Poker Night: The Big Reveal?

Ok, so I have one last piece of poker night to share for now-- I kinda have this sense that maybe there should be a vignette between Ben's and this one, some kind of bridge, Like a Nolan or a Caleb or maybe one of the other fellas, but I just ain't written such a thing and the deadline is upon me, so without (much) further Ado, please allow me to introduce the big reveal. lol. sigh. So fucking revealing.

Once again friends, if you haven't been following I encourage you to check the archives for stories such as Viola's Secret and The Morning After (all parts) and Breakfast and of course the Poker Night prelude That Saturday Night... Poker night is the night of the morning after... yes, that does make sense, though it sounds confusing.

Enjoy?  Or... observe the events unfold with sick fascination?  I'm not sure what I should be hoping here... ah yes, that you will be entertained and want to read more...

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Jonah sensed the mood at the table shift instantly and he felt an uncomfortable tightness on the back of his neck.  He watched Sam Bennett’s smile dissolve into a frown and watched Marty’s eyes fixate determinedly at his cards and nowhere else.  He heard Len suck in air and watched him shake his head and focus on the dark red wine in his glass.  Jonah looked at each of the men in turn and found them all suddenly tense, discomfited.  Ben Sinclair was blushing like a school girl and pretending to drink his whiskey sour, but his friend was openly staring beyond Jonah’s head, a slightly appreciative gleam in his eye that made Jonah’s fingers instinctively curl into fists. Next to him Caleb’s mouth was unashamedly agape as he was turned around in his seat, and Nolan swiveled to look and then quickly swiveled back,  pushing air through his lips.

Jonah knew it was Viola.  He didn’t want to see what, exactly, had caused the atmosphere to change so rapidly and so dramatically.

“You guys need anything?” She asked from behind him in a voice that made his skin crawl.

There was a ringing silence.  Several of the men looked at Jonah and then looked away.

“Honey, what are you wearing?!”  Exclaimed Caleb, at last breaking the horrendous silence.

Jonah still couldn’t bear to look.  He swallowed and tried to lick his lips but his mouth felt like cotton.

“My PJs” she chirped innocently.  “Is there any pizza left?”

Ben’s friend West hopped out of his seat and over to the side table where the pizza boxes were stacked.  “Pepperoni and some pineapple?”  He offered, a very charming smile on his handsome young face.  The boy’d had a fair amount of Jonah’s alcohol already this evening so Jonah tried to allow him some slack for hitting on his underage daughter.  He had to try very hard not to dive over the poker table and tear the boy apart.

“Thanks.  I love pineapple.”  She cooed.

West cocked an eyebrow and picked up the half-empty box of pineapple pizza. 

On either side of him he could feel Nolan and Caleb watching him expectantly.

West hadn’t made it three full strides toward Viola when Jonah rose from his seat.

The boy slowed, watching Jonah carefully.  He opened his mouth once or twice, licked his lips and then closed his mouth firmly.  With one hand he extended the pizza box toward the poker table, opting for the much safer course of action.  Ben snatched it from his friend, looking more than a little relieved his friend had enough good sense left not to cross a man about his daughter, and passed it dutifully to Caleb, who was a safe party by virtue of being Viola’s uncle.

Jonah kept his gaze as mild as he could manage and watched West unblinkingly until the young man was once again seated at the table.  Jonah could see Caleb looking from Viola to Jonah to West and back again.

“Here honey.”  He finally said quietly, standing to bring her the pizza.

Jonah reached his hand out for the box and Caleb hesitated a moment before handing it over.

With his free hand Jonah adjusted his glasses, and scratched the side of his nose before hitching a smile into place.  He looked around the table.  “Deal me out for a few hands fellas, I’ll be right back.” 

Marty nodded, still staring fixedly at his cards.  “No problem.”

“Me too.”  Said Nolan, standing.

“No.”  Jonah said, turning to meet his brother’s concerned gaze.  “No need.”  He said firmly.  Then smiled.  And took a breath.

“You sure?” Nolan asked in a low whisper, stealing a glance behind them at his niece.

