Unforgettable

For a brief moment, she trembled and squealed, her nails clawing at my back. As she felt the warm gush filling her for the first time, she relaxed and purred , "Oh, God! Yes, Chuck. Oh! It's so beautiful. I never knew... Yes. Oh, God, yes..."

Regaining my senses, Sophie's avowal was front and center. Was that just an emotional outcry in the heat of our passion? Or was it - did she really mean - could she seriously be...?

The sheets were chaotic. I managed to untangle a few and pull them over our sweat-soaked bodies. I noticed that Sophie's 'Hello Kitty' t-shirt had somehow gotten underneath us, and now had a small, sweet spot of blood, right where the kitty's mouth should be. It looked almost like a pair of red lips.

We cuddled together. I felt a sob, heard a sniffle.

"Sophie?" I asked, concerned. "What's wrong?"

She nudged closer to me and kissed my chest. "Nothing, Chuck," she said, her voice weak and cracking. "Absolutely nothing at all."

With a finger on her chin, I tilted her head up. Tears covered her cheeks, but she was smiling. "I'm so happy," she explained. "It's perfect." She stretched up to kiss me, and we held each other tight.

A teeth-shaped patch of blue mottled her shoulder. I touched it, and apologized.

"Don't be sorry," she chastised me. "I think it's sexy. So long as you don't mind if I bite you sometime," she winked.

A giddiness swept through my body with the anticipation that this might not be the only time.

## ( VIII ) ANOTHER INTERRUPTION ##

With no warning, Sophie shivered, and her eyes went wide. "Ooh!" she squeaked, grinning. "I'm leaking. It tickles." We both laughed. She brought a pink semen-coated finger up from under the covers, and put it in her mouth. She scrunched up her face. "Not as good as a girl," she said.

I agreed.

"You've tried it?" she asked, inquisitively.

"A lot of my own," I said. "One other guy's, a long time ago."

"Really?" she said, nodding approvingly. "Cool." She brought up another dollop from under the sheets, tasted it, and nodded again. "Yeah. I think I could learn to like it." Then she rolled out of bed, saying, "I want a shower."

"Would you like someone to scrub your back?" I was looking forward to playtime under the warm jets.

"Not this time," she said. "I'd like a few moments to myself, if it's okay. Maybe next time."

"Sure." I watched her butt as she walked away, perhaps one of the finest asses I'd ever seen that wasn't on the Internet. Like her boobs, her cheeks were perfectly round and plump, yet high and tight. Womanly, with a delightful, delicate dimple on each side. I couldn't wait to nibble on those.

Listening to the shower, I lay back and wondered at my new-found lover. I was finally beginning to separate Sophie the woman from little-girl Sophie, Kelly's childhood best friend. What would Kelly say if she ever found out? I laughed to myself, shaking my head. Who the hell was I kidding? Of course she would find out. Then what? Basking in the joy of my new lover, I dared not let myself consider how this might affect my relationship with my daughter. Maybe after the wedding.

Boom-boom-boom. Another knock on the door. What was this, fucking Grand Central Station? I looked at the clock - 12:22AM. Who the fuck was up at this hour? I found my sweat pants and went to the door.

"Who is it?" I said, a little gruffly.

"It's Kelly, Daddy."

Fuck!

Her voice sounded strange. A father's intuition said she was crying.

Double fuck!

"Hold on a minute, baby," I told her. "I'm not dressed."

Sniff. "Okay."

I peeked my head into the steam-filled bathroom. I couldn't see the details through the frosted glass of the stall, but I could tell she was standing under the shower, with her face hanging down in her hands. The way her shoulders moved, it looked like she was sobbing.

"Sophie?" I whispered urgently, though quiet enough that Kelly shouldn't be able to hear.

She jumped, surprised. "Yeah?" Sniff.

"Hey, Kelly's at the door, and I'm going to let her in. Why don't you stay in here, okay? I'll let you know when she leaves."

"Oh. Okay," she said. Sniff.

"Is everything...? Are you alright, Sophie?"

"Yeah. Just having a good cry. Girly emotional stuff. I'm cool." Sniff. "Thanks for asking, though. You're so sweet, Chuck."

"Okay," I said, then added, "Hey, Sophie. You are a beautiful person, and I don't mean just the way you look. You surprised me, in a good way. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined anything like tonight."

There was a silence. I imagined her deep in thought. Click-click-click.

"You - you didn't know?" she asked, sounding incredulous.

"Know what?

Boom-boom-boom. "Daddy...!"

