Marvin Thompson stands in the driveway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as a taxi pulls up to the curb. Beside him, Barbara, his wife, squeezes his hand, her smile bright with anticipation. The back door of the yellow cab swings open, and Jessica steps out, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Something twists in Marvin's chest as he notices how much his daughter has changed during her first year away at college.

"Dad!" Jessica squeals, running toward him with open arms. She throws herself against him, pressing her body tight against his in a hug that lasts a beat too long. "I miss you so much."

Marvin pats her back awkwardly, acutely aware of how her curves press against him. "We miss you, too, sweetheart," he says, gently creating space between them.

Barbara, Jessica's stepmother, steps forward, arms outstretched. "Welcome home, Jessica," she says, embracing her daughter. Marvin notices that Jessica's hug with Barbara is briefer and more perfunctory.

"Let me help with your bags," Marvin offers, moving toward the taxi where the driver is already unloading Jessica's luggage.

"Thanks, Daddy," Jessica says, the childish endearment somehow sounding different on her lips now. She walks ahead of him, her hips swaying in a way that makes Marvin quickly avert his eyes.

Later that evening, they sit around the dining table, Barbara serving the welcome-home dinner she's spent all day preparing.

"The food smells amazing, Barbara," Jessica says, though her eyes remain fixed on Marvin. "College cafeteria food is just awful. I've been dreaming of a home-cooked meal for months."

"Well, we're happy to have you back," Barbara says, setting down a bowl of mashed potatoes. "Aren't we, Marvin?"

Marvin nods, uncomfortable under Jessica's unwavering gaze. "Of course. The house has been too quiet without you."

Jessica reaches for the salt, her fingers deliberately brushing against Marvin's hand. "I bet you've enjoyed the privacy, though," she says with a smile that carries an undertone he can't quite identify. "You know, not having to worry about being too loud in the bedroom."

Barbara nearly drops the gravy boat. "Jessica!"

"What?" Jessica laughs. "I'm an adult now. We can talk about these things, can't we?" She takes a sip of water, her eyes never leaving Marvin's face over the rim of her glass.

Marvin clears his throat. "How are your classes going? Still enjoying psychology?"

The next few days establish an uncomfortable pattern. Jessica emerges from her bedroom each morning in progressively more revealing outfits. By Thursday, she's padding around the house in tiny shorts and a tank top that leaves little to the imagination.

"Isn't it a bit cold for that?" Marvin asks, trying to keep his eyes on her face as she stretches in the kitchen doorway, arms raised above her head.

"I run hot," Jessica replies with a smirk. "Don't you think I look good, Dad? College has been good to me, don't you think?"

Before Marvin can formulate a response, Barbara walks in. "Jessica, honey, maybe put on something more appropriate for breakfast?"

Jessica rolls her eyes. "God, I'm not a child anymore. Stop treating me like one." She saunters to the refrigerator, bending over unnecessarily low to grab the orange juice from the bottom shelf.

Marvin turns away, focusing intently on his coffee mug. His heart races uncomfortably, and he silently curses himself for even noticing her figure.

This afternoon, Marvin works from home in his study. A knock on the door interrupts his concentration.

"Come in," he calls, expecting Barbara.

Jessica slips inside, closing the door behind her. She's changed into a sundress that clings to her curves, the neckline dipping low.

"Am I bothering you, Daddy?" she asks, moving to stand behind his chair. She places her hands on his shoulders, beginning to massage them. "You look so tense."

Marvin stiffens. "I'm just finishing some work," he says, trying to scoot his chair forward, away from her touch.

"You work too hard," she murmurs, her fingers digging into his muscles. "Let me help you relax."

"Jessica," he says firmly, standing up and putting the chair between them. "I appreciate the thought, but I'm fine."

She pouts. "You never used to push me away before college."

"You were a child then," he says, immediately regretting his words.

Her eyes flash. "But I'm not anymore, am I?" She takes a step closer. "You've noticed, haven't you?"

The door swings open, and Barbara steps in, her face changing as she observes the situation. "Dinner is almost ready."

"Thanks for the talk, Daddy," Jessica says, her demeanor instantly changing. She brushes past Barbara with a saccharine smile.

