Copyright© 2006 by Nick Scipio
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Henry Adair is a successful businessman with an unsuccessful life. That changes when he picks up his daughter at college.
Henry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Morning sunlight filtered into the room through the sheer curtains on the double doors. He glanced at them and blinked. The doors led to a balcony with stone balustrades, which overlooked a yard that made him think of a Roman villa.
The house--Henry wouldn't call it a "mansion"--had been built by some idiot movie star in the Seventies. It was a cross between the Playboy mansion and Caesars Palace, complete with cypress trees, a marble fountain, and a "pool villa" that was bigger than the house Henry grew up in.
Personally, he thought it was ostentatious. His wife liked it--it was her idea of classical. It was also the lifestyle she'd grown accustomed to. With a frown, he rolled the phrase over in his mind and imagined a high-priced divorce lawyer using exactly those words to squeeze more money out of him. He sighed with a mixture of disgust and resignation.
After a moment he glanced at his wife, asleep beside him. Even after three children and twenty-plus years of marriage, Leanne was a beautiful woman. He'd been dreaming about her and he had an erection. Unfortunately, he knew better than to wake her. They hadn't had sex in more than a year, and only then because she'd been drunk after a party. She always had some excuse to spurn him, and he wouldn't force himself on her.
The lack of sex was frustrating, but he smirked at one of the few thoughts that gave him comfort: he still looked like he had when he was twenty-five. He had more gray in his hair and a bit more weight around his middle, but Leanne had to work hard to keep her figure. Her blonde hair came from an expensive salon, and only her plastic surgeon knew about the nips and tucks.
Well, Henry thought, I know about the nips and tucks too. He paid for everything, of course. Why wouldn't he? She was his wife, after all.
But aren't wives supposed to have sex with their husbands? he wondered sarcastically. At least once in a while? Unfortunately, Leanne was like a Tiffany lamp: too expensive and too beautiful to touch.
Unless you're her personal trainer, Henry thought with a teeth- grinding snarl. Or her decorator... Or her travel agent... Or the father of another pageant contestant... Or... The list went on.
None of the affairs had been for long, but Henry still resented them. He'd even paid a private investigator to follow her for several months. He had proof of several of her affairs--pictures, videos, and even hotel receipts--locked away in his safe.
Since then, he'd had a security system installed in the house, including hidden "nanny cams." Leanne didn't know about them, but the tiny video cameras sent their feeds to a locked cabinet in Henry's private wing of the house. Digital tape recorded every infidelity.
Sometimes Henry watched the video. Leanne was still as wild and uninhibited as she'd always been, just not with him. At some point in their marriage, she'd lost interest in him. He remained faithful to her, although he couldn't explain why, even to himself. He'd had plenty of opportunities over the years, but he'd never taken them.
He didn't know why he didn't divorce her, either. She'd try to take half his money--or worse, half his company--but with overwhelming proof of her infidelity, she'd be lucky to walk away with the clothes on her back. She probably wouldn't contest the divorce in the first place, though. She wouldn't want the scandal.
Unfortunately, Henry had said "till death do us part," and he meant it. So he stayed. And he paid for her exorbitant lifestyle. He even tolerated her affairs, albeit with a silent, seething resentment.
He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His erection had long since disappeared. He padded into the bathroom and shed his monogrammed silk pajamas. They were a gift from Leanne, of course. She wanted him to look the part of the wealthy industrialist.
He snorted. "Wealthy industrialist," indeed! He owned a company which had survived the downsizing of California's Military- Industrial Complex, nothing more. In addition to his company, he personally held patents on a dozen processes used in the aerospace industry. If anything, he was a successful businessman and inventor.
The US government wasn't going to stop building missiles or launching satellites anytime soon, so Henry's patents alone would earn millions of dollars a year for years to come. Even Leanne couldn't spend that much money, and their children would be wealthy, without ever working a day in their lives.
Henry turned on the shower and shook his head in frustration. Of his three children, only one of them deserved the money. The irony was, she wanted it the least. His son, Chad, was twenty- four, single, and an entertainment lawyer. He was also a spoiled playboy, who partied with the Hollywood glitterati. As far as Henry was concerned, they were a bunch of shallow, undisciplined sybarites.
