Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: A Faithful Daughter


Summary: A missing mother brings a daughter and her father closer... 


Keywords:inc,fic,erotic,hot,young,mf,cheating,sex







   CHAPTER ONE

   Messages in Bottles

   =============================================

   I was ten when my mother went missing. 

   I remember the entire day, the week, the month, with dreadful clarity.
Mom had it marked on the calendar as "Our First Dateversary," one of many
minor days that she celebrated with my father.  I guess it was her way of
keeping the romance alive. 

   I wish I could forget much of it but I cannot, even with the help of
time and distance.  It started in the afternoon.  It was unseasonably hot
for the fall, even for the coast of North Carolina.  There had been storms
the previous day, and they'd left a thick humidity that made me feel sticky
and uncomfortable.  All I wanted as I walked home from school was a big
glass of water and our air-conditioning, but the door was locked, and
no-one answered my knocks.  Mom's car, usually in the driveway at this time
of day, wasn't there.  I even walked around the house and peeked in all the
windows.  Everything was dark, and there was no sign of movement.  I wasn't
sure what to do at first, so I got out a phone that my parents had given
me. I wanted something new and fancy, but they got me one with big buttons
and only the ability to call a few numbers.  I called my father at work.

   I was waiting on the doorstep of our small ranch house when he got home.
His dark brown eyes, usually soulful and expressive, were full of worry,
which scared me more than anything else.  He unlocked the door, but of
course, mother wasn't there.  He'd already called her cell but he continued
to do so throughout the evening, even though her phone was apparently
unreachable.  This worried us but wasn't in and of itself that unusual. 
Mom was infamous for forgetting to charge her phone and having the battery
run out.

   Although I'm sure he knew that they wouldn't take a missing-persons
report right away, he called the police.  The fact that mom wasn't home to
meet me as she was every day was enough for them to tell all of their
patrol units to be on the lookout for her.

   I was more of a hindrance than a help to him.  I was an observant and
sensitive child, and I knew this was more serious than my father made it
appear.  I stayed near him, always, afraid that he too would vanish.  When
he called Susan, my mother's best friend, over to watch me so that he could
go out looking for her, I cried, but I didn't ask him to stay.  I knew that
he had to go and that he couldn't take me with him.

   Susan was my regular babysitter and practically an aunt.  She made a
list of every hospital within 30 miles and then called each one in turn
while I helped by taking notes and checking names off.  I wasn't needed,
but it kept me busy.  By the time my father got home, it was almost
midnight.  I had been sleeping on the couch, and his arrival woke me up. 

   I could hear him speak with my mother's friend softly, and I pretended
to be asleep, so I could overhear them.

   "I drove every major road in the county, everywhere I could think of
that she might have gone or been today.  The only thing she mentioned was
going grocery shopping in the morning."

   "I called all the hospitals, and there wasn't anything.  After Allie
fell asleep, I called all of our mutuals and the church.  No one had seen
or heard from her today.  I'm sorry."

   "It's...it's all right.  You should go home, Susan.  You've done enough
today."

   "I can stay the night and watch after Allie.  It isn't any trouble."

   "No.  You should go rest.  I'll call you if I hear anything."

   "All right.  But I'm coming back tomorrow morning."

   I heard the door close.  I felt my father's large, reassuring hand on my
shoulder.  I didn't move.  I didn't want to wake up like this, with mom
still gone.  She was the center of our house.  We orbited her calm
stability and warm love.  Dad didn't try to wake me again; instead, he
picked me up in his strong arms and carried me to bed.  I cuddled into his
chest, and I'm sure that he knew that I was at least partially awake.  He
didn't say anything.  He just placed me in my bed and tucked me in.  He
kissed me on my head, as he always did, and closed the door behind him.

   I fell asleep, begging tomorrow to be different.

   * * *

   The next morning was different, although not in the way anyone would
have liked.  Dad called the police again, this time twenty-four hours after
the last time he'd seen mom.  They came out, a few patrol cars and one
detective.  Dad let me stay home from school, keeping me close.  I think
that he worried that I might vanish as well.

   I should have known that things would be bad when they asked dad for
permission to search our house.  Being honest, and maybe a little too
trusting, he agreed.  I remember police everywhere.  I remember my dad,
leading them to his car.  Now I know it was just an excuse to get him away
from me.  A nice man, harmless-looking and with a warm smile, approached
me. I was on the couch, dazed by the activity. 

   "Hey, honey, I'm Detective Barnes.  Do you mind if I ask you about your
mom?"

   "All right."

   "Great.  Some of these questions are going to seem a little funny, ok?
But we just want to find your mom, so we need to ask them."

   "Um, ok."

   If it helped find mom, I would answer questions.  If he had told me that
washing his car would have helped I would have done it, too.  I was
desperate to be useful and not just the child that I was. 

   "Do your father and mother ever fight?"

   "I guess so."

   "Do they ever shout or hit each other."

   "No."

   "Did they fight that morning?"

   "No.  Mom was happy."

   "Why was she happy?"

   "I dunno.  She just is in the mornings, I guess."

   "Ok.  Can you think of anyone who could be mad at your mom or who might
want to hurt her?"

   Up to this point, I had still been thinking that mom was just lost.  Or,
at worst, hurt in an accident and unable to tell us.  It hadn't even
occurred to me that someone could have hurt her on purpose.  Even if it
took me a little while to understand this, I wasn't as naive as I seemed. I
stayed up late sometimes and watched "adult" shows quietly in my room, by
which I mean stuff like Law & Order SVU and Forensic Files.  I put it all
together then.  He wasn't trying to help my mom, he was trying to blame my
dad.  He was going to take my dad away from me.

   "No!" I shouted, surprising the detective and everyone else in the room.

   "Honey, it's ok, I just have to ask..."

   "NO!  I know what you're doing!  My Daddy didn't hurt mom!  He loves
her, and you're not taking him away!"

   Thank god Susan showed up when she did.  I didn't think of it at the
time, but god-only-knows what my father would have done had he heard that.
I was his little girl, and if he thought anyone, including a
well-intentioned detective, was causing me harm or trauma, he'd have gotten
pretty angry, giving the police even more reason to suspect him. 

   "What are you doing?" Susan said as the screen door clattered behind
her, her indignation growing, her words coming fast and angry, "You can't
talk to her without her father present.  Why aren't you out looking for
Maria?  She'd never leave her husband and especially not Allie!  And Will
would never hurt her, they love each other."

   The heated exchange continued, but Susan had pulled me off of the couch
and held me close to her, hugging me.  I didn't need to hear the rest, in
any case.

   * * *

   After a week, the police became more insistent and less polite with
their questions.  Father spent more and more time talking to them down at
the station.  I began to hear words like "affair" and "body" thrown around
by gossips when no one thought I was listening.  I was always listening.

   Despite my pleading and crying, he sent me to stay with mom's parents.
They agreed that it would be best to keep me away from the increasing media
attention surrounding the case and now my father.  My world collapsed.  I
had already lost my mother, and now I was losing my father, too.

   I knew how these things went.  Everyone always thought it was the
husband.

   My grandparents lived north from us, inland and in a small, safe town. I
usually loved visiting them, especially in the fall, as they let me wander
and explore as I wanted.  This time though, I had no interest in leaving
their house.  I stayed inside.  I read and watched TV.  I waited for my
father.

   Papa and Nana, as I'd called them since I was old enough to speak, were
good people, who got along well with my father.  They were just as
vulnerable to the news coverage though.  I overheard them talking one early
morning.  They had assumed I would still be sleeping, but I hadn't slept
for more than a few hours each night since mom disappeared.

   "But honey," Nana said, "Will loves Maria.  I know what the news is
saying, but come on.  He's just not the man that they are painting him to
be."

   "Maybe not," Papa responded, a little anger coming out in his voice,
"but they keep saying that he had some kind of affair.  If he did that then
maybe we don't know him.  Maybe we never knew him."

   I'm sure Nana was about to object, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I
was angrier than I ever remembered being, and it gave me courage.  I knew
what affair meant.  It meant that dad didn't love mom anymore and that he
was sleeping with someone else.  I didn't understand sex yet, not really,
but I knew that affairs were Bad and Dirty and that people who had them
killed their wives or husbands. 

   Like I said, I watched a lot of Forensic Files.

   "Take me home!" I shouted.  Both of them looked up in shock.  I had
never yelled at them, never talked back.  Even when I thought their rules
were silly or they were old-fashioned, I knew that they loved me, wanted
what was best for me.  Now, I wasn't so sure.

   "Honey, we can't do that right now, your father is..."

   "I don't care!  You think he killed mom!  Everyone does!  I'm not
stupid, and I don't want to be with people like you!"

   I ran to my room, dramatic as only a ten-year-old girl in real emotional
distress can be.  They didn't follow me, understanding that I needed to be
alone.  I guess they called my father, however, because in about a
half-hour my phone range.

   "Daddy!  Take me home!  I don't want to be here anymore!"

   "I can't right now.  I want to, Allie, I really want you close, but I
can't." I'd never heard his voice like that before.  Sadness and fatigue
filled his words, and I grew less angry and more afraid.

   "Are...are you all right, daddy?"

   "That's what I should be asking you, silly girl." I smiled despite
myself.  Silly girl was what'd he'd called me my whole life.  It had
started to feel annoying as I got older, but now it gave me comfort.  It
was a little piece of normal I decided to cling to.

   "I'm fine, Daddy, but Papa is awful!  He thinks you killed mom!  He
thinks you were having affairs!"

   It wasn't precisely accurate.  Papa was, under the circumstances,
probably somewhat reasonably suspicious, but I couldn't forgive him.  I
couldn't forgive anyone who thought that my father was a killer.  He was
silent for a long time.

   "Allie, I need you to listen to me very carefully, all right?"

   "Ok, Daddy," I knew that I wouldn't like what he was going to say, but I
knew that I had to listen and be good and not cry.

   "A long time ago, before you were born, before your mom and I were
married, we dated in college.  About a year into our relationship, we had a
big, dumb fight over a girl that your mom thought I was too close too, and
we broke up.  Your mom was right to be angry.  I never cheated, but I dated
that girl for a few weeks after we broke up.  Your mom went on a few dates
too.  After a month or so, I ended it, and your mom and I got back
together. We went out for two more years before we got married.  I didn't
have any affairs, and neither did your mother, but that's how it's getting
reported.  I'm sorry."

   I didn't know why he was apologizing to me.

   "Then tell them that!  Tell Papa and then pick me up!"

   "Allie...I..." he stopped.  The silence on the phone made me fret.  I
could almost hear his mind working, deciding what to tell me and what to
leave unsaid.  Thinking about this years later, I can't imagine having to
make that kind of decision.  Finally, he just told me the truth. 

   "I think that they're going to arrest me, Allie.  I need you somewhere
safe and loved, and your Nana and Papa love you very much..."

   I don't remember the rest of the call.  All I remember was the tears.

   * * *

   I stayed with Papa and Nana for around two months.  Despite whatever
doubts they may have had, they ended up publicly supporting my father,
which meant a lot to me.  I withdrew into myself, but was good for them,
not wanting to give them reason to complain about my behavior.  I slept
very little and often cried, sometimes for no reason at all.  I just wanted
things to be back the way they were.  I just wanted mom back. 

   Then, something like a miracle happened.  Mom didn't return to me, but
my Daddy did.

   I was out running errands with Nana; when we got back, there he was-
just outside talking with Papa.  They weren't jovially laughing like they
usually were with each other, but there wasn't anything awkward or hostile.
They were just two men who shared the grief of my mother's absence.  I ran
into my father's arms, and he took me home.  We stopped at McDonald's on
the way home, and we talked about nothing, and he made the dumbest jokes,
and I loved him, more than ever.

   He told me that night that he was no longer under suspicion and that the
police would just look for Mom now, instead of wasting any more time
investigating him.  I didn't exactly believe the latter, but I was
overjoyed at the former.  A gas station attendant from about twenty miles
inland had finally come forward.  He saw mom and her car.  She had stopped,
filled the tank, and then drove off; away from the city, away from us.

   There was surveillance footage, too, with time stamps.  My father was at
work, much too far away, provably and verifiably through both witness
statements and computer-recorded security-badge scans.  Before that, the
police had assumed that he had waited until I had gone to school, killed
her, then somehow disposed of the car and the body in the hour or so of
free time he had before he logged in at his office.  It seems ridiculous to
me now, but I suppose it was all the police had to cling to.

   But this wonderful man had seen my mother, so father was exonerated,
completely.  The police still suspected foul play, but now they couldn't
just be lazy and assume it was my father.  Even though I missed my mother
dearly, I had regained the most important person in my life, and I was
grateful for that more than I could express.

   Time changed little for us.  Neither my mother nor any trace of her was
ever found.  The surveillance video was the last confirmed sighting of her,
alive or dead.  Some mean-spirited people still swore that my father was
involved in her disappearance, but by the time six months had rolled by,
the standard assumption was that she had simply left my father for a lover,
telling no one.

   I don't think anyone who actually knew her believed this, but these
things get around, and eventually, in the absence of any other facts,
become accepted truths.  With the passing of time, even I believed that she
had abandoned us, although I couldn't truly understand why. 

   At least I still had Daddy.  Life went on.

   =============================================

   CHAPTER TWO

   Storm Warning

   =============================================

   Five Years After The Disappearance

   People forgot about my family tragedy, which I was okay with.  I had my
father, and he had me; we needed no one else.  We naturally filled in for
the roles that mom had previously performed.  Well, not all of them, as I'm
sure you understand.  In particular, I became an excellent cook, both
because I wanted to preserve family recipes and to please my father in any
way possible, and he did love home cooking.

   I never really wanted father to go looking for new romance, but I
started to wonder if he was lonely, or had other needs.  When I was
fifteen, I'd asked him why he never dated anyone.  Well, specifically, I
asked him if he was dating Aunt Susan.  She wasn't really my aunt, but
after mom disappeared her informal title seemed to become a real one.  She
was and remains a good friend.  Daddy was also close to her, and they
always hugged and kissed when they saw each other, so naturally, I started
to make assumptions.

   He just laughed and shook his head.  Eventually, I found out two things
related to this conversation: One, Susan was a lesbian.  She had been in a
few long-term relationships, but nothing had stuck.  Soon after this
conversation, she'd started bringing Linda over when dad cooked BBQ or I
made something special.  She's still with her today, although I'm not sure
if they will ever get married.

   The second thing I learned was the reason why he would not date.  He was
almost adorably shy to open up about it, but eventually, after some
prodding, he admitted to it.

   "Allie, I don't know if your mother is alive or dead.  Sometimes I think
one way and sometimes the other.  Until I know, it doesn't matter.  I love
your mother, and I made a vow to her.  We both knew things could be
difficult when we got married, and we agreed to be true to each other no
matter what.  That's why I don't date.  Besides, at least for a little
while, I still have you at home, and you'll always be my best girl."