Tonight, Marvin finds Barbara sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair with short, agitated strokes.

"Have you observed Jessica's behavior towards you since her return?" she asks, catching his gaze in the mirror.

Marvin sits heavily on the bed. "Her behavior? What are you getting at?"

"She's..." Barbara struggles for words. "She's acting inappropriately toward you. You've noticed, right?"

"I suppose not," he fibs, attempting to conceal his embarrassment despite having done nothing wrong. "What have you actually observed?"

"She watches you," Barbara says quietly. "All the time. Like she's... I don't even want to say it."

"No, tell me what you think she's doing," he said. It sounds flippant, but something inside him is desperate for Barbara to articulate the unthinkable, to put the suspicion in words so he can dismiss it, laugh at it, set it out in the open for what it was.

Barbara presses her lips together. "Like she's trying to seduce you," she says at last, each word jagged and ugly in the quiet room.

Marvin understands Barbara's point but struggles to accept it. He replies, "Barbara, please. I think you're over-analyzing the situation. She's our daughter, and she's just a bit rebellious, pushing limits. That's typical for kids returning from college." Even as he says it, he realizes how weak and unconvincing his words sound, even to his own ears.

Barbara's brush slows. "She's not a kid, Marvin. She's nineteen now. And she's not acting out around me. Just you. Maybe you should talk to her."

If that's what you want, honey, I'll talk to her about it, he says, trying to sound authoritative but mostly feeling like a fraud.

Barbara nods, relief and skepticism flickering over her face in equal measure. She sets down the brush and turns off the vanity light, leaving them both in shadow.

The next morning, Marvin waits until Barbara leaves for work before seeking out Jessica. He lingers outside her door, fist poised to knock, debating whether to give her privacy or barge in like a parent with real authority. He settles on a limp tap.

"Come in," Jessica calls, her voice clear and untroubled.

He opens the door. She is on her bed with her legs tangled in a nest of sheets, laptop open in front of her, scrolling through something on the screen. She wears a loose t-shirt and panties, bare legs stretched out, toes flexing unconsciously in the morning sun. Marvin averts his eyes, focusing on the posters she's hung on the wall—quirky, feminist slogans, a cartoon cat flipping the bird. He coughs into his fist.

He clears his throat. "Can we talk?" It comes out softer than he'd intended, his voice barely scraping over the hum of her desk fan.

Jessica closes the laptop without hesitation and sits upright, tucking her knees beneath her. She looks at him with an expectant, half-lidded gaze. "Sure, Dad, what's up?"

He wishes she'd at least pulled the shirt down over her thighs. "Listen, I know you're home for the summer, and that's a big adjustment after your first year away. But could you be a little more... mindful? About boundaries?"

"What boundaries are you talking about, Dad?" she asks, looking confused.

Marvin sits next to his daughter on her bed and wishes he hadn't. The mattress dips, their knees almost touching. He notices she wears the faint scent of some citrus lotion, a bright tang that makes him feel suddenly, terribly exposed.

"I’m not trying to lecture you,” he says, “but some of the things you say, and, uh, some of the things you wear—your mom’s worried it’s…” He trails off, realizing he can’t finish the sentence without sounding both prudish and perverted. He looks at her, helpless.

“Worried it’s what?” Jessica presses, eyes wide and guileless. She leans toward him. “You can say it.”

He glances at the half-open door, then back at her. “Barbara thinks you’re acting inappropriately. That maybe you…” He struggles for the right word—flirts? Provokes? “You know that you’re acting out, somehow.”

Jessica’s lips twitch, but she keeps her voice even, placing a hand on his thigh while she says, "It’s not an act, Daddy. In fact, I can see you trying to hide how much you like it.”

Her hand lingers, warm and heavy, through the thin cotton of his pants. Marvin’s heart stutters at her words and her touch, but his limbic system, stupid and ancient, floods him with heat regardless.

Marvin removes her hand. "Jessica, this has to stop."

"What?" she asks, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

"This. It's inappropriate. I’m your father."