His oldest daughter was almost as bad. At twenty-two, Kacy had two goals in life: to become Miss USA, and to marry a good- looking, wealthy... somebody. She didn't really care what her future husband did for a living--if anything--as long as he was handsome and rich. At the moment, she was dating a semi-literate race car driver. Henry snorted in disgust as he lathered himself.
How had he gone wrong? How had he raised two children who were such... jackals?
He hadn't, that's how.
Chad was a male version of his mother, narcissistic and completely amoral. And Kacy had taken up her mother's crown in the beauty queen business.
Henry shook his head with disbelief. How had he gone wrong?
His one consolation was that he hadn't gone wrong with his youngest daughter. For whatever reason, Aly was an actual human being. She had more goodness and decency than Chad and Kacy combined, and she actually used the brain God had given her. At nineteen, she'd just finished her first year of college.
Henry had tried to convince her to attend one of his alma maters, Rice or Caltech, but she'd had her sights set on Virginia Tech. He thought she was going for the wrong reasons--she liked the football team--but the school did have a solid engineering program. It might not be up to the standards of Caltech, but it was a far cry from the local community college. So he'd reluctantly agreed, and Aly had gone to school 2,500 miles away.
The distance had been the hardest part. He and Aly were close-- too close, he sometimes thought--and they traded e-mails almost every day. They talked on the phone at least once a week, and she e-mailed pictures as often as she could. In a week, she'd be home for the summer, and he'd be able to spend as much time with her as he wanted. She had a six-week internship with a company in Thousand Oaks, but the rest of the summer was hers.
Thinking about her always made him smile, and he finished his shower in a much better mood. Still smiling, he rushed to get ready. He had a busy day at the office, and he wanted to beat the traffic. He dressed in a suit and tie, and barely spared a glance for Leanne on the way out of the bedroom.
She was still asleep, of course. She wouldn't rise until well after ten o'clock. Her personal trainer was due at eleven, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Henry clenched his jaw and swallowed a snarl. Fortunately, his cell phone rang as soon as he turned out of the driveway. As he talked to the East Coast client, he forgot all about Leanne and her unfaithful, self- absorbed, hedonistic, manipulative...
Henry finished his conversation as he pulled into his parking space. He snapped the phone closed and strode into the building. His office was a short walk from the main atrium, and his assistant looked up when he walked into the reception area.
"Good morning, Dr. Adair," she said.
Henry grinned at her. She normally called him by his first name, so she must've been in a playful mood. She was the only person who called him "doctor." Everyone else in the company called him Mr. Adair, or simply Hank, if they knew him well enough. But she'd been his assistant for nearly ten years, and she'd earned the right to tease him.
"Mornin', Jayne," he said. Then he smiled with inner amusement-- even after three decades on the coast, he still reverted to his Texas drawl sometimes.
"I put your breakfast on your desk," she said as she followed him into his office suite.
Pomegranate juice and a bran muffin, he thought bleakly. Great. He missed the days when he could have a sausage biscuit, or even a breakfast burrito. But the doctor had told him to watch his cholesterol, so Jayne relentlessly fed him healthy food. He did sneak an occasional cheeseburger for lunch, but only when she wasn't paying attention, which wasn't often.
"Raytheon is having problems," she said. She clicked his mouse to bring up his e-mail. While he ate breakfast, she summarized more than twenty e-mails. As she did, she bent over his arm, and he had a difficult time not glancing at her breasts. Worse, her perfume made him think of very unprofessional things. He ruthlessly pulled his mind back to the task at hand: problems with one of their major clients.
"Thanks, Jayne," he said when she fell silent and straightened. He peered up at her for a moment, studying her face. She wasn't a classic beauty like Leanne, but she was pretty. Her good looks were the reason he'd hired her in the first place, although he quickly discovered her preternatural ability to remember things-- from names and faces to facts and figures. She was also loyal, which he valued nearly as much as her other abilities.
