My Daughter, My Lover

Tax time is always a ridiculous time of year.

I got home late that night, which is usual for me in early April. From in the driveway, I heard them yelling in the house.

"What the fuck," I thought, looking at my watch. 11:30. Almost the witching hour and most definitely the bitching hour in my house tonight. I glanced around at my neighbor's houses. Most lights were out, so hopefully my two ladies' little domestic squabble wasn't being giggled at up and down the street.

I braced myself and opened the front door in time to hear my wife call my daughter a whoring slut at the top of her voice.

"Ohhh-kayyy," I said slowly and calmly. "I take it that Sally is now supplementing the household income with various clients?"

The instant, if only momentary, silence was deafening. I'd always had a penchant for making flippant remarks at just the right moment. Hey, when you live with two women, you take your entertainment how you can.

"Don't you start your shit tonight, Harold. Sally is about to pack her crap and get out of my house and you can be right behind her if you don't watch it," my wife yelled.

My wife is a pretty woman, perfect to me in most ways. But if there was one aspect of God's design that I could change, it would be to place a volume control knob right on her frigging forehead.

"You're moving out?" I asked my daughter.

"No," she uttered defiantly.

I closed the door behind me, put down my brief case and walked over to the liquor cabinet to mix myself a drink. My wife trailed behind me barking like a rabid Chihuahua.

"Do you know what your precious little daughter's been up to tonight?" she harped.

"Of course not," I thought, reaching for some scotch.

"Well, Let…Me…Tell…You…What… Miss Princess has been up to."

I changed my mind and reached for the Hennessey and a shot glass. When my wife starts chopping sentences into one word blocks it is always a good time to get soused.

"I decide to go to the movies, get there late and decide to come back home," she paused for effect and I groaned to myself knowing just what was coming. I changed cups and dumped four fingers into a tumbler. Neat. No ice, no mixer. I didn't want to be sane or sober if I had to hear my wife for the rest of the night…or week for that matter. "Your little trollop here was whoring with a man's nasty-ass cock all down her dirty fucking mouth!"

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling, sighed, reached for another tumbler and decided that tonight I would not side with my wife.

"She's eighteen," I said, sealing my fate and pouring another glass of sparkling brown liquid.

You know how there is this full, deadly quiet in those seconds between a lighting flash and a thunderclap? Well, the lightning flash was the sudden hard clout I felt on my back that nearly made me spill the drinks. I heard her suck in a deep breath and I braced myself for a barrage of sound worse than any physical punishment.

"You moron! You jackass!" she shrieked. "Not in my house! NOT…IN…MY…HOUSE. She is NOT eighteen in my house! I don't fucking clean all day, slave over a hot stove, wash filthy laundry and pick-up after her ass to see MY house turned into a FUCKING whorehouse at night."

"Microwave," I said. "You slave over a microwave."

I think my wife keeps me around only because no one else will have her. I turned to see her with her mouth hanging open.

"Oh, no, you did not just diss my cooking!"

I shrugged.

"And don't think you're going to drug me up tonight with any rum!"

I looked at the two glasses in my hand then up at her.

"Oh, this isn't for you."

I walked past her and handed a glass to my daughter.

"Here, sweetheart. This will help get the aftertaste out of your mouth."

Sally woodenly took the glass from me and just stared at it.

"You're supposed to sip it," I said.

She hesitantly raised the glass to her lips and took a small sip while peering nervously past my shoulder at her mother.

"Great! Just great!" The screeching started up again. "A whore and a rummy. And a god-damned father who encourages her."

"Why don't you go to your room now, Sally, and let me talk to your mother. I'll come see you in a few," I said in my serious voice.

Sally nodded and hastily retreated from the room. When I heard her door close, I turned and looked at my wife. I took a long draw from my tumbler.

"So, you caught our daughter being a woman," I finally said.

"A slut! A slut," she yelled. "A fucking slut disrespecting my home! And you no better putting up with her shit."

"What would you have me do?"

"Slap the fucking bitch into tomorrow, jackass!"

"I get the feeling you already did that for me."

"I didn't hit her hard enough. She's still standing!"

"Come on, Dorette," I said, raising my voice for the first time that night. "Like you never sucked a cock in your life!"

"NOT…IN…MY…MOTHER'S… HOUSE!"