Jonah closed his eyes for a shade longer than a blink and when he opened them he appeared mild and in-control.  “Absolutely.”

And then he turned around to face her. 

Jonah felt his spine stiffen and his pulse drummed in his ears.  Her pajamas?  The girl was wearing an almost undersized pair of boy-short cut underwear and one of his thin white cotton tank undershirts, and little else.  The most covered-up parts of her were the knee-high striped socks she wore.  He felt himself sway just a little and Nolan‘s hand was on his shoulder to steady him. 

“I could bet for you while you’re out of the room.”  Nolan offered lightly, trying valiantly to cover Jonah’s unsteadiness with humor.

A few of the guys laughed.  Jonah couldn’t manage to play along.  He could see the flush of her nipples right through the paper-thin cotton, make out not only the exact shape and size but the hue.  He could see the tantalizing under-curve of her breasts as if there were no fabric there at all.  And so could every man in the room.

Worse, the blush-pink boy-shorts were so skimpy and form-fitting that every soft curve below her waist was outlined in graphic detail, and, though she was facing him full-front he knew then that when she turned around a good portion of her high, firm buttocks would be on display for the whole room.

His jaw clenched and unclenched and he finally dragged his eyes to her face.  “Can I have the pizza?”  She asked sweetly, an innocent smile playing across her lips.  He realized she was wearing lipgloss and mascara too. 

He measured his pace while he walked toward her.  He knew he needed to be very, very careful with all those eyes pretending not to watch how this little episode played out.

“Of course.”  He said in an unperturbed and very dad-like voice.  “Let’s take it to the kitchen though.”

She pouted just a little bit and since his back was to the group he fixed her with an expression of deadly warning.  She raised her eyebrows and the mischievous glint in her eyes melted away.  “Ok.”  She said meekly and made a little wave at the room.  “Bye guys.”

After a breath’s hesitation a weak chorus of overly-polite goodbyes sounded behind his back.  He glared at her and gestured for her to turn and move.

Her eyes slid to the ground as she spun in place and marched out of the den.  He slammed his eyes shut for just a moment.  He’d been right about the view of her ass. Jesus Christ.

“Be right back.”  He managed pleasantly without turning around, and removed himself and the pineapple pizza from the den.  He prayed Nolan and Caleb would distract the guests, and keep them there.  He couldn’t be alone in this house with her, not now, not like this.

He followed on her heels to the kitchen where she finally spun to face him, putting one hand on the kitchen island and one defiantly on her hip.

“I want you to take this to your room and you’re to stay there for the duration of the evening.”  He said, struggling to control his temper.  He thrust the box at her.

“I’m not hungry.” She said with a pout in her voice.

He swallowed.  “You understand the way you’re dressed is completely unacceptable.”  He said quietly.  “You know that, don’t you?”

He thrust her chin out stubbornly.  “I’m in my pajamas.”  She insisted.

“You want men to stare at you?”  He asked, his voice tight and strained.

She closed her eyes. She didn’t answer.

“Viola?”  He pressed in an urgent whisper.  “Do you?  Is that what you want?  You may as well have walked in there wearing nothing at all.”  He tossed the pizza box onto the kitchen island and she jumped, her eyes fluttering open.  He ran both his hands through his hair several times and paced the length of the kitchen.

Neither spoke for what felt like a very long, tense, few moments.

“I just, I just…”  but she trailed off and without looking he knew she was about to burst into tears.

Fuck.  “Dammit Vi.”  He said, but he didn’t sound angry.  He sounded apologetic and he felt terribly guilty.  He crossed to her and pulled her into his arms and she half-sobbed a strangled moan into his chest.  Her tiny body shook with the effort of trying to weep silently and he rubbed her back soothingly.  She was confused, he scolded himself, she was vulnerable and lost and sick and instead of taking care of her like he ought to have he’d tucked his tail between his legs and threw up as many barricades as he could dream up to keep her at a distance.  He’d driven her to this stunt.  “I’m sorry.”  He said, his voice heavy with emotion.  He felt his throat close with a knot of unshed tears and he cleared his throat several times to try and dislodge it.  “I’m so sorry.” He repeated.

