The Politician's Daughter Ch. 01

"Oh so it's my fault?"

This had led to vicious arguments, and to Paul cooling it completely with other women until Allison headed off to college. He'd never talked to her about it; he didn't even know if he should talk to her about it.

Paul kept up his punishing run, partly from guilt and partly from rage. Like he needed to be reminded of that whole mess. Like he'd do anything to hurt Allison again. If it weren't for her coming back he'd make up some excuse to spend the whole summer in DC. But she was going to be here, and he was going to do his best to repair their relationship.

+++

Allison was thinking over some of the same things as she made the day's drive from Wisconsin. The prospect of being home for an extended stay was forcing her to think about the past. She'd avoided her family, particularly her father, for years, and coming back she knew it was finally time to deal with it.

Iris had been dead right. Allison had discovered her father's little "secret" when she was 16, and it had left her shattered. Looking back she couldn't believe how naïve she had been, how stupid not to have seen the truth. She knew her parents didn't have a normal kind of relationship. She'd always sensed that. It seemed more like an arrangement, just like the parents in all the political families in their social circle. It was polite, affectionate, and caring, but there was no passion. They never kissed or said "I love you" except in the most perfunctory way.

Still, that hadn't prepared her for the full revelation.

Up until that moment, she had loved and adored and worshipped her father. She was a total Daddy's girl. She was not close to her mother; her world revolved entirely around Paul. They were so alike. They had the same interests, the same hobbies, they even looked alike, while her two blond brothers both took after Iris. She could share anything with him. She always felt like he alone understood her, and she him.

Her love for her father had been all-consuming. From her earliest memories, he was the bright shining sun giving warmth and security to her existence. Until that day.

She remembered it like it was yesterday. She'd been heading to his study to see if he wanted to go for a run. No one else was home. The door to the study was open slightly, and she heard her Dad's voice, so she'd stopped and listened. At first, she thought he has talking to her, or about her, before she realized he wasn't. He was on the phone. He was laughing and speaking in a sexy, teasing voice, one she never heard at home or with her. It intrigued her, so she continued to listen.

"Oh, really, is that so?" He was joking with someone. "You'd do that for Daddy?"

Allison was riveted to the door, to the sound of his voice and what he was saying!

"Fuck I'm so hard right now."

"No, I'm stuck here for a few more days. Putting in some 'family time.' Goddamn, I'm not going to be able to get that picture out of my head."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. But maybe I can cut it short."

He laughed again. "Mmmm, Jesus, I love it when you call me that."

"Fuck it. Let me see what I can do. Maybe I can get away a day early. Daddy needs to see you," he whispered.

"You miss me, baby girl? I would love it if you were waiting for me. In that red outfit. . ."

Allison couldn't take anymore. She ran to her room, shut the door, and curled up into a ball on her bed crying silent sobs, mortified that her father would hear her. She lay there in a state of total shock, paralyzed in horror. She couldn't believe what she had just heard.

At the time, she simply couldn't have said why this was so unbearably painful to her. She knew it wasn't because he was "cheating" on her mother. She knew they did not have a real marriage. She wasn't worried about a divorce or anything like that. That was not what was making her cry. She only knew a pain like nothing she had ever felt seemed to cut her in two.

It wasn't even what he had said, it was his tone. He sounded so happy! Her calm, always-in-control father was laughing and teasing and joking! She heard passion, joy and lust—wonderful emotions he never showed at home, even with her, his supposed "favorite!" For some reason this hurt her most of all. Was it all a joke? Was he just pretending to care about her? Was she just part of his "family" obligations? All the special time she had spent with him, just the two of them, had he been thinking about his "baby girl?" The thought was intolerable!

Driving in her car, Allison remembered every detail of that pain and shock. The discovery of Paul's secret sex life had completely traumatized her, though she simply had not understood at the time why it bothered her so much. She got depressed, she wouldn't eat, and most of all, she avoided her father. She distanced herself from him completely. She wanted nothing to do with him. By the time she left for school, the intense love she'd always had for him seemed like a thing of the past. She actively tried to push it away and not think about it.

