Chapter 6

He kissed me, grinned at me, and said, “I thought you could use a date night, Misty girl. You have been working like a pioneer woman, and it’s time for you to have a little fun.”

He drove south on I25, into Colorado, and turned off at the Loveland exit. He drove up the road into Big Thompson Canyon, and stopped at a little resort with log cabins. Dad went into the office, and came out carrying a key. He got back in the car, and drove to a cabin that was off by itself, and not squished together like the others were. Dad got luggage out of the trunk, and carried it to the door of the cabin. He put down the bags and handed me the key. A big sign over the door said, “Honeymoon Cabin.” I opened the door; daddy picked me up, and carried me into the cabin. He put me down on the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. He went and got the bags and brought them in, and put them on the luggage racks. There was a box, wrapped up with white paper and a big pink bow. I wanted to rip it open, but dad quickly put it under his suitcase.

“That’s for later,” He said.

“Misty, why don’t you go shower first, because it takes practically forever to dry your hair?” Dad said.

I went in the bathroom, and couldn’t believe the luxury inside that log cabin. There was a Jacuzzi tub, and two showerheads facing each other in a big river rock shower enclosure. I got out of my work clothes, and into the shower. They had house shampoo and conditioner in bottles big enough to be worthwhile. I had just finished my hair, and was starting to wash the dust and cow stink off my body, starting at the top, and working down; when daddy joined me in the shower.

He turned on the jet on the opposite wall, and began helping me soap up. He brought a big, rough sponge with him, and started scrubbing my back. It felt heavenly. He soaped the rest of me up, and spent lots of time washing and caressing my tits. Then he began washing my pussy. I came before I thought I would.

I wrapped my arms around him and said, “I really needed that daddy.”

I started to soap him up and stroke his cock with my soapy hand, but he told me to rinse off, and to dry my hair and go get dressed. He told me my outfit for the night was on the bed.

I grinned at him, rinsed off, and reached for one of the big towels. I always do things opposite of most people because of my hair. I use the big body towel on my hair, and the regular size bath towel on my body. When my hair was mostly dry, I went from the bathroom into the bedroom.

Laid out on the bed were very lacey, sexy, matching bra and panties. They were a blush pink shade that is not my normal style, but they looked romantic, and the fact that daddy bought them for me made me eager to try them on. As I eased my breasts into the lace cups, I noticed it was an extreme pushup bra, and it was going to make my tits stick out like never before. I adjusted the bra straps, and wiggled into the panties. They were bikini style, so they covered my butt, and covered up my thick, black patch of pubic hair. I tried to keep it trimmed, but sometimes, it seemed like it was one of those enchanted forests that grow more if you try to cut any of the branches, brambles, or thickets.

Dad had bought me a beautiful western dancing dress. I pulled the dress on, and looked in the mirror as I got it settled on my curves. It was cut low in the front, so while the pushup bra gave me pretty spectacular cleavage, and the dress showed it off.

I got my hair dried, and was brushing it out when daddy came out of the bathroom. I gave him a big smile and said, “Thanks dad.”

“Babe, I know pink isn’t your favorite color, but I kind of got it for me to look at and I know I’ll love seeing you wear it.”

“It’s great dad. I’ve never had a dancing dress before, and I have never tried to be a girly, girl. Maybe you’ll like me better if I’m dressed up in pretty clothes. If you do, and it gets me laid more often, that will be just fine with me. It will be harder on our budget, but I definitely want to dress to please you, daddy.

“I’ve never worn pink, because I didn’t know if it went with my copper skin. It looks fine with my black hair though.

“Sometimes that idea that we have a ranch to run, nagging us from the back of our mind all the time, just makes us forget to have fun. I mean, making love with you is always my favorite thing to do, but a little dressing up and dancing might just make having you undress me more fun than usual,” I said.

“We are indeed going dancing,” Daddy said.

He got dressed in new, black Wranglers that showed off his cute butt really well. He had a pink western shirt with pearl snaps down the front. The pink of his shirt exactly matched the pink of my dress.

Dad had a new belt, but he was wearing one of the silver buckles he had won in his rodeo days. He pulled on a beautiful pair of Tony Lama, Ostrich Skin boots.

I looked around for my boots, and found a Justin box on one of the chairs. I opened it up, and there were a pair of beautiful black Kangaroo Skin boots, with a dancing sole and heel. I have a fat foot for a girl, and the Tony Lama last is just torture for me. Pulling on a pair of Justin boots is always like putting on my favorite tennis shoes.

The boots had silver Conchos trimming the sides, and in the box, there was a gorgeous Concho belt for my waist. One look told me it was Tribal made, and very old.

“Your mom used to wear that when we’d sneak off to go dancing. I think you should have it now.”

I wrapped my arms around my dad and hugged him as hard as I could. I tried my best not to cry, but a tear ran down my cheek anyway.

“Thanks daddy. I’ll cherish this forever.”

Dad dried my tear and kissed my cheek. “Are you ready to go Boot Scootin’, darlin’?” Daddy asked.

“It’s a good thing you have a strong lead, baby. Our dancin’ in the kitchen hopefully will save your toes from too much damage. As long as I’m with my favorite cowboy, I’m a happy girl,” I said.

Dad took my hand and led me out to the car. He opened my door, and watched my cleavage approvingly as I got in the Mustang. He walked in front of the car, and got in the driver’s seat. He drove us to a big log lodge type building, and parked the car in the gravel lot. He got out and came around to open my door. He gave me his hand for support, so I could manage my skirt, and get out of the car somewhat gracefully. At least I didn’t flash the whole lot.

We walked in to the big, double doors, which were open wide. Dad went to the desk, and told the hostess we had reservations. I always wrinkle my nose when I hear that word, used in that way. In the white world, it means privilege and special status, but in my grandfather’s world, it means land the U.S. Government thought was worthless, and that was where they herded the tribal peoples. Sorry, I just can’t ignore how I feel when I hear the word.

The hostess showed us to a table. A waiter in boots, jeans, and cowboy hat brought us menus. I ordered a small sirloin, hoping that I could eat it without spilling on my dress. Dad is always sensible about what he eats, and he had the Filet Mignon. I ordered mine Medium Well, hoping that would keep it from being too juicy. Dad isn’t embarrassed to put a napkin in his collar and cover the whole front of his shirt, so he ordered his Medium, like always.

There was a big western band tuning up on the stage. When we got our meals, the band was being introduced, and started their first number.

Dad said, “Most places around here do a fake chuck wagon thing, so you have to go through a line and they slop assembly line food on a metal tray. I figure we can do that ourselves if we go camping. For date night, they can darn well bring us our food!”

We chatted and smiled at each other a lot. Dad took my hand and whispered, I really wanted to make this like a real honeymoon for you baby, but we can’t be callin’ attention to ourselves too much. I know you can pass for eighteen most of the time, but I was afraid if I had them introduce us as newlyweds, the management might kick in a glass of Champaign, but then they would ask for ID because of the alcohol.”

I giggled and said, “You could have said we were Mormons. Of course someone on the staff might be a real one, and might have looked to see if you had Jesus Jammies under your jeans, and the whole thing could have snowballed, so I guess you did the best thing after all.