Jack, Ruby, Mia

My name is Jack Dauwalter. This is how I started a relationship with my daughter's best friend.

Saturday, June 6, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.

-- 7:00 pm

We were all around the kitchen island doing the tasks assigned to us by Ruby, the woman of the house. Blond. Tall--at 5'9", just a few inches shorter than me. Dressed in a black sundress under the white apron. Nothing on under the sundress. Information I was privy to as the husband, lucky enough to get to watch her dress and undress whenever I pleased.

Beth, my daughter--18, currently experiencing some vague boy trouble and grumpier than usual--was cubing up feta cheese (Ruby was cutting cucumbers, I was cutting celery).

Beth was doing a good job of putting up a brave, annoyed face, but we knew her well enough to know she wanted to be surrounded by family and the clatter of dinner being made while she waited for the aching heart to nurse itself back to health.

"You sure you don't want to go out?" Ruby asked Beth.

"Mom."

"Ope, that means no," I said.

"It means stop looking at me like I'm a dying cat. I'm allowed to be in a bad mood in my own home."

"You're right."

"Good," Beth said, "then everybody act normal."

"Normal?" I said.

"Oh Jesus," Beth sighed as I did my Taz the Tasmanian Devil impression.

"Honey." Ruby stopped me. "I don't think that's helping."

"Fair," I said, and we all went back to our tasks.

I threw a single pistachio to Roscoe, our dog. Kid was mixed beyond recognition, the size of a small Labrador, just as friendly and cute.

Beth said, "He'll shit like crazy."

"You're just jealous Roscoe got a snack and you didn't."

"Pff."

I threw a pistachio at her face. "Catch, girl."

"I'm not a dog." She picked up the pistachio from the fold in her sweater and ate it. I was looking at her while cutting celery. She made a face at me and returned to cubing feta cheese, smiling just a little.

Ruby and I exchanged a look. Silent communication. See that smile? Progress.

"Where's my snack?" Ruby asked.

"You'll get yours later." I touched her ass, the hem of her black sundress fluttered and flowed, catching air.

"Ewww-ah!" Beth growled.

"Oh, OK." Ruby gave my arm a squeeze.

Beth shivered and shook her head with a disgusted look on her face. Blond hair making waves in front of her face.

I looked at my wife as she spoke to Beth but looked at me. "You know, young lady, when you spend 20 years married to the love of your life, you'll understand what a blessing it is to not only tolerate, but desire your chosen--"

"EWWWWWWWWW"

Ruby and I laughed.

"That's fucking gross."

"Hey, language!"

"Deee-zaaaaaa-yer! Who speaks like that?" Beth mocked us.

Laughing at Beth's dramatics, Ruby and I exchanged a peck on the lips, the back of my hand gently feeling through the apron for the spot where her thigh met her abdomen. I liked having my hands on my wife. Sue me. She was slender, toned, sensual, delicate. Forty, somehow. Not one of those fake-tit ghouls who made excuses to touch my arm at the farmer's market. My Ruby was in a different category entirely. And on top of all that, an all-around excellent wife.

If I didn't know January Jones existed, I might spend my hall pass on my own wife.

"Besides," Ruby said then, "aren't all you eighteen-year-olds supposed to be hormone-mad and horny 24/7?"

"Mom!"

"OK--" I said. "Now I'm gonna be sick."

Ruby went back to cutting cucumbers. Surely smiling.

"Roscoe, come on, buddy," Beth said, grabbing a piece of halloumi and leaving through the screen door into the backyard. "Let's leave this nuthouse!"

I turned, grabbed my wife under her arms, around her waist, lifted her up. She laughed a beautiful, sexual, quiet laugh. Just for me. This woman never stopped doing it for me. She had the kind of body that got better with time, somehow. Wonderful small breasts, perfect little nipples. Tight ass. Strong, smooth legs. A little tan. With a healthy shine to them. I sometimes wondered when that would end. Just then I wondered why I was not inside her.

"Unhand me, you brute."

The doorbell rang.

I gave her a kiss and put her down. She gave my cock a little squeeze with a wink. The shorts were now just a little too tight for comfort.

"You better get that, big guy!"

I tucked my quarter-hard cock down a little on my way to the door. Not too bad. I toweled off my hands as I opened the door.

"Hey, kid!"

"Hi, Mr. D!"

Mia. Beth's best friend since middle school. Short, standing at about 5'2", deep brown hair, shoulder length, with just enough wave to move when she did, falling delicately on her lightly freckled, strong gymnast shoulders. The shoulders were on full display in the floral dark red bodycon mini dress. It was a little difficult to keep it together, I'll admit that. The tuck was still working, though--thank God.

