Hussy

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“You can't wear that!”

Lindsey glared at him, inwardly seething, fists clenched at her sides. I'll wear any damned thing I please! She gritted her teeth against the words, something in her daring them to come out.

“You want me to change, Daddy?” Her voice dripped saccharine, eyes veiled.

“If you ever want to leave this house, I suggest you put on something decent!” His gaze swept over the orange tube top and white satin shorts and she saw his eyes darken with something other than disapproval.

“Fine.”

Asshole! Who do you think you are? My father?

Lindsey stormed back upstairs, grabbing her biggest purse, the floppy crocheted one with the flap on top. She wiggled her shorts off and shoved them in the bag and, after pulling the top over her head, she shoved that in too. She found a pair of Capri pants and a t-shirt, yanking them quickly on and bounding back down the stairs again.

“Better, Daddy?” She made sure her voice remained high and light, but her eyes bored holes into his skull.

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