   I was almost stunned by his admission.  To me, it was romantic, but also
deeply sad.  Five years had passed, which for me was a considerable amount
of time.  And by this point, I had more or less fully accepted that mom had
left of her own free will and was never coming back.  I didn't know why she
would abandon us, but I was reasonably sure that she had.  I would never
say anything like that to my father, though, and I was perfectly fine with
being his only girl. 

   I tell myself that it was just because of the natural and platonic love
that I had for him then, but now, I doubt the purity of my intentions.

   If I'm honest, I knew something was wrong with me much earlier, I just
chose to ignore it.  I was dating a boy, you see.  Reggie was my first real
boyfriend.  He was thin and tall and pretty handsome.  He was also a huge
nerd, but I honestly found that endearing.  He was quiet and confident and
a bit sensitive.  In hindsight, he shared those qualities with my father.

   In any case, we'd been going out for a few weeks, maybe a month.  He
wasn't pushy, but things escalated as they do.  We went from holding hands
to kissing, to a little more.  Today was different, I knew.  I'd invited
him over to watch tv.  We both knew that more than that would happen.

   I felt the anticipation of seeing this handsome boy as well as the
illicit thrill of doing the adult and forbidden.  Also, I felt guilty.  I
told myself it was merely from old social rules about a woman's role.  I
was lying.

   When he got there, we talked awkwardly for a little while, but it was
clear what we both wanted.  We started to kiss, slowly at first, but soon
we were in the middle of an intense makeout session.  Well, intense for two
fifteen-year-old virgins, in any case.

   He turned out to really appreciate my body in a very sweet way.  I
thought of myself as fat back then, although Larissa told me that I was
"deliciously curvy." I consoled myself with the understanding that Reggie,
and men in general, tended to love large breasts.

   Things got a little out of hand.  Not in any non-consensual way.  Reggie
really was (and is) a good person and I wasn't going to push him to do
anything that he didn't want.  I don't think that either of us had intended
to do more than kiss, but as often happens with the young, things
intensified beyond our control.

   That was when I heard someone clearing their throat behind me. 

   We both jumped, and I think I made a little squeal of shock.  Daddy was
there, home early from work.  In our distraction, we hadn't heard the door
opening, and he was looking at us with something like a disapproving stare.

   "I think it's time for you to go home, Reggie," he said, simply. 
Surprisingly there wasn't any real anger in his voice.

   "Um.  Yes, sir," Reggie said, grabbing his bag and leaving with an
apologetic look towards me.  He didn't have anything to feel bad about.  If
anything, I didn't like leaving him all worked up without release.  But I
did feel something, deep in the pit of my stomach.  I told myself that it
was fear of punishment.  It wasn't.

   I stood up and adjusted my clothes.  They were disheveled, but
everything was still buttoned and in place.  I straightened my hair as if
that made any difference.  I found myself unable to meet my father's eyes.

   "Are you all right?" he asked.

   I blinked in surprise.

   "Y...yes.  Reggie didn't...he would never...um..."

   "So you're saying that what you were doing was something you wanted?"

   God, I hated it when he said it like that.  But it was true.

   "Um.  Yes, Daddy.  I'm..., I'm sorry."

   He sighed.

   "Well, I knew this day would come.  The part that worries me was that
you did this when I wasn't home, and I had no idea you were together.  I
like Reggie, I really do.  I want to trust you, though.  Can I trust you?"

   "Yes, Daddy."

   "All right.  I know that you know about sex and how to have it safely.
Were you planning on having sex today?"

   I shook my head.  I don't think either of us was planning to go beyond
hand stuff, but I really did not want to explain that to my father.

   "Do you have condoms?"

   I nodded, and without thinking took one out of my purse to show him. 
Larissa had given some to me just in case.  She was a good friend.

   He blushed a little.  I blushed a lot.

   "Good," he said, coming over and kind of giving me an awkward side-hug.
It did make me feel better.

   "I'm...I'm really sorry, Daddy," I said.  I honestly was although I
couldn't admit the reason to myself, or to him.  I felt the beginning of
tears in my eyes.  Why?  He wasn't judgmental or upset.  If anything, he
just wanted to be sure that I was safe.

   "It's...well I'm not going to say okay," he said, and cracked a smile,
"because I'm not sure I'm ready to accept that my best girl might be ready
for sex.  But what I'm ready for doesn't matter.  Do you want to be on the
pill?  I think that...that your mother would have asked you a while ago,
and I'm sorry for not doing it sooner."

   I did want that.  I wanted it for a while, just in case.  Besides, my
periods tended to be very difficult in my youth, which isn't uncommon.  I'd
heard from Hana that it could help. 

   I also wanted to be on it for other reasons.  So I could be...ready. 
But for what?

   "All right.  I'll call the doctor and make an appointment. 
Please...just be careful until you get started on birth control?  And
after."

   "I will, Daddy.  I promise."

   He smiled.  I could tell he was a little sad, but it wasn't
disappointment, more like watching his daughter, his little girl, grow up
and away from him.  I felt awful, though.  I couldn't articulate it then,
but now I would imagine it felt like being caught cheating by someone that
you genuinely love.

   Seven Years After The Disappearance

   Before I get into the events that changed our lives forever, I need to
discuss my own life.  I hope that it doesn't bore you, but it is necessary
to understand how things unfolded, especially if you aren't to think of me
too harshly.

   I didn't have a bad life.  Home was quiet, and when Daddy was traveling,
lonely.  I had few friends, but they were all close to me.  Larissa was my
best friend and had been since I'd started middle school.  She was outgoing
where I was introverted, her hair was blonde where mine was dark, and she
was petite where I tended to be more curvaceous.  We were a perfect balance
for each other, even if our opposing natures sometimes clashed.  Bethany, a
fine looking girl on her way to being valedictorian, and Hana, a true music
lover and lead singer for her own garage band, completed our circle.

   As my senior year started and my eighteenth birthday approached, I began
to feel something, neither something purely good or bad.  It was halfway
between anxiety and anticipation if that makes any sense.  I tried to stay
in touch with my feelings, and it seemed like they were telling me that a
significant opportunity would arrive soon, but only for a brief window.

   I remember that it was a Monday, and that my birthday was that Saturday.
On Friday I was planning on celebrating with my friends, but then on
Saturday, I'd asked dad to take me out of town.  We hadn't had anything
like a real vacation together in two years.  He was busy at work, but a lot
of it was my fault, believing myself too old to enjoy such things. 

   As I matured, I realized that soon I'd be gone to college, where I would
meet new friends and probably find a boy or girlfriend.  My father would be
all alone.  Not only that, but he wouldn't allow himself the same kind of
opportunities for romance that most single empty-nesters had.  He'd just be
here, in our hometown, forever waiting for Mom to come back to him. 

   The very thought broke my heart.  I couldn't really share that with him,
as it would make him feel guilty.  He'd always strove to give me the best
possible experience, wanting me to enjoy my youth as much as possible.  In
return, I resolved to spend as much time as I could with him before I left
for college, especially quality time.  The kind of experiences that he
could look back on fondly while I was away.  Which is why I'd asked him to
take me up the coast.  There was a small resort community, mostly dead at
this time of year, with a lot of lovely places to stay, good food, and
shops.  It was only a few hours away, too, so it wouldn't be hard to get
back by Monday.

   Naturally, I told myself, this was all for him.  Why would I have any
ulterior motives for being alone with my father at a romantic destination?

   Why indeed.

   * * *

   My realization began the Monday before our fateful trip.

   It wasn't really a formal party or anything, but Hana and Larissa had
come over to hang out and swim in our pool.  It was still warm out, but the
evenings were getting colder, so we were enjoying the good weather while it
lasted.  This wasn't particularly abnormal.  Hana wore a small-ish
one-piece, but mine was very modest.  I had a lot of insecurities about my
weight then and was terrified of judgment.  Never mind my curvy hourglass
had been gathering attention for years at school.  Larissa, being who she
was, wore a bikini.  It wasn't all that daring, the top being more like a
sports bra (at least in part because she was ironically very insecure of
her small, but damn near perfect, breasts), but the bottoms were fantastic.
They gripped her butt and showed it off, and we let her know.

   I know that the stereotype of teenage girls is a bunch of catty bitches
trying to bring each other down, but we weren't like that.  Larissa always
told me how good I looked and never ever made fun of my weight.  I always
told Larissa that her petite beauty was amazing.  And we both told Hana
that her androgynous look was fucking gorgeous.  She was athletic with
boyish short hair, and both men and women found her pretty irresistible. 
So, I guess what I'm saying is that we all kind of validated each other. 
It was nice.  I wouldn't ever imagine that my friendship would ever be
tested by my own awful feelings.

   When we walked out to the pool, bringing our iced tea and portable
speaker with us, Daddy was just finishing up his laps.  He tried to get
them in every day and also did things like push-ups and other exercises. 
He was honestly in excellent shape for his age.

   Yeah...so...you may have noticed, I've been avoiding describing him. 
Physically, I mean.  I can't do that anymore.  Even now, after everything,
I still want to hide a bit from what I feel and who I am.  But I won't do
it, not any longer.

   His dark brown hair wasn't thinning, but it was going steel grey,
slowly, from his temples.  His face was somehow chiseled but also
expressive of kindness.  And god, his gray eyes were like storm clouds,
effortless to get lost in.

   My father was really fit.  He probably wasn't as athletic as he had been
in his twenties (ugh, even the thought of what he must have been like then
affects me), but his body was clearly and obviously muscular.  Not in a
vulgar way, but when he was in his swim trunks, you could see clear
definition all over his body.  His torso especially was toned.  What little
fat there was just made him look better somehow, more real.  He didn't have
a six-pack, but he was frankly, incredibly toned.  And, he liked his trunks
to, um, fit him well. 

   So when I looked over at Larissa to ask her to hand me the wireless
speaker, I wasn't really shocked to see her eyes locked on my father's
crotch.  She looked up at me and then blushed bright red, realizing that I
had caught her checking him out.  I had a familiar tingle of irritation
from it, but it passed quickly, a couldn't really blame her.  Bethany
couldn't make it today, but her nickname for my dad was "The Silver Fox." I
was kind of used to my friends being attracted to him.

   He just said hi, smiled at us, and headed inside.  It was likely he was
going to do some more work in his home office tonight, so his head was
elsewhere.

   As we got comfortable, Larissa spoke up, obviously embarrassed.

   "Allie, I am so...um...sorry."

   I wasn't used to her being apologetic about checking my dad out, but it
occurred to me that I'd never caught her directly looking at, well, his
cock before today.  To be honest, it was pretty difficult not to notice it
in those trunks, especially when they were wet.  I remember thinking that
if it looked that big soft...no.  No, I would not let my mind go there.  In
any case, I didn't want my best friend thinking that she'd somehow done
something wrong.

   "It's fine, Larissa.  I know you think he's...uh...hot."

   "Yeah, but...ugh.  I shouldn't be a creeper about it, it was just,
uh..." 

   Larissa trailed off, unable to say what she meant, but Hana, always
outspoken, had no trouble doing it.

   "Huge.  Huge is the word you're looking for."

   "Hana!" I said, scandalized.

   "I'm sorry, Allie.  I mean, I'm not saying it to be rude or anything,
but I understand why she was looking.  I only caught a glance, and I
honestly have no fucking idea how something like that would even fit in a
girl."

   Hana was so sincere that I couldn't be mad.  In fact, I just ended up
laughing.  We all did.  It would still have been pretty normal, even if I
couldn't get the shape of my father's cock out of my head.  We hung out,
laughed, swam, drank a lot of tea.  When it started cooling off early in
the evening, we all went inside, so my friends could change and go home. 
That was when the real trigger happened.  The thing that forced me to
confront my feelings.

   Dad was starting to make pasta when we came through the sliding door.  I
did most of the cooking, but when he was around, and I was busy, he liked
to help out.  As we walked past him in the kitchen, I turned to remind him
that we had Italian sausage in the fridge.  That's when I caught him.

   He wasn't looking at me, but focusing with intensity on something else.
I followed his gaze.  His eyes were unmistakably glued to Larissa's tight
little ass.  I looked too, unable to help myself.  Dry, her bikini bottoms
were really sexy.  Wet, they were almost obscene.  They stuck to her and
shifted as she walked, showing off her toned butt.  It was easy to imagine
what she'd look like with them off.  I knew that she shaved sometimes.  I
wondered if Daddy would like that. 

   I watched my father watch my best friend, and something caught in my
chest.  My sex tingled and reacted despite my wishes.  Without willing it,
I thought about my father, fucking my best friend.  Not gently, either,
simply pulling her bikini bottoms down and bending her over our kitchen
counter, making her cry out with the force and intensity of his affections.
And then I felt jealousy.  Real, adult, sexual jealousy for the first time
in my life, burning like fire.  He was my father. Mine. I would never
share him with another girl.

   I wanted him to do that to me, goddammit.  I wanted him to take me,
demand me, force me.  I could see it clearly in my head.  He would push
me over the table, hard, ignoring my cry of shock.  He wouldn't bother
taking my one-piece off, he'd just push the crotch over to the side in his
haste.  Then he'd fuck me, hard, heedless of my virginity or my tears.  And
I might cry, in shock and shame, and then beg him.  I just didn't know if
I'd beg him to stop or to keep going, I just knew that I'd surely cum if I
felt his wet, warm, seed fill me.

   And then, the alien thought ended, although the emotion remained.  To my
shame, I was wet, tingling, and sensitive.  I'd never had sex, but I was
ready for it, right then.  Ready for my father to mount me like I was truly
his best girl.  I felt sick, but no less aroused.

   Sleep came with difficulty that night, and only after I'd fingered
myself to several guilty, but powerful, orgasms.

   God, what was wrong with me.

   =============================================

   CHAPTER THREE

   Hurricane Force

   =============================================

   The week passed.  I calmed down and convinced myself that I was merely
pent up and desperately needed to build up the courage to get laid.  Reggie
and I had broken up a while ago, but there were other attractive boys who
weren't jerks.  Probably.  Also, there were always men.  I was, as they
say, "legal" now.

   I didn't want men though, I wanted one man.  A strong, kind, handsome,
and very loving one.

   Friday was nice.  My friends and I went out for Mexican together.  We
made a lot of noise and had about as much fun as you can when you aren't
legally allowed to drink.

   I came back fairly early and got packed.  Daddy was working late, but
he'd told me about it in advance.  He was taking care of things first so
that he could leave his work cell phone and laptop at home.  I appreciated
that, and the idea of having him all to myself for the weekend gave me
butterflies in my stomach.