"Bullshit! In your mother's house. In my car. In the woods. At the club. Any place you could. Who the fuck do you think you are talking to, you fucking hypocrite!"

"I'm talking to my husband who I can suck and fuck any damn place and time that I feel! SHE ain't married to that dirty ass disease ridden street punk."

"And you weren't always married to this dirty ass disease ridden street punk when we started doing all that shit that you couldn't get enough of."

"We are not having this conversation. We are not having this conversation." She started walking in circles and pulling at her hair. "I never got caught. We were smarter than that piece of shit in there."

"You are talking about OUR daughter," I said, starting to get mad.

"I didn't raise up my child to be like that."

"Oh, you are so wrong, Miss High And Mighty. So fucking wrong. She is a woman and she will do woman things. Maybe her timing was wrong, but her behavior was in no way whorish or sluttish. I will talk to her, but I will not chastise or punish her."

"You're just going to condone her behavior."

I sighed and went to the bar to pour another drink.

"Be reasonable, Dorette. Have you even given one ounce of thought to how she feels about being caught?"

"I hope she feels like shit!"

"I'm sure she does. She's probably traumatized as hell."

"Good. And while you are talking to her, make sure she is packing. Dawn will NOT see her in my house."

"Our house," I yelled, slamming down the glass and turning on my wife. "Our house. And MY daughter will never, ever be turned out of MY house. NEVER!"

"You gonna chose her over me."

"I would rather not have to make the choice, but if you force me, yes. She's graduating in June, has a good shot at college and I will not see her out on the street struggling. If she wants to stay here until she's eighty she has a home in my house."

"Yeah, you would turn our house into a whore's den."

I nearly slapped her then. For the first time in my life I almost raised my hand to a woman. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down.

"I will have a talk with her. I will not put her out of the house. I will ask her to respect your precious house in the future."

"Let me ask you," she said in her low, dangerous voice. "What would you have done if you had walked in on her?."

I thought for a moment while watching her smug smile and arms folded defiantly across her chest.

"I would not have hit her. I would do just what I am going to do now: Talk to her. I honestly could not, however, vouch for the safety of her boyfriend."

"Now who's being the hypocrite," she sneered.

I turned back to my drink, took a sip and said: "I'm going to talk to her now," and walked out of the living room.

"Out of my house, you hear?" my darling wife shouted at my back. "Out…of…my…HOUSE!"

******

I tapped on my daughter's bedroom door and heard a soft "come in".

She was lying face down with her head turned away from me. I rested my drink and bottle down on her dresser and locked the door. I did not want dear Dorette barging in on our conversation. However, her ranting soliloquy still filtered into the room, albeit robbed of its volume.

"Honey, can we talk?"

She nodded her head.

"Well, can I see your face while we talk?"

She shook her head no.

OK. I grabbed a sip of my Hennessey.

"Did you finish your drink?" I asked spying her empty glass on the bedside table. She nodded yes.

"Want another?"

She nodded again and I poured her half a glass.

"You know…I feel like a fool talking to your back."

She didn't respond for a few seconds then I thought I heard a muffled sob.

"Are you ashamed of me, Daddy?" she asked quietly.

Yes, she had been crying. I could hear it in her voice.

"No, honey," I said gently. "Actually I'm not."

Another pause.

"Why not?"

"Well, if you'll face me and talk, one adult to another, maybe I will tell you."

"I'm too embarrassed," was her muted response.

I sighed and asked: "Mind if I sit down? My feet are killing me."

She shook her head. Carefully I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned my back on the head board. I closed my eyes and tried to think of what next to say.

"You haven't done anything wrong in my view. You just had some bad luck in timing. Your mother is just shocked. She'll come around by morning."

"No she won't. I messed up big."

"Maybe you messed up, but you weren't doing anything your mom and I weren't doing at your age. It's just that no parent wants to know that their child is doing what they used to do. Parents, believe it or not, are just a bunch of hypocrites. We remember what we used to do and hope and pray our kids aren't doing it. We tend to forget that our kids are human, too."

"Then you don't think I'm a slut?"

"No," I said. "You are just my little baby girl and you will always be my heart."

"I still don't understand why you aren't mad at me."

"Well, let's just say I will be mad at you if you don't stop hiding in a pillow and turn around and face me. If you want to act like an adult with your boyfriend, at least have the respect to talk with me like an adult."