But it was a very different Allison returning home five years later. She was no longer a traumatized 16 year old. She was 21. She had grown up.

A lot of that had to do with Jeremy, the man she had been seeing for two years. Jeremy was her first serious boyfriend. He was much older than her—when they'd met she had been a student in his Poli Sci class. She was 19, he was 39 and divorced. He was a smart, perceptive, very unusual man, at least to Allison. The attraction between them was obvious from the first day, but they'd held off dating until she was done with his class. And then, they were always together. She'd lived with him for the past year. He was her first real lover and the first man she had really opened up to. And that had changed everything.

For one thing, having great sex for the first time in her life had softened her feelings for her father. She didn't know why, but she suspected it was because she could understand, finally, where he was coming from. Allison loved sex. She loved it so much that instead of resentment, she felt this odd sort of respect and kinship with her father for having lovers on the side. The pain of that discovery was still there, but her unrelenting rage seemed to just drain away. The more she learned about sex, the more intrigued she became with his clandestine life. She found herself wondering for the first time what exactly Paul did on his own time. She had never allowed her thoughts to go there before, it was just too painful.

For another, Jeremy had made her rethink her whole relationship to her father. She had never told a single soul about her discovery, much less all the trauma associated with. But a few months before she left, she told Jeremy all about "the incident," and they had talked about it a lot. He seemed very, very interested. He wanted to hear every detail, every word, and every single facet of her extreme reaction. Why had she gotten so upset? Why had it been so incredibly painful? He grilled her about it endlessly.

"Why does this interest you so much?" she had asked him one night in bed.

"Well, it seems obvious, hon."

"What?"

"You were in love with him."

"What! You're crazy!"

"No I'm not. Think about it. You say you weren't bothered by his cheating—on your mother, true. But he was cheating on you."

"On me?"

"Yes. Or at least, that's how you saw it. He was betraying you. That's why you were so incredibly hurt. And from what you told me, it sounds like the feelings were mutual."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Allison, come on. You're a smart girl. Did you not hear what you just told me? The words you heard your father say? Baby girl . . . Daddy . . ."

"Oh that doesn't mean anything. It's just role-playing."

"Maybe, and maybe not. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't. It sounds to me like Daddy had a thing for Allison, too. Maybe he even knew you were listening that day. Like he wanted you to know."

Once she'd told Jeremy the whole story, he never stopped talking and teasing her about it. Nothing escaped him.

"Come on, Allison, admit it. I'm just a Daddy figure for you! I'm older, I'm smart and successful, and I'm powerful, relative to you. And lo and behold I'm the first man you've ever been really attracted to. And gee, you've got this famous, brilliant, powerful father who, apparently, really likes to fuck. Use your brain!"

Part of her thought Jeremy was absolutely crazy. She had just never been able to see it that way. That whole incident was a blank she could not understand.

But part of her could not stop thinking about it. She simply could not deny that maybe he had a point.

All of these thoughts were swirling in her mind as she drove home. Her feelings were confused and shadowy, but Allison couldn't lie to herself. She had to admit that Jeremy's insights had deeply affected her. She kept hearing him saying, over and over in her head,

You were in love with him

The feelings were mutual.

Were they? She couldn't believe she was even thinking such a thing, but she also couldn't deny there was a strange excitement drawing her back to Connecticut.

Jeremy was off to Europe for the summer to do research. They'd be in touch, but Allison knew very well the excitement she was feeling was not for him.

+++

"Well, sweetheart, how was your drive!"

Allison sat on a stool in the vast gleaming kitchen listening to her mother's perky voice. Iris, in her full glory. Immaculately coiffed, perfectly made up, dressed to the nines, and impossibly cheerful.

"Oh, it's so good to see youuuuu" Iris cooed as she gave her an awkward hug.

"I'm fine, Mom. The drive was fine. Where's Danny?"

"Oh he's visiting Ken in the city. They won't be back until next week. But I told them you're coming. I'm sure they want to see you!"

"And what about Daddy?"

She saw Iris's face become tense. "Oh he'll be along. He took the boat out."

Allison felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach. "So late?"

"Oh I know he wanted to be here to welcome you, honey!"

