"She missed you, too."

Abby's stomach fluttered.  "Hello, Stanley."

"Abby, wanna play with us?"  Holly's voice pulled her back to reality.

"What?"

"Play football with us!"  She tugged on Abby's hand.  "C'mon, we can be a team against my dad!  Please, Abby?"

"I don't know, Holly," Abby smiled at the girl.  "I'm not very good at sports."

"I'll take it easy on you," Stan chimed in.

"You will, huh?  That sounds like a challenge," Abby replied.

"Take it anyway you want to."

Abby picked up the ball.  "Ok, Holly, let's go."

Stan paused to catch his breath, scowling at Abby, who stood on the other side of the makeshift goal line for the third time.  "Thought you said you couldn't play.  I think you lied, Abigail."

She started walking towards him.  "I did not!  I never said I couldn't play.  I said I wasn't very good at it.  And apparently neither are you!"

Holly started laughing.  "She's gotcha there, Dad!"

"We'll see who's got who!" he called out and started running.

Abby's eyes widened as Stan came at her.  She turned and started sprinting as fast as she could, but she was no match for Stan's long legs.  He quickly caught up to her and grabbed her around the waist, but momentum carried them forward and they tumbled to the ground.

Stan twisted around so he wouldn't land on top of Abby.  "Oof," she lay sprawled on top of him and started giggling.  "I thought this was touch football."

Stan had been going to reply but the word 'touch' stopped him.  He became aware of the feminine form pressed against him.  She was rounded in all the right places and in spite of her small stature, she fit him perfectly

.
Laughing, Abby looked down at him and her giggles faded away.  The intense look in his eyes, combined with his hand sliding up her back, took her breath
away.

"Abigail," he whispered.  His hand in her hair slowly brought her lips toward his.  He watched as her blue eyes slid shut.  The world disappeared.  All that mattered was her.

"Stan."  A male voice broke the spell.  Abby's eyes flew open; she realized exactly where she was...what had been about to happen.  Instantly, she rolled off
Stan and jumped up.  The voice belonged to a nice looking man in a suit.

"Stan, I need to talk to you privately." he looked pointedly at Abby, who took the hint.

"I'm just gonna go talk to Holly," and she took off.

"She's not your usual type, Stan," the man observed.

"She's Holly's friend," he answered.  "What are you doing here, Roberts?"

"We need your help, Stan.  Someone has been looking around in our systems."

Stan frowned.  "You've got your own people to take care of that.  I told you after the last time, I just want to be left alone to raise my daughter."

Abby glanced over at Stan.  He didn't seem too pleased with the man he was talking to.  "Holly, who is that?"  The girl looked up.

"Mr. Roberts.  Dad sometimes works for him."  Well, Holly didn't seem concerned, but Abby wondered why Stanley was so troubled.
  
"Stan, you know if I could have handled this internally, I would have."  Roberts paused, watching Holly and Abby toss the football to each other.  "Stan,
they've been very interested in any information we have on you."

"Fuck." 

There were four places for dinner at the Jobson house that night.  Mr. Roberts was a pleasant enough man, but Abby couldn't shake the sense of foreboding she felt.  It didn't help that Stanley was so obviously distracted.

After dinner, Abby excused herself.  She hugged Holly a little tighter than usual and made her way to the door.  Stan followed her.

"Abigail, I'm sorry I wasn't very good company tonight."

She smile gently.  "No apologies needed."

Stan continued, "And about today, at the park,"

"Don't give it another thought," Abby replied, glad the gathering darkness hid her blush.  "You've got a lot on your mind.  I can tell that whatever you and Mr. Roberts discussed really bothered you.  I'll see you soon."  She turned to go, "Good nite, Stanley."

"Abigail," he took her hand.

"Yes, Stanley," she winced inside at the hopeful sound in her voice.

He paused, then made up his mind about something.  "Can I stop by the shop tomorrow?"

Abby's heart fell.  "Of course you can."

"Well, good nite then."  He released her hand and watched her walk into the night.

In the wee hours of the morning, Stan lay awake.  He and Roberts had come up with a plan and Stan was to start implementing it immediately.

But Stan was too preoccupied to sleep.  It wasn't Roberts showing up either;  Abby had that wrong.  It was what had happened earlier, at the park, that had
Stan troubled.

He could not forget the way Abby had felt in his arms, or how badly he had wanted to kiss her.  He wasn't sure when she had become more than Holly's
friend.  He couldn't pin it on just one thing.  It was everything about her, which puzzled and worried him.  He was usually attracted to women who were...well, who were more beautiful, at least on the outside.  But they were never good for anything but sex.  Stan could never carry on a conversation with them.  And he
certainly couldn't picture any one of them playing football with him and Holly.

That was another thing.  He would never let any of those women around his daughter.  But Abby and Holly had a special relationship that had nothing to do with him.  Abby loved his daughter; he could see it in her eyes.

Abby's eyes.  They were definitely the windows to her soul.  Every emotion she felt shone through them.  He had seen them sparkle with happiness, flash with
anger and wince with pain.  Would they darken with passion?  He wanted to find out.

He wanted to put his hands on the curvy, little body he'd discovered today.  How had he ever thought her overweight?  The few extra pounds gave her a
voluptuousness that he really wasn't used to.  He remembered the feel of her breasts pressing against his chest, her hips settled square against his.  Even now, with just the memory of it, his manhood stood erect.  He wrapped his hand around the stiffening shaft and slowly started pumping as his memory turned to her mouth.

He pictured her lips, how they had softened, preparing for his kiss.  His rhythm increased as memory turned into fantasy; those soft lips sliding down what he held in his hand.  Her tongue swirling around him; the wet, warmth of her mouth as she sucked his essence from him.  Stan groaned as his body shook from its climax.  He toweled himself off and as sleep crept over him, he promised himself that he'd make his fantasy, a reality.