Chapter 28: Ted and Shana’s Dirty Night - Part 1

... at the Pineview Lodge

TED

About a week after we arrived at our “vacation hideaway in the hills” – and four or five days after we discovered how much our younger daughter likes fucking (and other stuff) with her dad (and how much her dad likes fucking – and other stuff – with his younger daughter) – Shana walked over to the kitchen table where I was sitting with my final cup of coffee. She was holding a floppy paperbound book that looked like the telephone directory for a small rural area.

“Hey, Dad, I was looking in the phone book for around here and I found this. It looks like there’s a kind of roadhouse bar about nine miles down the highway, and it’s got a tourist motor lodge right next to it.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, or why she would be interested in finding a roadhouse or a motor lodge when we had this great cabin.

She walked up behind me and laid the phone book on the table and pointed to what she was talking about. “See, Dad – the ‘Pine Tree Inn’ and the ‘Pineview Lodge.”

“I see, Hon. But why are you showing me this?”

I’m not very quick on the uptake sometimes, so Shane had to explain it to me – in her own way.

“I was thinking, Dad – maybe you and I could slip away some evening and have a night just to ourselves.” She waited for my reaction, but I was still too oblivious to see where she was headed. “I was thinking that maybe if I went in there, in the bar, maybe some good looking older guy would come up and hit on me.”

And then she started in. She leaned in toward me and began licking the outside of my ear, feeling around, nibbling on my ear lobe. “And maybe you could come in, and there’d be some trashy young girl – maybe even a little slutty – at the bar, and you could pick her up, and the two of you could go to your room at the motel next door...” She resumed licking my ear, then sticking her tongue in a little, probing, then wetting her tongue and swirling it around some more.

Oh, another thing– while she was doing the ear thing, she reached down with one hand and took a firm grasp of my cock, which had somehow become quite large − I have no idea why.

I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the sensation of the young female hand that was squeezing my swollen cock – something that would have horrified me just a week ago, but now, after the past week...

I took Shane’s hand and gently removed it from my crotch, then turned and looked up at her. I put my thumb and forefinger under her chin and guided her lips to mine, and we exchanged soft kisses and nibbles that likewise would have horrified me only a week ago.

“Ummm, sounds yummy, Kitten. But first, let’s do a little research, okay?” I picked up my phone and dialed the number in the book for the Pine Tree Inn. Yes, it rang. Yes, someone answered. And yes, they were open every day, from 10 a.m. until legal closing time, 1:00 a.m. Next, I dialed the Pineview Lodge. The man who answered the phone assured me that, yes, they were accepting guests, and yes, they did have several “holiday cottages” available the next two nights.

Having made sure that the pieces were still in place and functioning, I said what I should have said.

“I’ll talk it over with your mom and see what she thinks.”

Well, Georgia didn’t beat around the bush. “Oh, Ted, that would be so deliciously dirty!”

But, of course, a practical consideration. “Would the bar even let someone Shana’s age in?”

“I actually remembered to check on that when I called. The woman said that they were pretty liberal about letting people in who were under 21, they just couldn’t serve them alcohol.”

“In that case, I think that the two of you should go for it.”

“And you and Eddie will be alright here, all alone?” I could scarcely get this out with a straight face.

“Oh, I guess we’ll find something or other to do... , “ she replied, vaguely.

“And don’t worry, Ted – I’m pretty sure that he and Shana had this whole thing worked out well in advance before either of us were involved.”

So in that way, the whole matter was settled.

*****

There was one matter we still had to deal with. Shana’s only 15 − how the heck is she going to be able to get into the bar?

“No problem. I got an ID that says I’m 18 – almost 19, in fact. That and some good make-up and I’m in.”

An ID saying she’s 18? How – where the hell did she get one of those?

“No problem. You know Hank, that graphics programmer you used to work with? Back last year when you and he were working together he told me he could make me IDs if I wanted ‘em.”

I was afraid, but I had to ask. “How much did he charge you for this ID?”

“He wanted to fuck me, but I got him to do it for just a blow job.”

Well, it was my fault – I’d asked. But one thing for sure – Hank was never getting near my daughter again.

********

And so it was that Shane and I found ourselves pulling into the gravel parking lot of the Pine Tree Inn about 9 p.m. on Monday evening. I was surprised to find that the lot was more than half full. I guess the locals felt the need to get out and have a drink or two after a weekend of being stuck at home.

The plan that we’d worked out at the cabin and put final touches on during the 20 minute drive involved me checking in at the “Lodge” while Shane went into the bar – by herself. She and Georgia had done some things with make-up – they had darkened her around the eyes, and they even drew some fine lines on her forehead, and also at the corners of her eyes and mouth, that hinted at just a bit more age. With that and the ID, we thought she’d be able to pull it off.

When we got out of the car, I saw what she was wearing. The reason I put it that way is that when we first got in the car, she was wearing a fairly modest wrap-around denim skirt that I thought was kind of an unusual choice, given our “program” for the evening. But when it came time to get out of the car, Shane untied the waistband of the skirt and let it drop, revealing what she was wearing underneath the skirt: a pair of washed-out white jeans cut-offs, so short that if she leaned forward even the slightest bit, they rode up to reveal the lower curves of her tight round butt.

