The room was painted pink and Alice's dresser was neat and free of dust. Posters of Brittany Spears and Savage Garden were pasted to the ceiling. Several antique dolls, which belonged to Peter's late wife, sat on the end of the bed, as if waiting for Alice to return. A photograph of Alice and her best friend Vika sat in a frame on the bedside table. Vika's blonde appearance contrasted strikingly with Alice's brunette.

Peter took his daughter's panties out of the drawer and brought them up to his nose. He spread the crotch over his nostrils and inhaled the musky, distinct aroma of her ten year old pussy. As had been their arrangement, Alice always left a pair of unwashed panties in her drawer so Peter could enjoy her scent when she wasn't home.

Ten years. She'd only spent ten years on the planet. Five of those she'd spent without her mother. Peter's wife, Joanne, had been killed in a car wreck on Christmas Eve in 1995. Alice had been in the vehicle with her. A drunk in a pick-up had plowed into the driver's side of the car after ignoring a "Stop" sign. He was travelling at eighty miles an hour. The accident took Joanne's head and shoulders off and threw Alice clear of the wreck. She landed in a creek and received only bruises.

Joanne's death hung over Peter and Alice for three years. Peter quit his job at the local newspaper, took Alice out of school and moved out of state where they could be anonymous and alone in their grief. Alice was eight years old when she started talking about Joanne again. Peter was thirty-five. They returned once to California to visit Joanne's grave. Alice placed an origami sculpture of an eagle on her mother's headstone and Peter polished the marble with a velvet cloth.

Three weeks after the trip to California, Peter and Alice became lovers.

The cigarette pack left a lump in Peter's throat. It reminded him of the first time he was intimate with his daughter. Peter was downstairs preparing dinner for Alice and Vika. The girls were upstairs listening to a CD. When Peter called the girls for dinner, there was no response, so Peter hurried upstairs to get them. When he opened the door, the girls were lying on the bed, panties pulled down to their knees, sharing a cigarette (a Marlboro) and each other. Alice's right hand, though unseen, was between Vika's legs. Peter's first reaction was to walk across the room to the stereo and crank the music down. The girls quickly pulled up their panties and made a feeble effort to hide the offending cigarette.

"Dinner's ready, girls," Peter said, then he left the room.

As he walked back downstairs to the kitchen, the image of the girls with their panties down remained in Peter's mind. He hadn't seen their vagina's, but he'd seen a flash of their bottoms and creamy inner thighs.

The girls approached the table coyly a minute later. Their short, taffeta skirts were pulled tautly down to their knees and they kept their eyes lowered shyly......(cont)