"It's ok, Mom. I'll be here for three months. There's no need to make a big fuss."

"So what are your plans for the summer, sweetheart? Are any of your old friends around?"

"Yes, I think Sarah's home. I'm sure I'll be seeing her. And—"

But she was interrupted by Iris making a relieved sigh, "There you are, Paul! Come here, Allison's home."

Allison was shocked at how strangely nervous she felt! Her stomach was making flips as she turned around.

Her father stood in the doorway, looking tanned and windswept and gorgeous, but nervous. He hesitated, as if he wasn't sure what to do, and they simply stared at each other for a moment.

Allison thought she was prepared to confront some strong emotions, but she was nevertheless surprised at the strength of the love that surged into her heart when she saw Paul's face. The resentment and anger she'd held onto for four years was simply not there; all she felt was deep, primal joy and comfort at seeing her father. And she knew her feelings were plainly visible in her eyes.

Paul walked over to her and she stood up to hug him.

"Allison, honey," was all he said, as he pulled her into his arms.

She melted into his chest feeling like nothing had ever changed, like she'd never left. The warmth that had always existed between them was still there. Allison totally forgot about her mother, could not hear her silly voice, as she held onto Paul's body and inhaled his scents. He smelled like only her father smelled.

He pulled back to look at her, smiling. "I'm glad you're back."

Allison smiled into his eyes. "I am, too." And she meant it.

+++

A few days later, Paul knocked on her door early in the morning, clad in his running gear.

Allison answered and he smiled at her. "Ready?"

She couldn't help grinning. How many times had they done this? Ever since she was about 13, the weekend jog at the crack of dawn had been their ritual, just the two of them. It was almost—almost—as if nothing had changed, except for the fact that there had been four years of estrangement between them. That hung in the air, unspoken and unaddressed, as they started out.

He gestured when they got to the door, "Lead the way."

Allison headed down the dirt path that took them through a heavy forest of pine trees. They both really loved running—the muscles heating up and kicking up into gear as they found a rhythm, and the almost instant high of released endorphins. Once they got going, they could go for hours. Running was a special bond, a shared love. They didn't talk much but just enjoyed the total immersion of their bodies into intense physical activity. Allison drank in the blended smells of the pine trees with the nearby ocean scents as she ran. It wasn't until she inhaled them that she truly felt like she was home.

When the path opened out onto the beach and they headed towards the shoreline, Paul pulled alongside Allison. The gorgeous, deep emerald blue ocean of Long Island Sound filled the horizon.

"You missed this, didn't you?" he yelled over the surf.

She knew what he meant, but she pretended otherwise. "The beach?" she yelled back.

"I meant this," he said, "Us."

"Sometimes," Allison replied. "When I wasn't hating you."

"You could have come home more, you know."

"I didn't want to," she said through her panting breath. "I didn't want to see you."

"I know," he said, "but it would have been nice to visit your family once in a while, don't you think?"

She glanced at him and said, "I had my reasons. You know I did," before sprinting to get far ahead of him.

Paul was both annoyed and amused. He ran to catch up with her.

"Would you slow down?" he yelled.

"What, can't keep up with me?" she laughed as her long hair flew in the wind.

"Oh is that how you want it?" he said, surging ahead until she trailed far behind. He turned around, opening his arms. "Well? You going to let an old man beat you?" He pretended to jog slowly in place.

"You suck," she said, trying to catch her breath. "You've had way more practice than me."

"What, they don't have places to run in Wisconsin?" he demanded as they kept up a fast pace together.

"It's not as fun."

"Oh, so you did miss me!"

"Maybe."

They took off and ran for a few miles before heading back.

"Come on, I'll race you back to the dock."

"God that felt good!" Paul said a few minutes later. Allison was flat on her back on a sand dune, flushed and panting. Paul was sitting up next to her with his knees bent, looking out at the ocean. They were quiet for a while until he spoke.

"So what 'reasons'?" he asked. "Why did you stay away?"

