"Sure, I understand," Nick said into the phone. "No, no hard feelings. Well, nice talking to you."

"Shot down again, huh?" His son Anthony came ambling in from the kitchen.

"Yeah," Nick said, "and thanks for the sympathy. Hey, are you doing anything Saturday night? Maybe we could rent a video, or..."

"Sorry, Dad, no dice. I've got to work." Anthony plopped down in front of the TV as Nick's other son, Joey, came through the front door. "Hey, Joey," Anthony called out. "Dad struck out with some woman again. You busy Saturday night?"

"Uh, no," Joey said. "Why?"

"To go out with Dad," Anthony explained patiently.

"Oh. Uh, I'm busy."

"But Joey," Nick broke in. "You just said you were free!"

"Uh -- something came up?"

"But..."

Not waiting for the rest, Joey ducked into the kitchen.

Just then Nick's daughter, Blossom, came down the stairs. She was about 16, just on the verge of true womanhood. She hid a developing body in an agglomeration of bits and pieces of old clothes, but her growing breasts and slender legs were becoming too noticeable to be hidden. Nick had done the best he could raising her on his own these last few years since the divorce, but secretly he feared he hadn't done enough. Was she ready for adulthood -- and adult relationships? One son was a recovering addict, another was -- not to put it too bluntly -- dumb as a rock. Blossom was his last hope.

Luckily, he thought to himself, she never seemed to realize how much hope and concern he had invested in her; she was almost always cheerful, easy-going, ready for anything.

"Hi, Dad," she called out, heading for the door. "I gotta..."

"Blossom!" he cut in. "Are you..."

"Watch out," Anthony interrupted. "Dad got stiffed again. He's..."

"Again?" Blossom edged closer to the door. "Look, I've really gotta go..."

"Doing anything Saturday night?" Nick finished.

"Looking for someone to go out with him," Anthony said.

"Out to meet Six," Blossom answered as she slipped out the door. "See ya!"

"So, like, he wants you to spend Saturday night with him? Your own father?" Six, Blossom's closest and dearest friend, punctuated her amazement with a deep draw on the straw sticking out of her ice cream soda.

"Yeah, Six, but I didn't say yes or anything," Blossom said.

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is I think I should. Say yes, I mean."

"But, Blossom, this Saturday? It's, like, the biggest dance ever! Like, everyone will be there! You can't miss it -- Oh, wait. Don't tell me you're thinking of bringing your dad along?"

"No, it's not that. I just think we should have some time together. You know, father-daughter stuff. With school and dates, I hardly ever just sit down with him anymore."

Nick was staring at some old movie on TV when Blossom slipped in the door that evening. "Oh, hi, Blossom," he said quietly, before dipping a hand into his microwave popcorn. He tried to put just enough angst into his words to make her feel guilty, without putting in so much that she'd catch on to the con. It was a dirty job being a parent, he told himself, but someone had to do it.

The young girl came up behind him and put her arms around his neck. Nick's eyebrows rose. Had it worked?

"Hey, Dad, guess what? I am free Saturday," she said. "So whaddaya say? Is it a date?"

"A date? Oh, sure, I guess, if you really want to," Nick said, lazily. "I was going to do some work around the house, but if you want some company..."

Blossom put her lips close to his ear. "Nice try, Dad," she whispered. "But I saw right through you. Pick me up at seven. And it better be a nice dinner."

As she went up the stairs to her room, Nick turned around and watched her go with a smile on his face. Well, he thought, I guess my act didn't work, but who cares? At least I won't be alone on Saturday night.

Six was sitting cross-legged on the bed as Blossom pulled out outfit after outfit.

"What's the big deal, Blossom? You're only going out with your dad. It's not like you have to look good or anything. Why don't you wear that green thing?"

"What, I don't look good in that?" Blossom held the vest and skirt against her body. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," her friend said, exasperated. "That's my point. I think. Look, just throw something on. You don't have to impress anyone."

"But I want to, Six," Blossom said, tossing the green outfit onto the rumpled pile of rejects. "I know it's just my dad, but he's taking me to a really fancy restaurant. And, besides, I want to look nice for him. Show him how good I turned out, so he doesn't keep worrying about whether I'll be a catastrophe."

"You? A catastrophe? Come on, Blossom. Now, me..."

"Well, he worries. I mean, he doesn't say anything about it, but I can tell. So I think -- hey, how about this?" She pulled out a black velvet dress from the deep recesses of her closet and held it up.

"Wow, where have you been hiding that?"

Blossom blushed. "I bought it for one of the dances last year. You know, the one I didn't go to? I thought I'd look all sophisticated, but it was too big and I just looked like a little girl playing dress up. That's why I stayed home at the last minute. I don't know. Maybe I've grown into it?"

At Six's urging she slipped into the sleek dress. She had, indeed, grown into it. As she twirled in the mirror, the dress clung to her curves. Its deep V neckline plunged between her breasts, showing off their firm young mounds, and the thin spaghetti straps concealed nothing of the creamy sweep of her shoulders. Although the hem fell to her knees, deep slits on either side showed off flashes of slim thighs with every movement. When Blossom stepped into a pair of shiny black high-heeled pumps, she completed the transformation from frumpy teenager to blossoming young woman.

