The Politician's Daughter Ch. 01

"Ok, if you want. . ."

"I do. I'd like to explain, if you'd let me."

"Fine." She just wanted to get away for the time being. "Let me see what Mom's getting up to."

+++

The Austin estate was in Belle Haven, one of the most exclusive areas of Greenwich, Ct. It was huge, with a pool, horse stables, and tennis courts. It was in a neighborhood with many other political figures and families, including several senators, who liked the exclusivity as well as the proximity to both New York and DC. It was a luxurious existence mostly paid for by the Rhysdale side of the family. Allison certainly enjoyed the advantages when she was home, but she never felt truly part of it. Paul, in contrast, had grown up in a lower middle class suburb of Boston, and she'd always felt closer to him for that reason. Like him, she wanted to go into politics and really wanted nothing to do with her mother's privileged life.

Allison's best friend from high school was from the "other" side of the tracks. She'd met Sarah when they were both sophomores at an expensive private school that Sarah attended on scholarship. Allison had been attracted to Sarah's bubbly personality from the moment she'd met her. They'd quickly become very close and had kept in contact all through their college years. Sarah was just finishing up a pre-Med degree and was home for the summer as well.

A week or so after returning they were hanging out on the beach near Allison's house, taking advantage of the first really sunny and warm day to swim and lay out, though only Allison wore a swimsuit. Sarah kept her extremely fair skin covered up. They were laughing and chatting and catching up with their various studies and love lives.

Allison adored Sarah. She was so funny and outspoken, smart and adventurous. They always had some kind of drama or good time when they got together. Sarah was tiny and petite, with big jiggly boobs and a huge mass of red curls. Men just went crazy for her. At the moment they were reminiscing about how they used to sneak into bars as teenagers using Sarah's boobs to distract the bouncers.

"Oh my god! That was hysterical!" Allison was laughing. "They'd take one look at you and just wave us in! We were 16!"

"Remember those sailors?" Sarah recalled a particular wild evening when they encountered two gorgeous guys who'd just gotten in from being at sea for eight months.

"Mmmmm . . .," Allison sighed. "Oh yes."

"So hey, you want to go out tonight?" Sarah asked her.

"Hmm . . . maybe. The Beachcomber?"

"Yeah. You can tell me more about Jeremy."

"I don't know. I just got back. Mom probably wouldn't like it. What do you want to know?"

"Oh come on. Details. What's he like?"

Allison smiled and turned so she was lying on her side, her head propped up on one elbow.

"He is FANTASTIC. Best sex I've ever had."

"Does he have a big cock?"

"Oh, God. It's not that. It's fine. It's him. Being with an older man. There is no comparison, I'm telling you."

"What's so special about it?"

"More experienced. More patient. More knowledgeable. And . . ."

"Yes . . .?"

"Well, this sounds kind of weird . . ."

"What?"

"I like being his fantasy. I mean, I'm attracted to him, of course, but I like being his hot young thing. I like being his little plaything. Fucking makes me crazy. I dress up for him. We role play a bit."

"I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that."

Allison laughed. "I don't know. It's kind of strange. We role play ourselves, how weird is that? Like, I'll 'pretend' to be this innocent student and he'll be 'the professor.' It's twisted."

"No it isn't."

"Who knew I would like role play? I never thought of it before. But it's so much fun oh my god."

"Oh, wait, don't tell me you wear the schoolgirl outfit."

Allison laughed. "No, never gone that far. But we have met in his office . . . I'll come in, asking him for help, telling him how brilliant he is, all wide-eyed. He'll give me 'lessons.' I don't know what it is. I love playing at being his little whore! In a nice way. I'm this slutty little girl he's teaching about life. And I know he loves it, too."

"It's so hot."

"You think? You don't think it's twisted?"

"Not at all."

Allison pondered telling Sarah about Jeremy's thoughts about her and her father. And about that strange "moment" the other day. And about some of the things she'd been thinking lately. But she was interrupted when Sarah said, "Speaking of older men . . ."

Allison looked up. Paul was walking towards them, accompanied by another man—Senator Archer Welles. He lived right down the street in the same complex. She'd known him all her life.

"Oh, Jesus," Allison said, adjusting her bikini. "Perfect."