   We got up early and started driving.  I volunteered, but he insisted
that he would do the first part, which was mostly urban.  He knew that I
liked driving but not so much in the city, so he saved the beautiful
coastal regions for me.

   What I had seen on Monday bothered me.  Both Larissa looking at him and
him in return ogling my best friend.  Would they end up...together,
somehow? God, even the thought of it made me so angry and betrayed.  I took
a deep breath.  My father and I had a pretty great relationship, open and
honest, so I decided that talking it out with him would be a good idea.

   Naturally, I ambushed him as he was just reaching the outskirts of our
city.

   "Daddy, why do you think Larissa is so sexy?"

   It truly wasn't fair, but the surprise on his face was priceless.

   "Um.  I'm not sure I understand the question.  Are you asking me if I
think Larissa is attractive?"

   I rolled my eyes and spoke to him like he was a child caught with his
hand in the cookie jar.  I wasn't actually angry at him for looking, or
her. It was the idea of them...together, that bothered me.

   "I saw you watching her ass Monday night, Daddy.  And not for the first
time."

   I actually hadn't seen him do it more than once, but I guessed that he
had.  Larissa was over all the time and tended to be in shorts, jeans, or
something with bikini-bottoms.  All of her clothes fit her like a glove and
showed off her tight little butt to excellent effect.  His red face and
adorably startled reaction proved my guess correct.  I knew he didn't leer
at her or act inappropriately, and I knew Larissa would have found such
attention to be flattering.  She often spoke of how attractive my father
was, partly in jest, but obviously with some truth as well.  In fact, I
trusted both of them never to act on anything like that.  So why did the
thought bother me so?

   "Oh," he said, his face grim, as though he'd actually committed some
significant sin instead of checking out a beautiful girl, "I'm, uh, so
sorry.  She's beautiful of course, but that doesn't excuse me behaving
inappropriately."

   I laughed, which surprised him.

   "Daddy, I'm not mad.  Not exactly.  And you weren't really being lewd or
anything.  You were just looking, and not for a long time like a creeper. I
don't blame you.  She has a great ass.  Hana's body is pretty amazing, and
Bethany's got really great breasts.  I can't really be upset at you for
looking at any of them.  I..just..." 

   I trailed off, unable to say what I wanted, what I needed to communicate
to my father.

   "What is it, hun?  I can tell that something about it is bothering you.
I won't argue with you that your friends are...uh, attractive.  If me
noticing that isn't your concern, what is?"

   I deflected but in the most awkward way possible. 

   "Uh, I guess I was just thinking about you.  How you're not seeing
anyone and don't want anything serious.  Have you ever considered hooking
up with one of them?  I know how weird that sounds, but we're all eighteen
now, and...and all of them think you're really good looking and kind.  You
could...you know, have some fun, no one would get hurt, and everyone would
be happy."

   Well, everyone but me.  The car swerved ever so slightly as he reacted
in shock.  I felt bad immediately.  What would he think of me for trying to
pimp my friends?  Oh god, what if he said yes?

   "All right, silly girl, now you've got me worried.  Let's leave aside
the extreme age difference for a moment, or how their parents would feel
about such a thing.  Wouldn't something like that bother you or make you
uncomfortable?"

   "Maybe.  I don't know.  It's just hard to watch you like this."

   "Like what?"

   "You're really handsome and sweet, and you've got no one.  I know we've
discussed this before, and I'm really not trying to force you into some
kind of deep relationship, but you have needs.  I know how mom would think,
and...and wherever she is, I'd think she'd want you to be happy.  So, if
you had a light...uh...affair with a younger girl, I think she'd definitely
understand.  I would."

   I'd be jealous about it, but I'd understand for sure.  He had needs, and
he deserved to be happy.

   "I...I see.  Let's pretend that this is an option, for a moment, and no
one would be hurt.  I'm...god...I'm not really wired like that."

   "What do you mean?"

   "Well, for starters, I've tried casual sex before.  Before your mother.
I don't blame anyone who enjoys it, not at all.  I've even known a married
couple who love each other very much but who have something of an open
relationship.  I think that's wonderful for them.  But I've always needed
that spark of deeper emotional attachment.  It's just how I'm wired.  The
truth is that I don't really enjoy sex without it.  I don't mean any
offense to your friends, they're all lovely, inside and out, but I don't
feel that kind of connection to any of them.  And...uh...none of them are
really my type."

   I sad there, quietly, digesting what he said.

   "Oh.  Well, ...what is your type?  If you don't mind me asking."

   He smiled, a little more relaxed.

   "I don't, honey.  To be honest, your mother was pretty much the
definition of my ideal woman, in terms of appearance and intelligence.  I
love her still, wherever she is, and I miss her terribly.  Some of that is
really selfish though because...we had really fantastic sex.  Wow.  Never
thought I'd be telling you about that."

   It didn't bother me.  If anything, it made me happy for my own selfish
reasons.

   "Everyone says that I look like Mom."

   "You do.  Except...well, you're more beautiful.  Your mother would often
remark that she thought you would grow up to be prettier than her.  She
wasn't bothered by it.  I didn't believe her, but here you are.  All grown
up.  You're gorgeous and probably...definitely the sexiest woman I've ever
met."

   My breath caught for a moment, and I felt tingles run through my body. I
felt myself grow sensitive, and I knew that I'd be wet soon.  Goddamit. 

   The car was silent for a bit.  It wasn't uncomfortable.  If anything, it
was...electric.  I felt something passing between us in the small space,
and I knew that it wasn't just in my head.  In my aroused state, I noted my
father subtly adjusting his pants.  I smiled, knowing that I had an effect
on him.

   He spoke again, his voice full of worry.

   "I'm sorry if I've upset you, honey.  I didn't mean to.  I want you to
always be able to ask about anything, but I don't want you to be
uncomfortable."

   He put his steady hand gently on my knee, in that reassuring way that he
sometimes did.  Without thinking, I grabbed it and held it with both of
mine, sliding it up to my midthigh, which was still not nearly far enough
according to my aching pussy.

   "You don't know how happy it makes me to know that you think I'm sexy,
Daddy.  I don't always feel attractive...and sometimes I feel kind of fat
and ugly.  But you're the best and most handsome man I know, and if you
think I'm beautiful, then I know I must be."

   His face grew flushed, but he didn't move his hand for a while.  For
just a bit, I was content to imagine that I was his lover and that we were
on a romantic trip together. 

   Soon, imagination wouldn't be enough.

   * * *

   We arrived in the late morning, greeted by the slightly dim light of
fall.  It was cloudy, with a brisk breeze coming from the ocean.  Mrs. 
Wilkins, who owned and operated the bed and breakfast we were staying at,
came outside to greet us.  She didn't remember us, but we'd stayed here
when I was much younger, and I recalled her as being a kind woman,
soft-spoken and with a warm smile.  Aside from some extra wrinkles, she was
the same. 

   Daddy was pulling our cases out from the trunk when addressed me.

   "You must be Will and Allie.  I'm so happy to meet you and more than a
little grateful that you decided to stay here for the weekend.  I was
worried that we wouldn't have any guests at all."

   "So we're the only ones here?"

   "Oh, yes.  But don't worry, it doesn't impact anything.  Breakfast is
still included.  You just have the run of the place so feel free to spread
out or to pick a different room if you want.  I stay just next door so
knock if you need anything.  Are you two married or..."

   Mrs.  Wilkins obviously thought that we were an Autumn-Spring
relationship.  The idea delighted me, so when Daddy opened his mouth to
speak, I held his arm affectionately and interrupted him.

   "No," I said, but then added mischievously, "we're not married.  Not
yet, anyway.  We just needed to get away together.  Isn't that right,
darling?"

   Daddy was too stunned to speak, but Mrs.  Wilkins nodded knowingly.

   "I quite understand.  Being alone together in a place like this, well,
it does tend to rekindle romantic feelings.  Not to mention the libido."

   She exaggeratedly waggled her eyebrows.  It was so out of character for
her "little old lady" image that all of us laughed heartily.  After showing
us around, she disappeared quickly out the door, probably thinking that we
wanted some "alone time."

   "What was that all about?" Daddy asked, suppressing a chuckle.

   "I dunno.  It just seemed like fun to play along with her, in any case.
It doesn't do any harm to let her have her little thrill at thinking about
a silver fox making love to his little girl-toy."

   I couldn't believe I'd said the words, even as they escaped my mouth. 
Part of me wanted to rewind and delete them.  Another part wanted to
expound further on what good little girl-toy I could be.  Thankfully, Daddy
just found it amusing.

   "Fine, silly girl.  Have it your way.  Honestly, as long as you're
happy, I am.  You don't have any idea how pleased I am that you wanted to
go on vacation with me for your birthday.  I was worried that you'd gotten
too old to want to spend time with your old man."

   The idea that I wouldn't want to spend time with him, or that he would
worry about it made me sad.  I never wanted that.  I took his hand in both
of mine and held it to my chest, close to my heart. 

   "That will never happen, Daddy.  Never.  I've been selfish, and I'm
going to spend more time with you.  I promise."

   He flushed a little, and in the back of my mind, I was aware that it was
because I'd pulled his hand onto my rather generous breasts.  I was
gratified that he seemed to enjoy them as much as I did having his hand on
them.  In any case, that was a side benefit.  I was sincerely apologetic
that I'd forgotten about him.

   "You haven't been selfish, honey.  You've been a normal, if unusually
intelligent and caring, teenager.  Growing apart is normal.  Enough of
this, though.  You want to go for a walk on the beach?  Or are you feeling
hungry?"

   "How about a walk and then food?"

   I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt.  The day was chilly, and the wind
on the shore was strong.  When we arrived, it was apparent that we were the
only ones brave or silly enough to enjoy the ocean today.  I supressed a
little thrill at what someone could get up to out here, in broad daylight,
with no one else the wiser.  We walked together, my father and I, and for
once I was the inquisitive one.  I asked him about his work, got him
talking about what he loved.  He led a team of engineers, and they designed
as well as prototyped green energy technology.  He was a natural leader,
and he always minimized his contributions to emphasize those of his team. I
won't pretend that I understood it entirely, but he explained it in a way
that didn't make me feel dumb or like he was talking down to me. 

   Then he asked me about college, which was a bit of a sore subject
between us.  I'd gotten into several of my picks, including one local
university, but I hadn't really made any plans as to what I wanted to
pursue.  He tried not to be pushy, but I could tell that he worried about
my future.  I'd been wishy-washy for a long time about future career paths,
and while I knew that I could start without a major, I needed an ambition
to follow.  Something to inspire me.  As it turned out, I did kind of have
some ideas, but I was a bit afraid to share them.  Something in me believed
that he wouldn't find them serious enough or worthwhile.  So I hedged a
little by carrying on the fantasy of being more than a father and a
daughter.

   "I'll tell you about my plans for college, but you have to hold my
hand."

   I said it without thinking, but when he looked at me with surprise, I
just gave him my patented Good Girl Eyes.  I expected him to back down, but
instead, he took my small hand in his larger one.  I was aware of how warm
it was, of his calluses, and mostly of how gentle he was.  I felt myself
blushing.

   "All right," he said, with fake annoyance, "I've paid your price.  Now
you have to spill your secrets.

   "Um...ok.  I...I think I want to get a business degree and start my own
enterprise.  I've thought about that for a while, and I love the idea of
hiring people, planning it out, and making it work, you know?  I was really
just stuck on what kind of business.  For a while, it was a restaurant or a
bar, but the more I looked into it, the more miserable it looked.  Then I
thought about trying to get in a franchise, but that seemed kind of
soulless.  I think...I think I want to open an art gallery."

   We walked in silence for a moment.  I was worried that he would find
some fault in my idea, or worse, dismiss it as childish.  That being said,
I enjoyed the feel of my hand in his, the safety of being with my father
here, on this lonesome beach.

   "That's a fantastic idea.  It'll be hard, but I think you already know
that.  It's effortless to see, you know, in my mind's eye."

   "What is?"

   "You.  Running a gallery.  The place would be somewhere downtown near
those upscale bars and restaurants.  I see you wearing a sharp dress,
explaining the pieces to prospective buyers at some upscale wine and cheese
thing.  You'd have trouble keeping men away though, seeing as how you look
like a Greek sculpture yourself."

   "Daddy!"

   He laughed.

   "Sorry, I meant to say that you'd have trouble keeping men AND women
away.  Especially once you show the world how successful you are."

   I rolled my eyes at his flattery, although secretly I was quite pleased
by it. 

   "So...so you don't think its a dumb idea?"

   He stopped and looked me in the eye, then pushed some of my unruly hair,
blown by the wind, behind my ear.  The gentleness and intimacy of his touch
made me shiver.

   "No, of course not.  Not that I'd tell you what to pursue in any case,
but I really could see you being successful at that.  I'm proud of you for
thinking of it."

   We stood like there for a moment, after he said it.  I know that I had a
big dumb smile on his face, and I looked up at him.  For a moment, our
gazes met and said more than words could.  He leaned in, maybe to kiss me
on the cheek, but I didn't let it get there.  I went up on tiptoes and
kissed him straight on his lips.

   Oh, god, the feeling that ran through me.  The feel of his soft, warm
lips on mine, his hands suddenly on my sides, not pushing me away but
holding me close.  I felt my full breasts just barely push into his chest,
my nipples hardening into pebbles, my hands on his abdomen. 

   It was over quickly, but I could tell that he was just as shocked as I
was.  He could have jerked back, made a big deal out of telling me how
inappropriate this was, but he didn't.  He didn't try and joke it away,
either, like I expected.  Instead, he just took my now-sweaty hand in his
and continued walking.  He wasn't ignoring what happened so much as
accepting it as a natural part of our walk together.  I was suddenly
overwhelmed with feelings for this man.  I leaned into him, and he put his
arm around me protectively.

   "I love you so much, Daddy," I said, my voice breathy and weak.

   "I love you too, silly girl," he said, his own husky. 

   There was no denying this thing between us anymore, I realized.  I could
either resist it or kindle it, and I knew that the fire building inside me
would not be quelled.

   * * *

   We walked in silence and eventually headed back into the small downtown.
Daddy winked at me and led me into a small diner.  It was full to the brim
with 50's style, complete with red vinyl and spinning seats at the counter.
He led me to a booth.

   "Do you remember this place?"

   I blinked, looked around, again.  I did.

   "This was where I loved to eat during...the last vacation with...with
Mom."

   I suddenly realized it.  I must have repressed the memory.  Well, not
precisely repressed it.  I remembered the trip, it was lovely.  Mom and Dad
were happy and romantic together, and they let me explore the dunes and
shops and generally have wholesome fun.  It was a really great vacation. 
What I'd repressed was that it was the last vacation we'd ever had together
and that it was here, to this town.

