I took Christy to Club Mogador to meet my dad.

Beforehand, she’d pretended to be cool about it but I could tell she was nervous. She didn’t want me in the bathroom for the cleaning, but I insisted. Even with a good amount of the grease, it took a little push to get the nozzle through her tightness. As she filled up, I refrained from asking how it felt. I left the room for the emptying, but I stood at the door. We did it twice more, then I kissed her there. She squirmed and twitched at first, involuntarily, I think, but then she relaxed, letting the tip of my tongue lick the crinkled rim of her little button. I knew my tongue wouldn’t be strong enough to push in, so I didn’t try. Instead I gave her a semi-soft swat and had her dress: the mauve top and matching mini-skirt. No underwear. No jewelry. Her silver stilettos completed the outfit.

We held hands in the cab, neither speaking nor kissing. I paid the driver and helped Christy out, then escorted her through the anonymous door and the sterile lobby to the little elevator. “Nineteen,” I told Henry. “Very good, sir,” he said, and he took us up, one tiny lurch to get started, then smooth and slow. Christy took my hand, involuntarily, I think, and I gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ll have drinks first,” I told Helen, after surrendering our coats. I ordered a Cream de’Mojito for Christy, a Shiraz for me, and we settled into the pink chairs in one of the alcoves. During the day there was a nice view of the city and the park, but now it was dark and the drapes were drawn. Soon our drinks arrived, and we clinked our glasses and took our first sip.

“This is good,” Christy remarked.

“A specialty of the house,” I replied. “I’m glad you like it.”

We took our time, enjoying the quiet of the room.

“Maybe he’s not coming,” Christy speculated.

“Are you apprehensive?” I asked.

She shook her head. We ordered a second round of drinks.

When Conrad delivered them a few minutes later, I saw through the slitted curtain my father handing his coat to Helen. “Do you have to use the bathroom?” I asked Christy. She shook her head. I told her I’d be right back.

When I returned, the club’s gray cat, who by coincidence also has the name Christy, had claimed my chair. My father was talking to my Christy. “I love your outfit,” he was saying. “It’s a good color for you.”

“Thank you,” Christy said, watching my dad undress. Soon he was as naked as me. I’m sure she could not help but observe his cock as it came erect, no doubt comparing it to mine. Tactfully, Conrad took away my dad’s clothing.

“Shall I undress, too?” Christy asked, half turning to me. There was a touch of tremble to her voice.

“There’s no rush,” my father said, but Christy stood and quickly pushed the mini-skirt over her slender yet shapely hips. She stepped out of the garment, and bent to pick it up, but I said, “Leave it. I like the way it looks on the floor.”

“Oh,” Christy said, and her hand went to the top button of her blouse.

“Why don’t you leave that on, for now?” my father requested. “There’s something suppl’mentaire about being half naked.” He took Christy’s hand and kissed it gallantly.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked my father.

“Maybe after the fuck,” he said, and he gathered Christy’s eyes into his own. “Are you ready, my dear?”

She nodded and he sat and she lowered herself onto him. I’d explained to her before how it would best go: vaginally first, to ensure Pop was adequately lubricated.

Christy bit her lower lip as she sank slowly down.

“Gah, your girl’s got a tight cunt,” Dad said, “but very wet and warm.”

Christy shivered, whether from the penetration or the words, from pleasure or pain, I didn’t know.

“A little more,” Dad said. “Almost there.”

“Fuck!” Christy blurted, and then she blushed. Dad apparently had bottomed.

“Yes, it’s okay,” I said. “Fuck him now.”

She obeyed, slowly lifting herself, letting herself fall. In the quiet of the alcove, I could discern the unmistakable squelch of sex as Christy gradually increased her pace, straining upward, crushing down.