She shook her head back and forth against his chest and sniffled.  “I’m sorry!”  She choked out through muffled, racking sobs.

He kissed the top of her head and the smell of her shampoo brought an onslaught of explicit images to his mind and though he squeezed his eyes tightly and shook his head he couldn’t make them disappear.  Suddenly he became acutely aware of where the curves of her small body pressed against the planes of his and he washed over hot and cold.  Every point at which their bodies touched had become erogenous zones and the brush of her elbow over his forearm or the slightest touch of her knee against his pant leg became instantly and profoundly erotic.

He panicked and took her by her shoulders and firmly pushed her away from his chest, unpeeling her form from his.  She looked bewildered and bereft.  God Dammit.  It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t master his own impulses.  He was punishing her when he needed to be nurturing her.  “I’m so sorry sweetie.”  He repeated desperately and tried hard to see his little girl in front of him and not a scantily clad, vulnerable vixen.  “I need you to go upstairs and,”  He glanced at her barely-concealed body and wished he hadn’t. “And, and, and, Oh god, and put something else on, something appropriate, and and and”  Her eyes, brimming with more tears, made him want to wrap her up, lift her in his arms and carry her up to her room.  He closed his eyes deliberately.  “And please, please don’t come down again tonight—ok?” 

Of course it wasn’t ok.  They needed to talk.  They needed to process.  He needed to help her understand and navigate and he was a fucking miserable coward for asking her to go upstairs and sit in her room like some naughty delinquent while he surrounded himself with company, drowned out the pain and shame with booze and cards and friends.

“If I change, can I come watch you play?”  She sounded so earnest, so hopeful.  But he remembered the expressions on his friends’ faces and firmly shook his head. 

“Not tonight love.”  He said gently. 

She looked at the ground.  “Will you come up and see me before you go to bed?”

He winced.  He was an awful father.  He hated himself.  “Do you want that?”  He asked, hoping he didn’t sound as frightened as he felt.

She nodded meekly and he dropped his hands from her shoulders in a sort-of defeat.

“Then of course I will.”  He said flatly.  “But it might be very late.”

She gave him a weak smile.  “That’s ok.”  She whispered. And then she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.  He felt almost winded by the sudden surge and rocked back with the impact, but then wrapped his arms around her and returned the hug.  They pulled away from each other very slowly, melted away really, and their eyes met.  He kissed her forehead and met her eyes again.  Then he kissed her cheek and once more found her eyes with his.  They were each holding their breath.

He couldn’t know why or how but suddenly he was kissing her full on the lips.  She made a little gasp of surprise and hurried to meet and return the kiss.  She smelled like lavender and vanilla and her lips tasted sweet from the gloss and they felt so soft and supple and welcoming beneath his own.  She buried her fingers into his hair and he pulled her against him, one hand splayed across almost the entirety of her small upper back, the other placed possessively between her lower back and the crest of her ass.

He plied her lips apart and slid his tongue into her mouth and almost lost his mind when her small tongue met his eagerly. 

A voice from the dining room just beyond the kitchen door made him recoil from her instantaneously and he was on the other side of the kitchen island in the space of a heartbeat.  “Jones?”  it was Nolan.

Jonah panicked. He wiped franticly at his lips with a shaking hand, trying to scrub off any trace of her lipgloss.  His heart was thudding wildly beneath his breast and he found he couldn’t look at his daughter.  What the fuck was he doing?  He felt ready to collapse, ready to throw himself on his brother’s mercy and confess everything.

There was a knock on the double doors between the kitchen and the dining room.  “Jones?”  This inquiry was quieter.  “Everything ok in there?”

Jonah scrambled to undo the buttons of his button-down and ripped the shirt off himself, leaving him in his t-shirt.  He tossed the shirt to Viola with one hand and with the other he tucked the tip of his erection under his belt just before the door opened a fraction of the way.

“Yeah, we’re fine, you can come in.”  Jonah said, a little unevenly.