   "Yeah.  We came back to this town a few times, just the two of us, but
it never felt right coming back to the restaurant without your mother.  You
both loved the fried food and the ice cream.  Your mother never allowed
herself such luxuries at home, always worried about her appearance.  She
always wanted to be...well, appealing for me.  But she never needed to
worry."

   "Are you...ok with being here now?"

   "You know what?  I am.  I think that...there are a lot of things that
I've denied myself that your mother would want me to enjoy.  I think...I
think I've denied some of those things to you too, and that's not right. 
I'm sorry."

   For a moment, my heart leaped into my throat.  I didn't think that he
was implicitly or explicitly saying that us...together...was ok.  But I
could see him wavering on the brink of accepting the idea of romance beyond
Mom, and that was an excellent first step. 

   We ate burgers together, and I didn't order any fries of my own but
stole some from my father's plate.  Eventually, I'd eaten most of them, and
he slapped my hand playfully.

   "Why didn't you just get your own?"

   "Because yours are forbidden, and that makes them taste so much better."

   As I said the words, I dipped another purloined fry in ketchup, and then
slowly licked it off before taking the whole thing in my mouth.  Daddy
couldn't look away, and I felt like the sexiest woman alive.  Then he
reached over, and I felt his gentle finger at the corner of my lips,
cleaning away some ketchup that had escaped my mouth.  He cleaned his own
finger, in an off-handed fashion, sticking it in his mouth and sucking it
clean.

   My breath caught.  I felt my expression getting more serious, tense. 
Daddy kept smiling.  It wasn't the warm one that I'd become used to.  It
wasn't cold either.  It was...hot, and full of hunger, like his gaze, was a
fire, and my body was just so much dry wood and tinder, ready to catch.

   I knew then that he was playing the same game I was.  Maybe it was just
one of dares and tricks.  We could pretend to be together.  We could hold
hands.  We could even make little flirtations over lunch.  But we both
wanted more, and I really wanted to see where this went.

   After we finished, Daddy paid and retook my hand, and we ambled down the
street.  He went into every shop with me, gave me feedback on all the
things I was interested in, and offered to buy any and all of it.  He
seemed to think that it being my birthday trip meant that he had to spend
extravagantly on me

   Eventually, I settled on some cute earrings and a necklace, with parts
of it made from seashells, beautiful and iridescent.  They were beautiful
and irregular and unique.  They felt right, like an expression of my
emotions.  They were cheap, too, which I think bothered the man who wanted
to splurge on me.

   Price didn't matter to me though, what I wanted was his...attention. 
And he was more than happy to give it.  After dutifully following me on my
shopping whims, I took mercy on him and suggested we go back to the B&B.

   Our rooms were tiny, the beds old and beautiful, with oak frames and
large, soft mattresses.  I could tell that Daddy was tired and was heading
for a nap.  I saw my opportunity.  After he had changed and laid down, I
came in, now in a simple loose tank top and shorts.  On the surface, very
mundane, but as I moved and the fabric shifted, they revealed as much as
they concealed.  Hints of my full breasts were exposed on the sides, my
curves displayed as I moved and stretched.

   I was a predatory little minx, and my father was my prey.

   I waited until he was sleeping, eyes closed, peaceful.  He lay sprawled
on his back, lean muscular form on display.  It was chilly outside but warm
in the cozy little cottage, and he wore simple boxers, as was his
preference.  He lay deliciously exposed on the bedspread, without even a
sheet to cover him.  I came into his room and lay down next to him, leaving
space between us.  He looked up in bleary surprise but was not upset. 
Before he caught himself, I saw his gaze drive to open side of my tank top.
I smiled at him, coy and welcoming.

   "Do you mind if I sleep next to you?  The mattress in my room is a
little lumpy, and I'm tired too."

   It was a lame excuse, and I knew it, but I was already in his bed, and I
knew he wouldn't want to just kick me out.

   "Sure, silly girl.  Just, uh..."

   "Just what, Daddy?" I asked with false innocence as I snuggled up next
to him, resting my head on his chest.

   "Uh...nothing.  Sleep well."

   I hugged him, pushing my whole body against him, draping my leg over his
and pressing my full breasts into his side.  I forced myself to relax
physically, but internally, I was nervous, tense.  This is where he could
reject me, push me away, be disgusted with me. 

   Instead, he put his arm around me.  I felt myself grow tingling and
sensitive, protected, and safe in his strong embrace.  I wanted more, but I
was still honestly inexperienced, so I allowed myself to relax and fall
asleep.

   I was having a dream of something dark and primal, luring something male
and baiting it.  Angering it until it pounced.  I woke up, sweaty,
confused. I was moving my pelvis already, wet from the warm friction
against my father's muscular leg.  I was breathing hard, in desperate need,
but I forced myself to stop.  This was...too vulgar.  In my naive mind, my
Daddy would never be lured by someone behaving like a little slut.  I felt
that I needed some kind of magical sophistication or worldliness.

   But I didn't. 

   When I stopped rubbing against my father, I could better be aware of my
surroundings.  I could hear and feel my father's heartbeat, much faster
than a resting man's should be.  Then I saw it.  His boxers were tented by
his erection.  And it was not a small tent.

   I looked up, to see where his attention lay and discovered that my hair
was stuck to my forehead by my own sweat.  My father gently moved it out of
my eyes.  There could be no doubting the heat in his gaze, the depth, and
power of his longing.  I felt suddenly like I had vastly underestimated his
need.  I was just a little girl again, a morsel before my father's
appetites.

   "Allie," he said, softly, with hoarseness of desire, "baby I love you. I
love you so much.  I know...you're feeling the same thing that I am, right
now.  I've tried to be a good father for you, tried to keep what I felt for
you deep down and away.  I thought...I thought if I could last until you
left for college...that everything would be all right somehow.  You'd fall
in love with someone, bring them home.  Be safe from me."

   "Daddy, I have fallen in love with someone.  I've fallen in love with
you.  And I am safe with you.  I...oh god...Daddy, I want you.  I love
you, and I want you to be my first.  Is that so bad?  For a girl to be with
a man who truly loves her?  I don't care that you're my father...and I do.
It...it makes it feel special...

   "Allie, you are special.  It's just...there isn't any going back from
this step.  And I don't want to hurt you or move too fast..."

   I smiled at him.  It was sincere and adoring, and I saw it reflected in
his own soft expression.

   "Well...um...maybe we could go slow then?  I...I don't know how to
please you...yet.  So you could show me?  Please?  Please show me how..."

   My father lost the last of his resistance then, at least for the moment.
He pulled me into a kiss, a real kiss.  For a moment, our mouths explored
each other lazily, gradually increasing in intensity.  Then, with a
strength that would brook no resistance, his powerful hand grasped my ass,
forcing me up, level with him.  He left his hand there squeezing and
releasing.  I began to feel like I was no longer in control of my own body,
grinding against him once more.

   I felt his hard cock, constrained by his boxers and trapped up against
his belly, and I was truly lost.  I slipped my tongue into my Daddy's
mouth. It was as though a dam had burst inside of him.  His other hand,
which had been gently caressing my hair, now squeezed and held my breast.
It was the first time anyone had touched me like that.  He wasn't rough,
but he certainly wasn't gentle.  I felt his desire barely held in check.

   I felt my nipple stiffen against his palm, and then he reached under my
shirt and pulled it from me.  I raised my arms and let it go.  His hand was
back on my chest in an instant, and I moaned, loud and insistent as he
gently pinched my nipple.

   I moved my own hand then, from his chest to...to his cock.  It twitched
under my small hand, and he groaned.  It was loud and animal, and I
wondered if he had made that noise the night that he had made me. 

   Although I could feel his need in the way he thrust his cock into my
hand, I could tell that he wasn't ready for me to please him yet.  In fact,
he took my hand off with his.  I looked up at him, confused and a little
hurt.  I was ready to love my Daddy.  Why wouldn't he let me?

   But he just smiled and let his hand drift from my chest to my stomach,
which fluttered under his caress.  I thought he was going to ask me if I
really wanted this again.  I was so wet, so ready, so needy.  I would have
done anything for him just so he'd make me feel good.

   Then he slid his hand, agonizingly slowly, into my shorts.  I wore no
panties, so his hand passed through my dark, curly thatch to my slick, wet
sex.  My labia and clitoris were swollen and so sensitive as to almost be
painful.  I quivered and cried out as he simply put his hands on my lips.

   As he passed his fingers over them gently, I moved my head left and
right, unable to escape this wonderful feeling.  Then his first, thick,
warm, finger entered me, and I lost all conscious thought. 

   "Daddy!" I cried out.  I didn't care who heard me, and neither did he.

   He let his thumb gently caress my swollen nub while he pistoned his
finger inside me mercilessly.  I wanted this.  I wanted him.  I wanted to
make him feel good.  I wanted all of it at once, and I was being driven
mad.

   I moaned and whimpered shamelessly, rubbing against his hand like a
bitch in heat.  I wasn't aware of anything but the building feeling, deep
inside me.  Daddy was an experienced lover, I could tell that even then
because he reacted to my noises and movements.  He probed me with a second
finger, not just thrusting inside of me but exploring, finding the rough
ridges of my g-spot, and spreading my swollen pussy in the most delightful
way.  I felt a great force, pulling me down, deep, deep.

   Daddy finally touched my clitoris directly, and with swift and gentle
strokes of his thumb brought the orgasm crashing down on me.  I cried out,
over and over.  I clung to him like it was a life raft in a storm, I buried
my head in his chest and even bit down.  It wasn't enough.  I shook all
over and felt my body tense and vibrate.

   Finally, at last, it released me, and I found myself sobbing on his
chest.  Such relief, such joy.  I never knew a lover would be capable of
bringing something like that out of me.  I felt so loved and safe then, but
all I could do was cry.

   "Shh, baby.  It's all right, just let Daddy hold you."

   He'd stopped touching me for a bit, recognizing that I was going to be
very sensitive.  He just held me as I cried and moaned and eventually
relaxed into his arms entirely.

   "Oh...oh Daddy, that was...so amazing."

   He smiled down at me, warmly, lovingly, but a little smugly.  I couldn't
be upset.  He'd earned it.  But I hadn't forgotten him.  My hand found his
cock again, and I rubbed my palm up and down its length.  He groaned but
didn't move my hand this time. 

   "Daddy...will you show me how you, uh, how you like to be touched?"

   He nodded.

   "All right, Allie.  Take my shorts off."

   He lifted his hips so I could do so.  His cock sprang to proud
attention. To my astonishment, I realized that my father must trim his
pubic area, as it was relatively short and neat.  I wondered if he had ever
thought about my preferences in that regard.  Before I could do anything,
he placed my hand right on the shaft of his hot, hard sex.  He shuddered,
and I felt him twitch.  It was a paradox.  Soft and hard, inviting and
threatening somehow all at once.

   "Honey...oh god.  Do you mind, um, spitting on it?  For lubrication."

   "Of course, Daddy.."

   I spat, but in my hand, and then I placed it back on his cock.  God, it
was huge to me and began to move my hand, spreading my saliva over it like
it was suntan lotion.  Daddy moaned and nodded his approval to me.  I was
so happy.

   I began to stroke him, up down.  While did that with one hand, he
somewhat distractedly pointed to different parts of his member.

   "Right here, under the tip?  It's very sensitive.  Think of it like your
clit.  Good to stimulate but not too much.  I like it when you squeeze me
hard sometimes...oh, fuck...yeah, just like that.  Just keep up your rhythm
and switch hands if you need to.  I also like it when someone plays with my
balls a little gently.  If you get too tired, just let me know.  I can
finish if I have to."

   There was no way in hell that he was going to finish himself.  If I had
my way, he would cum a lot more during this trip, and it would be me
getting him off each time.  I kept up the pace and did as he asked, playing
with his balls.  God, they were so heavy, so full for me.  Larissa told me
that men sometimes ache if they don't get release.  He needed this, I
realized.  He needed me.  I increased my tempo.

   "Oh...oh god baby...I'm...I'm going to cum and its...going to be...oh
fuck...messy so..."

   "I want it, Daddy.  I want to feel it, hot on my skin.  I want you to
make a mess of me.  Please Daddy, please won't you give your little girl
your cum?"

   I may have stolen some of what I said from porn that I'd seen, but I
meant every word.  My pleading tone must have been too much for him.  I
felt him swell slightly in my hand, something almost unbearably erotic in
and of itself, and then thick ropes of cum spurted out of his member.  Over
and over, coating my hand and his stomach, but also splashing on my face,
hair, and my exposed chest.

   At that moment, I felt closer to my Daddy than I ever had before.  I
looked at him, eyes still lost and unfocused in pleasure, and realized that
he had marked me, made me his.  I was his, from that point on.  He
finally looked at me and smiled with such love and gratitude; it almost
broke my heart.  I realized that I wanted something else.  I wanted to
taste his cum, but I didn't want to just lick it off my hand.

   Instead, I held his cock, still surprisingly hard, if softening, and
looked him in the eyes as I licked the tip of his cock clean, like an
ice-cream cone.  I didn't hate it, to my surprise.  I was willing to
stomach it, for him, but it was just warm and salty and...oh god I had my
fathers seed in my mouth.  I swallowed it down, greedily.  I was shocked by
my own brazenness and so was my father, apparently.

   "Oh, god...you are so wonderful.  So giving and loving and ready to
please me.  How did I ever get so lucky as you have a daughter as amazing
as you?"

   Even after all we had just done, I still blushed.  Some things were
lovely to hear no matter the circumstances.

   * * *

   Daddy got up to clean off, and I lay there, in the afternoon shadows,
wondering at what had just happened.  I had no second thoughts or doubts
about myself, but I worried about what he would think of himself, and me.
Would he have a sudden attack of conscience?  Or worse, judgment?

   When he came back, he relieved my fears by cleaning me gently with a
warm washcloth.  The way he slowly washed my hair, face, and chest was so
gentle and loving, I felt myself tingle with fresh arousal.  I looked up at
him eagerly.  I knew I was just a novice, but I so wanted him to teach me
more.

   "Come on," he said, with a gentle smile, "let's go to dinner."

   We got dressed quickly, me in a short sundress, probably too thin for
the weather, but definitely sexy.  He looked good in jeans and a
long-sleeved shirt, and before we left, he stopped me and put his jacket
around me.  It was too big, but it made me feel like I was his, somehow. 

   We walked, hand-in-hand, back to the quiet downtown.  The shadows were
lengthening, and it would soon be dark.  The sun peaked through the clouds
on its way down, and we stopped to watch it.  I felt more at peace than I
had been in years.  Probably since my mother disappeared.

   We finally stopped before a place that I had never been before.  The
front simply read "Argo's." It looked less like a restaurant and more like
a converted house.  Soft candlelight played at the windows, and soothing,
romantic music enveloped us as Daddy held the door for me to go in.

