The Vaunt Apartment Complex, Southport, New Jersey.....
6:00 A.M.
A blaring alarm awoke a slumbering man nearing middle age as he climbed out of bed and shuffled his way toward the lavatory. He wore light blue pajama pants with white thick cotton socks and slid across the floor avoiding the cold due to his black slippers as he moved toward the white toilet bowl. A yawn escaped his lips as he stood over the bowl fishing out his cock in a bid to relieve himself. It was going to be another long day for him as he had worked before the sun went down and after while simultaneously having the responsibility of looking after his little girl who was due to get up for school just as she had every morning. After finishing up at the toilet bowl and flushing he walked over toward the sink. He stared into the mirror that loomed above the white porcelain sink and into the reflection of his rather strange eyes. By all accounts, he'd been told he was a handsome man, if ruggedly so with an impressive jawline and given to the frequent need to shave his face ever so often due to rapid hair growth.
As a child, he was often teased for his large forehead which he often covered with his rapidly growing hair. In the present, he had something of a traditional trimming in a bid to make himself more presentable when he stood before an entire class filled with inquisitive young students of middle school age. Behind closed doors, he was an impressive sight, with well-toned abs always hidden beneath a white men's tank top and powerful and well-toned legs that contributed to his impressive range of height. Of course, being six-two didn't automatically make him good at sporting events. He was largely uncoordinated his entire life despite being a lifelong fan of basketball.
His eyes were an odd sort being blue with a splash of brown in one due to a sort of mutation at birth which often got the attention of a lot of female admirers were often hidden behind thick-lensed glasses with a thin golden frame as he moved about carrying books of any and every sort from his usual day to day. He was an avid lover of Shakespearean works and something of a history buff, which contributed to his teaching 7th-grade history. He loved literature and music especially classical period pieces and even took to classic tunes with Motown sound due to his years of being married to a woman of color and her interesting ranges of taste.
The newly awakened man looked down at the silver band on his ring finger feeling a wave of sadness and doing a bit of reflecting as he thought back on the times he'd spent with his wife. They were quite the pair in their day and he still couldn't bring himself to accept the fact that she'd been gone. Her name was Veronica Steele and she was as bold and charismatic as any woman he'd ever met. He was intoxicated by her beauty, which was exotic in a sense as far as he was concerned. She was his intellectual equal and rival of all things, but she was a woman who loved him and agreed to be his wife despite their initial clash upon their first meeting. She was a dedicated secretary and he was fumbling about in a library when he bumped into her.
He didn't think much of Americans, as he was British-born and raised for most of his life and she was most definitely American despite having lived in England since she'd been six years old. They clashed more often than not every time he had to venture to the library and she was there with snide comments and sarcastic remarks. He grew to like their verbal spats and often returned just to indulge in them as an excuse to see her. She seemed to have been fond of them as well and eventually, she got him to work up the courage to ask her out for coffee.
He introduced himself as Victor Harlowe and the rest was history. After a month of dating, she became his wife and they lived together quite happily with him teaching, which often prompted her to refer to him as "Professor" which was her initial insult to him when they met. He thought the whole thing amusing. Veronica was a force of nature given to grace and acrobatics, unlike anything Victor had ever seen. The day she informed him that she'd been pregnant with their first child who would sadly turn out to be their only child was the second happiest day of his life.
Veronica gave birth to Savannah Victoria Harlowe on a cold September day fourteen years before the day he'd been staring at his reflection in the mirror. The three of them were a happy family of sorts until Victoria reached the tender age of three when the accident occurred taking Veronica from them forever devastating the now widower and leaving him the responsibility of raising their daughter alone.
There wasn't a day that went by that Victor didn't mourn the loss of his lovely wife as she'd been the only woman in the world for him. No matter how many women approached him for companionship his heart remained with Veronica and the duties of being a father to Savannah far outweighed pursuits of personal pleasure. That was not to say that he didn't indulge when he felt the need as he began an intimate entanglement after a particularly intoxicating Christmas party with a fellow teacher by the name of Charlotte Freedman.
Charlotte and Victor found themselves more often than not seeking each other out for sexual gratification ever since. Although he had not been in love with her nor seeking an actual relationship due to still being madly in love with his deceased wife.
Veronica had been gone for eleven years and the pain didn't seem to subside in the least. When Victor had the displeasure of collecting her body from the morgue, he was shocked to find that she'd been killed of all things due to having her throat ripped out at the vein. Victor was hard-pressed to find the murderer, but following a close call that nearly ended his life, he eventually fled England for America, the country in which his wife was born and her home state of New Jersey where he elected to raise their only daughter in peace and surrounded via the birthplace of her mother.
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Savannah's Bedroom, The Vaunt Apartment Complex, Southport, New Jersey.....
6:30 A.M
Like clockwork, Savannah Victoria Harlowe awoke and immediately began to stretch and pull out her attire for the upcoming school day. She was only fourteen years old but had a knack for organization and fashion taste well beyond her years. Her father, Victor Harlowe always likened her tastes to that of her late mother whom she had only seen in pictures and heard about via stories when her father had been feeling up to tell them. It wasn't difficult for her to see how much her mother meant to her father and the sometimes sad expression that filed across his face now and again whenever he thought of her. It also didn't escape her notice that despite being overly protective, he only allowed her to spend the night at her best friend's house on occasion due to needing to grieve in peace over the loss of his wife without her knowing about it.
Savannah sighed and made her way over toward the large rectangular mirror that sat vertically along the back of her closet door. She got a look at her reflection, which was an odd mix of both her mother's and father's features. She was clearly like her mother in terms of body structure but had her father's shoulders and eye color...the same blue hue with splashes of brown she stared into every when speaking with him, along with his grade of brown hair that grew rapidly every day to the point that they had to trim it often. Victor was always quick to comment on her boldness and spirit being like that of her mother especially when she attempted to challenge his authority in the manner that all children had with their parents at some point.
He would often smile and laugh whenever he saw it greatly amused, but not budging nonetheless.
Savannah's complexion was light, but a slightly darker variant than her father's and much lighter than her mother's complexion in old family photos that made it during their travels. It always made her smile despite being a bit sad that her parents were very much in love and it showed in the photos.
The course curly brown hair that she inherited from her father wasn't at all fun to manage when she attempted new styles to express her rapid change in tastes and he was further amused by her attempts that failed as he knew all too well that she'd have difficulty with his grade of hair.
Being born male he simply let it be and trimmed it when necessary. She resolved to get dressed in her school uniform which consisted of a navy blue dress skirt, a short sleeve button-up shirt white in color, and heavily polished shoes befitting all girls with silver buckles on the sides where the shoe fastened onto the foot. She was forced to wear a female tie as was the norm for the school colors.
Despite her issue with the school's fashion sense, her father's style of dress had been no better in that he was given to always wearing stereotypical tweed attire when teaching along with his tendency to wear glasses that often had mean boys and girls referring to him as a dork effectively angering Savannah to no end.
He didn't seem to mind the name-calling and ignored it all the time. She began to take note that he was possibly used to being made fun of for his style of dress at this point in his life. Whenever she questioned him about it he always remarked how it had always been good enough for her mother and that was all that mattered.
Recalling this now, Savannah smiled and got dressed for the day before rushing out to meet her father who had been dressed as well in his usual tweed style of a suit but this time he'd been partial to a gray color.
It was just another typical day for The Harlowe family and Victor Harlowe seemed to be quite right with that even if his daughter wasn't.