"OK," she said. "Give me a second?" She raised her arm up to her face and wiped it across her eyes. She turned over and pulled herself up to a sitting position beside me. Her eyes were cast downward as I looked at her. I could see she had been crying. I placed my hand under her chin and lifted it to face me.

"Now, what are those tears about? You faced down your mom without a second thought, but now you cry?"

"Just the embarrassment, I guess."

"Hmm, yes, the embarrassment. Tell you what. You don't have to be embarrassed in front of me. Everybody has sex at some point in their life. It's just natural. But this is what we'll do. I don't want you sneaking around, doing it in a car in some dark place. That's too dangerous. We'll find a secret spot for me to leave motel money for you. Use it when you need to, no questions asked. OK?"

She just stared at me blankly.

"I'll take that as a yes. One other thing, I hope you're using a condom."

Silence.

Then…

"Uh…Dad…" in a very quiet voice.

"Sweetheart?" My heart was pounding. Visions of becoming a granddad or having a very sick daughter on my hands tumbled through my brain.

She lowered her head.

"Well, um, I'm a virgin."

OK. That caught me by surprise.

"Oh. So…uhh…your mom walked in on what would have been your first time?"

"Heck no," she suddenly laughed. "With Antoine? Oh, heck no! A blow job and a feel up were all he was getting. That's all any guy ever gets."

So now I was in way over my head. What should I say to that?

"Here," I said, reaching to the bedside table and handing her her glass. I grabbed mine. "Drink it before it gets….room temperature."

My daughter laughed again. She has this sweet laugh that changes pitch like music.

"Dad! You're speechless. I've never seen you speechless!" She suddenly spun round and wrapped her arms around my shoulders and neck in a tight hug. Some of her Hennessey splashed onto the bed. "Thank you, Dad,, you're so great." And she kissed my cheek quickly. Oddly enough the only thought in my head was if my five o'clock shadow was prickly.

She sat back and took a long sip on her drink.

"Boys," she said after both of us had a few seconds of staring into our liquor. "Boys. So dumb. So predictable. So shallow. They don't want me. They want my body. And they're dumb enough to think I don't know this. But I like them too, but not enough to go all the way with them. I want someone I can love and I can't love those prancing, preening jerks with no thoughts of the future except whether or not he's gonna get laid this weekend or look good in front of his boys. I give a hand job or a blow job, he gets me off with his hands and he goes home with a shit eating grin. Fair trade off for a date, I guess."

I took a long, long swallow of my liquor.

"OK. I think we can file that under the way, way too much information department."

She giggled and sidled up against me. I stretched my left arm over her shoulder and snuggled her into my side. We sat like that silently for a few minutes.

"I miss this, you know, Dad."

"Hmmm?"

"Yeah. We used to watch TV like this when I was a kid. We haven't done this in years. I used to feel so warm and comfy I'd just fall asleep."

"I remember."

She turned her head to look up at me. "Why'd we stop?"

"Well, uh, one day you sort of filled out and, well, it wasn't appropriate anymore."

"You're a wus, Dad." She snuggled tighter against me.

"Uh, huh," was all I could say as I enjoyed the warmth of my daughter in my arms and dreamed of the adorable child she used to be.

My reverie was interrupted by a sudden banging on the door. We both simultaneously started.

My wife's cranky voice filled the room: "Since you two misfits want to be all psycho babble shit and talk and all rather than just giving that slut a good ass whipping til she bleeds, I am going to my sister's for the night. I ain't staying in no house with a stinking whore. Not me! Not under the same roof!" Her voice trailed off down the hall. "Not me. Not any god fearing woman in the same house with a harlot, a Jezebel, a Mary Magdeline!"

We heard the front door slam and the car pull out and zoom down the road. Sally and I looked at each other a second then burst out laughing.

"Didn't…Mary…Magdeline…get converted…to Christ?" My daughter gasped out between snickers.

"Someone had to keep the disciples from getting bored on the road." I said and we began another round of laughter. A few minutes later, when we could hold our glasses relatively still again, I refreshed our drinks.

"We're gonna get drunk," Sally said.

"No. You're gonna get drunk. I'm already there."

"Oh," she said and drained her glass. "Mind if I catch up, then?"

