Father and Daughter

"Take it easy, man," Jerry was the first to leap to his feet, his voice as soothing as it could be.

"You fucking ripped me off, man!" Richard continued to scream. "And you!" He pointed the cue at me. "You knew about it, didn't you? You sent me there to be ripped off intentionally!

"I used to buy your drinks, remember? When you constantly cried and bitched about your whore of a wife and wimp of a son? I was here, you ungrateful motherfucker, listening to you moaning on and on about them, while I watered you down with whatever drink you fancied.

"And that's how you repay me? Seeing me after so long, you decide I'm a ripe victim for a goddamn cheap hustle?"

"Look, man, I'm sorry, I just..." I tried to apologize; my blood grew cold, when he shoved the cue closer to my face, the sharp edges brushing against my skin.

"You were jealous, you fuck," Richard continued to scream. "You couldn't stand it that I made something out of my life! That I was someone!

"I've lost it all, though! Are you happy to hear it, huh?

"I was sober for two damn years! But, one night, I started drinking; went to work drunk like a skunk. Flashed the vice-president, asked her if she wanted a taste of my cock; during a bring your daughter at work day!

"I was fired on the spot, I'm a recorded sex offender; I can't get a new job, I had to tell all my neighbors in the suburbs what I did. This was the only place I could think of, where I'd be welcome, where I'd be able to at least have something resembling a life.

"I thought you'd be better than the corporate suits eager to step on someone's corpse just to sniff on the next rung of the ladder. But, apparently, I was, once again, dead wrong," his voice dialed down gradually and, by the end of his speech, he was whispering, amidst heavy panting.

No one moved in the barroom; they all just stared, bewildered, at Richard.

"Nothing to say, huh?" He laughed, dryly. "Thought so; anyway, here's your money!" He handed Elizabeth the bet, then threw the cue on the floor and stormed out of the barroom, never again to be seen.

"What the hell happened?" Elizabeth asked, completely taken aback, without even bothering to count the bills in her clenched fist.

"Long story," both Jerry and I said simultaneously, staring somberly at the main door.

* * * * *

"So," Elizabeth asked me, when we were back home and away from everyone, the twelve hundred bucks she'd won off Richard on the coffee table, "mind explaining what exactly happened tonight?"

"To make it short," I sighed and swilled down my cheap vodka—we were polishing off the last remaining non-empty bottle in my apartment—"it was nothing but a simple case of what's happening around here.

"Some people manage to leave, but, it never lasts; they always come back. Usually, even more defeated than they were. And that's what happened to Richard."

"All right," she had a long sip and smacked her lips, "but, why did you...send him to me? Why did you motion me to swindle him?"

"I thought," I paused. "I don't know," I finally added, in surrender.

"You were jealous," she said. "I get it, I guess. Shit," she looked at her watch and scoffed, "I'm going to be late. I have to go to work, dad. Try not to spend the whole amount on booze and pot, alright?

"We have to make them last." She kissed me tenderly, and long, on the cheek, then, hurried out of the apartment, almost running on her high-heel platforms.

I transfused the remaining vodka from her glass to mine and swigged it down; the bottle was able to produce just one more glass, which I drained thirstily, and then, I looked at yet another dry bottom.

At the liquor store, I had to restrain myself from spending more than 300 bucks on booze; I spent exactly 300 bucks, buying bourbon, vodka, tequila, gin, and several six-packs of beer.

Yet, when I came back home and sat in front of my laptop, wishing finally to get something done, somehow make some money on my own and stop living entirely off my daughter's earnings, I couldn't find the mental prowess to type a single goddamn word.

I kept thinking of Elizabeth twirling around the steel pole of the strip joint, wearing nothing but a thong and high-heel platforms; and desperate, down on their luck men (in short, my peers) ogling over her, their minds filled with perverted fantasies and scenarios, involving Elizabeth in the most degrading and compromising positions...

I had a long sip of tequila straight out of the bottle and rushed out to the streets.

"Hey, man," Dave greeted me heartily with a warm handshake; he stood outside the strip joint, wearing his usual all too colorful outfits, while smoking a fat handrolled cigarette. "You sure you want to come in? I mean..."

"Yeah, I know," I nodded. "I just want to check out what's going on; you know?"

