Now that I was 18, it was my turn to decorate the Christmas tree. As I was putting the angel on top, daddy came up behind me and placed his strong, manly hands on my bare legs and steadied me.
Why was daddy's hands going up my dress? Why was he touching me like that? For reasons I did not know, I could not question him. I could only let him have his way with me. In front of mom.
It was the festive time of year. The tree was up, decorations hung from the walls, the relatives were here and the smell of freshly-baked apple pie wafted through the air, clinging enticingly to everything it touched.
Light, happy music filled the house and I couldn't be more ecstatic. I'd just turned 18 and this was my very first Christmas as an adult. Sure, I'd helped out before, but this was different.
"I've almost got it, daddy!" I squealed as I stood shakily on the ladder and reached up to place the angel on the top of the tree. It had always been mom who'd had the pleasure, but since I was now an adult, she let me do it.
"That's a good girl..." Daddy grunted as he came up behind me to steady me. I nearly swooned as daddy wrapped his strong hands around my bare legs.
I giggled when I realized that he wasn't just holding me. He was rubbing his hands up and down my silky-smooth legs. Was he feeling me up?
"There!" I exclaimed as I got the angel fitted just perfectly. But daddy didn't let go. His strong, manly hands roved up and down my legs, even poking up under my dress.
What was he doing? I shivered at his touch. This wasn't something he'd ever done before. I wanted to say something, but couldn't. For some reason, I couldn't question him, couldn't say no.