He chuckled to himself. Even with her professional skills, he still appreciated her good looks. She was shorter than Leanne, but just as busty. He'd never asked, but he was sure her breasts were real. And the rest of her figure suited her perfectly. She was a bit of a clothes horse--Henry paid her very well--but she was always professional. Sexy as hell, perhaps, but still professional.
When the silence drew out, she arched an eyebrow, teasing and serious at the same time.
Completely out of the blue, he asked, "When did you know it was time to get a divorce?"
She blinked in surprise.
"Sorry," he said hastily. "Forget I said anything."
She looked at him for another moment, inscrutable. She'd been divorced for at least eight years, and Henry didn't know why he'd even asked the question.
"Really," he said. "Forget I asked."
"I guess I knew from the beginning," she said at last. "I liked the idea of being married more than the reality."
"And when Jeff started talking about kids..." She shrugged. "Are you and Leanne... ?"
He shook his head, a bit too quickly. He was suddenly embarrassed. He and Jayne knew a lot about each other's personal lives--it was inevitable, especially since they worked so closely--but there were some things he didn't share, like Leanne's infidelity. Jayne probably knew (or suspected, at any rate), but they didn't speak about it openly.
"Okay," she said at last. Her smile held a touch of melancholy. After a moment she turned to business. "After the Raytheon crisis, top priorities are the messages from Colonel Musgrave, Senator Tasker's office, and Dr. Mueller."
"Right," he said. His own smile held a bit of melancholy as well.
Henry ignored the beep of another call. He didn't even take the cell phone from his ear to see who was calling. His engineering manager was heading to Raytheon's facility in Arizona, and the call had already taken longer than it should have. Henry was growing annoyed with the man.
"Look, Bob," he said at last, "you're in charge of engineering. I understand that Raytheon is working with a new process, but when problems do come up, it's your job to fix 'em. Got it?"
The phone was silent for several seconds. "Got it," Bob said at last. "Sorry, Hank."
"I'm sorry about your fishing trip, but you know how much money we're talking about here." The Raytheon contract ran well into eight figures, with quite a bit more if the new guidance technology increased accuracy, which Henry knew it would.
"Yeah, I know," Bob said. Then he seemed to brace himself. "I'll get to the bottom of it and make sure the Raytheon guys know what they're doing."
"I know you will, Bob." Henry's phone beeped again, but he ignored it. "That's why I'm sending you instead of trusting this to anyone else."
The conversation turned to details, and they talked for another five minutes. Henry sighed when he finally snapped the phone closed. His desk phone rang. The blinking light showed an internal call.
"What?" he snapped.
"Your daughter's on line three," Jayne said smoothly.
"Sorry, Jayne," he said. "I didn't mean to bite your head off."
He smiled. "What would I do without you?"
"Go bankrupt and have your family disown you," she said with aplomb.
"That might not be so bad," he muttered, thinking of Leanne and his oldest children.
Jayne must have heard him. "It's Aly on line three," she said.
He perked up immediately. "Okay. Thanks." He stabbed the button for line three. "Hi, sweetheart."
"Is it a good time?" Aly said. "I tried calling your cell phone, but you didn't answer."
"Sorry," he said. "I was on another call. An important one." He frowned at the memory, but then took a deep breath and forced a smile. "What can I do for you?"
"I need help, Dad," she said frankly, and Henry sat forward.
"Jayne," Henry bellowed, ignoring the intercom.
"You don't have to shout," she said when she appeared in the door. "I'm right here."
"Book me on the next flight to Blacksburg, Virginia," he said. "And have a rental car waiting at the airport. Also, call U-Haul, or Ryder, or whoever, and rent a truck for a one-way trip."
"Are you on a white knight errand?" she asked, smiling wryly.
"My little girl needs help."
Jayne leaned against the doorframe. "What happened?"
"Her car died and she doesn't have a way to get home from school. The dealership told her it would be two weeks before they'd have the parts. Damned Eurotrash imports!"
She rolled her eyes. It was one of his frequent rants.
"Anyway," he continued, "it's a good time for me to go--"
"To escape, you mean," she interrupted.