"I ain't one to judge, man," he shrugged with a wide smirk and stepped aside, slightly bowing as I walked past him.

It had been a while since I had last visited the joint and the heavy atmosphere took me aback; Jane, the hostess in the skimpy outfit leaving only the bare minimum to the imagination, greeted me with a hearty kiss on the cheek and guided me to the corner booth, my usual seating.

Without my even ordering, a glass of bourbon neat arrived at the table just a couple of minutes after I had taken a seat; I had a sip and was relieved to see they'd stopped serving me the tainted shit they usually offered clients. Sometimes, it's good to frequent places like these, you get better treatment—at the very least, they don't serve you booze tainted with kerosene, which, in a worst case scenario, can blind you.

"Hey there, love," Gina sat next to me, her hand going straight to my crotch. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Busy," I smiled at her as heartwarmingly as I could muster. "How's it going tonight?"

"We've seen better nights," she said in a low whisper. "But, our new talent's about to come out and people are getting raucous...fuck," she moaned. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"It's alright," I dismissed her worries as casually as physically possible. "Besides, I kinda came here to see what's...going on; check the place up, the reactions."

"Are you sure you want to be here, for when she...comes out? I mean," she paused; she ordered a tequila from the waitress. It was real tequila, not water with a slice of lemon, which was the usual drink of the girls when they sat next to a customer. Besides, I wasn't charged for her drink. Again, the perks of being a regular—or, of the owner having fucked your daughter on your own damn bed.

"And now," the all too loud and pompous voice of the D.J. rang through the speakers, "please give it up for our brightest star, straight from the land of the stars...MOONSHINE!"

Warrant's "Cherry Pie"...of course it had to be that song! My jaw dropped and my heart stopped beating for a few terrifying seconds—where I honestly thought I was heading for a heart attack—when Elizabeth walked down the short ramp; her dress tight and short, a sparkling gold dress with a low back reaching all the way down to her tailbone and a too deep cleavage.

Her hair and makeup were done completely different than I'd ever seen her before; I hardly recognized her, aside from the facial features I'd seen all too many times before, the features I watched change as she grew older, as she turned from a little girl with pigtails and playing with dolls to a rebellious adolescent wearing hot pants and staying up late, just to piss her mother and me off.

She hung upside down from the pole and swirled, resembling a falling angel. Her movements contained a grace and elegance I'd never thought possible, especially in my own daughter; her suggestive smile and glance felt personal to everyone in the club, while they were directed at no one in particular.

As the song reached its crescendo, she slipped out of her dress; topless and wearing a barely there g-string, she crawled down on the platform, teasing the cheering guys standing around, offering them her ass, and they slipped several bills in her g-string.

I drained my drink and immediately requested a new one; I could not comprehend the divisive feelings swarming my mind and body. I did not want to comprehend them. My bourbon arrived and I drank it up, trying somehow to subdue my excitement.

"My, oh my," Gina giggled in my ear; her hand was in my pants, squeezing my erect prick.

"Stop," I pleaded with her, unconvincingly. "Not now, not..."

"Baby," she whispered in my ear, her soft breathing causing shivers to traverse my spine, "you were hard, the moment she came out. You dirty old man." She bit my earlobe, while stroking my cock.

Once again, I felt an immaculate pride for my hydraulics and their ability to function in spite of the alcohol poisoning my blood, yet, this time around, there was also shame in the fact I was erect.

Elizabeth's dance had finished and she had been replaced by a tall redhead, who kicked her leg high, offering everyone a peek of her pink underwear.

Then, I saw Elizabeth emerge out of the dressing room, wearing the same gold dress, and sauntering around the tables, most of which were occupied by one, or two, lonely drinking men seeking for some temporary companionship.

I had to sit there—unaware of whether she had seen me—and watch her give lapdances to anyone willing to pay the price; grinding herself against their crotches, suffering their crude touches, as they hungrily explored every inch of her firm body.

A part of me just wanted to start punching everyone laying a finger on my daughter; another part of me, however, felt a bizarre sense of pride. Pride for witnessing Elizabeth excelling at what she did, the nature of it notwithstanding.