The two men approached them as Allison frantically looked for a cover-up, but couldn't find anything. Her breasts were almost entirely exposed and her bottom was so damned tiny, just the skimpiest little patch with strings.

"Ladies," Paul nodded, as they came up close. "Getting in some sun?"

"Hi, Daddy. You remember Sarah."

"Of course. How are you?" Paul said. "I heard you're headed for Med School in the fall. That's fantastic."

Sarah blushed. Paul always made her nervous. She'd never told Allison how damned attractive she found him.

"Sarah I don't think you know Senator Welles. Sarah's an old friend of Allison's."

Archer shook her hand. "Nice to meet you. So, Allison, you getting excited for the new job? I think you'll make a great addition to the team. Looking forward to it." Allison would be working in an office pool for several different Senators, including him.

"Yes! I am!" Allison turned bright red. Senator Welles was the most "eligible" bachelor on Capitol Hill and a notorious womanizer. He was making no secret of staring at her body, right in front of her father. His eyes flickered down to her hips and up to her breasts, and she saw Paul take note of it. Without quite knowing why, she flashed Archer a big smile and relaxed her legs a bit from their stiff position.

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you around."

Paul took hold of Archer's elbow and firmly steered him away. "Yes, I think Allison has a bright future ahead of her. Ok well we'll let you two catch up. Have a good day."

Sarah stared open-mouthed at them as they left.

"Did you see the way he was looking at you?!"

"Yes I did."

"Well, I don't blame him. Look at you."

"He certainly is cute, isn't he?"

"What about Jeremy?" Sarah asked, looking at her.

"Oh it's just a little flirting. I don't mean anything by it. Everyone knows what he's like."

The truth was, Allison couldn't care less about Senator Welles. That little exchange had been entirely for the benefit of her father. She felt a strange sort of satisfaction flirting with one of his colleagues, right in front of him. The thought of Paul's "lovers" was never that far from her mind. She thought she was ok with it, but now she was discovering perhaps not. There was anger inside of her—a deep pool of anger that had flashed out in the open for a brief second, along with a desire to hurt him. What she didn't quite understand was how she knew, without any doubt, that it would hurt him. That he would take careful note of the way Archer had stared at her breasts. She only wished now she'd pushed them out farther. What was going on with her??

"Hey, let's do it," she said, turning towards Sarah. "Let's go out and have some fun, just like old times. Why not? I'm in the mood to get dressed up."

+++

Paul sat in the living room doing some work that night, or at least, trying to read a brief one of his aides had prepared for him. But his mind was elsewhere.

Allison had said goodbye on her way out, waving from the door. She had looked phenomenal in a hot pink tank top and shorts, with her long dark hair flowing down in pretty waves and make-up done perfectly. Nice and tasteful, but beautiful. It had made him even more unaccountably angry. What was wrong with him?

He'd wanted to punch Archer today. Just flatten him. Punch him in the jaw as hard as he could and tell him to stop ogling his daughter. Allison, in that goddamned white bikini! He could not get the picture out of his mind. Images of her soft breasts and perfect curving hips and flat stomach kept flashing across the pages he was trying to read, and he actually found himself getting hard. As well as angry. He knew he had no right to be. She was a grown woman. She could flirt with whoever she wanted, dress how she wanted. But her beauty, and her obvious appeal to other men, both hurt and angered him.

He needed sex, that's all. And here he was, trapped in Belle Haven, where it was absolutely out of the question.

He simmered, thinking about that dick, Archer, and Allison working for him. He knew all about that fucker. Archer liked young interns, and prided himself on fucking every hot young Senatorial aide who came on the scene and bragging about it later. Paul had no doubt he'd be hitting on Allison. He wondered if she knew what kind of a game she'd be walking into with that job.

And this "boyfriend" of hers. Jeremy or whatever the fuck his name was. Paul just knew he was an asshole. One of these eggheads who didn't now the first thing about the real world, the world he dealt with every single day.