"--and I'm..." He turned sheepish. "Am I that obvious?"
She smiled fondly and shook her head.
"Yeah, I guess I'm taking an impromptu vacation. But I won't really be out of contact. I'll have my laptop and my cell phone. Bob can handle Raytheon, and you can handle everything here."
"So I'm going to rescue my little girl."
"That's what daddies are for," she said. Aly was like a kid sister to her. "I'll make all the arrangements," she added. "Do you want me to drive you to the airport?"
He considered for a moment, but then shook his head. He didn't want to inconvenience her. Besides, he needed her running things in the office. "I'll take a limo," he said.
She nodded. "I'll have the driver meet you at your house."
With a nod and a smile, he turned back to his computer. He had a dozen e-mails to send before he left. He'd also have to tell Leanne, but she wouldn't care. She and Kacy had a pageant in San Diego. He vaguely recalled that it was part of the Miss California USA competition, but he didn't give it a second thought.
Virginia was hot. Hot and sticky. Henry had already worked up a sweat just walking to his rental car. Five minutes later, with the air conditioner on full blast, he was headed toward Blacksburg and the Virginia Tech campus. He called Aly once he was sure of his bearings. She gave him directions to her dorm, but he remembered the place from when he'd brought her to school.
She met him in the lobby and his eyes lit up when he saw her. Unlike Leanne and Kacy--who were salon blondes--Aly was dark- haired. And while Leanne and Kacy were busty--courtesy of very expensive boob jobs--Aly was petite and natural. She was nothing like her mother or sister, and Henry liked that just fine.
She hugged him tight. "Thanks for coming. I could've driven home by myself, but..."
"Nonsense," he said. "That's what fathers are for."
She looped her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dad. You're the best."
They picked up the rental truck and returned to the dorm, where they loaded Aly's things. Henry couldn't imagine how she'd fit so much stuff in her tiny dorm room. It filled nearly half of the small truck.
After she checked out of the dorm, they had dinner and spent the night in a hotel. Her car was still with the dealer, but Henry arranged for them to send it cross-country when the repairs were complete. The service manager had balked at Henry's "request," but the dealership's general manager understood the unspoken threat in Henry's voice.
The next morning, Henry and Aly were on the road by seven o'clock, with sausage biscuits and hot coffee. Henry cringed at Jayne's imagined reproach, but he savored the buttery biscuit and willed her to silence.
"What're you smirking at?" Aly asked.
He felt his cheeks heat. "Smirking?"
"Yeah. Just now. You were smirking."
"I shouldn't be eating this," he admitted.
"Because of your cholesterol?"
In the blink of an eye, she snatched the biscuit and began rolling down her window.
She tossed it out, wrapper and all.
"Aly, that was my breakfast!"
"We'll stop for an early lunch," she said, unperturbed.
He glared at her.
"You know Jayne's going to ask me how you ate," she said. "And I won't lie to her."
"You could've lied this once," he muttered, half serious, half joking.
"No, I couldn't've. If you won't take care of yourself, the women in your life will just have to do it for you."
The trip through Tennessee was uneventful. After more than ten hours on the road, they stopped for the night in Memphis. They asked the hotel clerk for adjoining rooms, and opened the door between them.
Henry checked his e-mail while Aly took a shower. He'd just finished replying to the urgent messages when she walked through the adjoining door. She wore a towel around her head and a baggy Hokies T-shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her toss a bottle of lotion onto the bed and flounce after it. He glanced at her, but then immediately looked away. She wasn't wearing panties, and he'd caught a glimpse of her...
He felt an all-too-familiar stab of desire, but he quickly suppressed it. He cleared his throat. "Um... sweetheart," he said tentatively. "This isn't your dorm."
Even out of the corner of his eye, he could see her confusion.
"Shouldn't you put on some shorts or something?"
She laughed. "Oh, Dad."
What's that supposed to mean? he wondered.
"It's not like you're going to attack me or anything," she added. But she didn't cover herself, and Henry resolutely stared at his laptop.
"No," he said, "but you shouldn't walk around half-naked, either."
"I'm not 'half-naked.'"