   The decor was tasteful, and I couldn't help but notice there were quite
a few couples here.  When we sat down, I looked at the menu, which was
relatively tiny, but far more expensive than anything I had seen before.  I
looked up at my father in shock, and he laughed at my expression.

   "Daddy it's like fifty dollars for a steak, I can't order this."

   "It's your birthday, honey.  I want you to enjoy it.  This is the best
place within fifty miles, and they charge like it.  Save room for dessert.
They do some special stuff here."

   I had crab and daddy had steak, and we fed each other from our plates.
The whole time we couldn't stop our feet from rubbing, and we kept finding
excuses to touch each other's arms.  Once, Daddy pushed some of my hair
behind my ear, and I looked at him, and the way the candlelight reflected
in his eyes made me melt.

   I was ready to leave.  Well, I was ready for Daddy to take me back to
our room and fuck me, honestly, but he forced me to have some dessert.  I
was glad he did.  They had a homemade pear sorbet that was unlike anything
I'd ever had.  We shared it.

   As we left the door into the chilly night, we were suddenly alone.  I
had only a moment to register it before my father pulled me into a sudden
embrace and fiery kiss.  The sensation was beyond erotic.  The cool
evening, the light breeze, the dim starlight, all seemed to lend towards
the atmosphere of taboo romance.

   He stepped back from the kiss, and I chased him forward a little,
wanting more.  He had a confident smile as he took my hand.  He wasn't
heading back to the B&B.  Instead, his path led us to the beach.  I was
horny, true, but I was happy to be there with him.  If he wanted to take a
walk, then that was fine by me.  I was sure that the night would end with
us in each other's arms in any case.

   We strolled down to the end of the street, lit by lamp posts, and
continued onto the soft sand.  It was smooth and still held a little warmth
from the sun.  The wind from earlier in the day had died down to a gentle
breeze.  I felt something building in me.  I was hot and cold, sweating and
tingling.  I looked up at my father and saw his hungry gaze.  I stopped
walking and looked around.

   Behind us sat rolling dunes, taller than us but not much, covered in
scrub.  Before was an expanse of empty, darkened beach, the low waves
barely visible in the moonlight.  I let go of his hand and stepped back,
suddenly almost shy.  I knew what he wanted, and I wanted to give it to
him. I slipped the strap of my dress off of one shoulder, then another.  I
let it drop.  I wore nothing now but an open cup black bra and tiny
panties. I stood there, shivering, but I couldn't truly feel the cold with
the heat of my father's gaze on me.

   He took off his clothes and laid his jacket on the ground for me.  His
cock stood proudly, erect, and ready for me.  I felt a shudder run through
me, a mix of anticipation and fear.  I unhooked my bra and slid it from my
shoulders.  My father knelt in front of me, looking me in the eyes as he
hooked his thumbs in my panties and drew them down, agonizingly slowly. 
They stuck to my wet slickness, and I was embarrassed.  Could he smell my
arousal?

   Apparently so.

   After I stepped out of my panties, he held my hand as I knelt with him
and then lay back slowly on his jacket.  I was worried about the sand, but
the dunes kept the worst of the breeze from us.  He gently parted my legs,
I quivered.  He was finally going to take me, the way I needed.  But no, he
moved his mouth lower and...

   I whimpered as he kissed my thigh.  I shook as he kissed my lower lips.
I moaned and leaned my head back into the warm sand as I felt his tongue
slip inside of me.  I wanted to tell him how much I loved him and cherished
him, but all I could do was try to keep breathing and run my hands through
his hair.

   "I need...you...inside..."

   I tried to speak, but words stopped as his first finger slid inside
me. 

   "I'm going to make love to you baby, right here, but you have to be
patient.  You had your dessert, now its time for mine."

   With that, his fingers probed me, and his tongue scorched my sensitive
nub, and I couldn't think.  I forgot to breathe for a moment and then cried
out as another orgasm took me, shaking me to my core.  I didn't understand
this.  I knew I wanted him.  I knew what I wanted, didn't I?  But this was
so strong, so intense.  I could neither have predicted or understood it. 

   He looked up at me, slowly licking my clit one more time.  There was a
demand in his gaze that frightened me.  I realized then that I was entirely
at his mercy.  I'm sure he would have stopped had I asked.  But I never
would have asked.  I wanted this.  I wanted it so badly that I would beg
him.  I would promise him all manner of things.  Things I'd only heard of.
If only he'd just fuck me and make me his.

   "Did you remember to take your birth control?" he asked, in that
annoying dad-voice.

   "Yes, yes.  Pleaaseee, Daddy..." I felt my voice turn into a whimpering
whine that neither of us had heard since I was probably thirteen.  It
annoyed me, but I was powerless not to.  Truthfully, I had taken my birth
control, but at the moment, I couldn't focus enough to remember.  I would
have told him anything if it would have made him fuck me faster.

   My father moved over me, pushing my thighs apart gently but firmly. 
There was no resistance.  His hand moved to my breast, kneading and
squeezing it.  My nipples, already stiff, seemed to tighten even further.
Every part of me was on fire, but deep within my need was uncontrollable.
And his cock loomed in the starlight.  I won't lie.  It frightened me as
much as it excited me.  I was afraid he would split me open with it.  I
wanted him to.

   "You can have anything you wanted if you just ask me for it."

   I knew what he wanted to hear.  I knew it, and I was so shy, and my
flush turned to a blush, and I couldn't say it, but then I could.

   "Please...please fuck me, Daddy..."

   And then he was there, at my entrance.  I'd had his fingers and my
fingers, but I'd never been brave enough to put anything else there.  I
wanted it so much, and then he was pushing, such pressure I'd never felt.
He was slow, and then he stopped.  I knew only a little had slid in and I
looked up, afraid that I had made a mistake.

   "Relax, honey.  It's ok.  You're tightening up, and I don't want to hurt
you."

   It took a force of will that I was surprised to have at the moment, but
I did relax my inner muscles, and almost as soon as I did another inch
entered me.  Oh god.  I wasn't anywhere near, and I already felt so full.
How would he fit more?

   I moaned, then cried out, as more and more of my father's cock, where I
had come from, entered me.  I felt myself shift and stretch, and it hurt a
little.  But really, at the moment the pain just enhanced the pleasure. 

   "Oh god, baby, you're so tight.  Oh...fuck..."

   Daddy loved it.  He loved the way I felt.  He loved my tight pussy, and
I gripped him with it, making him moan again.  He was in me now,
completely. I was so full I felt like I couldn't breathe.  It was
wonderful.

   Rather than fucking me right away, he leaned in, kissing me, I
responded, wrapping my arms around his neck and darting my tongue between
his lips.  I wrapped my legs around his flanks.  I was ready, but he was so
kind, so gentle.  He began to move even as we kissed, and I moaned into his
mouth.  We stopped, and he moved to my neck, grazing it with his teeth and
then biting me as he fucked me.  I cried out again and again. 

   I shuddered and came until I lost count.  It wasn't like what I
expected. The pain left swiftly, the pleasure was terrifyingly
overpowering. I was lost to it, and I felt myself slipping into a deeper
kind of love.  I felt a bond forming and almost immediately feared losing
it. 

   I understood it as he began to speed up, driving into me with increasing
force.  This beach was my marriage bed.  Our marriage bed.  He'd made no
promises to me, but I was fully committed to him now.  I didn't know any
other way to be.  I was his, desperately and completely.

   "I love you!" I shouted, finally, as I came again, my sore and aching
walls clutching and squeezing my father's cock.  He grunted once, then
plunged deep into me, and I felt him touch something that I'd never even
known was there.  I arched my back as I felt him swell.  How was he getting
bigger?  Then I felt the pressure, once, twice, over and over.  The release
of Daddy's cum right into my willing canal.  I felt my muscles eagerly
clutch and drain him, pulling as much as possible into my womb.

   We lay there in the darkness for a few moments, breathing heavily. 
Daddy still kept his full weight from falling on me, but I could tell he
was shaky.  He had given all of himself for me, and I was so grateful. 
Inevitably, he pulled out of me, and I sighed, suddenly feeling alone
again. 

   He wrapped me in his powerful arms and pulled me into him.  Kissing me
on my hair, and my neck, spooning me briefly in the darkness.  Now that we
were done, and sweaty, it was too chilly to stay for long, but he held me
and said sweet things.  The words weren't important.  That I felt loved and
protected was.

   He stood up and dressed first.  Then he helped me up.  I put my dress
back on but left my underwear off.  He placed them in his pocket.  I felt
free and naughty and owned all at once.  I was a woman, and my father had
made me so.

   We didn't speak for a long time.  Even when we got back to the B&B, we
just entered, took off our clothes, then held each other and slept. 
Satisfied.  I would have given anything for that feeling of closeness, of
oneness, to last forever.  It wasn't to be, sadly. 

   * * *

   Sunday went by too quickly.  I woke early, sore from the previous night.
Despite his gentleness, my father had stretched me to what felt like my
limits.  I wasn't complaining, however.  He was spooning me, and I felt his
manhood, partially erect, pushing between my legs.

   I turned around and pushed on his shoulder.  Still mostly asleep, he
complied by rolling onto his back.  I knelt beside him and idly stroked his
cock with my small hand, enjoying the feel of it surging to hardness.  I
was wet when I woke up.  As soon as he was fully hard, I looked at him, his
eyes half-lidded, not quite awake.

   I straddled him, and before I could chicken out, I positioned him how I
needed him and let my body envelop him.  I closed my eyes and just enjoyed
the sensation.  God, it was so big.  I felt it impale me as I slowly let
gravity pull me down.  In the end, I bit my lip and did a little shimmy to
take all of him.  I cried out as he hit somewhere deep inside me.  It
wasn't quite painful, but it was very close. 

   Daddy grunted and had his hands on my breasts.  He was awake now, and I
needed to please him, satisfy him.  I wanted to feel good too, don't get me
wrong, but this was in part a way of saying thank you for how lovely the
prior day had been.  I was already coming up with ideas for his birthday.
Should I give him multiple blow jobs?  Maybe wear slutty clothes for him
all day?  Oh, I could try anal with him.  Perhaps he'd like that.  Maybe I
would too.

   Lots of things ran through my mind as I started to rise and fall on his
cock.  It wasn't long before he had his hands on my waist, pushing me up
and pulling me back down.  He didn't do it harshly though.  Soon my need
caught up with me, and I was rolling my hips quickly, moving fast.  To my
surprise, he moved one of his hands to my sex and began to lightly stroke
my clitoris.

   "Oh, fuck, Daddy that...feels..."

   I came, shuddering, moaning and whimpering, waves of pleasure radiating
from my center.  I watched him watching me, dimly aware that he was looking
at my quivering chest and hips.  I'd been sensitive about my weight since I
was about fifteen and truly blossomed.  Now I understood that it was
beautiful to him, a lure that he couldn't resist.  I felt strong and proud
that Daddy wanted me and loved the way my curves looked and felt. 

   "Daddy...oh I love you so much...please use me...use me like your little
slut...I need it...I need to be your mistress, Daddy..."

   What seemed to be an endless stream of partially-obscene but mostly
innocent dirty talk ushered from my lips.  I know what people think about
the things people say during sex, but sometimes it really is our true
selves coming out.  I desperately needed to belong to my father, in a way I
can't even write about now without squeezing my legs together and biting my
lip.  I wanted to be his wife if I'm honest, but I'd settle for his side
piece if only he'd keep and love me.

   Daddy didn't speak during this session, not a bit, which was fine.  He
let himself grunt and moan, and I found that unbelievably sexy.  I can't
imagine being with a silent man.  I encouraged his noises, my fingers
tweaking his nipples, my inner muscles clutching at him.  He became more
insistent, thrusting up to meet me, still not too rough but I knew there
was no stopping him now. 

   He suddenly pulled down on me hard while thrusting up.  I gasped, felt
him swell.  He growled, and that by itself would have sent me over the
edge, but then I felt his seed pulse inside me, filling me for the second
time.  It filled me and more, I felt myself contribute my own fluids, and
then I knew we were complete, again.

   I folded limply on top of him, kissing him and running my hands through
his hair as he gently massaged my back.  We were beyond father and daughter
now, into a new territory that I didn't understand but was desperate to
explore with my new lover.

   All good things must end.  Eventually, we separated, took a shower
together, lovingly washing each other.  We packed in silence, a little sad
that the trip was over.  Then we drove back.  I took the first shift.  The
sky was gray, but the clouds shifted beautifully.  We made conversation,
but the closer we came to home, the more silent my father became.

   He must have been thinking about us and what we had done.  I know that I
was.  Maybe he needed time to process and understand it.  He was still my
father, and I thought of him as being my superior.  I knew that he was
thoughtful, and I would follow whatever lead he took in our new
relationship.  If he let me, I'd share his bed every night, but if this was
something we only did on the weekends or if he wanted me to be in my own
room and he'd come to me, I was okay with that too.

   When we got home, we unpacked the car.  I started washing clothes and
doing some household chores, while he disappeared into his office for the
rest of the day, getting caught up on work. 

   That's what he said, anyway.  He couldn't have been hiding from me,
could he?

   I went to bed early, tired from the trip and my morning exertions.  I
wouldn't be presumptuous and assume that he'd want sex tonight.  We would
talk about it soon enough.

   I was naive.  This was the beginning of bad times.

   ================ =============================

   CHAPTER FOUR

   Islands Alone

   =============================================

   I knew that was coming from the way he hadn't hugged me the previous
night.  He did every night.  Now, he didn't want to touch me.  Honestly,
though, I just expected a conversation about discretion.  That was not what
happened.

   He was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs.  Ready for work
and looking confident and strong in his suit.  But also serious.  I was all
ready for school and just looking forward to a hug and maybe a slightly
more naughty version of a morning kiss.

   Instead, I got stony silence.

   "What's wrong?" I asked, already fearing the answer.

   He sighed, then looked at me sadly.

   "This weekend was...we can't do that again..."

   I didn't fully understand.

   "Why not?"

   "It was a mistake, Allie, I think that you know that."

   I panicked as I fully understood what he was saying.

   "No!  Don't say it.  Don't you dare fucking say it!"

   "Allie, I...it was wrong.  It was wrong, and it was my fault.  I never
should have allowed it to happen in the first place.  I'm sorry, but I
can't be that man for you.  I won't damage you like that, even if it means
we can't ...can't live together anymore."

   I was lost in tears.  Didn't he understand that I wanted him?  That I
loved him, deeply and sincerely?  This wasn't some shallow adolescent
fantasy, but painful, terrible love.  And now, my Daddy, the one man I
trusted, the man I'd given my virginity to, was rejecting me.  It was too
much.  I lost my temper.  I still regret it to this day, as I hope he
regrets his words.