"Gotta' go," I said. "We'll talk when Kelly's gone."

When I opened the room door, my teary-eyed daughter burst in. She still wore the same dress from the rehearsal dinner, but her face was a mess, her nose running and mascara streaks down her reddened cheeks.

Wrapping her arms around me, she cried into my chest, "Daddy! I can't do it. I can't marry that asshole!" She suddenly released me and stood up, her attention drawn to the noise of the shower running. "You - you have somebody in here," she said, her look vacillating between apologetic and incriminating.

I nodded.

"Is it - anybody I know?"

"Do you really want me to tell you?"

She mouthed the question, "Mom?"

I chuckled, and shook my head. My daughter rolled her eyes and breathed a "Whew!" of relief.

Kelly said, "She's up to her old tricks. She was on the prowl tonight."

"Yeah, she came by here earlier, but didn't get very far."

The shower stopped. Kelly glared expectantly at the bathroom door.

"She's not coming out until you leave," I assured her. I took her hand and led her to the sofa. "Come sit down and tell me what's going on with you and the golden boy from Silicon Valley."

"Golden boy, my ass," she grumbled. "More like a cheap, twelve-carat gold-plated jerk."

"What happened?"

"Some slut came into the bar, and he couldn't keep his fucking eyes off of her. I nudged him, and he turned around for a minute, then the next time I look, he's perving on her again. I mean, really! The night before his goddamn wedding? With me sitting right next to him? The look in his eyes, I thought he was going to ask her up to his room."

"So what did you do?" I asked calmly.

"Well, first I turned him around and kissed him, hard. I made sure she could see."

"Hmmm..." I nodded.

"The next thing I know, that sonuvabitch is sneaking glances at her again. I could tell he was trying to hide it, but I saw it clearly."

"And then what happened?"

"I gave him a shove, told him 'fuck you', and stormed out." With tears filling her eyes, she dropped her face in her hands, sobbing.

## ( IX ) CAR & DRIVER ##

I put my arm around my daughter and patted her back until she calmed a little.

Through her tears, she said, "Missy says I should give him the ring back."

"Missy's jealous, and she's a slut herself," I said. "At least, that's what my favorite daughter tells me."

She didn't rise to the joke. Her shoulders slumped. "Yeah, you're right. But what should I do, Daddy?" she asked desperately.

"I guess it's time we had a talk about men," I said.

"Daddy," she scowled, wiping her tears. "It's a little late for the 'birds-and-the-bees', isn't it?"

"This is a different talk," I explained. "I'd call this one, 'Everything You Never Wanted to Know about Men'."

She laughed, sniffling, "That's hopeless Daddy. I swear, if I live to be a thousand, I'll never understand men."

"We're pretty simple, actually. You already understand the first two laws - all men are assholes and jerks."

She laughed out loud.

I held her hand, and turned serious, "Kelly, I hope you know that I love you, and I only want you to be happy."

Guardedly, she said, "Yeah, Daddy. I know that."

"Can we pretend that I'm not your dad for a few minutes? Let me be a complete stranger, just another asshole, jerk male who can be frankly honest with you. Is that okay?"

Still unsure, she replied, "Um, yeah. I guess so."

"Alright," I said. "First, two bad news flashes about men. Every one of us fantasizes screwing nearly every woman we see, and we all masturbate."

Shocked, her eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. "Daddy!" The corners of her lips tilted upward, suppressing a grin.

"I'm not your daddy. Remember, sweetie? These are just the plain facts. Now, you want the really bad news?"

"I - I'm not sure."

"Here it is, anyway - you're not going to change us. You may think you can, and we may act prim and proper in front of you, but we're watching that cleavage over in the corner, and wondering if she has a shaved pussy."

"Daddy!" she shouted again, giggling.

I heard a tiny titter from behind the bathroom door. Kelly whipped her head around, then looked askance at me.

"Kelly," I said sharply, trying to regain her attention "I ain't your daddy, and whether you like it or not, this is the honest-to-God truth. Tomorrow you're going to stand in front of Brian and tell him 'I do'..."

"Maybe," she said, her jaw set, crossing her arms.

"There is no maybe. Regardless of how you feel now, you will do it. I know that you love him, and I can see the love in his eyes when he looks at you. He will try to be whatever you want him to be, but he will still be a man. When you tell him, 'I do', here's what will be going through his small, simple, egotistical male mind - he owns you. Every bit of you. Your heart, your soul, your feet, your hair, your tits, your pussy - everything. They all belong to him, now."

Kelly opened her mouth to object, but I raised my hand.