I felt a little silly standing in front of this girl in shorts for some reason. Then she looked me over. Quick but not quick enough. Thinking about what she might've seen, I didn't feel too bad. Broad shoulders, a farmhand's build, tan enough. I was not exactly a pudgy mess. At 42, I took pride in it, though you'd never hear me say it out loud.

We exchanged a polite kiss on the cheek. I patted her on the shoulder, and she put her hand on my forearm. Damn, that tuck was not going to hold forever.

"Thanks for coming over."

"Of course!"

"We tried to get Beth to go out with friends or something, but..."

"Oh, yeah, I know, boy trouble. Christian's been a bit of an effin tool lately."

"Any serious offense there? Anything I should know about?"

"Umm, no, not really."

I smiled with a nod. "Good. I hope you didn't cancel any plans?"

"No, not at all! You know I love eating your food." She winked. I always liked this girl.

"OK, then. Go on, help the missus set the table and let's eat!"

She went inside past me as I held the door. She smelled like a creamy liquor made of apple pies. It was hard to not follow her with my eyes. I even gave in a little. And her body in that burgundy dress was quite a reward for my lack of restraint. Goosebumps--actual goosebumps--formed under the dark hair on my forearm.

-- 7:40 pm

My wife sat to my right. Beth sat next to her, opposite me, and Mia sat on my left.

"I think I saw them setting something up at the square," Ruby said.

"Ugh..." Beth grunted, pushing food around the plate, barely eating.

Ruby used her face to ask Mia and me: what's that about?

"I think what Beth is trying to say," Mia said, "is that Christian's going to be there performing with his band."

"Ah, copy that." Ruby snapped her fingers and pointed at her head to say she remembered now.

"Bethany, darling," I said, reaching across the table, "just say the word and I will go down there with a paintball gun."

"Ooooh, I'd love to see that!" Mia's eyes were wide and encouraging of the idea, as she looked around the table at everyone as if to say 'You in? You in? You in?'

"I'll hold him down," Ruby said.

Beth gave in and huffed a little laugh through her nose.

"That's my mothafuckin' wife!" I kissed her hand.

After a moment, when we all went back to eating, Mia said, "Honestly--and I know it sounds bad, I'm sorry." She was talking to Beth specifically, then to the whole table. "I'd literally pay to feel that kind of heartbreak."

"Don't romanticize this," Beth said.

"No, you're right, I know it sucks, and I'm sorry. Definitely. But only something serious and meaningful can make you feel like that."

"Is there a point?" Beth asked.

"All the boys in my life are more interested in beer bongs or gaming or, excuse my language, just hooking up."

I clutched my pearls.

Mia and Ruby chuckled; Beth rolled her eyes.

"I'd love a serious guy who wants serious things. Someone I could be genuinely interested in. Someone with some depth. Solid, you know?"

Ruby then said, "Your time will come, sweetie. Trust me. At this age it's just how boys are."

"It's true," I said.

"Can't imagine you being like that, though," Mia said, taking me a bit by surprise there. Looking at me then.

"Me? No. Very mature, always."

"HAH!" Ruby laughed. "This guy was a shithead and a half for most of his twenties."

"Hey!" I feigned offense.

"But you were my shithead." She blew me a kiss.

"Aww," Mia said, "you guys are so sweet together!"

"She's right though, yeah," I said, chewing, "boys are boys are boys are boys. We're all pretty dumb for a very long time, but then life sort of sets you straight."

"And this, uhh, setting-straight business"--Mia pointed around with her fork at nothing in particular--"when would one typically expect for that to kick in?"

I pondered that. Shrugged. "Dear?"

"Somewhere between the positive pregnancy test and the delivery," Ruby said. "Sometime after the first panic attack, but not before some kind of last-ditch effort to clutch at their youth."

"I never had any kind of last-ditch effort to clutch at my youth," I said.

"No, no, definitely not," Ruby said. "You definitely didn't--what is it the kids say, get on your tits?--get off your tits on MDMA and booze, spend the night dancing at some warehouse rave and have to go sober for half a decade."

"Oh."

"I do believe it's 'off' your tits," Mia said, laughing. "Respectfully."

"Thank you, sweetie."

"Yes, Mia, thank you," I said. "Well, yes, there was that, I suppose."

Mia laughed.

