back," I
said, kissing his cheek.  He smiled at me.  I walked up the narrow steps to
the tower.  It was cold up there.  I couldn't hear a thing except for the
wind banging against the tower windows.  I walked over to the huge
windowpane and leaned forward against it, resting my forehead on the glass.
The cold surface felt good on my skin.  Over the howling wind, I heard a
gleeful screech of some mother or girl from the lobby.  I closed my eyes.
They had missed it.  My goddamn parents missed my prom.  I wallowed in my
self-pity.  I'm the only senior whose parents didn't show up to take
pictures.  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to kick and hit the glass.  I
wanted to throw the security guard chair through the glass, breaking it,
and jump out plummeting to my own restful death!  That would show them! 
Then I laughed, picturing my mother, crying at my funeral, secretly gleeful
over what I had done.  Now she was a grieving mother!  Parent of a dead
child!  Oh the drama!  The sublime romance of it all!  I could see her,
tearfully proclaiming her love for me and her horror over what I had done!
Nope, I'd never jump.  I'd never give her that opportunity.  I heard
someone coming up the steps but I didn't turn around.  I was still too deep
in my self-pitying fantasy to be concerned.  I could smell liquor, so I
assumed it was Carrie.  I stared out the window, focusing my vision on a
blinking construction crane on the other side of the river.  A hand slipped
around my mouth.  My body was pushed against the glass.  It was him.  I was
sick of this!  I struggled violently, my verbal disapproval muted by the
hand clamped viciously around my mouth.  I wasn't afraid yet, but I was
angry.  My hands pulled at his arms.  Suddenly his knee thrust hard against
my legs forcing its way inbetween them.  I yelped in pain tears welled up
in my eyes.  He yanked my head back viciously.  "You let him fuck you!" He
spat into my ear.  He pushed my head forward against he glass.  His hand
left my mouth.  "You're hurting me!" I whispered against the window.  "Shut
up!" He said.  I could feel his cock hard against my thigh.  He had my body
crushed against the cold glass windowpane.  "I heard my daughter talking
about it!" "Stop it!" I gasped.  "I said this was over!" His breathing was
heavy.  I realized knew the alcohol I smelled on his breath was Crown
Royal. I'll never forget that smell.  "You're hurting me!" I shouted
hoarsely.  His hands slid up the sides of my body to my breasts.  He began
squeezing them roughly.  "She said you'd fucked him!" I struggled but he
kept kneading them harder.  "That little bastard," he mumbled.  "You let
him fuck you!" His hands pulled at the material that covered my breasts.  I
was shaking, crying now.  "You'll fucking remember it was me who broke you
in!" I shuddered in disgust.  I felt the material of one of my dress straps
give in and rip.  "I fucked your little cherry, you slut!  I made you cum
all over my cock!" I could feel the heat between my legs rising.  He tore
off the other dress strap, pulling the material down to expose my breasts.
He held them roughly in his hands as he thrust his hips into me
rhythmically.  "Nooo!" I moaned in rage and rising pleasure.  He turned me
around to face him.  I'll never know how a face so handsome could suddenly
look so cruel.  I had made myself cum every night for two years to the
thought of his face, his body.  At that moment, though, the man in front of
me was a terrifying stranger.  He was not my lover as much as he was my
rapist.  "NOO Please Mr.  Jones!  Stop!!" "Shut up," he said, clamping his
hand around my neck and pushing up my dress up over my hips with the other.
I sobbed.  My eyes stung from the mascara that was running down my cheeks.
He kissed me hard, slamming his pelvis against mine.  I shivered under the
force of that kiss.  I could taste the liquor.  My body was ready for him
automatically.  It was a natural response, but I shook with terror and
rage. He molested my breasts in his hands, his rough fingers squeezing my
nipples.  "No!" I whimpered.  "Please, no" He pushed me forward, slamming
my chest against the glass and pulling my hips back toward him.  "Don't! 