"Aly," he said, his voice level, "I can see your... you know."
"My what, Dad?" she teased.
He cleared his throat again. "You know what I'm talking about. And I'm not going to turn around till you put on some shorts."
"All right." She hopped off the bed and returned to her own room. "If I'd known you were going to be such a prude," she shouted back, "I'd've worn a hoodie and sweats." She returned a moment later, wearing a pair of running shorts instead. "I was finished with my legs anyway."
She pulled off her T-shirt and Henry almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to face his computer.
Later that night, Henry lay awake in bed. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aly's pussy. Her lips were smooth and hairless, and he wondered if she shaved the rest. As soon as the thought popped into his head, he suppressed it in a wave of guilt.
Fathers do not think of their daughters that way, he told himself.
Leanne had her pubic hair waxed. She kept a little strip above her slit, but the rest was bare. She didn't even bother to hide her body from him. It was just one way she tormented him, and he hated her for it. Personally, he liked more hair than just the strip, but that was the style these days. Besides, he'd be happy with any pussy he could get.
Except my daughter's, he added hastily.
He tormented himself for another ten or fifteen minutes. When he realized that he had an erection, he felt even guiltier. He rolled over and tried to go to sleep, but his hard-on wouldn't go away. He kept seeing Aly's smooth pussy in his mind, or her breasts, so firm and round and...
Stop it! he cried silently. Stop it, stop it, stop it!
He punched the pillow and tried to get settled. Eventually, his erection subsided and he fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.
Aly left the suite door open in the morning. Worse, she kept walking past it as she packed her small suitcase. She was nude, of course, and Henry did his best to keep his eyes focused on his laptop. He began pounding out e-mails, venting his sexual frustration on his computer.
Before he realized what was happening, he felt Aly behind him. Fortunately, she was dressed. She rubbed his shoulders and he began to relax.
"Do you want a sausage biscuit for breakfast?" she asked.
He looked up and felt her shrug off his unspoken question.
"We're on vacation," she said. "I won't tell."
He smiled. The old Aly was back, the girl he loved, rather than the sex kitten flashing her father. "Sure, sweetheart," he said.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Dad."
"I love you too, sweetheart."
"Now c'mon," she said. "Let's stop by McDonald's on the way out of town."
He smiled and closed his laptop.
For the next two hours, they talked about everything in the world, from engineering courses to music to boys. Or, as Aly corrected him, "men." He didn't like to think of her dating men instead of boys, but she wasn't a little girl anymore.
She told him about dating an English professor--a man fifteen years her senior--and Henry even managed to hide his disapproval. Fortunately, the relationship didn't last, since she didn't want a long-term commitment. Then she told him about one of the engineering professors. He'd been married and older still, but she ended their relationship after only a month.
"What about guys your age?" Henry finally asked.
She shrugged indifferently. "They're boys," she said. "They only care about one thing--getting into my pants--but most of 'em wouldn't know what to do if they got there." She shrugged again. "I just like older guys. Men." She looked at him sidelong. "I wonder why."
Henry felt his face flush, and he concentrated on the road. He tried not to think about her comment, but he wasn't entirely successful. He did manage to discreetly re-arrange his erection, but it wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
They fell silent for the next twenty miles. He didn't know what she was trying to do, but he couldn't get her out of his mind. He told himself--over and over--that fathers didn't think of daughters "that way." He had a difficult time convincing himself.
They stopped for lunch at the Arkansas-Oklahoma border. Aly ordered a chef's salad, while Henry ordered a cheeseburger and French fries. She gave him a sharp look, but he said, "Vacation, right?"
She relented a moment later, and reached across the table to pat his hand. He felt an electric tingle and immediately looked away. Aly merely giggled and stole one of his French fries.
"Oh, Dad," she said with a sigh.
They finished their meal in relative silence, but Henry couldn't keep his eyes from her. She wasn't wearing much makeup, and she had her hair pinned up. Still, she looked beautiful. She was wearing a halter top--without a bra--and he could clearly see her small nipples. He tried not to stare, but she caught him once and he turned bright red.