"Hold on, Kelly. We'll get to the good part in a few minutes. This is what all men expect. After the wedding, you will no longer be Miss Kelly Lyman, you will be MISSEZ Brian Kirk, get it? Kelly Lyman will be gone, history. When you marry him, you have submitted your life to him, entirely, and you have to act as though you understand your role. Forget the crap about equality. The way his ego-driven, testosterone-fueled noodle sees it, you will be subservient to him. You will be totally and irrevocably his - lock, stock, and barefoot in the kitchen."

"Daddy," she frowned. "I had no idea you were such a Neanderthal."

I laughed. "That is the nature of men, sweetie. Like it or not, that is exactly what he will be thinking. He would never, ever tell you, of course, because you would react just like this. I'm sorry, but I can't change millions of years of evolution and sociological stratification."

Kelly sat defiantly. "What if I don't want to be 'owned'?"

"Then your marriage is doomed from the very start. Neither of you will be happy. Trust me - I know."

Her eyes saddened. For the first time, she began to understand.

"So am I supposed to spend the rest of my life being unhappy, just to make my husband happy?" she asked, sadly.

"No. Since you know what's going on in his mind, you get to play with it."

She thought for a minute. The smile was coming back. "How? Exactly?"

"It's all about power and control. Does that help?" I explained.

She still didn't get it, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. "Sounds to me like he has all the power and all the control."

"Not really. Let's review. At the center of a man is ego. That ego wants power. Power equals sex. It's all about sex. Everything that we dimwitted men do has one purpose - to get more sex. Sex, sex, sex! Fuck, fuck, fuck! That's what we want, all we think about, all the time."

"You can't be serious."

I nodded. "All. The. Time." I repeated slowly. "Every minute of every day. Sex is power to us, but like any well-tuned machinery, the power in a marriage needs to be controlled. Here's where you come in. Men are like cars. Some are overpowered muscle cars, some are hot, snazzy little sports cars, there are big, sleek limos, and a few are compacts."

Her giggle was echoed from the bathroom. Kelly's eyes shifted. She could hardly contain her curiosity.

She said, "Well, Brian is definitely a..."

I held up my hand sternly. "I do NOT want to know."

We both chuckled.

Narrowing my gaze, I explained, "So, we're the cars - who is driving?"

The lights came on. "Ohhh..."

"You should drive your car every day," I told her.

"Every day?"

"That car wants to go out for a spin at least a few times a week. Remember - it's all the car thinks about. Don't leave it in the garage too long. You should vary the way you drive. Most of the time, your trips will be the usual day-to-day stuff, around the same ol' neighborhood. Every once in a while, put the gas pedal to the floor and let that engine rev up - the car enjoys that. But not too often. You don't want to burn him out, or get arrested."

Kelly daughter chuckled.

I continued, "Long trips can be fun, especially when you're going places you've never been before. Take a slow, easy cruise down a country lane. Take it through the car wash. Drive it in a dressing room at the mall. Do some donuts in the back yard late at night."

My daughter laughed, then shifted her eyes at the snorting from the bathroom. She could hardly contain her curiosity.

"Whatever you do, though, don't ever wear out the brakes, and don't strip the transmission trying to downshift," I told her. "You don't want his engine running at full throttle all the time. You can slow him down, you can tease him, you can even say stop every once in a while, but never, ever let him think for even a moment that he's not going to get where he wants to go. If you do it right, you can get anything from him." I repeated slowly, "An-y-thing."

## ( X ) WHAT A MAN SEES ##

I paused to let her absorb everything I'd said. Then she asked, "You said that men fantasize about every woman they see. What should I do about that?"

"You should use that. Look at the woman. What does he see that he likes? Then, you should become that woman."

She looked angry. She wasn't convinced.

"Okay, tell me about the woman tonight. What did she look like, what were your impressions?"

I could see the anger start to fill her face as she remembered. She closed her eyes and recounted, "Bleach-blonde with dark brows, hair pulled back into a pony tail. Tight red dress, shiny black, open-toe, fuck-me stilettos. Glossy red lipstick, a little too much eye makeup. Her nose was tiny and she had thin lips. A real high maintenance bitch with —."

"Stop. You haven't told me a single thing that Brian saw."

Her jaw dropped.

"Was she alone?" I asked.

"Yes. Wait - no, I think she was with another woman."

"That's the first thing he noticed. Two women, three women - it doesn't matter. It's the same as being alone, or better. Two women is a possibility, but three women is a sure sign that one of them is looking for action, maybe all of them. Okay, the next thing - was she wearing a ring? Wedding or engagement?"