"Of course not," I refilled her glass. "You got anything better to do?"

"Maybe," she whispered and turned her head up towards me. Her face was just inches away from mine. "Maybe I do." She leaned her head forward and placed her lips against mine. I opened my mouth and received her kiss. It was warm and moist and sensual. Her lips crawled across mine, her mouth opening to devour my lips, mine opening wider to take hers in. I sucked on her upper lip as her lower one caressed mine. Our mouths opened together and our tongues briefly met before our lips closed and we parted. We stared into each other's eyes not thinking, just giddy with the moment. My heart raced like a marathon runner's and my stomach did flip flops.

After a moment I had the presence of mind to place my glass on the bedside table. I removed her glass from her hand and rested it aside as well. My right hand slipped across her stomach and around her waist as we continued staring into each others eyes. As one we slid lower on the bed unto we were lying side by side. I studied her pretty pecan colored face. I smoothed a few strands of hair from over her almond shaped eyes, then slid the back of my right hand across her cheek, her shoulder, and around to her back. Her full lips were parted and her slightly wide but pert nose flared ever so slightly as she breathed.

I opened my mouth and took her lips into mine again. We kissed slowly, delicately, like two heart-sick lovers finding each other for the first time and memorizing each tender moment. Our embrace tightened and the kiss deepened. Her breasts pressed into my chest and my loins reacted. My erection grew, she felt it, and she pressed her crotch into mine. Our oral exploration continued, tongues meeting as she raised her left leg over my right one. Her knee bent and nestled at my waist as she pressed her sex tighter against mine. Her crotch gyrated ever so slightly as she rubbed me with her sex.

My arms roamed her back as hers did mine. We pressed ever closer into each other, savoring the warm pressure of each other's bodies. My right hand slid up and through her soft hair and I cupped her head with my hand.

The kiss grew more frantic. We wanted more of each other. Our bodies humped each other, rubbing more and more furiously against each other. I sucked her lips, engulfed her mouth. She pulled back, engulfed my mouth. Our lips, our tongues, danced back and forth, tasting, taking, giving. I gripped her so tightly, feeling our ecstasy with every fiber of my being.

Then suddenly our kiss broke apart and we were gasping for breath. She panted, studying my face as I studied hers. Our loins still rocked against each other, slowed, but still rubbing. I looked at my daughter, loved my daughter and closed my eyes. I hugged her to me. She gripped my back and we both held very still for a moments, foreheads meeting. When we relaxed our hug I looked at Sally and was surprised to see quiet tears flowing from her eyes. I was even more surprised to find that my own eyes had been leaking.

"Oh, Daddy," she whispered, the first words spoken since our first kiss, how long ago? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Did it matter? "I love you, Daddy. I really, truly love you." Then she buried her face in my chest.

"I love you too, Darling. I love you too," I whispered into her hair and cuddled her to me.

We fell asleep in each others arms.

When I awoke several hours later, it was still dark out. I was lying on my back, left arm embracing my daughter. Sally was sprawled across me, snoring lightly. She was face down with her head, her right cheek, nestled on my shoulder. Her arm was sprawled across my chest and her left leg bent upward with her thigh lying across my waist. I stroked her hair and caressed her back with my free hand.

"Oh my God," I thought, thinking about her lithe body. My groin started to react and the bulge in my pants grew until it contacted her thigh. I tried to will it down, but it just strained further, threatening to burst through its confines. I thought about my daughter. Thought about what I suddenly wanted to do with her. I had no second thoughts about what had transpired earlier and I even wanted it to go further. My daughter. My precious little one. I remembered the kiss, relived it in my mind from the first contact to the last. I wondered what was going through her mind, if she wanted as much as I wanted. Was this real? Would it continue? Or were we both just caught up in the emotion of the evening? In the liquor we had both consumed? I drifted back into sleep and dreamed of my daughter.

******

When I woke up again it was daylight. Sally was not in the bed with me. A few seconds later she entered the room in a bathrobe and drying her hair.

"Ah, good morning, sleepy head," she said and walked over and planted a quick kiss on my lips. "Breakfast is ready and there's tomato juice right there on the nightstand if you need it."

I did. I sat up, regretted it, and held my head in my hands. Sally laughed.

"That's what you get for guzzling Hennessey straight."

I gave her my middle finger and reached for the tomato juice.