Chapter 3: Cautious First Steps

The sharp metallic sound of a pot hitting a tiled floor shocked Sasha awake. A cool autumn morning sun streamed through her gossamer curtains. Her immediate thought was worry. What had happened? Then she remembered. Today was Sunday. Dad must be up making a big breakfast. He loved his Sunday breakfast, the television turned onto a news program, the Sunday New York Times on the counter ready to read while eating.

Smiling, Sasha yawned and stretched, curling her feet and toes. They still ached from dance class two days ago. With sudden excitement she wondered if Renpet had responded to her last email. Rolling, she grabbed her iPhone on the bedside table. A few flicks of her thumb and her heart skipped a beat. He had!

She read it twice.

sasha .4843,
I completely understand why you won't reveal too much about yourself. Bravo! Look at me. I hide behind a nom de plume and never reveal personal information that might identify me. You've given me enough information to understand your situation.
So. Advice.
Not knowing your current relationship with your father, I will only suggest things. You'll have to decide if they make sense or not.
Often in a familial relationship, when you live together, you start taking things for granted. In a lot of instances this includes physical contact. Over time you might hug less or hugs might be short and sweet. Physical touch is the starting point to assessing how your father might feel or react to your feelings.
There are two things you might consider.
First is increase the frequency of physical contact. Put another way, become more touchy-feely. I can almost guarantee a father would welcome affection like that from a daughter.
Second, make those events last longer. When a hug is fleeting it lacks impact. A longer hug communicates affection without it being obvious. A lingering good morning or goodnight kiss does the same. Time is your ally. Time allows other senses to kick in, even if it's subconsciously. Touch and smell are intensified.
So what should you look for? When you become more physical in your expression of love, pay attention to your father's reactions. It might not happen at first, or at all, but he might respond. If he does, try to understand if his hugs are tighter, if his kisses last longer, and importantly, does he caress you when his hand is resting on you? These are signs he likes your affection.
Don't overplay your cards. Take your time. If your father responds favorably I can help you with more ideas.
Good luck and enjoy yourself.
Renpet

Sasha leapt out of bed full of energy. She smiled brightly. Renpet's advice sounded exactly right. In a flurry of activity she hit the bathroom before dressing and heading downstairs.

Dad was in his Sunday spot, sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen island counter with a mug of coffee in one hand - the angry Donald Duck mug she'd given him for his birthday two years ago - and the newspaper spread open on the countertop. The air was full of aromas; baked beans, sausages, bacon, toast. Today was obviously a full English style breakfast.

With nerves tingling and excitement energizing her, she walked up behind him. Wrapping her arms around him she bent and kissed his cheek letting the kiss linger just a little longer, pressing her lips against him just slightly harder. "Morning, Dad." He smelled so good.

"Morning, Honey," he responded. "Hope you're hungry. It's an English Breakfast today."

With a final tightening hug, Sasha let him go, straightening and moving to the refrigerator to pour a glass of orange juice. "I know. I can smell it," she responded.

"How do you want your eggs?" he asked, rising to finish cooking.

"Sunny side up. This time don't break the yolks," Sasha suggested with a smile, taking a big gulp of orange juice. She watched him grin and adored it.

"If you want unbroken yolks don't distract me," he informed her.

"Kay."

Waiting, she watched him crack eggs into the sizzling frying pan. The moment arrived, that point where he fiddled with them to make sure they weren't sticking to the pan. With a sneaky grin, she walked past him with a plate of toast, brushing against him, jostling him slightly.

"Aw, geez!" he exclaimed. "Why did you do that?"

Peering around him Sasha saw rich yellow slowly spreading over cooked whites, all four egg yolks broken. "Do what?" she asked, moving away, still grinning. She placed the toast at the eat-on counter.

A couple of minutes later they were eating, Sasha still smiling at Dad's grumping about everything being ruined now.

FEET UP ON THE coffee table, the morning news playing on the television, and the newspaper on the floor beside me, I smiled and sipped coffee.

Noise from upstairs filtered down to me. Sasha was collecting dirty clothes for washing and tossing her bed sheets out onto the landing. I felt good. My daughter's hugs and soft kisses had lingered. I'd smelled her hair as she'd bent over me from behind, the aroma of fruits from yesterday's shampoo still lingering on her. Her kiss had felt so loving, too. All-in-all very exciting.

"Do you want me to get your sheets?" Sasha called down to me.

"Yes please."

My cell phone rang. I checked the display.

"Hello, Marcy," I answered.

"Jason, darling! How much writing did you do last night? About that book signing. Thanks for agreeing! You'll love San Fran. I told Harold - he's the store owner, you know, and what a sweetie he is. Did I mention how I have a soft spot for a man with a beard? Anyway, he's thrilled, absolutely giddy with joy at your attendance. He promised..."

"Marcy!" I interrupted.

"What is it, Darling?"

"I didn't agree to go to the book signing."

"But of course you did. You said if I didn't hear from you by last night it meant you'd agreed to go. I called Harold with the good news late last night. He was waiting to hear with bated breath!" Marcy exclaimed, almost pulling off her sincere lie.

I chuckled. My fault. If I hadn't answered her call I wouldn't be in the predicament I was in. "I haven't talked to Sasha yet."

"Talked to me about what?" Sasha asked, walking down the staircase with an armful of sheets.

Placing my hand over the cell phone I told her about San Francisco. Sasha's eyes sparkled. She enthusiastically agreed to go.

" ... and I'm sure that if you ask that darling daughter of yours and let her know how dire the circumstances are, how desperate Harold is..." Marcy was saying.

Interrupting her again, I told her we'd go.

"Wonderful!" she enthused.

The phone call ended abruptly; no thank you, no goodbye.

For the rest of the day I relished Sasha's subtle attention. I was very careful not to respond any differently to her hugs but it was hard. Her eyes sparkled with youthful joy. We attended to Sunday chores and lazed around, very comfortable in each other's company. She eventually disappeared into her bedroom. I retired to the study to answer emails. Dinner was a joint venture, both of us cooking, and I was gifted with my daughter's bright company.

Sasha impressed me. She was very subtle. Over the next week her affection was no more or less than normal, but each hug lasted a touch longer, each kiss lingered slightly longer and her lips pressed slightly harder. I didn't respond any differently until Thursday. That evening, when I hugged my daughter goodnight, I caressed her slender back gently, subtly, feeling the bra strap underneath her cotton top, my hug pulling her body into mine just a bit tighter. I loved how petite and young she felt in my arms and desire for her welled up, an aching need.

Our hug Friday morning before she left for school was almost the same except, with a thrill coursing through me, Sasha rubbed my back slightly as she hugged me - an intimate gesture - and I actually heard her inhale deeply and sigh quietly. It was very sweet and loving and quite beautiful.

Late Friday morning my Gmail account received another email.

Renpet,
Thank you for your advice! It worked! It took a while but Dad actually caressed my back when we hugged! It felt so good.
Can I tell you a secret? It was like your story 'In My Daughter's Eyes' when the father hugs his daughter Gina and he reacts by getting aroused. It's one of my favorite scenes because, without her father knowing, Gina gets aroused, too. I read that story again last night and masturbated, pretending it was Dad getting aroused when he hugged me and caressed my back. My climax was so good, all thanks to you!
What should I do now? I so want more. Please write back soon!
Eternally grateful,
sasha .4843