   "You know what?  Fuck you then.  I love you but fuck you.  You think you
can just make me the happiest girl alive one day and then break my heart
once you've gotten what you wanted?  Maybe I'm not quite as pure and
beautiful as I was before you put your cock in me.  Is that it?"

   "You know it isn't.  I love you."

   "Bullshit.  You never loved me.  You love mom's fucking ghost.  I was
just a stand-in, a hole to fuck that looks like her.  She's still here,
fucking everything up for us."

   He'd been calm, but now that I'd insulted his precious long-missing
wife, he started to get upset.

   "I know you're upset...but don't talk that way about your mother."

   Neither of us noticed, but that was when Larissa showed up to pick me up
for school.  Thank god she hadn't been early.  She had opened the front
door without knocking, which wasn't unusual for either of us to do.  She
came in just in time to see the grand finale.

   "You're so fucking pathetic, you know that?  Mom left.  She fucking left
you.  She abandoned you, and me, by the way, and she's probably fucking
some rich asshole half a world away.  Everyone in town knows.  Get over her
and be your own man for once."

   And then I stormed out, right past my shocked friend.  I heard her
sputter something to my father about having to go, but he said nothing.

   I ran to my friend's car and got in quickly, slamming the door.  I was
in tears in moments, sobbing so much that I couldn't think much less speak.
It was a fucked up situation, and I'd made it worse.  I loved him so
deeply, but he didn't return my feelings, no matter what he might say.  If
he did, he'd never be able to discard me like he just had.  I was lost.

   I didn't even notice when Larissa got into the car with me.  In fact, by
the time I had calmed down enough to be aware of my situation, we were
already moving.  Away from my father.  I sunk further into my seat, unable
to look at my friend.  After a while, we stopped.  I dried my eyes quickly
with my sleeve and went to open the door.  I didn't want to go to school,
but I knew that I didn't have any other choice.  Or that's what I thought,
anyway.

   When I looked out the window, though, we weren't at the school.  We were
at Larissa's home.  I looked over at her for the first time in that ride,
confused.  She was looking at me, more worried than I think I'd ever seen
her, smiling gently at me.  Her compassion was too much for me to take
right then, and I broke down again.  Soon she'd unbuckled and was holding
me while I cried in her arms.  Neither of us said anything for a long
while.

   After maybe fifteen minutes, Larissa got out of the car, opened my door
and led me inside her house, where she put me on the couch in her living
room.  I heard her mom's voice, a little worried, and they were murmuring.
I could guess that they were deciding what to do about me, useless crazy
girl that I was.

   I had my eyes closed, but I felt a weight settle on the couch with me. 

   "Hey," Larissa started, "do you, um, want to stay here today?  And maybe
for the night?  I know its weird, and if you don't want to, I understand,
but mom says it's ok.  You look like you've been through a lot and..."

   I was in tears again, this time of gratitude.  All I could do is nod.

   "Ok.  My mom is going over to your house, and she's going to get some
clothes and stuff, all right?  She's already called your dad.  I guess he
agreed it would be best if you stayed here for a while..."

   Oh god.  That hurt.  That hurt so badly I couldn't contain it.  I broke
down in sobs again, uncontrollable, unexplainable.  Larissa held me again.
I don't remember a lot after that.  I remember her getting me some water
and eventually leading me upstairs to their guest room, where I laid down
gratefully and fell into fitful, lonely sleep.  I dreamed of my father
making love to me, and then throwing me out, nude, ashamed of me, into the
world.  My friends mocked me, and I was left alone.  I woke up to fresh
tears.

   I know its more complicated than that, but in my mind, he was done with
me, and I was nothing but garbage.  I couldn't even be mad at him anymore.
I figured that anyone would have done the same once they understood what I
was: a disgusting child who'd sink so low as to seduce her own blood.
I woke in the afternoon, still exhausted and depressed.  Larissa had
just come in, probably back from school.  She was looking down at me, still
very concerned.  I guessed that her mom was also worried about.  Her whole

family had always been so kind to me. 

   Larissa sat next to me on the bed, and I sat up.  I didn't say anything.
I didn't even know how to start.  Thankfully my best friend seemed to
understand.

   "Hey.  You're welcome here as long as you like, ok?  I think you know
that.  I told mom that you had a huge fight with your dad and that he was
stubborn and unfair about something.  Obviously, neither of us know the
details, but she knows that you are really levelheaded and don't overreact,
unlike me."

   I looked up at her, and she was smiling.  I smiled back.  Larissa was
brilliant, and amazing, and also sometimes incredibly emotional.  I'd been
there for her plenty of times when she'd had a fight with her parents, or a
different friend, or a bad breakup.  She was never really irrational or
anything, she just needed someone to comfort her and provide perspective. I
guess she was trying to return the favor now.  I appreciated it.  She spoke
again, more quietly this time.

   "Do you want to talk about it?"

   I did.  I really did, but there was no way I could.  I finally spoke.

   "I...I can't.  I'm sorry...its just too...too..."

   Too personal.  Too much.  Too shameful.  Too secret.

   "Hey, Allie.  Don't apologize, ok?  I'm not going to push.  I just know
that whatever's going on, it's really serious.  Probably more than my mom
or my dad would ever guess.  I know that you love your dad a lot, and I
know that he loves you too, but I've never seen you hurt this much before.
I can't even imagine what you must be feeling.  I won't push."

   "Th...thank you," I said.  My voice was so weak and small.  I felt like
a useless little girl.  Maybe I was.

   "I'll stop bugging you in a second, I just...ugh.  I want you to
remember who I am, ok?  We're friends, and you trust me, and I trust you.
That's not going to change.  But I want you to know that I remember the
times you've been there for me.  Especially the really rough stuff. 
Like...last year, when I thought I might have been pregnant.  I was
panicking, thinking my life was over, that everything was collapsing.  And
...he'd made it clear to me that it was just sex, and he had no interest in
anything else, so I felt so alone.  You might not remember all of our
conversations, but I do.  You were so supportive and calm.  You told me how
you'd back me no matter what I wanted to do, and you even told me how you'd
help me babysit if it came to that.  Of course, I didn't end up being
pregnant, but by the time I found out I was already relieved.  I knew
everything would be ok because you would be there for me.  I just want the
opportunity to be there for you too.  So if you ever feel like talking,
remember that I'll never break your trust, ok?  No matter what."

   I couldn't do anything, just nod.  We just talked about nothing for a
while after that, then watched some TV together.  The next day I went to
school with her, and when I came home with Larissa, I was surprised to find
that her mom and dad had more or less just assumed that I'd be staying with
them for the next week or so.  They didn't make a big deal out of it or
push me to share with them, or anything, for which I am still eternally
grateful.

   I was still lost and sad, but I didn't feel entirely alone. 

   I broke on the third night.  I had a dream about the beach.  Nothing was
truly different than reality.  It was basically a very vivid memory.  I
woke up right after, and as soon as I realized what I'd lost, I started to
sob uncontrollably.  I knew then that I had to tell someone or I would die.

   I got up and went to Larissa's room, as quietly as I could.  I didn't
knock but just slipped in and closed the door behind me.  She woke up when
I sat on her bed.  She was obviously a little out of it, her hair mussed
from sleep, but she always managed to look beautiful no matter what.  When
she saw me, tears in my eyes, she just drew me to her and made me the
little spoon.

   There was nothing sexual about it, it was just comfort, and I needed it.

   "You can't tell anyone," I started, finally, "no matter what you may
think.  It would make things so much worse.  And no matter what good you
might think you would be doing, it would ruin my life."

   "Ok, Allie.  Jesus.  I mean...yeah.  I won't tell anyone, ever.  No
matter what, ok?  I'm just going to listen, and I won't judge or anything,
ok?"

   I relaxed after hearing her acknowledge what I wanted. 

   "I've felt a certain way...about my father for a while.  God, that's
such a lie.  I love my father, and I have for...for a long time.  I didn't
acknowledge it until recently.  I don't love him like I should.  I love him
like a woman loves a man.  I ache for him, and I know in my heart that he's
the one for me.  And the way I want him.  It's like...I don't know how to
describe it.  It's a need, like breathing.  I need his love, his arms
around me.  I need him to...to be inside me.  Like he...like he was this
weekend."

   "Oh...oh, Allie," was all Larissa said, holding me a little tighter.  I
didn't hear judgment, just surprise.  I went on.

   "He never did anything inappropriate.  He never sent me any signals
or...or touched me or tried to watch me naked or anything.  He was just a
perfect daddy like you've heard me say before.  But I...God I saw him like
other women see him for the first time, and I realized how badly I needed
him.  I don't know if subconsciously I had planned it, but when we went up
the coast, I started to...be, uh, available to him, I guess.  No, that's a
lie too.  I seduced him.  I talked like a little slut, I got him going,
turned his innocent father's touch into something much more intense.  I
moved his hands to where I wanted them.  I slid against him and cuddled and
rubbed on him as much as I could.  And, eventually, he gave in."

   "Are...are you sure that he didn't ...um...?"

   "Yeah.  I'm sure.  I knew you'd be worried, but...he didn't do this to
me.  He didn't do anything that I didn't want him to.  And it was
wonderful, Larissa.  I can't lie about this to myself or to you and
especially not to him.  It was...it was the best night of my life.  He made
love to me and...I held him as he came inside me, made me his.  I've never
experienced anything so intense or felt so loved.  I'm my Daddy's little
girl, and I'm worried that I always will be."

   "What happened?"

   I sighed bitterly.  I couldn't help it.  I loved him, but I also hated
him.  I hated him and Mom and every bit of my life that had made him so
lovable and kind and caring but also so fucking ethical that he would hurt
me this badly, under the guise of caring for me.

   "He had second thoughts.  He thinks in his wonderful, awful heart that
he took advantage of me.  I'm an adult, and I wanted this, and I was so
happy, Larissa.  You don't know.  Well, I mean, you probably do, but I
guess I mean you'd never seen me like that.  I was bursting with love.  All
I wanted was to live my life and be his good little girl during the day and
his slut at night and...I don't know, run away with him?  Or just be with
him.  Be his wife, I guess.  I know you said that you wouldn't judge, but I
don't blame you if you do.  If you think I'm sick, or twisted, or just
disgusting, I won't blame you.  I just...I just don't want you to think
that he took advantage of me or worse, raped me."

   Larissa was silent for a while, which I expected.  I didn't expect what
she said, though.

   "I...I don't think you're sick.  I mean...  I'm not sure what to think,
but if you say that it was consensual, then I believe you.  I believe that
you really and truly love him ...he's pretty lovable.  And...jeez...I
believe that he loves you too, and would, um...want to fuck you.  You're
really hot, Allie.  I don't want to be weird, but men really want you.  You
always wonder why the boys at school look at Bethany or me but not you. 
Some do, but really, it's the men that want you.  I've caught a lot of
older, well-dressed, smart guys watching you.  And your dad is...well he's
fucking sexy and smart, and kind, and alone.  You two together just seems
to make sense to me.  Now that you're talking about it I don't know how I
didn't see it before now.  Its actually kind of...hot."

   Larissa laughed, but it was gentle.  She hugged me.  She didn't kick me
out.  She held me, and I slept very well.  She really is the best of
friends.

   * * *

   I suppose Larissa had told her parents not to push me at all.  They
considered me part of their family, and from that day forward treated me
like it.  I lived there, effectively, for months. 

   Bethany and Hana tried to talk to me about it, but neither one probed
too deeply.  I explained to each of them that my father and I had a falling
out over my future career choices, and it made old tensions worse.  The
fight was awful, and we both said things that we couldn't take back.  It
was true enough.

   The part that they had trouble believing was that my father had
effectively disowned me.  He was helping pay my expenses while I lived with
Larissa, but he had no interest in me moving back.  I'd checked, and my
college fund was still there, still in both of our names.  It was enough to
get me through at least three years without loans and live on if I was
frugal. 

   I cried less, but it never stopped hurting completely.  I'd been
rejected by the man I loved, thrown aside like a used condom.  It didn't
matter that I knew that in some part of his mind, he was doing this for me.
I always thought that if it was this easy to cast me out, that maybe he'd
never loved me as much as I'd adored him.  Sometimes the thought would
overwhelm me at random times, and I'd break down in sobs.  More than once
during my senior year, I ended up looking like a drama queen, bolting for
the girl's bathroom for a little privacy.

   One night in early December, Larissa finally decided to try and talk
about things again.  I appreciated the space she gave me, but I understood
that she might be tired of living with me, too.  I had expected to be told
at any time that I needed to stay with someone else or find my own place.
That wasn't what happened.

   We were studying together, quietly, in her room.  A common enough
activity both before and after the events of that weekend.  Larissa broke
the silence.

   "Allie, do you think he might be ready to take you back?"

   I shook my head.  I didn't want to think about it, but I owed her.

   "No.  He doesn't have a daughter anymore."

   "I...I can't imagine him ever truly feeling that way.  He loves you, I'm
sure of it."

   "It doesn't matter, does i?  He's always been stubborn and so...so
goddamn moral.  He knows that the right thing to do is to never fuck me
again.  And he wants me, so the only way to prevent that is to be sure to
never be alone with me, or maybe even see me.  I'm half surprised that he
didn't turn himself into the police."

   Larissa was silent for a while.

   "Does it still hurt as bad as it did?"

   "Yes.  Sometimes it's better, but I feel...alone.  I know I'm not.  I've
got you and your parents and our friends.  But that's how it feels."

   "Is that why you stopped going to choir?  I know you weren't really
interested in doing more with it in college, but you used to love it. 
And...and other things."

   "Yeah.  I just...couldn't find the joy in it anymore."

   "I'm going to make a suggestion.  And I'm not going to be pushy, ok? 
It's just an idea..."

   "Ok, Larissa, you don't have to baby me.  You've done so much for me
already.  If you want me to get my own place or..."

   "No!  God, no.  I love having you around.  I've always wanted a sister,
and this is as close as I'm going to get.  And my parents love you too. 
You know that.  And ...don't laugh, but they think having you around is a
good influence on me.  Because you're such a good girl."

   Despite her admonishment, I giggled, and she did too.  She went on.

   "I just meant to suggest that you need something.  A boyfriend to fuck
or a hobby or a club.  Something that can distract you a bit from what's
going on in your brain.  I'll help, of course, if you need it.  I
just...dodon't want to see you collapse into yourself, you know?  Whatever
happens, I want you to come out of this stronger."

   "Ok, yeah.  I'll think about it."

   True to her word, she didn't say anything else about it.  I was touched
by her comments, and I really did think about it.  Truthfully, there was
something I could do.  My father would probably call it unhealthy, but he
wasn't in my life anymore.  It was something that I'd wanted to do but
never really had the drive to pursue.  Not because I didn't think it was
worthwhile but because I didn't think I could make a difference.