I enjoyed listening to Mia talk about the shortcomings of all the boys her age a little more than I should have. I couldn't help but compare myself against her complaints and realize that I would fit the role of what she was looking for. Every complaint she had about boys somehow sounded like a compliment aimed at me. Probably just wishful thinking. What man doesn't want to be complimented by a pretty young woman?

"Honestly, I don't even need perfect," Mia said. "I'd settle for someone who knows what he wants and can make a decision without consulting a friggin' group chat."

I know what I want, I thought. And nothing any group chat has to say about it is of any consequence to me. As the thoughts bubbled up, I realized they were... well, the thing I couldn't help but want was Mia.

-- 8:20 pm

The first course was done and Roscoe was demolishing a toy penguin over by the kitchen island behind Beth. We were all watching him. Not a bad show.

Speaking of, at one point during the show, I looked at Mia. Her hair was tucked behind her ear on my side. It created a natural path. From her eyes, to her jawline. The little, almost imperceptible white hairs on her cheek revealed by the light hitting her just so. Down to her neck, the artery pulsing, her throat moving as she swallowed water. Down further to her breasts, not large, but just right. B cups maybe. And they needed no help from any bra. Are those... Jesus, I could see her nip--

I looked up to find her looking at me and I looked away immediately, toward Roscoe demolishing the toy. The white filling flew around in chunks. My face burned. When I looked back ten seconds later she was still on me. Mia held my eyes for just a split second before looking down without moving her head, the dimples deepening in her lightly blushed cheeks. Whoa. Does she...?

"Roscoe, come on now!" Ruby said. "Give that poor animal a break, buddy!"

"He's really something, huh?" Mia said. But she looked at me as she said it, lips looking a little fuller and wetter now.

"Oh yeah!" Ruby said, turning back to the table. Mia's eyes snapped to her, eyebrows up, lips reorganizing quickly into a friendly, inquisitive smile. "You should see him go at the dog park. Everything is either fightable or humpable."

I laughed along with them, but all I could think of then was that burgundy dress. And what it concealed.

-- 9:40 pm

These shorts, which, thank God, were dark and not stretchy, were really earning their keep tonight. I was at the family dinner table hard as a rock and twice as dumb.

Ruby and Beth went to get the dessert ready, leaving Mia and me alone.

Fuck.

Quick, pick an innocent topic to talk about.

"So how's your old man? Does he come home from our tennis matches and tell you how he kicks my ass?"

"No, actually, the other way around."

"Ahh! So he's a truth teller, your dad."

She nodded, looking at me. I couldn't quite tell why, but I was getting the idea that maybe she wanted to tell me something.

"That's why you're such a good shit, Mia. Ope, sorry!" I raised my hands to apologize for forgetting myself.

My brain screamed for me to keep it together. To not let out even a little bit of my hunger in front of my daughter. She was her best friend, after all.

"So what's Joan planning to do with that Medusa statue?"

"You saw that?" She laughed. I nodded. "Oh, well, you know Mom," Mia said, putting on Joan's voice, "never done discovering her very bestest, authentic-est self!"

I laughed at that, relaxing back into my chair, letting my legs fall to the sides. My leg bumped into hers. I felt it and knew, I fucking KNEW I should have pulled it back.

"I'm just glad it's no longer candle-making."

But I didn't. I pretended to not notice. I figured if she said something, I'd say I thought it was the leg of the table, sorry, kid.

"My dad just keeps encouraging her as well." She was looking over to the girls prepping dessert now.

Wait. She was pretending our legs weren't touching either. "Do you guys need some help?" She slid forward in her chair, slow and controlled, her leg sliding further against mine, and, without waiting for an answer from the kitchen, got up.

I couldn't believe it. I thought she was playing with me. As she walked away, there was power in her body from the relentless practice and competitions and she was swaying it more than she needed to. She knew I was looking. On the other side of the kitchen island, hovering over the dessert tray being prepped, she tucked her hair behind her ear. Her hand traveled slowly, freely from the back of her head, over her neck, down over her chest.

Don't bite. Not now, not here.

Dessert came. Saved by the tiramisu.

-- 10:30 pm

Ruby and I were in the kitchen, talking, maybe playing a little grab ass. The girls were on the couch on their phones, taking occasional breaks to show each other something, which usually earned a little exhale from the one being shown the thing. I'll be honest, it was still hard to focus on anything else other than the thought of Mia making eyes at me. What was she thinking?

"Alright, guys, thank you so much for the dinner!" Mia said.

"You going?" Ruby asked over the Tupperware she was handling.

"Yep, got practice in the morning."

"How are you getting home, sweetie?" Ruby asked.

"Uber."