After lunch, he was glad to get back on the road. Aly wasn't built like her mother, but her lithe figure accented what breasts she did have. Unfortunately, she turned in her seat and sat with her back against the door. She rested her thigh on the seat, and her shorts were loose enough that he could almost see...
He gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Aly grinning at him.
The drive across Oklahoma was mostly uneventful, and Henry kept his mind on business. When he had good cell phone service, he made a few calls, and got updates from Jayne about the situation with Raytheon.
When they neared the Texas border, the truck started grinding each time Henry let off the accelerator. Aly took out the map. They decided to stop for the night in Amarillo. It was the next big town, and they could have a mechanic look at the truck.
Unfortunately, the grinding grew worse. When the truck gave a final lurch, Henry gripped the steering wheel. He might not be a mechanical engineer, but he knew the sound of metal on metal when he heard it. The interstate was straight and flat, but it was also full of 18-wheelers traveling eighty miles an hour. He looked for a place to pull over.
The transmission gave a final squeal and the engine died.
The steering grew heavy and Henry aimed for the shoulder. An air horn bellowed as a truck barreled past. He turned on the hazard blinkers and sat back, his shoulders suddenly hot with tension.
"Wow," Aly said. "That was close."
Henry nodded wordlessly. Then he flipped open his cell phone. It didn't have a signal. "Try yours," he said.
Aly opened her phone, but then shook her head.
"Well," he said, resigned, "I guess we're walking."
They shouldered their bags and started walking toward the town ahead. A battered old tow truck passed them about twenty minutes later. It pulled to the shoulder and waited for them in a cloud of dust.
"Is that your truck broke down back there?" the driver asked, hooking a thumb behind him.
"I can't tow it with this rig," the driver said, "but I can give you a ride to town. That's where I'm goin'."
"That'd be great," Henry said. "Thanks."
"I'm Tyler," the driver introduced himself.
"Hank," Henry said. "And this is my daughter, Aly."
"Pleased to meet ya."
They made small talk during the drive. The town was called Lela, and Tyler owned the only garage in town.
"Sorry I can't tow your truck tonight," he said. "My main tow truck's on the rack." He pointed to a brown cardboard box on the dash. "Fuel pump."
"I'll have it fixed tomorrow, 'bout midmorning," Tyler said. "If you'd like, you can call Moneymaker's Towing in Shamrock," he continued. "They'll charge you for the trip out here, in addition to the tow, but I won't be able to look at your truck till I get mine off the rack anyway. You can have Moneymaker's tow you back to Shamrock, though." He shrugged.
"Will you be able to fix our truck once you get it to your garage?" Henry asked.
"Won't know till I look at it."
"Do you want to call Moneymaker's?" Tyler asked. "I can give you the number."
Henry looked at his watch. It was nearly nine o'clock. He had an emergency number for the rental company, but he decided to deal with them in the morning. "Do you have a hotel in town?" he asked. Tyler gave him an appraising look. It wasn't a puzzled look, though, which raised Henry's opinion of the man.
"Sure," he said at last. "We have the old Grand. It's not very modern, but it's clean."
"Then I think we'll spend the night," Henry said. "If you can tow the truck in the morning..."
Tyler nodded. "I'll drop you off at the hotel and give you a call when I'm ready in the morning. Should be nine or ten o'clock. A'ight?"
"Sounds good," Henry said. He pulled out his wallet. "How much do I owe you for the ride to town?"
"Are you sure?"
Tyler snuffled and nodded. "Wouldn't be able to call myself a Christian if I'd left you there on the interstate." He tipped his hat. "See you in the morning."
Henry thanked him again and then shut the truck's door. It pulled away with a cloud of dust.
The Lela Grand Hotel was clean, but small and dated. It must've been built in the Twenties, and it hadn't been renovated since. It looked like something out of a movie, with faded red carpet and battered wood paneling. The manager perked up and smiled as they approached the desk.
Probably the owner, Henry thought. "I'd like two rooms for the night," he said aloud. "I don't suppose you have adjoining rooms?"