   I decided to find out what happened to my mother.

   =============================================

   CHAPTER FIVE

   Fevered Expeditions

   =============================================

   I didn't think I'd actually find her of course.  Not at first.  It would
distract me though, and maybe put to rest some of the long-lingering
questions I had.  If I tried everything I could think of and still came up
with nothing, then I thought maybe I could set aside such things and move
on, a clean break from my family.  A fresh start.

   The morning after our discussion I'd told Larissa what I was planning on
doing.  I could tell that she was concerned that maybe my choice of
activities was a bit morbid, but she offered to help me any way that she
could.

   I started after school the following day on my laptop.  I would
establish the basic details first and see if they lined up with what I
remembered.  I found that our local paper, which had covered my mother's
disappearance extensively, had begun the process of converting their
microfiche archives into PDF-searchable format. 

   It took me hours to read everything and compile my notes.  I wrote down
what I was reasonably sure of but also what when information seemed to be
conflicting or vague.  I also noted the names of each and every journalist
who'd written about her.

   These journalists had done a pretty admirable job for a small-town
paper. The cops kept details away from them, but they did their own
research.  By the time I was done, I had established the following.

   My mother was last seen by my father after I had left for school.  She
was in a good mood (but not unusually so) and had plans to go grocery
shopping at some point, but that was it.  At some point, she left the house
and drove out of town.  When she was last seen, at the gas station, it was
at eleven am.  I'd known about that, of course.  What was new to me was
both the time frame and the fact that the attendant had mentioned what she
was wearing (which was the same as what she had worn at home) and that her
minivan looked empty.  He had walked past it to change out the trash in the
can and glanced inside.  He saw no baggage or anything indicating a long
trip.

   I looked at a map online, understanding that things could have changed,
but I traced the route as it winded its way inland.  There was no doubt
that the obvious destination was the on-ramp to the highway, headed west.
That's what the police had assumed, as had the journalists.

   The next day I went to the police.  I expected to be blown off,
honestly. There was only one police station in my town, which was large but
not quite a city.  What I found was a woman in her late middle age, with
extra weight that she carried well, and short, no-nonsense hair. 

   "What can I do for you, sweetie?" 

   Her accent put her from farther south than North Carolina, and her smile
was genuine.  I shook her hand.

   "Hi, I'm Allie Smith.  Um, I'm looking for information about my mother's
disappearance..."

   That was as far as I got before she put her hand to her mouth in shock
and recognition.

   "Oh my!  I recognize you now!  You were on tv briefly, or your picture
was anyway.  Ugh, when they thought your father was a killer, they showed
your family no respect whatsoever.  What can I do?"

   "I guess I just wanted to see if there was anything that wasn't in the
newspapers at the time.  I've done all I can on that front, and there
wasn't anything there, really.  At least not that I didn't already know."

   Her face clouded, obviously conflicted.  Then she leaned in
conspiratorially and smiled at me.  She waved to me to follow her, speaking
as she went just above a whisper.  She led me back past offices and
bullpens, officers and staff doing their daily work.  No one really paid us
any mind.  I noted a familiar name on one of the offices that we passed. 
Eventually, she led me into a dim room, filled with shelves upon shelves,
covered in cardboard file-boxes.  She gestured to an empty desk in one
corner, and I sat down.  Then she disappeared into the stacks and came back
with a box, setting in front of me.  The front read "Maria Smith nÃ(C)e
Carducci - Missing Person - 20xx".

   "Come on, sweetheart.  I can't let you see any evidence, obviously,
because we have to maintain that chain of custody.  But I know for a fact
that there hasn't been any progress on that case in seven years, at least.
So what I'm going to do is give you a peek at the file.  I doubt that there
will be much there, but you never know.  In any case, if anyone asks you
what you're doing, tell them that I let you in for research on a school
project.  My name is Rosa, just come get me when you're done."

   And then she left me alone.  I was stunned at how helpful she'd been.  I
dug through the box, starting at the beginning.  There was so much junk
there.  So many people were interviewed, suspects and bystanders, but
no-one saw anything.  It looked like all the major prior sexual, and
violent offenders in the county had been interviewed.  None could be placed
near my mother.  I saw a printed record of multiple "Be on Lookout"
messages, which had been sent all over the region and eventually the
country.  Various sightings of similar minivans, but none had been hers.

   I dug deeper, and I saw that a large portion was dedicated to my father.
I grimaced.  I might have been angry at him, maybe even hated him a little
at the time, but I was still absolutely sure that he'd never hurt mom.  If
anything, the way that he'd rejected me was enough to show that.  I dug
through it, saw nothing but leading questions, and attempts to provoke my
father to confess something.  And a lot of results of fruitless searches of
his car and the house, none of which revealed anything more incriminating
than some old porn tapes.  I chuckled at that. 

   I looked up at the clock.  Two hours had passed.  I sighed and felt lost
again for a moment.  I'd dug through the box, and while there were things
that I wasn't aware of, they all seemed to lead to dead ends.  I stopped
for a moment and took a deep breath.  I wasn't a journalist or a police
officer.  I was just a young woman, barely more than a child, really, who
had alienated her own father.  What would I see that they hadn't?

   Rather than be distracted, I thought about that for a moment.  The
police had been all over this file.  I suspected that the original
detective had been through it several times.  The journalists would have
loved to have broken the case, too, so it was likely at least the crime
beat regulars would have gone out of their way.  What did that leave?

   It left things that a suspicious, cynical mind wouldn't have thought
were important.  Stupid details.  I dug through the text again, the same
things I'd read, this time paying attention to what I'd glossed over
before. Also, I considered that being her daughter, I might think like her,
too.

   She hadn't told dad what she was doing, had she?  Damn near everyone,
including me from time to time, assumed that she was cheating on him, or
that she had some other secret.  But I knew a few reasons why I might lie
to him.  I might do so to keep him from worrying about me.  I might do so
if I felt that he would judge me for what I was doing.  I might also lie
if...I was going to surprise him?

   It wasn't a big important day...but something occurred to me.  A long
forgotten memory.  Daddy telling mom that she celebrated the strangest
things.  I thought back to that day.  The silly-but-romantic anniversary of
their first date that she celebrated with dad every year.  They never went
anywhere, but they had dinner, just the two of them downstairs and then
later I'd hear them kissing and, well, making love, in their room.

   What did she like to make for him?  Dammit, it was on the tip of my
tongue.  She made it every year, the same thing.  The thing that they'd had
at the diner together...

   Pork chops!  Such a silly thing to try and duplicate, but dad said that
they were always the best he'd had every year.  He always asked her how she
got them so tender, and she'd just smile and never say...

   On a whim, I pulled out my laptop an connected to the hotspot on my
phone.  I zoomed in on the route my mom had taken.  I went out, farther
than the highway.  And there it was a butcher shop.  Nothing like that left
in the city, but out there, something remained of the old days.

   I looked it up online.  They had a rudimentary website. 

   "Franklin's Best Meats - Open Since 1927 - The Best Ribs and Chops -
Guaranteed"

   The best ribs and chops.  Shaking, I disconnected the hotspot and dialed
the number.

   "Franklin's meats, this is Tom speaking."

   Tom sounded big, old, and country, but he also had a gentle way of
speaking.

   "Hi, um...my name is Allie Smith.  This is a long shot, but...my mom
disappeared about eight years ago, and I think maybe she might have dropped
by your store?  Do you...maybe remember if that happened?"

   "I remember the case.  I'm sorry that you had to go through all that. 
She didn't drop by," he said, and my heart dropped, but then he went on,
"but she was supposed to."

   "Wait, really?"

   "Yeah.  She ordered from us a few times every year, nothing major, but
we keep good records.  Usually big hams and such, and then once or twice
some chops.  Hang on, let me pull it up here.  Got it on the old POS."

   I waited, stunned.  He came back after a minute.

   "Yep, right here.  Three pounds of chops and some bacon.  Never picked
it up.  When I heard that she was missing, I called the police over there,
but they didn't seem too interested.  Sorry."

   "What for?"

   "Well, I just wish I could have been more help.  She was real nice to
us."

   "You...you were a lot of help.  Thank you."

   "If you say so.  Have a great day, darlin'."

   I knew that I was on to something.  I felt it.  I just didn't know what.
I packed everything up, thanked Rosa, and went home.  I needed time to
think.

   * * *

   I felt like I was going insane.  I printed out the route, blown up, and
then marked it up as I ran down ideas and possibilities.  Every afternoon
I'd take some time to stare at it, make some phone calls, do some searches.
But nothing new came up. 

   There was an absence, though, which was interesting.  I remembered that
the police had asked for footage from security or traffic cameras all along
the route until the interstate.  Nothing had picked up anything after the
gas station. 

   So, that gave me an idea.  I marked about the point where the file had
indicated the next camera would have been.  Then I marked the gas station,
which was her last known sighting.  I made an assumption: whatever had
happened to her, did so between those two points.  It was, honestly, not
that long a stretch, maybe five miles.

   I asked Larissa to drive me out there.  She agreed, in fact, and she'd
helped me make notes on my map a few times and made calls.  I don't think
she thought it was very healthy, but she was a good friend and supported
me. I believe that if I hadn't found anything, I would have been ready to
set it aside, at least for a while.

   As she drove, I made notes.  There were a few places that jumped out at
me.  One was a place where she could have run off of the road into some
trees.  They were low southern pines and were big enough to cover a car,
but when we stopped and looked there were houses right on the other side.
No way a car would have been missed.  There was a point where the road
divided, and that could cause an accident, but there was nowhere for anyone
to disappear to.  Then we took the curve.

   It was sharp and sudden.  I'd been on this road many times before but
never considered it.  I knew from the view off to the side that just beyond
the trees and brush, there was a lake.  It would seem like a possible place
for my mother have disappeared to, but there was a sturdy guardrail there,
and it had been there for as long as I could remember. 

   We drove back in silence, I was obviously dejected, and Larissa wouldn't
push me.  I kept thinking about that hard curve.  I couldn't get it out of
my mind.  It was there as I ate with her family, everyone laughing and
joking.  It was there when I tried to do my homework.  It was there when I
passed into a fitful sleep.

   I dreamed about it, knowing that it was a dream.  In my mind's eye, the
road was wet, and I was my mother.  I drove over the hill and turned my
wheel, but nothing happened.  Instead of a guard rail...there was nothing.
I ran through the brush and plunged into the deep, sinking as I lost
consciousness.  I woke up, and it was all I could do to keep from
screaming. 

   I looked at my phone.  It was three in the morning, and there was no way
I was going back to sleep.  I got some water from the kitchen and then
fired up my laptop.  Something in my dream had triggered a memory.  There
had been storms the night before.  Was the road possibly wet there, on that
curve?  Was there more truth in my dream?

   On a hunch, I went back to the PDF archive of the local newspaper.  I
looked at the previous day first and confirmed that severe storms were
predicted.  Then I went to the day my mother disappeared.  Of course, it
had no mention of her, the investigation not having started in earnest yet,
but it did talk about damage and accidents caused by the wind and rain.  I
went to the police blotter, and that's where I found it.

   It was brief.  A mention of a two-car accident, one of them being a
large truck.  No one was seriously hurt, but the guardrail took a pounding,
and in the wet, loose, soil, was uprooted easily.  It would have to be
replaced.  I flipped forward a day and found a front-page article talking
about the city council "commending work crews for the speedy replacement of
power lines, transformers, and a destroyed guardrail." 

   There it was.  I saw it clearly in my mind, and a shiver ran down my
spine.  It would have been so easy to lose control there, with the water
from the previous night's storms.  The mud on the edge of the road wouldn't
stop anything, and she would have gone straight through the concealing
brush and into the lake.  Repair crews wouldn't be looking for tracks,
which could have been lost in the mess anyway.  Then the guardrail went
back up, and no-one would have been the wiser.

   Oh my god. 

   I sat there, in the dark, stunned.  I thought about calling my father
right away.  Regardless of what was going on with us, he'd want to know. 
He deserved to know, after all of his devotion.  But I couldn't bring
myself to, not yet.  I didn't want to raise his hopes or depress him
unnecessarily. 

   Patience has never been my strong suit, but I explained what I thought
to Larissa as she drove me to school.  She supported my theory, but she was
on the debate team and challenged me.  It was what I expected and wanted
from her.  In the end, we came up with several reasons why it was unlikely
to have happened, but none that outright refuted my new theory.

   That afternoon, right after school, we drove out to the curve, got out,
and looked into the lake.  It wasn't particularly clear, but you could see
how it immediately became deeper right off of the shore.  Maybe deep enough
to hide a minivan. 

   Seeing that we couldn't do anything there, we went to the police station
next.  Rosa was there, and she looked up, smiling.  She stopped when she
saw how serious we were.

   "Hey Rosa, do you know if Detective Newcastle is here?"

   "I believe so, do you need to see him?"

   "We do.  Could you tell him it has to do with my mother?"

   "I will.  He's never given up, not really.  I catch him reviewing the
file once every few months."

   Rosa made a call on an ancient phone system, and then led us back to the
office that I'd seen before.  She ushered us in and then left, closing the
door behind her.

   "I remember you," was all the detective said.  He was soft-spoken like I
remembered from before.  My memories of him cast him in a bad light.  After
all, he was trying to take my Daddy away from me.  Now, I could see the
lines of care and stress on his face.  I could believe that he had never
given up.

   "I think I might have found my mother, but I can't prove it without your
help."

   I could tell that Newcastle was skeptical.  I was, too, but I laid
everything out.  The timeline, the lack of cameras, the special order.  I
showed him the police blotter for the accident and the article about
repairing the guardrail the following afternoon.  When I was done, he
looked at my notes silently.  I was sure he would patronize me and usher me
out. 

   "All right," was all he said.

   "All right?"

   "I mean, I agree.  I don't know if she's there, but this is worth
checking.  It's the best lead I've seen in years.  I've got some dive
specialists for recovering evidence, and, um, people, from underwater. 
I'll try to get them out there tomorrow.  In the meantime, try not to get
your hopes up.  If you knew how many times I was almost sure that I'd found
your mother...well, it would break your heart, I'm sure.  Just give me your
contact info, and I'll tell you whatever we do or do not find."

   It seemed anti-climatic, but I left my printed notes with the detective,
and we went home.  I could tell that Larissa's parents were concerned
because both of us were quiet and somber.  I think that she was a sure as I
was that we'd found her, but only time would tell.

   Later, after dinner, I decided to take another step.  I dialed the
number that I had debated on deleting or blocking.  Not that he'd tried to
contact me, in any case.

   "Allie?" his voice sounded shaky, but not upset.  Was he happy to hear
from me?

   "Yes, Daddy, it's me," I said, sighing, "I have some stuff I want to
talk about with you.  If its all right I'd like to drop by the house
tomorrow.  I won't take up much of your time."