I'd have much more appreciated it, if her occupation was more respectable, and far less sexualized, but, inadvertently I felt as if I was observing my daughter handle the finances of an international company, or, direct her own movie (both were aspirations she once upon a long time had confided in me).

She garnered the most attention from the patrons and I did notice a few fierce, jealous glares directed her way from her co-workers; she was clearly the best at what she did and that could only fill me with a melancholy-ridden joy.

"Are the girls jealous of Elizabeth?" I asked Gina, suddenly realizing that she was not working at a safe working environment, where jealous co-workers are practically harmless.

"A bit," she confirmed my suspicions. "Don't worry, though," she was quick to quell my fears, "they won't dare do anything to her. Dave's got her back."

"And that should be comforting, because...?"

"Dave may be a mean son of a bitch, but, as we both know, he's overly protective of those he likes. He'd never let anyone get hurt under his watch, unless he wants them hurt."

Entrusting my daughter's safety to a pimp, who loved dressing like an 80's caricature, did not seem the smartest of ideas, to be frank; on the other hand, I knew Dave and, as I've already said, he was one of the few really trustworthy sons of bitches around.

If there was someone I'd want watching my daughter's back, it was Dave, regardless of how oxymoronic it may sound.

My heart fluttered, when I noticed Elizabeth leading an old man with long, greasy hair by the hand to the back rooms, for private entertainment. Once more, my adrenaline shot off through the roof and I wanted nothing more than to rip the pervert's hair off his head, preferably along with his scalp.

Gina's grip around my prick got tighter and I squirmed; her stroking became more intense, while she planted long, wet kisses on my neck. Her lips slowly moved upward, seeking for my lips.

Our kiss was shortlived—kissing was strictly forbidden in the joint, unless you had paid for private entertainment, which I hadn't.

I was getting a bad buzz, feeling the mean drunk waking up and trying to ascend from the abyss of my soul, and when Elizabeth came back out in the main area of the joint, still holding hands with the old pervert, whose smirk could easily be discerned even across the dim-lit room (or, maybe, I only saw the smirk in my mind, but, whichever the case, the effect in my psyche was the same), I decided to get the hell out of there.

Gina tripped, as her hand was still inside my pants, and landed flat on the floor; I hardly stopped to notice. I simply stormed out of the strip joint, Dave asked me something, or told me something, but, I only heard his voice as background noise meant to be ignored.

I returned home and drank myself to a stupor, reaching the bottom of the opened tequila bottle and finally passed out on the couch in a dreamless (thankfully) slumber.

* * * * *

"Were you at the club last night?" Elizabeth asked me, her head resting on my shoulder, as I used vodka to heal my dinosaur-killing hangover.

"Yeah...I think," I grumbled, rubbing the bridge of my nose, wishing to make the pain go away.

"Dave said you stormed off like a madman," she continued. "Begged me to ask you if you're all right; he seemed pretty worried."

"I'm fine," I lied. "Perfectly fucking fine."

"I thought you didn't mind me working there," her voice grew weary and tired.

"I didn't...I don't," I hurriedly corrected myself, clearing my throat—just the act of coughing caused thunderous pain to cross my body, and my nausea intensified. "It's just...seeing you there, I guess, did...it's different actually witnessing it, you know?"

"Why did you come, then? If you..."

"I had to...I just needed to see it with my own eyes, make sure that...you're safe? I don't know what I was thinking. In case you've missed the signs," I tried to joke, "your dad's drinking a bit."

"My dad's having a serious drinking problem," she said, quite sternly, "but, that's not for here and now. Though, you ought to..."

"Don't," I interrupted her abruptly. "The last thing I need right now, is a lecture on alcoholism, all right?"

"Fine," she sighed heavily. "All I was trying to say is..."

"Stuff it," I dismissed her coldly and drank down the vodka. "Maybe, we'll talk about it when I'm not hangover."

"You're always..." she stopped with a groan and for a little while we remained perfectly silent, in a tight cuddle; she refilled my glass, and poured one for herself, and we spent yet more time in a silent embrace, drinking vodka, each lost into the different harrowing thoughts plaguing our minds.

I cannot say how exactly it happened, who initiated it, or, why I let it happen in the first place; all I remember is at some point leaning closer to Elizabeth, trying to kiss her forehead, perhaps in an attempt to apologize for the way I had talked to her.