Jessica laughs, the sound sharp and nothing like the girl he remembers. "Oh, please, we're not even related by blood. Don't pretend you haven't thought about it."

Marvin stands up, shock coursing through him. "What? Of course, we're related. What are you talking about?"

"Mom told me before she died," Jessica says with a shrug. "That you're not my biological father. So technically, there's nothing wrong with what I’m feeling. What we’re both feeling."

"I don't know what your mother told you, but I am your father," Marvin says firmly, even as confusion clouds his thoughts. "And regardless, Barbara and I raised you. This conversation is completely inappropriate."

Jessica stands, moving close enough that he can smell her perfume. "Tell me you don't feel anything when I do this," she whispers, pressing her body against his and tilting her face up toward his.

Marvin grabs her shoulders and physically sets her away from him. "This stops now," he says, his voice shaking with anger and something else he refuses to acknowledge. "If you can't respect boundaries in this house, we’ll need to discuss other living arrangements."

Jessica’s face contorts with anger. "Fine," she spits. "Keep lying to yourself. But we both know the truth." She storms out of her bedroom, leaving Marvin sitting there, his heart pounding and his mind reeling with confusion and disturbing questions about the young woman who has returned to their home.

Marvin finds Jessica in the master bathroom two days later, rifling through the medicine cabinet. She jumps when she sees him reflected in the mirror, quickly closing her hand around something small. The guilty flash in her eyes makes his stomach tighten.

"What are you doing in here?" he asks, keeping his voice level despite the boundary violation.

"I just needed some aspirin," Jessica says, though her clenched fist suggests otherwise. "Couldn't find any in the main bathroom."

Marvin extends his hand. "What did you take?"

Jessica hesitates before uncurling her fingers, revealing an orange prescription bottle. Marvin recognizes it immediately–Barbara's hormone medication, prescribed years ago during their last failed attempt at fertility treatments.

"Why do you have this?" he asks, taking the bottle from her.

Jessica's expression shifts from one of being caught to one of calculation. "I was curious. These are fertility hormones, aren't they? I didn't know Barbara had trouble getting pregnant."

The casual way she says it makes Marvin's chest tighten with protective anger. "That's private," he says sharply. "Our medical information isn't for you to snoop through."

"But you wanted children, didn't you?" Jessica presses, not backing down. "Real children of your own?"

"You need to leave our bathroom. Now." Marvin points to the door, struggling to maintain his composure.

Jessica brushes past him, her body unnecessarily close. "It's sad, really," she murmurs. "A man like you should have children. Someone should give you that."

The comment lodges in Marvin's mind like a splinter, irritating and impossible to ignore.

Over the next few days, Jessica's behavior becomes more deliberate. She no longer pretends her actions are innocent. At breakfast, she licks yogurt from her spoon while maintaining eye contact with Marvin. She "accidentally" drops things when he's nearby, bending slowly to retrieve them. She touches him constantly–a hand on his arm, fingers brushing his when passing dishes, sitting so close their thighs press together.

Worst of all, Marvin finds himself noticing the curve of her breast when she leans forward, catching the scent of her shampoo when she passes, seeing the smooth expanse of her legs when she stretches out on the couch.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he thinks one evening, locked in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face.

"She's my daughter. This is sick." But his body betrays him, responding to images he can't seem to push from his mind.

"You're quiet tonight," Barbara comments as they prepare for bed.

"Just tired," Marvin lies, unable to look at his wife. The guilt is a physical weight in his chest. How could he explain the twisted thoughts creeping into his consciousness? The dreams that wake him, sweating and aroused? He's disgusted with himself, yet can't seem to exorcise the forbidden images.

The next morning, Marvin leaves early for work, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the house. He returns late, hoping Jessica will be out with friends. Instead, he finds her alone in the kitchen, Barbara having left a note about meeting a colleague for dinner.

"Just us tonight," Jessica says, her smile predatory. She's wearing a thin tank top with no bra, the outline of her nipples visible through the fabric. "I made dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Marvin says, moving toward the stairs.

Jessica blocks his path. "We need to talk, Marvin."

The use of his first name stops him cold. "Don't call me that."

"Why not? It's your name." She steps closer. "And we're not really father and daughter, are we? Not biologically."