Jesus Christ! He needed to see Katie. She was his current mistress—a news producer on one of the major networks. She was 35. They'd been seeing each other for more than a year, on and off, casually. Paul prided himself on dating intelligent women with careers of their own, not naïve doe-eyed newcomers who hero-worshipped the ground he walked on. No matter what Iris liked to think, he'd never been with a call girl, escort, whatever they were called. He didn't sleep with whores, hookers, or sluts. He dated women. He had relationships. He always made his intentions and circumstances clear. These relationships were primarily for sex. That's what he wanted, that's what he needed. It's what MOST men in his position needed. But that didn't mean it had to be cheap and sordid. He wanted a friend, a lover. It could go on as long as they wanted it to. But there was no chance of anything beyond, so Paul tended to have affairs with married women or women like Katie James who were basically married to their jobs and weren't looking for a husband. And, they had to be sexually compatible. Sometimes that took some time to find out.

Paul seethed, thinking about the cheap charisma and charm of a bullshit artist like Archer Welles. Like this guy knew anything about sex. He was most definitely the "wham, bam, thank you ma'am" type looking for a quick fix, another notch for his gigantic ego. He just liked getting his rocks off in some sweet young pussy. He knew someone like Archer had no taste for the nuances and creativity of sex, as he did. He loved sex. Not just the act, but everything about it. The game, the seduction, the fantasy. It was never just fucking with him. Paul liked discovering the fantasies of his lovers, and exploring his own. He liked . . . oh shit, oh so many things.

Damn it he needed to see Katie. It was looking like he'd have to schedule an "important" meeting in DC for the following weekend. Ah, he'd see. But at least, he'd successfully managed to drag his thoughts away from Allison. He even managed to get down to work.

A few hours later, after Iris had gone up to bed, Paul was awoken from a light doze by a sort of crashing sound, and giggling. He heard someone saying "Whoops! Shhhh!"

Allison.

He got up and walked into the kitchen, which connected to the side door entrance. She was there, obviously very tipsy, and trying to fix some pots that had fallen on the floor.

"Hey," he said, coming over to her. "That's ok, honey, I'll get this. Why don't you go up to bed?"

"Daddy!" Allison crooned as she instantly hugged him tight, and pushed her entire body against his. She was way more than just tipsy.

"Ok, Ohhh Kay," Paul said, trying to remove her arms from around his neck. "You're tired, honey. You need to get in bed."

"Oh, alone, Daddy?" Allison said, as she clung to him and pushed her breasts into his chest.

"Honey, let's get you into bed. Ok, come on," Paul said, helping her upstairs. "Let's go." Paul got her on her bed, where she crashed and instantly fell asleep.

+++

The next morning, Allison woke with a terrible hangover, and called Jeremy first thing. She needed to talk to him.

"Hi, hon. Can you hear me ok?"

"Allison? Honey? Are you all right? I thought we weren't supposed to talk until tonight."

"I know, I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Well that's great, babe, but it's late here and I was just getting to bed."

"That's ok. How are things?"

"Fine. Busy. You know. Not very exciting. Spending every day in the library. Is everything all right there? Has Dad groped you yet?"

"Ha ha. No. Things are great. I just needed to hear your voice. You're still planning on coming back, right? For the wedding?"

"Yes, of course. Have my ticket all booked. Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine. I'll let you sleep. I love you."

"I love you, too. We'll talk soon."

"All right. Goodbye."

Allison groaned and burrowed down into the covers. She vaguely recalled the scene from last night. Had she said something to Paul? She knew she'd called him "Daddy" and hugged him. Oh, God!

She got up and popped some headache pills, took a shower and tried to look presentable. It was Sunday. Sunday morning was always family time in the Austin house. Her brothers were finally home and she knew they'd be downstairs. Good. As long as she didn't have to see Paul alone, she could handle it.

"Morning," she said, walking into the kitchen nook where they were already sitting down. Paul avoided her eyes. She walked over and kissed each brother on the cheek. "Nice to see you, finally. And Mom." She kissed Iris, too. "I hope I didn't wake you up last night."

"No, honey, not at all. We're just having breakfast."

Allison poured herself some coffee, her head still pounding. Thankfully, Paul started grilling her brothers about their plans for the summer, while Iris fussed over them. It wasn't until all the dishes were getting cleared away that Paul stood up to go. He leaned down as he passed her and said quietly, "We need to talk."

Allison nodded imperceptibly, continuing to sip her coffee.

"What do you say, do you want to go out on the boat this afternoon, Allison?" he said, loud enough that everyone could hear.

"Sure."

That afternoon, she met him down on the docks, still drinking coffee but feeling much better. Her head wasn't aching as much, but she was tired.

"You want to help me with this?" Paul asked, as he tied some ropes.

