V Is for Vicky

I turned towards Mary.

"I'd better go and fetch her."

"Good idea. Go."

OK so Martina could indeed learn her own lessons, but not yet. Not if some randy older guy was aiming to get off with her. It seemed like just a few years ago she was a skinny little girl playing hockey in the school team. Yet she had grown into an attractive, vibrant, young woman who turned the heads of males of all ages, even mine to an extent. I'd even noticed some of my workmates looking at my daughter with desire. At first it bothered me a bit but then I realised that when I looked at girls her age, not that I would ever do anything, I just looked. I was more than happy in that respect, Mary and I had been together over twenty years with no sign of any problems. She'd made it quite clear to me several years earlier, on a seaside holiday, when I'd somewhat stared at a rather 'well-built' woman in a very tiny bikini.

"OK, Mike. You can look – but don't touch!"

And I never had. Touched, that is, even when one of Carol's sisters had squeezed my bum at a wedding a couple of years earlier.

So, I went to fetch my daughter from the party. And hopefully interrupt the 'very old' guy who, according to Malcolm, had designs on her. When I got to the house where the party was, I realised it might take me quite a while to find her - there were a lot of cars parked along the road. I parked my own car and as quickly as I could I walked up to the house. Outside the front door I saw several couples in close contact, basically a typical teenage-and-a-bit-older party, at least as I remembered them. From quite some time ago.

I quickly looked them over in search of Martina. I saw her friend Jean making out with a boy, his hand was down inside her pants, her legs were slightly spread and turned towards me. She smiled in recognition, then turned her attention back to him. Jean was my daughter's age, and I felt I ought to stop this but I didn't really want to embarrass her. I went up to the front door and in, promising myself that I'd break it up on the way out if they were still at it. Or I might just ring up her parents, I wasn't sure about Jean's age but I had a thought she might be younger than she looked.