"Sure do," the man said. He had Henry sign the register--an honest-to-God paper register--and swiped Henry's credit card through a reader. The device chirred as it dialed. Then a busy signal blared. "Ah, that happens all the time," the manager said. "You look like the trustworthy type, though. I'll just make an imprint of your card and we'll run it through when you check out. Is that okay?"
"Fine," Henry said.
The manager handed over two keys--genuine brass keys, with faded plastic fobs. "Rooms 6 and 8," he said, "at the top of the stairs, to your right. Do you need help with your bags?"
Henry shook his head. The hotel might be quaint, but the manager was polite, and Henry couldn't ask for more, especially in the middle of nowhere.
The rooms were just as dated as the lobby. The TVs were fairly modern, but the phones were old single-line clunkers. Henry threw his suitcase and laptop on the bed. It squeaked as they landed. A moment later, Aly knocked on the adjoining door. He unlocked it and swung it open.
"Nice place, huh?" she said. She was serious. "It's kinda cool, isn't it?"
"It's not what I'm used to," he said, "but it'll do in a pinch."
"The bathrooms have old cast-iron bathtubs. Cool, huh?" Ten minutes later, she met with her first disappointment: her bathroom didn't have any hot water. She started to call the front desk, but then had an idea. She went into Henry's bathroom and tried the tub.
"It's hot," she said. "If you don't mind, I'll just take a bath in here."
He gestured with a smile. While she ran a bath, he plugged the phone cord into his laptop. The dial-up connection was slow, but the computer began downloading e-mail.
He listened to Aly hum as she soaked in the bath. His thoughts wandered to her body, and he quickly flushed with embarrassment. After a guilty moment he shook off the thought and concentrated on his computer.
"Do you want to have a late dinner?" Aly asked when she emerged from the bathroom.
Henry turned but then quickly looked away. She was wearing a single white towel. Around her head. Her nipples were puckered and stiff from the air conditioning, and he had an answer to his question about her pubic hair: she had a small strip above her slit.
"Oh, Dad," she chided, "don't be such a prude."
"Sweetheart, I'm your father. I'm not your boyfriend."
"So? You've seen me naked before."
"Not since you were ten."
"That's not true. You've seen me plenty of times since then."
He had, but he felt guilty remembering. She and her friends had a cavalier attitude about nudity. He'd seen her and the other girls as they sunbathed topless. Or when they spent the night and wore scanty nightshirts. Or when her best friend, Jordyn, accidentally sent him e-mail with...
"Hello?" Aly said. "Dad?"
He shook his head and looked at her. He'd forgotten about her nudity, and felt his face heat as he looked away. His embarrassment redoubled when he felt his erection bind in his underwear.
"Oh, Dad," Aly said. She leaned over his shoulder to kiss his cheek.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her nipples, pinkish- brown and pointy. She walked to her room and he breathed a sigh of relief. His erection didn't go away, but at least he could shift it and ease the pressure.
The diner across the street was open, and they ate a quiet meal. Henry's thoughts were chaotic and completely inappropriate--he couldn't get the image of Aly out of his mind. Back in the hotel room, he lied and told her he had a headache. He closed the door between their rooms and leaned against it, mentally exhausted.
A cold shower didn't do anything to dampen his libido. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aly's firm breasts or trimmed pussy. He climbed into bed with an erection. He wanted to jerk off, but he refused to do it with thoughts of his daughter clouding his imagination.
He tried to think of Leanne, but his mind's eye kept returning to Aly. He thought about a half-dozen other women, from movie stars to employees, but Aly always returned to the forefront. He even went to his computer and tried surfing for porn, but the dial-up connection was painfully slow. In the end, he went back to bed, where he tossed and turned until he eventually fell asleep.
Henry opened his eyes and gazed up at the plaster on the ceiling. It had once been white, but age and water stains had turned it a dull yellow. He had an erection--he'd been dreaming about Leanne. Again. He could've sworn he felt her next to him, but that was crazy. The feeling persisted, so he glanced to his right, just to be sure. He recoiled in surprise and leapt out of bed.
Aly, sleepy-eyed and disheveled, blinked at him from the other side of the bed. "Unh, what time is it?"