Was it with intention she lifted her head? Or, was it with intention that my aim wasn't very accurate? I can't say; all I know is that our lips touched. And after the initial, brief kiss, we were both petrified, simply staring into each other's eyes questioningly.

Then, our lips interlocked once more in a longer, more passionate kiss.

I moved my hands down to her thin waist, having a firm hold around her, and pulled her up on my lap, while I still sucked hungrily on her lips.

When she ran her nails softly across my chest, a spine-numbing shiver overwhelmed me; I helped her out of her shirt and cupped her firm breasts. I massaged them carefully, teasing her nipples gently with my fingers. She moaned in my mouth, which only made me intensify the way I sucked her lips.

For a moment, I did ask myself whether there'd ever be a way back from it; I wondered of the consequences of what we were doing (and were about to do). However, when she expertly buried my face between her breasts and I could feel the firmness and warmth engulfing my cheeks, while I planted soft kisses on her sternum, I decided to fuck the consequences and just do what felt right at that very moment.

Was it wrong? Definitely. But, when I swirled my tongue around her erect nipple and heard her soft, deep sighs, it felt the utmost right thing I've ever done.

She grinded against my crotch, while I still sucked on her breasts, on occasion softly biting her nipples; her growing louder moans were pure music in my ear, they sounded better than any composition of Beethoven and Shostakovich.

Slowly, and methodically, she crawled down to her knees, sporting a wide, bright smile, as she stared dead into my eyes; my heart was near exploding, I could hardly breathe.

She pulled my sweatpants down, causing my erect prick to jump up; it throbbed and I couldn't help but smile, when I noticed her eyes beaming in excitement, as she stared at my tool in fascination.

"My God," she giggled. "I did remember it from when I..." she said, slowly running her hand across my rod, stroking me softly. "Fuck," she moaned, then took the tip in her mouth.

Her lips were wet, her tongue warm; I ran my fingers through her hair, while she slowly took more of my center in her mouth. The warmth that overcame me was quite unprecedented; and it wasn't just because it was Elizabeth's lips wrapped tight around my throbbing shaft.

She knew what she was doing—admittedly, it was probably the best blowjob I've ever gotten in my life. The way she teased my sensitive head with her tongue, the rhythm with which she swallowed down the length of my shaft, the relative ease with which she deepthroated me...

Not with Gina, not with her mother, not with anyone had I ever felt so close to climaxing simply from a blowjob. Of course, in hindsight, I can honestly say it was the first time in a very long time I enjoyed sexual pleasure in a sober condition, which would explain how fast I came (the first time).

She was taken aback by the amount of jism I shot; the first load ended straight in her mouth, while the rest landed all over her face and hair, a thick coat of cum drenching her beautiful face.

With a bright smile, she swallowed my load; I was boiling inside, from satisfaction and regret. I refused to believe I had finished so quick, quicker than even a fucking virgin nerd.

"It's alright, dad," she kissed my softening prick. "It happens to everybody...and, besides," her smirk widened, "I am quite good at it, ain't I?"

Her wink felt like a sharp needle had just pricked my heart; had it really happened? Did my daughter brag about her blowjob skills to me?

With my balls emptied, the cloud that had engulfed my brain began to be lifted, which consequently meant I was seeing things clearer; sober and dry, the image of Elizabeth still on her knees, her face covered in my cum was a relentless attack to the few firm beliefs I've ever held.

However; when she cleaned the jism off her face with her finger, then sucked it clean and swallowed down every last drop of my cum, I once more lost my mind. It wasn't just Elizabeth I was seeing; she was also Moonshine, the star attraction of the strip joint.

I picked her up and sat her down on the couch; I pulled her shorts down and the smoothness and softness of her pussy instantly had me all high and ready to go.

My head between her lovely thin legs, kissing her inner thighs; her fingers through my hair, demandingly pulling me closer to her cunt. My tongue connected to her clit and I licked with slow, methodical moves; teasing her slit with my finger, thoroughly enjoying her gentle squirming.

I continued to suck on her clit, going a bit harder; her moans once more grew loud and I took it as encouragement to keep on going. I slipped my finger in her wet pussy and moved it up and down in her, as if calling someone over, while I continued to suck on her clit.