   I was aware that I was using the voice I used when dealing with
difficult people.  Kind of formal and professional but cold.  I felt sad
again, for him, and for me.

   "Yes, ...of course.  I, uh, wanted to talk to you about..."

   I cut him off before I started to cry.

   "Ok, great, I'll see you then."

   And I hung up. 

   * * *

   I thought I'd get a call in the evening, maybe.  Instead, my phone
started to vibrate in ht last period of the day.  Without asking, I stood
up and left the room.  My teacher was too stunned to stop me, given that
I'd never tarnished my good-girl image in my entire high school career to
that point. 

   "Detective?"

   "We found her.  She's been right there the whole time.  I waited until
we confirmed it was her van before I called you.  We have DNA samples to
compare, but that might take a little while longer."

   I spoke with him more and was polite.  I don't remember what I said,
though, or what he said to me.  I just know that I said that I would tell
my father.  I texted him and asked if he would pick me up at school, right
away.  It was almost over anyway.  He was still at work, but to be honest,
I really didn't care.  I needed to tell him.  I needed him.

   He arrived almost at the moment school ended.  He must have left right
after he got off of the phone with me.  I'd texted Larissa that he would
pick me up, and she told me she'd come to get me if I needed it but wished
me well.

   My father's Honda pulled up.  I looked at him briefly.  He looked so
much older.  Worn.  I felt a mixture of guilt and compassion.  Had I done
this?  Was I such a slut that I'd ruined the man that raised and cared for
me?  I pushed the thought down and got in the car, not meeting his eye.

   "Hi, silly girl," he said quietly.

   Oh god, how I missed when he called me that.  I wanted to melt.  I felt
useless and helpless.

   "Hi, Daddy."

   He didn't push me to talk in the car.  We drove home, went inside, and
he put the kettle on the stove.  He knew that I loved tea and that
chamomile always calmed me down.  Other people wouldn't have noticed, but
I'm sure that he saw the tension radiating off of me like a fever.

   We sat there for a little while, at the table, waiting.  I couldn't
bring my self to do anything but stare forward.  How could I do this?  How
could I even be here after the things I'd said and done?  But I knew that I
didn't have any choice.  I saw my father move, and I flinched.

   He was smiling at me and holding his hand out.  I took it.  I found my
voice.

   "Daddy...I..."

   "I..." he started.  I held up my hand to stop him.  If we began to
apologize to one another, then I'd start crying, and I'd never get through
this.  He stopped talking.

   "They found mom's ...mom's body today."

   "What?" His face showed shock, concern, disbelief, even anger.  I didn't
blame him.  I sighed.

   "I had some free time, so I went back and looked at everything.  The
case, the papers, her route, the weather.  She was going out to get special
stuff for dinner.  They probably won't be sure for a while, but I think she
lost control or hydroplaned on the wet road.  She went over a curve into
the lake.  The roadside was already torn up from an accident the night
before, and they fixed the guardrail right that afternoon.  By then, she
was already dead.  It's deep there...it took divers to find her, despite
only being about fifteen feet offshore.  They won't have a confirmation or
an announcement until the DNA is confirmed...but it's definitely her...our
minivan."

   I stopped and breathed, waiting for a response.  Would he be sad?  Angry
at the messenger?  Would he even care?  I felt hot tears rolling down my
cheeks as he processed what I had told him.  He knew that I wouldn't lie.

   Finally, he stood up.  I did too.  I didn't know why, but I was afraid.
He surged towards me and folded me in his strong arms.  I felt his warmth,
love, and even scent surround me.  I was very suddenly a mess.  I started
to sob.  Really, honestly ugly cry, right there in the ktichen.  I felt my
traitor body react to his presence, the tingling warmth starting, the
familiar wetness.  I guess I didn't care.  I was positive that he was
crying too.  He just held me.

   "I'm proud of you.  I've missed you so much...and...it's my fault.  I
shouldn't have left you alone, and I should have been there with you
looking.  It never even would have occurred to me to look there."

   "I'm sorry Daddy, I said such awful things to you...about
her...and...and..."

   "I...I don't know.  She would have forgiven you.  You've had to listen
to years of people saying ugly things.  I've been thinking a lot
about...about what we did, too.  I think she'd understand that too. 
Whenever she'd see something about two people who 'weren't supposed' to be
in love, she'd always say that love was where you found it and that all
that mattered was that they were two consenting adults.  I don't know if
she'd approve..but I think she'd understand."

   Daddy led me to the couch, and he held me as I cried.  It wouldn't stop,
and at first, I was ashamed, but soon I just relaxed into his arms, feeling
the masculine comfort that I'd missed for months.  He was a perfect
gentleman, and I didn't try to seduce him or even kiss him chastely.  If we
couldn't be together the way I wanted, it might break my heart, but I
didn't want to lose my father permanently.

   Eventually, I found myself waking up, my head in my father's lap, his
gentle hand stroking my hair.  I felt safe and loved, surrounded by his
scent.  I sat up, suddenly, blushing.  I couldn't let that go any further.
Not now that we were at least talking. 

   I looked at him, and he smiled at me.  I sighed.

   "I'd like to come back home..."

   "You can.  Any time.  If you're comfortable with it."

   "Um.  I think I'll sleep at Larissa's tonight because all of my things
are there.  But maybe tomorrow?"

   "Of course."

   I texted Larissa, she picked me up.  I filled her in on how things went,
and she looked relieved.  She'd never say so, but I'm sure that she was
ready for me to go home.  I spent one more night there and then moved my
things back the next day, with her help. 

   "Tell me if you need anything...or if anything...you know...happens..."

   I rolled my eyes a little at her.  She'd confessed to me that she found
the whole forbidden romance angle pretty hot.  I had a hard time judging
her for it as I did too. 

   "I'll tell you, for sure.  But I don't think that Daddy...that he wants
me like that anymore."

   Larissa smiled knowingly.

   "You underestimate your sex appeal, as usual.  Give it time.  You might
work that part out too."

   I hoped so, but I sincerely doubted it.  Besides that, I had something
bigger on my mind at that moment.  We had a long overdue funeral to plan,
and I wasn't letting my father face that alone.

   =============================================

   CHAPTER SIX

   Safe Harbors

   =============================================

   The funeral was a bit surreal, but it was also quite welcome.  I never
really believed in closure before.  It seemed to be a lie.  Wouldn't I
always be grieving my mother's loss?  But there was value in knowing what
had happened to her, knowing that she hadn't left us, or suffered.  I still
felt terrible for the suspicions and fears that I had held over the years,
but at least I had a chance to say goodbye.

   I helped my father with the decisions, staying by his side.  He was
strong, as always, but I could see that finding her had affected him
deeply. He'd suspected that she might be dead, but there was a finality,
impossible to ignore, in planning a celebration of someone's life.  We did
our best. 

   Daddy wore his best black suit and looked amazing in it.  I felt bad for
noticing, but I had accepted that I loved him in more than appropriate
ways. I wore a lovely, tasteful black dress.  It clung to me a bit more
closely then I remembered.  Perhaps I'd gained some weight?

   The service was brief, but we allowed time for family members to speak.
I did, briefly.  The burial itself was only attended by a few, which is
what we wanted.  Then there was a restrained reception at our local church.
In the end, we came home.  I was exhausted as if I had run miles instead of
been just sitting and standing and talking.

   I looked at my father to tell him that I would be going to take a nap.
He looked haggard and worn, but also like a man who'd finally released a
significant burden.  I saw his eyes, and I drew in a sharp breath, without
thinking.  There was a longing there, sincere and loving.  There was also
great hunger. 

   I knew what would happen if I kept looking at him, meeting his eyes.  I
knew, but I did it anyway.  I was his little girl, forever.  I could never
deny him anything.  I licked my lips, nervously.  That was all it took.

   You might judge our timing, but it was as though a great weight had
lifted off of us.

   Daddy moved towards me, and I stepped back instinctively.  He pulled me
to him, kissing me fiercely, pinning my arms to my sides with his own.  I
felt loved and possessed, and it was what I needed.  I slipped my tongue
into his mouth, letting him know my willingness.  His grip loosened, but
his hands wandered over my back, and down, squeezing my ass.  I moaned into
his mouth.

   We stopped kissing, and looked at each other, breathing heavily and
smiling with love at one another.  I think at that moment, I could have
stopped it.  It would have been a pleasant experience, but maybe nothing
more.  I wasn't going to allow that.

   "I want you, Daddy," I said, biting my lip.  Really, up to this point in
our sexual relationship, I'd tried to be seductive in my own inexperienced
way but he'd taken the lead, as I'd wanted him to.  This time I knew
exactly what I was doing.

   He took me by the arm, gentle but insistent, leading me up the stairs.
My heart beat rapidly, and my breath came quickly.  I was aware of how
close he was, the heat of his hand on me, his scent.  I quivered in
anticipation and fear.

   Before had been first experiences, pleasurable excursions, lovely and
new.  I realized that he had taken his time with me, been patient, given me
what I needed and how I needed it.  Now, he would take me.  I shuddered as
he led me into his bedroom.  He released me, long enough unzip the back of
my dress, and then pull it down over my shoulders. 

   In the back of my mind, I wished I had worn something a little more
enticing, which was ridiculous.  It was a funeral and daddy didn't care
what I was wearing.  He just wanted it off of me.  I watched him strip, his
eyes never leaving my body.  I fumbled, hands quaking, at my bra, finally
removing it, a simple and easy task made difficult by nerves.

   Seeing my difficulty, he took matters into his own hands.  Pushing me
toward the bed, onto it, I found myself on all fours.  I knew how he wanted
me.  I felt his strong hands pull my panties down, but he didn't bother
taking them off.  When I felt him grip my sides, I moaned, squeezing my
thighs together.  I felt his gaze on my back, on my wet, swollen pussy.

   "You look so beautiful like this," he said, as he positioned himself
behind me.  I felt him, oh god, he felt so big, and he was pushing into me.
Out of patience, out of self-control, he was faster than before, full of
need.  I cried out as he entered me, falling from my hands to my elbows.  I
was breathing hard like I had cum already.  I was full of want and fear.

   "Are you all right?"

   Daddy had stopped, and I looked back over my shoulder.  He looked down
at me, worried that he'd hurt me.  I smiled at him, inviting him to
continue.  He moved out, and I felt myself clutch at him, desperate for him
to return, and then he did, and I whimpered.  I lost my self to his
merciless cock, forcing me to feel such pleasure.  I found myself cumming,
feeling almost ashamed of how easily he'd done this to me.

   "Daddy, fuck...fuck me...please...please fuck me, daddy..."

   I wasn't relieved by the orgasm; instead, it was more like a fuse being
lit, bringing me to higher levels of intensity, of lust.  I spoke in an
endless stream of pleading and begging, all guiding my father to keep
fucking me and never stop.  I needed him.  I needed to feel his seed
filling me.  I needed this to be our marriage bed. 

   He answered by thrusting harder and faster, making me gasp out in
pleasure and pain.  I discovered that the latter made the former better,
and I promised myself that I would never ask him to slow down or be more
gentle.  I would never do anything but be his little girl, his little
loving slut.

   My daddy was ravishing me, and I loved it. 

   I don't know how long it went on for, I know that by the time he
approached his limits, I was covered in sweat, shaking, and quivering.  I
was incapable of speech, just animalistic sounds of lust, almost in a rage
of need.  I needed to cum, certainly, but I needed his cum more.

   Finally, after the endless and beautiful torment, I felt him swell,
growing ever harder, and he grunted, no shouted, as he filled me, his
daughter, with his virile seed.  I came harder than before, harder
than ever before, felt the wave crashing over me, pulling me under,
having its way with me just as daddy was.  I lost all sense of time and
place, and came back to myself, gasping and panting, covered in sweat,
still filled by my father.

   I felt his hands on me and sighed as he pulled out of me, feeling an
immediate aching from the separation.  I wanted to collapse on the bed, but
he moved me gently until he could cuddle behind me, spooning me
protectively, and pulling the covers over us both.

   I knew then that we were together, exclusive, and bound.  It felt right.
He wanted me, and I wanted him.  We both needed comfort.  So, in the face
of death, we celebrated life.  You might judge me, and I understand that. 

   Love doesn't need to defend itself.  It just is.

   =============================================

   CHAPTER SEVEN

   Charting New Horizons

   =============================================

   We drove down the coast in comfortable silence.  Daddy kept his eyes on
the road, but his hand kept finding my knee, my thigh, my pussy.  He'd made
me cum once, and it was only mid-morning.  At some point, he'd find a
secluded spot to pull over, and I'd reciprocate with my mouth, feeling his
powerful hands tangled in my hair as his salty cum flowed down my throat.

   I knew that this would happen because it happened almost every time we
took this route.  It was where we spent our honeymoon, although no-one but
us truly understood.  This was our tenth-anniversary celebration.  Daddy
asked me if I wanted to go somewhere else and I just laughed and asked him
if was tired of fucking me on the beach.  He wasn't, so we were headed
back.

   I ended up going to college in our town, and after graduating, we both
moved a few hours away.  We loved our home town, but we wanted to live as
man and wife, openly and without judgment.  So we embarked on a new
adventure together.  It was stressful at first, with me starting my new
gallery and trying to take care of everything house-related at the same
time.  I was trying to prove that I could be the perfect domestic goddess,
and it turns out I wasn't cut out for it.  Once I learned to share
responsibilities with my father, things smoothed out quite a bit.  He
didn't want a goddess.  He wanted me.

   Daddy was fifty now.  It had taken me a while, but I was really settled
into my career, my gallery had taken off, and I had several regional
talents and one nationally-recognized artist displaying there now.  And
finally, I'd convinced him that going off of birth control was a good idea.

   I know that he was worried, given his age, that he wouldn't be able to
be as much help as he'd like if I did have a child, but I was ready.  Both
of us wanted a baby, and I know that the idea of knocking up his little
girl turned him on desperately.  The past few weeks of intense lovemaking
were enough to prove that to me.  It was profoundly gratifying to be wanted
and desired that much by the man I loved the most in the world.  I wondered
if I'd ever get anything done if I actually became pregnant, or if he'd
just fuck me until I was too worn out to move.

   There was some appeal to the idea.

   This might sound dirty to you.  It is, I suppose.  But sex didn't drive
our relationship.  First and foremost, it was built on a bedrock of love.
On that foundation were many expressions of desire and pleasure.  If I
loved tasting my father's hot seed, it was because it was from him and him
alone.  I trusted him and held him above all others.  He loved and hungered
for me and me alone.

   To our friends, we were simply a very loving couple with an age
difference.  I may be biased, but I think our love was more complex than
just two people.  We were family.


   For Pics visit:---->>> https://cutt.ly/hwsMVhC