"What're you doing in here?" he blurted.
"My air conditioner started making a racket, so I came in here."
"Alyson..." He drew a deep breath and waited for his heart to slow. "We need to talk."
"About what?" She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes.
Henry immediately sat on the bed again. Aly was wearing a midriff halter top and a matching pair of panties. The outfit was tight and translucent. It certainly didn't leave anything to the imagination. He rested his arm on his thigh to hide his renewed erection.
"Alyson," he began, slowly, deliberately, "I'm not your boyfriend, and this isn't a dorm room."
"I know. So?"
"I'm your father, and you shouldn't dress like that around me. More importantly, you shouldn't sleep in the same bed with me."
"But my air conditioner..."
He set his jaw. "It's not right."
She rolled her eyes. "It's vacation. I won't tell if you won't."
"This isn't like a sausage biscuit, sweetheart."
"Alyson, I'm your father. For that matter, I shouldn't see any girl your age dressed like that."
"I'm not a girl," she shot back.
"Okay," he conceded, "I shouldn't see any woman your age dressed like that."
"Why? Don't you like me?"
"I love you, Aly, and that's precisely why I shouldn't see you like that. And it's precisely why you shouldn't be sleeping in my bed. It's not right."
"Why? We didn't do anything. I mean, you didn't even know I was there until you woke up."
She was right, and it scared him. He was used to sleeping with someone, and he hadn't even noticed when the someone in question wasn't his wife. "That's beside the point," he said. "Wrong is wrong, whether I know about it at the time or not."
She huffed. "When did you become so repressed, Dad?"
"I'm not repressed."
"Then why are you so uptight about how I'm dressed?" She flung back the covers to make sure he could see everything.
He controlled his breathing with an effort of will. "Aly, that outfit doesn't leave anything to the imagination."
"It's not supposed to. That's why I wore it, Dad. I'm a grown woman. I choose who gets to see my body." Her eyes glinted. "And I choose you."
"I know you're not a prude, Dad. So relax. And don't worry about what I'm wearing. I don't dress like a slut in public. So if I want to dress sexy in private, why should you complain?"
"But I'm your father," he said, which sounded feeble.
"So? You're still a man, aren't you? Or has Mom finally cut off your balls?"
He squared his shoulders and scowled. "Now listen here, young lady--"
"Oh, come on, Dad! Do you think I don't know about Mom and her affairs? I know what she's been doing to you, and I hate her for it."
"That's between her and me," Henry said.
"You think it doesn't affect me? Or Chad and Kacy? We know what's going on."
"Still, it's none of your business--"
"It is my business when I see how unhappy you are. Why don't you divorce her?"
"Because I made a vow, and I'm going to honor it."
"Even if Mom ignores it?"
"I made a vow," he said stubbornly.
"Then why don't you have a mistress? Tons of women would sleep with you. And not just women your age, either. You're totally sexy. Women my age would sleep with you."
His eyes widened.
"Sure," she said. "Jordyn's always thought you were hot. She'd sleep with you in a heartbeat. And she's not the only one."
"This is not the kind of discussion we should be having," he said suddenly. "Do you want to take a shower? Or do you want me to go first?"
"Why don't we take one together?"
He ignored the question.
She rolled her eyes.
"Fine" he said. "I'll go first."
Once again, the cold water didn't do a thing for his erection. He didn't want to emerge from the bathroom clad in just a towel, but his pajamas wouldn't hide his hard-on any better. So he wrapped the towel around his waist and hoped that Aly had returned to her room.
She hadn't, and her eyes fell to his groin. He quickly turned to face the sink, but he could feel her looking at him. She casually stripped off her halter and panties. She stood behind him, almost defiantly. He could see her in the mirror, but he resolutely focused on his own reflection.
"You can't avoid the issue forever, Dad," she said at last.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're a man," she said, "not a monk. If Mom won't have sex with you, then you should find someone who will."
He stubbornly kept his mouth shut.
She shook her head in resignation. "Fine. Have it your way. But that"--she nodded at his hidden erection--"won't go away simply because you ignore it."