Allison grumbled, and put down her coffee.

But as they worked on prepping the huge sailboat, she began to feel better. Along with running, sailing was one of their "special" things they did together—or had—since no one else in the family liked to do it. Growing up, she'd spent many long afternoons with Paul on the boat talking and laughing and having fun, just the two of them. It felt nice to work quietly alongside him. She was surprised to see how she remembered all the things they had to do.

He smiled at her. "Ah, it's all coming back, isn't it?"

Allison smiled back at him. There were a few more wrinkles and a lot more gray, but she could almost feel like she was back in time with her Daddy. Her visits over the years had been so short, usually only a quick trip during Christmas. Summers she stayed with friends or traveled, and then the past two she'd spent with Jeremy. But here she was now with Paul under the brilliant blue summer sky, heading out onto the ocean, as they had done so many summers of her life. She knew he was remembering the same thing as they hoisted the sail and set off.

She took her old seat next to him at the controls as he steered the wheel.

"So have you given any thought to what you'll do after next year?" he asked.

Her job was only a year-long stint. She'd accepted it mainly because she wasn't sure what else to do, but she had been thinking about it.

"Well, I thought I might go to law school."

"Really?" Paul asked, surprised. "Why is that?"

"Well you know I want to work in DC. But I think I'd rather go into the policy side of things. You know, one of those think tanks."

"You?" he asked. "Huh. I always thought you'd want to run for office. You could, you know."

"What, and trade in on the Austin name?"

"No, I just think you'd be very good at it."

"Why is that?"

"You're a passionate person, Allison. That's the most important thing."

"Passionate. You make it sound like a good thing. Most people just tell me I'm 'intense.'"

"Yes, you are that. And that's exactly what will make you a good politician."

"Like you?"

"Yes. I think we're alike in that way, don't you?"

She looked at him. "Yes, I think we are."

"You're intense. You're driven. You're emotional. I think you'd be happier in front of the camera."

"Maybe. . ."

Allison was dying to bring up their "conversation" of the other day. She wanted to know so much more, but wasn't sure how to ask.

"Oh, this is beautiful, isn't it?" Paul yelled as the boat plowed into open water. "Come here, baby."

Allison stood and got in front of him and put her hands on the wheel, like she used to do. Paul stood close behind with his arms on either side, his mouth near her neck as he helped her guide it.

"Easy, easy, gently. . . there you go."

Allison felt her body responding to his nearness. It was very odd. It was as if they had stepped back in time . . . except for this. Now she was so incredibly aware of his arms and the pressure of his chest on her back and his breath in her ear. His big hands were so tanned and muscular and masculine . . . he had the hands of a sailor who knew how to handle a craft, not a politician. She looked at them, picturing them running over a woman's breasts . . . her breasts. She caught her breath. He was inches away from her.

Standing behind her, Paul was having similar thoughts come unbidden and unwelcome into his head. He was too close to her beautiful skin and perfect ass. It was like old times, but . . . he could no longer deny he was noticing her attractiveness now. It had been a long time, and she wasn't 16 years old. She had turned into such a beautiful, poised young woman.

"Here, let me take over, honey," he said. He needed her to sit down, further away from him.

He slowed down and let the boat idle. Suddenly it got very quiet. Allison was standing, leaning back on a railing, looking at him.

"Allison, about our conversation the other day . . . I want to explain something to you. I didn't get the chance."

"All right."

"I think you should know, regarding what we talked about, that your mother and I have an understanding about it. We always have. She knows that I have . . . another life, a private life. She may have one of her own. I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did, but I want you to know I'm not 'betraying' her or 'cheating' on her. Not in the usual sense."

"I know," Allison said.

"You know? How long have you known?"

Allison thought about it. "I think I always have. When I found out about . . . you . . . it just kind of made it more obvious. It's not like you and Mom are all warm and fuzzy, Dad. I get it."

"So you don't blame me?"

"No. In fact, just the opposite."

"What do you mean?" Paul asked.

Allison was leaning back on the railing, gazing at him, letting herself feel her attraction to him, letting warmth spread into her body. He was so handsome.

She said, "I told you that getting a boyfriend changed things for me . . ."

"Yeah, how so?" Paul said.

"Well, I learned how much I enjoy sex, to be perfectly honest."