No!  Stop!" I struggled but he had my hands pinned against my back.  He let
go of my hands, reaching around my waist and moving downward to cup my
pubic mound in his hands.  He rubbed my pussy through my panties.  "You,"
he breathed.  "You're such a little slut." He licked my ear making me
cringe.  "You're already wet and ready for me" "I hate you!" I sobbed.  He
jerked the thin fabric of my panties, trying to rip them.  I grunted in
pain and began to sob.  He clamped a hand over my mouth again and jerked my
panties again, this time ripping the seam on one side.  I sobbed into his
hand.  I felt his cock against my ass, prying at my flesh until he found my
familiar opening.  I was humiliated and furious that my body had betrayed
me.  I was wet.  I fought back, trying to close my legs but he kneed my
inner thigh causing my knee to buckle.  I screamed loudly.  The head of his
cock found my entrance and he thrust all of himself deep into me.  I moaned
despairingly into his hand.  My body went limp in defeat.  He began fucking
me hard, his breathing was ragged.  I hated him.  I hated myself more.  He
felt so good inside me.  The pain was fading away, I saw my breath on the
window as he lowered his hand from my mouth.  He squeezed my breasts and I
moaned softly.  "Hmm, yea, that's it," he grumbled as he felt my body
beginning to respond.  He began kissing and licking my neck.  I was
shivering and still crying.  He pulled out of me suddenly and I almost fell
back ward.  He grabbed my arms turning me toward the bench in the corner.
He sat down pulling me into his lap.  My dress was still crunched up around
my waist.  I was dazed and still shocked.  The feelings and thoughts that
my brain was sending were no longer clear.  I had escaped into a fog so
that I felt nothing.  The only thing I could feel were his hands on my ass.
He pulled me close to him.  I was shaking hard, although I was still stiff
and rigid as he held me tightly in his arms.  He arranged my arms around
his neck and slowly pushed his cock up into me.  "Ughhhh Lola" he moaned
"you feel soo good!" He jerked me up and down on his cock.  I began to
spasm.  He knew I was going to orgasm before even I did.  He grabbed onto
my ass tightly and I began to cum.  It washed over me like a tsunami of
pleasure.  I gasped, my body jerking up.  He kissed me hard muting my
impending cries with his mouth.  I could taste the liquor on his tongue. 
The wave retreated leaving a wasteland of guilt.  I suddenly realized that
he was cumming.  His cock jerking as his semen shot into me.  He froze up
his muscles tightening as much as his intoxicated muscles would allow. 
"I'm so sorry Lola," he mumbled, pushing me off his lap onto the floor.  I
pulled my dress up over my breasts.  I realized I was still crying.  He
stood up quickly pulling his pants up and buttoning them.  He looked down
at my crumpled body on the floor remorsefully.  I looked away, too furious
to meet his glance.  Music started beneath us.  My senior prom had begun.
He slowly walked toward the stairs.  I didn't know why he was moving so
slow.  I'm sure he wanted to say something but it wasn't going to help
either of us.  I closed my eyes and listened to his footsteps descending
the stairs.  They came to an odd halt that made me sit up.  I cringed,
afraid he was coming back, but I became even more panicked when I heard his
deep voice speaking softly to someone.  I stood up in a panic looking for
somewhere to hide as I heard a new set of footsteps coming up the steps. 
As quickly as I could I searched for a place to hide.  "Oh shit!" said the
voice as they reached the top before I knew it.  "Jesus Christ," Carrie
gasped.  I looked at my friend.  She looked beautiful.  I started sobbing,
my whole body heaving in hysterics.  She came to me letting me collapse
into her arms.  "Its okay sweetie," she whispered, petting my neck "I'll
make sure he pays for this," she breathed in deeply.  "I'll slit his
fucking throat Lola, I swear I will, you just tell me what you want!" I
looked at her shaking my head.  She sighed, "Fine.  Have it your way." She
pushed me back looking at me,.  "Goddamn.  Look at this," she said softly
holding the broken strap of my dress between her fingers.  She and I sat on
the bench as she pulled out my mirror from my purse.  She fixed my hair
while I reapplied my makeup successfully ridding my face of tearstains. 
She pinned my dress together with pins from her hair.  She didn't say
another word about any of it.  She never has to this very day.  We were met
by flashing cameras as we entered the ballroom.  "Come on!" Lisa called,
waving at us.  The three of us stood together in front of the picture
window smiling as Lisa's mother took our picture.  I look at that picture
of us.  Laughing a little, thinking how Lisa had given it to me in a
beautiful frame.  It was a thank you gift for throwing her wedding shower.
I look at her innocent face, Carrie's Cheshire cat grin.  I stare into the
face of a young girl that sometimes I cannot believe is me.  Some things
never change, and some things do figuring out which things do which is
harder than it seems.  That was the last time he ever touched me.  It was
in fact the last time I ever saw him.  That was, until his daughter's
wedding.