“Uh – Shane – uh, aren’t those shorts a little ... revealing?”

“Sure are,” she replied. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “See you inside − stranger.”

And with that, I got to watch her sexy ass bounce across the parking lot and into the bar. At the moment, I was sure that I was the only one watching, but I knew that that would change quickly once she stepped into the bar.

I drove the car the short distance over to the motel’s lot and went over to the office to check in. The kind, grandmotherly-looking lady in the motel office noticed that the reservations said “2 guests.” “Will the second guest be joining you later,” she inquired, with a knowing tone of voice and an even more knowing lifting of her eyebrows.

“Yes, she’ll be along a little later.”

“That’s good. I’d hate to think that you paid extra for two people and then didn’t get your money’s worth.” Another knowing look.

I could have been angry with her presumptuous insinuations. Or I could have been embarrassed. But instead, I found myself enjoying it – like she knew what I was here for, and she and I were kind of co-conspirators in whatever misconduct I had planned. My guess: she was no stranger to situations like this. In fact, maybe she’d even done this sort of thing herself a time or two – or more.

She gave me two keys – real keys, not some plastic cards with data strips – and went back to the car to get our stuff. I gathered the small duffel bag, plus the drinks and snacks and two frozen pizzas we’d picked up along the way, locked the car, and walked over to “Holiday Cottage 9,” which turned out to be the farthest one from the office – and the one closest to the Pine Tree Inn.

I unlocked the door and brought in our stuff, put the cold groceries in the half-fridge and the ice compartment, and checked out the room. While the cottage looked small from the outside, it was surprisingly spacious. The bed – queen-sized, as I had requested – had a new mattress that felt reasonably firm and free of lumps or sags. The bathroom was “compact,” but part of the reason for this was a large new bathtub-shower combination. There were three sets of towels and washcloths, not luxurious, but pretty good; and there was a selection of shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, skin lotion, and a nice block of lavender-scented soap. There was even a little China dish of potpourri that imparted a nice, kind of floral, kind of woodsy scent to the room. All in all, I was pretty sure Shana would enjoy the little touches.

I freshened up a little – there wasn’t much to freshen, since our drive over had been so short – and headed over to the bar.

I haven’t spent a lot of time in bars – they’ve just never been my thing. But I immediately felt comfortable as soon as I walked in. Like the name implied, it had kind of a rustic feel to it, like someplace out in the “backwoods.” The décor, if you could call it that, wasn’t very fashionable and in fact, was a bit – not rundown, but “worn.” But it was clean, and there was a busy hum of conversation and a juke box was playing, but not so loud that you couldn’t talk, and as I said, I immediately felt comfortable. We – meaning Shana – had made a good choice, it seems.

But I was here for a purpose, namely, to pick up, an almost-underage girl, at a roadside tavern – three things at which I have no experience whatsoever. My only thought was, “Don’t overthink this.” And that’s when I saw the back of the slim, athletic-looking girl with the shaggy, dirty-blond hair.

She was sitting on an old-fashioned red-vinyl-and-chrome bar stool toward the end of the bar. It was obvious that some of the guys were looking at her – the younger ones, but some of the older ones, too. And it was obvious why. Her white denim cutoffs had, as I suspected they would, ridden up to display the curve of her hard buttcheeks. She had taken off her blue-jean jacket and spread it out on the bar stool. The t-shirt she was wearing wasn’t particularly tight, but anyone could clearly see the hard nipples pressed against the soft white cloth. While she was getting some attention from the guys, no one had made a move to sit next to her. So far, she was alone, nursing what looked like a bottle of beer.

I moved in and sat down one stool away from hers. I looked at her and gave her a little smile of acknowledgement. She looked toward me, hesitated for a moment, then gave me a similar non-committal smile in return. When I gave her another sideways glance, she made a show of finishing the last of her beer, so when I caught the bartender’s eye, I looked over at her and asked, casually, I hoped, “Can I get you the next round?”

She paused, like she was thinking over the possibilities. “Sure.”

“Another one for the lady, and I’ll have whatever draft you’re pouring.”

The barkeep reached into the well and brought out a bottle of what I recognized as a well-known brand of non-alcoholic beer. So that’s how she’d managed to get served. He uncapped it and asked her if she wanted a glass, looking over at me to signal that, with the gentleman buying, she might want to have her beer in a more “lady-like” fashion, but she told him no, so her put the bottle down in front of her.

When he set my glass of draft in front of me, I lifted it, turned, and raised it to Shane. She waited a moment, then raised her bottle and, with a slight nod in my direction, clinked it against my glass. I hoped I was doing all this right. Or was I looking like the complete idiot that I am in matters like this? And then I silently thanked Georgia, for saving me from an entire life of this. “Thank you, Georgia,” and then I silently added, “ ... and for so many, many other things.”

Shana glanced down at the empty stool between us and back at me, and I thought this must be some kind of signal that I was welcome to move over and sit there. So I scooted over, hoping I wasn’t bungling things.