Allison sat up on her elbows, watching him from the side contemplating what to say. It was the first time they'd ever come near talking about her "discovery," and she felt very conflicted. A part of her, the 16 year old, was still aching in pain. That part wanted to burst into tears and yell at him and punch the shit out of him. The other part, the adult, was looking at her father and noticing how good-looking he was, how handsome and what a fantastic body he had, while entertaining ideas about his "secret." She was actually checking him out as her mind wandered to images of him with sexy lingerie-clad call girls, or perhaps another married woman. Her mind filled with questions that had long been there, but only now came flooding into her consciousness. Where did they meet? In hotels? At his apartment in DC? Did her mother know? Was he ever in love, or was it just sex? What kind of sex did he like . . .?

Allison felt her leg moving towards him until her sneaker-clad foot was just touching his thigh. She hadn't intended to, it just seemed to happen of its own accord. She let her foot rest against him even more, till she could feel his thigh muscle on her ankle.

"I was upset," she finally replied.

Paul felt her touching him. He let his left hand brush her ankle and stay there but he continued to gaze out into the ocean.

"I gathered that. Do you want to talk about it?"

Allison could not speak. She was absolutely frozen.

"Do you want to tell me, or do you want me to guess?"

Again she stayed silent. Such strange excitement was building in her body she didn't trust herself to say anything.

"Ok, then, I guess that you overheard me talking to one of my lovers, or otherwise figured it out," he said.

"His lovers." The words shot through her body, straight to her breasts and into her nipples, making them ache with pleasure. What was happening to her?! The thought of her father with other women was so incredibly exciting.

She finally managed to speak. "You're right. I overheard you talking on the phone one day, in your study."

"Ah," Paul said, as if a mystery had finally been solved. So Iris had been right all along. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

He was damned glad they weren't facing each other, and he could continue to look out at the ocean. This was awkward. He'd thought about this moment, how he would handle it if it ever came up. He thought he'd do his best to explain, to justify himself, to apologize for hurting her. Instead all he could think about was the pressure of her foot on his leg, her nearness, and the way his heart was suddenly pounding so hard and fast in his chest. Paul was not ashamed of himself. He and his wife had worked this all out a long time ago. But talking to his daughter about it—to his Allison—was making him unaccountably self-conscious. He waited for her to speak.

"Dad, it's ok. I was . . . upset. For a long time. But I'm not anymore."

"OK," Paul hesitated, not sure how to respond. "What changed your mind?"

"Being with Jeremy. Getting a boyfriend."

"Jeremy. This is the guy you've been seeing?" Paul vaguely remembered her mentioning him. "What does Jeremy do again?"

Allison rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see her. "I told you. He was my Poli Sci Professor. I live with him—or did, until I left."

"A professor. And how old is he?" Paul demanded, surprised at the anger welling up in him.

"I've told you all about him. He's almost 40. We've been together two years."

"Uh huh." He couldn't remember a single thing. "And where is he now?"

"He's in France, doing research for a book." Allison was dying to ask him more questions about his lovers, but here he was grilling her about hers!

"What's it about?" Paul wanted to know.

"I don't know. France. Politics. He does all that historical stuff."

Paul was picturing a lecherous old guy hitting on naïve coeds. Some snot-nosed intellectual who'd never stepped foot off a campus.

"What's a professor doing dating a student! What, did he come onto you in office hours? Talking about your 'papers?'"

Allison let it slide. "You're judging me?"

"It's different, Allison. Your mother and I have . . .no, you're right. I'm sorry. I was out of line. What do you say we go in?"

Paul stood up suddenly, extremely embarrassed with himself. She was right. He was certainly in no position to judge. He turned around to help her up, holding her hand, when she slipped and fell into him.

"Oh, watch it, hon!" he exclaimed.

"Oh! Sorry, Daddy," Allison said, reverting to her "old" name for him.

Paul held onto her for just a minute, gazing into the deep blue eyes which were so like his own. Was he really only noticing now how beautiful she had become? Her body felt so incredible against him. Too nice. He pulled away from her as if she was made of molten fire, holding up his hands. Allison saw the gesture, and understood. Something different—something warm and electric—had passed from her body to his. She, too, instinctively pulled away from it and averted her eyes, but he stilled her for a moment.

"Allison, I think we should continue this conversation. Later."