She closed her eyes. "Um, I don't remember. I - I don't think so."

"Uh-huh. That's the second thing he saw. How big were her butt and her tits?"

Kelly stared at me, "Really? You think I would look at her nasty old...?"

"You're going to start looking, Kelly. Did she have a big butt?"

"On the small side. Sort of boyish."

"Ohhh..." I said, nodding knowingly.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"Nothing. I like big, tight butts."

She slapped my arm.

I said, "Seriously, though. What about Brian?"

"What about him?" she asked.

"Does he like to look at women with big butts? Small butts?"

"Um, I don't know," she reflected.

"You need to find out, Kelly. And soon. Butts, boobs, legs and lips, thighs and eyes. Those are the hot buttons for most guys. You should know what he likes to look at."

"But - what if I don't have what he likes?"

"Doesn't matter," I told her. "He loves you for who you are, not what you look like. He won't admit it, but he knows you're in control, you're his driver, and he likes the feel of you behind the wheel. He knows that you make him a better person. Also, you're going to fuck him, and those other girls probably aren't. That doesn't mean he won't be fantasizing about those others while he's pulling one off..." my fist mimicked the action.

"Daddy!"

"...But that's okay. You don't need to worry, so long as you keep driving that car regularly. It's okay to ask when you see him scoping out a woman. Let him ogle her, then probe gently to find out what he likes about her. Then, the next time you get him in bed, pretend that you are just like her. If you think she's high maintenance, tell him, and then act like that." In falsetto, I played the role. " 'Don't touch me there!' 'You're messing up my hair.' 'Is it in, yet?' "

She laughed.

I told her, "But after a little playtime, you need to get busy reminding him why he married you instead of her. Got it?"

She nodded thoughtfully. "I guess I made a fool of myself downstairs, didn't I?"

"Yep. You showed both of them that you were jealous and spinning out of control."

"What should I do now, Daddy?"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Take off your panties."

"Daddy?" she stared open-mouthed.

"I'm not your fucking Daddy," I growled. "I'm a goddamn asshole, a fucking jerk - remember? Now take off the goddamn panties, Kelly."

Eying me warily, she slowly reached under her dress and pulled her panties down and off as demurely as possible.

Holding out my hand, I demanded, "Give them to me."

She held her pink bikinis out by the elastic, and dropped them in my open hand, wearing the most seductive smile I'd ever seen on my daughter. Where the hell was that coming from? I fought an insane urge to wad them up and shove them in my pocket for later. Sophie's revelations were taking my imaginings somewhere that I wasn't sure I wanted to go. Without looking, I tossed the panties across the room. They swished neatly into the trash can.

"Daddy! Those were some of my best Victoria's..."

"I'll buy you some more," I interrupted. "Right now, you need to find your inner slut. Few things are more exciting to a man than knowing that a woman is not wearing panties. The promise of things to come..." I winked.

"Oh."

"For a man, that is second only to swallowing," I said.

"Swallowing? Ohhh..." A change came over her as she looked at me, a disturbing sultriness. And then she winked at me. At her own father! Lewd ideas were stirring in my daughter's clever little mind, and something told me that I absolutely did not want to know what those ideas were. What happened to my sweet, innocent little girl? Was Sophie a part of this?

I asked her. "How bad do you want Brian?"

"With all my heart," she said earnestly, her demeanor switching instantly.

"Then you're going to march back to your room, and you're going to call him. Whatever you do, you're not going to see him tonight, is that clear? I don't care how much he begs."

She nodded.

"Talk to him, but do not apologize. Mention the woman, and how pretty she was. He'll say she wasn't that pretty. What will you say then?"

"Um, that she had a tight little butt?" she ventured.

I grinned. "Perfect! A 'nice', tight little butt. He's going to be on the defensive, so you need to compliment her. Ask him about what else he liked. Eventually, he'll tell you something he didn't like. Tell him that you can be that woman, if he wants. Change your voice in the middle of the call, make it sultry and sexy, and ask him what he'd like to do to her. And when he tells you, then you do it for him, right there on the phone."

"Phone sex, eh?" she says. I can see the gears turning in her devious, female brain.

"Whatever you do, don't ever fake it when you, uh, when you finish." I'm embarrassed by a momentary vision of my daughter in the throes of an orgasm. With Sophie's sweet face between her legs. Stop it, Chuck! Gathering my thoughts, I tell her, "We men are driven, but we're not stupid. Despite what you think, we can usually tell. Do you have a problem with any of that?"