From Thug To Pornstar: I Reincarnated As Jonny Sins, So What!
Chapter 35: My Daughter’s best friend

Chapter 35: Chapter 35: My Daughter’s best friend

[A/N: First person POV.. please also support the book thank you.. a magic castle for a massive mass release]

After the last scene the procedure asked jonny is he was still up for a scene, and if he need some supplement.

"Supplements? Haha ha! I am more than capable to do it on my own. Very well then.

They quickly rushed to the next scene.

Introduction:

My daughter’s best friend told me she had a birthday present for me, but it wasn’t one I ever could have anticipated.

I was finally able to close the book on a particularly stressful week, sighing gratefully as I stepped through my front door to the sound of pop music and girlish giggling coming from the kitchen. The music, I could live without; I’m more of a rock and metal guy, myself.

But was there any sweeter sound than young girls giggling? I took off my hat and gloves, my heavy winter coat and shoes, and went to say hello.

My daughter, Olivia, and her best friend Charlotte were a study in contrasts. Livy was tall, dark haired, slender and busty, just like her mom had been; Charlie was tiny, petite and blonde, and looked like she was about four years younger, though she was actually the older of the pair by a couple of weeks.

I could hardly believe they were both eighteen now, adults, about to graduate high school in just a few more short months.

"Hi there, girls," I greeted them, smiling and shaking my head as I took in the mess they’d made. "What have we here?"

"Hi, Dad!" Livy replied, bouncing over to me from the stove and throwing her arms around my neck, kissing my cheek. "We decided we’re going to make you supper, tonight, for your birthday. Charlie even helped me bake a cake!"

"Awww... thanks, girls!" I said, squeezing her in my arms and returning her kiss. "You didn’t have to do that!"

"We wanted to," Charlie blushed. She’d always been very much the shyer of the two, and although of course I’d never acknowledged it, not wanting to embarrass the poor girl, I knew she’d had a harmless little crush on me for as long as I could remember. "It isn’t much of a present, but happy birthday, Mr. H.."

"Well, thank you, both of you, it means a lot," I told them. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nope, all set!" Livy giggled. "It’ll be maybe another fifteen, twenty minutes, something like that. You just go watch tv or something for a bit, we’ll come get you when it’s ready."

"Sounds good," I agreed, giving her one more squeeze and a kiss, and leaving the pair of them to their work.

The television, predictably, offered nothing of interest. I left the news on in the background and checked my phone instead, grimacing at what I saw.

How was it that even during just the length of my commute, I could still have received four new emails awaiting my urgent attention? I loved my job, really I did (I told myself that regularly, especially at times like this). It just got to me sometimes, how no one seemed capable of making an actual decision about anything without passing it up the chain to me.

Did I really care that the company who stocked the vending machines in the break room wanted my permission to switch from coming in every second Tuesday, to every second Thursday, instead? Some things, sure, some things needed my involvement, and I would be more than annoyed if anyone tried to cut me out of a decision that should have come to me.

But could the employee who had taken the call from the vending machine people really not have just said yes to that one on their own, and sent me a memo fait accompli? I composed a quick affirmative response, and moved on to the next.

I shouldn’t complain. My job paid well—almost too well, honestly, though of course I would never admit that to another living soul. For a widower with a young daughter, needing to pay for nannies, and the near constant stream of new activities Livy had wanted to try growing up, that had been important. It was just a lot sometimes, that was all.

I’d gotten through three out of the four—five now, actually, since another email had just arrived—before Charlie came to collect me. Livy was just heaping supper out onto our plates, delicious looking homemade chicken fried rice, with Caesar salad on the side.

"This looks and smells delicious, girls, thank you again!" I complimented them, making them smile proudly as we all took our places at the table.

"You’re welcome, Dad," Livy replied for them both, reaching over to give me a squeeze on my wrist. "How was work today?"

"Ugh, annoying and boring as always," I dismissed the question with a wave of my hand. "Tell me about school, instead."

Livy launched in right away, as always occasionally prompting Charlie to get her to tell her version of events, as well. I swear, if it hadn’t been for Livy pushing her all these years, I don’t know if Charlie ever would have overcome her shyness enough to speak to me at all.

The two of them had been completely inseparable ever since kindergarten, almost joined at the hip.

I wasn’t sure if the girls knew this or not, but Charlie’s parents had gone to all three of the school principals they’d had over the years, making especially sure the girls would always be in the same classes.

I didn’t know all the details, but I knew Charlie had been seeing a therapist when she was younger, to try to help with her shyness, and after he’d finally gotten her to open up enough to talk about ’her friend’ (her only friend, as far as Charlie had been concerned) he’d been the one to suggest the arrangement.

Someone who hadn’t known her back then would be hard pressed to believe it, meeting her now, but the improvement in her confidence over the years had been incredible! At the end of middle school, when the girls had been planning which options to take the following year, Charlie had even said she didn’t want to take outdoor ed. and sports medicine with Livy, but wanted to take cooking and sewing, instead! Culinary arts and fashion and design, I think is what they were actually called nowadays, but cooking and sewing were what they were.

Now, I know that might not sound like much to you or me, but the fact that Charlie had been able to speak up for what she wanted like that, even at the expense of not being with Livy for those classes, had brought her parents to tears! I may have shed one or two myself, if I was being honest; Charlie spent so much time over at our house, I thought of her almost as if she were my own.

Dessert was every bit as good as the meal, a rich chocolate cake with thick chocolate icing. And it turned out they’d even made it from scratch, not a mix, which explained the mess! I was suitably impressed, Charlie’s blush mounting to truly epic proportions.

She tried to deflect credit, saying Livy had done just as much work as she had, but we all knew who the brains of the operation had been. I loved my daughter more than life itself, but I swear that girl could burn boiling water! Birthday or not, I wouldn’t let them stop me from helping clean up.

And it wasn’t just because I was using it as an excuse to avoid going back to my email, I swear! But whatever my ulterior motives, it was just so much fun hanging out and working with them both, talking and joking around, flicking each other with water from our fingers.

Charlie even bumped up against my side a couple of times, which from her was pretty much the equivalent of a full-on hug.

Livy asked if we could make it a movie night, to which I readily agreed. But unlike all the other nights when we’d done the same, the girls sat themselves on opposite sides of the couch.

Charlie was blushing again, so I decided I’d better not draw attention to it, and just sat between them like they wanted.

Their motivation became clear when Livy started the film; a horror, I really should have guessed. I’d never really cared for them, and to my knowledge neither did Charlie, but Livy was a fan.

She snuggled in close before the opening credits had even ended, and I wrapped her in my arm, holding her tight to my side. I was careful to let Charlie make the first move, but after the first grisly death, when she gasped and sidled closer in fear, I raised my arm to the back of the couch.

She took the invitation, snuggling just as close as Livy had, and I held her just as tight. At death number two, she grabbed at my thigh—and got a lot more than she’d been bargaining for, the proximity of two such beautiful young girls having caused the predictable anatomic effect.

She jerked her hand back as if she’d been burned, blushing again, mouth gaping open as she prepared to apologize—I cut her off with a squeeze, an understanding smile, and a rub on her arm, silently reassuring her that it was okay, that I knew she hadn’t grabbed me there on purpose. She settled back down, still blushing brilliantly, but making certain to only grab her own thigh from then on.

The second movie, another horror, proceeded in much the same way. This one’s plot and acting were even worse than the first, but the girls didn’t seem to care, and I was just enjoying their reactions to it, not the movie itself.