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She's married to the Corps.

He later confirmed that assumption.

They were without a printer but what she pulled up on-screen satisfied him. He told her their completed work looked exactly like what appeared on-screen when his chief accountant worked with him.

"I'm amazed."

"You shouldn't be daddy. I'm an amazing woman. Continue doodling around here, I'm off to cook lunch,"

As the repeat smell of breakfast of fresh fish fillets cooked in sunflower oil drifted through the small combined kitchen/living room, Sierra put a glass of dry white wine in front of her father.

"After that heart scare I've been advised to moderate my drinking."

"Then drink dry wine and cut out whisky."

"I like whisky."

"That's fine - we all will die of something."

"You don't sound like your mother."

"I don't, do I Mr Snake?"


Sierra said she was serving and would join him in a minute.

Duncan wanted to avoid a heart attack and Sierra wanted to control her weight, so the lightly cooked fish was served just with parsley (picked growing wild beside the mint box outside the front door) and she added six low-cal potato chips and half a sliced tomato to each plate.

"Is this lunch?" he groaned, looking at what sat before him.

"Shut up - take a mouthful of wine, swallow slowly then chew on a piece of fish."

He obliged. "Oh baby," he drooled, eyes closed.

"Shut up, daddy, you sound obscene," she giggled, greatly pleased. Hers tasted s-o-o-o beautiful.

They finished, he said it was a memorable meal and she said, "Tell me about your women daddy?"

"Haven't we had this conversation before? If we have then once in a lifetime is once too often, in my opinion. Ask me questions that normal women ask their fathers."

She simply ignored him, knowing from her years in reporting silence can be productive. After a brief wait she rattled out a batch of three short questions to provoke him: "Do you bring them here, how many at a time, and what do you do with them in this lair?"

Duncan overfilled his wine glass, neither moving to wipe the spill.

She held out her glass. "Yes thank you."

He half-filled it. That took about the same time as counting to twenty, so that initial angry retort to her first question was safely out the way.

"Sweetie, you are stressing your daddy. If you must know the occasional business friend, female, who I've brought here to help with a project has never been accompanied. That's all."

"Then you are declining to tell me you haven't pounded one of your business consultants on this table or leaned her over the bench?"

"Why are you doing this to your daddy? This is outrageous."

"Oh, just to reveal to you what a snake you are to mommy and me. You fuck your fancy women here on mommy's bed and no doubt at home as well and..."

"That's enough - that's enough, Sierra. I'm warning you," Duncan glowered. "Yes I admit being less than gallant to my wife, your mother. But what have I ever done to wrong you?"

"First, let me say the word you should have used is treacherous, not the wimpy 'less than gallant' over-gloss. I'm telling you that many of mommy's friends, learning of your infidelity, would call for castration, but to me it's acceptable as you have a life to live and the way mommy behaves so ladylike I would suspect she never has given you a good ride for your money, so to speak."

Sierra watched her father's eyes almost pop. But she also thought she had his interest, totally.

"Secondly, you knew in my teenage years you were nurturing a headstrong daughter, but apart from a few 'bad girl' reprimands did you do anything positive to effect real change? No you left it to mommy and we both know she can't even control the dog let alone the lawn mowing contractor and the home help woman."

Duncan tried to look repentant.

"I'm sorry, Sierra."

She snapped

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