Nolan stepped in carefully, looking from Viola to Jonah and back again.  She didn’t look at him.  She was buttoning up the shirt, which was dark with her tears on one side and streaked with the dark gray of her smudged mascara. She was almost swimming in it, it was so large on her petite frame.

Caleb stepped in after Nolan and Jonah wanted to curse.  “Don’t be too hard on her Jonah,” His youngest brother said sympathetically, seeing the tell-tale rings of mascara around her eyes, the blotchy cheeks and the reddened whites of her eyes.  “It’s not her fault—those skimpy things are in fashion right now.”

Jonah raised his eyebrows.  Caleb gave his niece a supportive little rub on her shoulder.  “And god knows she’s got the body to pull it off.”  He joked.  Viola smiled even as she blushed.

“Caleb she’s fifteen.”  Nolan said so that Jonah wouldn’t have to.  This dimmed both Viola and Caleb’s expressions.

“Prudes” He said in a stage whisper and she couldn’t suppress the giggle that bubbled up.

“Go ahead upstairs sweetheart.”  Jonah said quietly, staring at the near-empty fruitbowl on the center of the kitchen island.

“Goodnight hun- oh, don’t forget your pizza.”  Caleb smiled warmly and handed her the box helpfully.

“Thanks.”  She said quietly to her uncle.  Then, “Is it ok if I watch tv in your room?”  Jonah met her eyes for a fraction of a moment.  The last thing he needed was for her to be waiting in his bed when the house emptied.

“There’s nothing wrong with your TV.”  He said mildly and he heard Nolan suck in a breath.

She shrugged.  “Alright.”  She stood on her tiptoes to kiss her uncle Caleb.  “’Night.” She said.  Jonah watched her move to Nolan.  “’Night Uncle Nolan.”  She said as he accepted her half-hug.

He nodded, tight-lipped.

She looked for a minute across the island but didn’t close the distance between them, for which he was enormously grateful.  “’Night Dad.” She said before turning and exiting, pizza in hand.

Both his brothers turned to him as one, their expressions almost identical.  Jonah removed his glasses and carefully squeezed the cotton edge of his tee shirt around each lens in turn, buffing out smudges.  He peered at them, deciding there were yet a few spots and he repeated the process.

“Are you about to explode?” Asked Caleb as Jonah moved to repeat the process a third time.

Jonah gave a short laugh.  “She was so embarrassed when she realized it was see-through.”  He said, and he heard his voice as if it hadn’t come out of him.  He sounded pulled, tight.

Nolan and Caleb exchanged a glance.  “Should we call it a night, d’you think?”  Nolan asked bluntly at the same time Caleb added “She knew it was see-through.”

Jonah’s head snapped up and he hastily retuned his glasses to his face.  “No, no no no, not at all- why?  Are you tired?”  He chose to pretend he hadn’t heard Caleb’s perceptive observation.

Nolan looked like he had an earful to give Jonah but he exhaled a long breath instead and then said calmly:  “Well I think Len and the good Doctor should be just about done with their smoke break, so d’you wanna head back in there?”

Jonah nodded and started for the door.

“I love it when people do things they shouldn’t” Caleb mused, and Jonah slowed. 

“What?”  His mouth dried up again.

“I mean Sam?  A Doctor taking a cigarette break?”  He grinned.  “There’s something so forbidden about it, isn’t there?” He laughed.  He sounded as though he found it fairly erotic too.

Jonah forced an approximation of a smile. “Yeah.”

He let Caleb precede him and as he was stepping over the threshold to the dining room Nolan caught him under the elbow for the second time that evening.  “Jonah?” 

Jonah couldn’t meet his eyes, not just then, not yet.  His lips were still tingling and his tongue still felt the ghost of hers and he knew he couldn’t look at Nolan.  “Hmm?”

Nolan was quiet for a long moment and then released Jonah’s elbow.  “Nevermind.”  He said.

Jonah nodded, still looking at the ground and not at his brother’s face, and he proceeded through the darkened dining room toward the den.