"Stop saying that. It's not true," Marvin says, though a seed of doubt has taken root.

“Would explain this... whatever this is between them? No.” He shuts down the thought immediately.

"I raised you. I'm your father in every way that matters."

"But don't you feel it?" Jessica whispers, moving closer. "This connection between us? It's chemical, primal."

She reaches for his hand, guiding it toward her stomach. "I could give you what she can't. A baby. Your baby."

Marvin yanks his hand away as if burned, but not before his fingers register the warmth of her skin, sending an unwanted jolt of arousal through him.

"This is insane," he says, his voice shaking. "You need to stop this, Jessica."

"I'm not the one fighting what I want," she replies. "I've seen how you look at me when you think no one's watching."

The accuracy of her observation hits him like a physical blow.

"Has he been that transparent?" The thought that his perverse struggle might be visible makes him sick with shame.

"This conversation is over," he says, pushing past her and fleeing upstairs.

Every night, Marvin lies awake beside Barbara, his body rigid with tension. His mind keeps replaying Jessica's words, the feel of her skin under his fingers. His cock stirs, and he rolls away from his sleeping wife, disgusted with himself.

“What kind of monster gets hard thinking about his daughter?” He slips out of bed and into the bathroom, turning the shower to its coldest setting.

Marvin stands under the cold shower, trying to wash away memories of Jessica. He towels off and returns to bed, where Barbara sleeps undisturbed. Guilt gnaws at him, but he dreams of Jessica anyway.

Jessica, meanwhile, lies awake planning. She reads about sedatives, determined to act if subtle seduction fails. She texts her parents about a special dinner, and they respond with forced enthusiasm.

The next evening, Marvin sits with Barbara, trying not to watch Jessica in the kitchen. Guilt stabs him as he notices her curves. Jessica announces dinner with an unfamiliar tone, holding Marvin's gaze a moment too long.

She bends to reach into the refrigerator, exposing her thighs. Marvin looks away, but Jessica notices his struggle. When Barbara leaves for the bathroom, Jessica crushes pills and mixes them into Barbara's food. She hides the bottle just as Barbara returns.

"Dinner's served!" Jessica announces, placing three plates on the dining table. She makes a show of choosing which one goes where, eventually setting the doctored plate in front of Barbara's usual chair.

Barbara returns, and Marvin pulls out her chair. Jessica pours the wine—a rich, deep red that sloshes dangerously close to the rim of their glasses. She fills Marvin's to the brim, her fingers brushing against his as she hands him the glass.

"To family," Jessica toasts, her eyes locked on Marvin's over the rim of her glass.

Barbara drinks deeply, but Marvin only sips, uneasy with the electricity crackling between himself and Jessica. He forces himself to focus on his food.

"This is delicious, Jess," Barbara says, already reaching for her wine again. Jessica is quick to refill it, making sure Barbara's glass never dips below half-full.

"I'm glad you like it," Jessica says, but she's looking at Marvin. Under the table, her bare foot finds his ankle, sliding up his calf. He jerks, nearly spilling his wine.

"You okay?" Barbara asks, her voice already taking on a slight slur.

"Fine," Marvin croaks. "Just—the wine went down wrong."

Jessica's foot retreats, but her gaze doesn't. She cuts into her chicken, lifts a piece to her mouth, and wraps her lips around her fork with deliberate slowness. Her tongue darts out to catch a drop of sauce at the corner of her mouth.

Marvin shifts in his seat, his pants growing uncomfortably tight. He crosses his legs under the table, but it doesn't help, especially when Jessica stands to clear the appetizer plates.

She leans over him, her breasts brushing against his shoulder as she reaches for his plate. "Let me take care of that for you," she whispers, her breath hot against his ear.

Barbara doesn't seem to notice, her eyelids already growing heavy. She blinks slowly, struggling to focus on her wine glass as she lifts it again.

In the kitchen, Jessica bends at the waist to load the dishwasher, knowing full well that Marvin can see her from his seat. The hem of her dress rides up, revealing the lacy edge of her panties. He tears his gaze away, heart hammering in his chest.

"You're very...