"Don't be silly! Jack'll take you." Ruby pressed a Tupperware lid into place with both thumbs, not looking at me.

"I will?"

"He will?"

"He will!"

"Of course, I'll take you!" I tried to put a little reluctance on that.

"It's really OK," Mia said. In my opinion, there was very little conviction in her words. "I don't mind Ubering."

"No, no, come on, my lovely wife's right as always. Any foot fetishist in a Yaris can download an app and start giving young girls rides on dark evenings."

"Eww!" Beth said from the couch, not looking up from the phone.

"Yes, daughter, exactly. Eww!" I grabbed the keys to the Range Rover. "Let's go get you home."

-- 10:38 pm

"You're such a cool dad, Mr. D."

"Oh yeah?" I laughed. "How so?"

"Taking me home, being protective, it's sweet."

"No, stop. Just can't let a pretty girl get into a stranger's car for no good reason."

"Pretty, huh?"

She shot me a look, eyebrow raised. A look I read as teasing.

"Well. You know what I mean!"

The eyebrow stayed up.

"Oh, drop it, kid, you're pretty! Not for me, but just generally, obviously."

"Obviously," she said, clearly not believing me. She seemed to enjoy seeing me squirm.

After a little while she said, "And you're so cute with your wife. It's so clear you guys are really in love."

"I do love my wife."

"And that time you busted into Tim's party, found Beth drunk and stoned, dragged her out of there kicking and screaming."

"You were there?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Sorry you had to see that."

"I was glad to see it, really. I kinda sometimes wish my parents cared that much."

I said nothing to that.

"Everyone tries so hard to be cool instead of protecting their kids from creeps and bad decisions," she said. "Or that time Beth and I were robbed by those two assholes."

"Oof. Yeah, I remember that."

"From what Beth tells me you beat them within an inch of their lives."

"I wouldn't say that."

My lawyer had told me to not say that. And it really wasn't that bad.

"Beth was in the parked car, pointing them out to you, right?"

So the long and short of it was that when Beth and Mia were fourteen they'd been robbed by two twitchy twenty-year-old thuglets. The girls were pretty shook up about it, of course, but otherwise fine. To try and rectify the situation, I took Beth around the same neighborhood where it had happened. And we found them.

I'm the first to admit that I had (and still have) quite a bit of anger in me, all of which needed to be processed and channeled and whatnot. Generally speaking, I was good at controlling my emotions. But someone laying hands on my little girl--that had given me a justified reason to... process some anger in an unhealthy way, let's say. I don't feel bad about it. Righteous anger is a hell of a cheat meal.

"Oh, they were just dumb kids."

"She said there was a lot of blood."

I waved that off. "Dumb kids bleed real easy."

Mia laughed, grabbing my forearm. Her delicate hand, so small on mine. I felt my impulse control being disassembled by the waves of cold heat her touch sent over me.

I looked at her. She took her hand off me, her laugh gradually turning into a smile and an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Mr. D."

"For what?"

After a moment she said, "Overstepping, I guess?"

"You can call me Jack. You're an adult. You don't have to apologize for touching someone's arm."

I made a tiny fake jab toward her arm. She laughed and slapped my fist. "Stop! You'd break me!"

"Oh, stoooop!" I laughed.

"What, you're huge! And those arms are... Well, you know." She was flushing. "It's like you're made of warm stone or something."

As she mused, I looked at her and saw her, not very covertly, eyeing my body. Her eyes moved over the loose-fitting T-shirt under the silky, seashell-patterned, short-sleeved button-down, then my legs, while the buttons on my shorts and the darkness of the car did a lot of work to hide my erection from her.

I had to get my eyes back on the road, but I couldn't help but be thrilled about what was happening in the passenger seat. I knew she was thinking about something real hard and maybe even working up the courage for something. The smile on her face was changing. Getting braver. More dangerous.

We were stopped at a red light.

"Oh, you know what," Mia said, "turn right here, it's quicker."

"It's faster to go straight, we're almost there. Why do you want to turn?"

"I just figured that maybe... maybe it's better to go there... Because that street, as opposed to this street..." She was doing a lot of pointing and turning and gesturing now, drawing out what she was saying, seemingly on purpose. Maybe because she was scared to say it? "And that one doesn't have many trees and it's a little too..." She exhaled heavily, steadying herself. After a brief pause she said, "Basically, what I'm trying to say, Mr. D..." She looked at me now, fully turned to face me. "I would like to see your penis, and I think it's better we do it on a street that is not in front of my parents' house." She was shaking a little--a mix of fear and excitement. It was the same thing I felt.