Six stared open-mouthed. At last she shrieked in glee. "Blossom! Is that you?"

Blossom made one last twirl in front of the mirror. "I do look pretty good, don't I?"

"You look like a million bucks. But..."

"What?"

"Well -- you're not gonna wear that with your dad, are you? I mean, Blossom, this is not a dress for going out with Daddy. This is a dress for going out with -- I don't know, somebody hunky. You've gotta save this!"

A cloud of uncertainty crossed Blossom's face. Then, with a look of determination, she unzipped the dress -- but hung it in the front of the closet, not back in the dim recesses. "That's the one," she said. "That way my dad will know his little girl has grown up."

Nick shrugged into a gray sports coat, smoothed out the wrinkles in his slacks and tugged his tie into place. For a minute, he almost felt like he was getting ready for a first date. Blossom had insisted they go someplace nice, and Arturo's was the best Italian restaurant in town. But it also had a strict dress code. He twisted his neck back and forth and stuck a finger underneath the collar. Darn shirts must be shrinking, he thought; they didn't used to be this tight.

At 8 o'clock sharp he heard footsteps tumbling down the stairs. He looked up... and wondered how such a beautiful woman could have snuck into the house without him noticing. It was only when he glimpsed that unmistakable nose that he was really convinced this was his daughter.

Blossom's lithe legs flashed down the stairs; with every step the dress's slits parted, revealing a long expanse of leg encased in sheer black stockings. The velvet clung tightly to her young body, emphasizing the slim waist, the full breasts. A gold pendant on a thin chain hung just between the twin rises. Nick had to force his eyes away.

He tried to swallow and found that his mouth had gone dry. He had never imagined Blossom could look so -- so, well, sexy. The thought hit him hard. This was the little girl he was sending off into the world? How could she protect herself? Every horny boy in sight would be trying to get his hands on her. With a frown, he thought of some greasy punk putting the moves on his daughter.

"Hey, Dad, cheer up," Blossom chirped as she hit the bottom step. "Come on, this is our big date! You've got to show a girl a good time!" She slipped her arm into his and steered him toward the door.

The ride over to the restaurant, the conversation was just like any other they'd had over the years -- what happened in school that day, what dumb thing Joey had done now, stuff like that. But when they got to Arturo's and the maitre'd in his tuxedo showed them to a candlelit booth set with red linen, white china and sparkling crystal, Nick didn't feel comfortable chiding Blossom about her homework. Their talk turned to more serious topics -- her future dreams, his future worries. Blossom seemed like a pro at it, he thought; even as he went along with it he knew she was carefully guiding their conversation, keeping it happy, trying to boost his spirits. She seemed so mature, in these surroundings.

Maybe, he thought, maybe it was because seeing her outside of the house meant seeing her outside of all the accumulated memories of her childhood. In such an adult setting, he was finally able to see his daughter as an adult -- or, he reminded himself, almost an adult.

He tried to tell her that, but the words seemed to trip over themselves and he couldn't get them out right. Trying to make his point, he reached across the table and took her slim hand in his. It started out as just a momentary gesture, but his hand lingered on hers. He felt her downy skin, the pulse beating just below the surface. Their eyes locked and for a moment neither spoke.

"Ahem." It was the waiter, bringing their main courses. Nick took his hand away, slowly. The conversation lagged as they ate.

Halfway through dessert, Blossom suddenly whispered to her father. "Psst. That couple to your right. Don't look now! The ones having the lasagna."

Nick lifted his napkin up to his face, using it as a shield while he snuck a peek. A middle-aged couple surrounded by a forest of empty wine bottles and glasses looked away quickly as his eyes caught his.

"What is it?" he whispered to his daughter. "What are they doing?"

Blossom leaned over the table, keeping her voice low. Her young breasts pressed against the top of her dress as she bent forward, and her pendant dangled just above her pasta.

"They've been staring at us all night. You know what I think?" She winked.

"What?"

"I bet they think I'm your date, not your daughter." She smiled. "From the looks on their faces now, I'm almost sure of it!"

Nick leaned back, blushing. He was a bit embarrassed, but Blossom seemed to take it as a great joke.

"You know," she said as the waiter picked up Nick's credit card, "we could really drive them crazy. You want to?"

Nick smirked. This was the Blossom he always knew, the one who loved to pull the leg of stuffy people. With only a passing thought about pulling a practical joke in such a fancy place, he nodded his assent. "What do we do?"

"Just follow my lead," she said. The waiter brought the check back then; Nick signed off with a generous tip and rose from the table.

Blossom slid out of her side. As she did, her skirt rode up and a slit opened wide, giving the couple at the next table a clear view of her luscious legs. She tugged on Nick's shoulder as he started to turn for the door. He turned back to her, and Blossom reached up and flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

It was no father-daughter kiss. She opened her mouth and pressed it to his lips, slipping her tongue inside. He felt her body pressed closely to his, her breasts squashed against his chest, one of her legs wrapped around his. His arms surrounded her, and his hands met on the bare, warm skin of her back. Blossom held the kiss for a full minute, her hands tangling in his hair.

At last they broke their embrace. "Thanks for the dinner, Daddy," Blossom said in a stage whisper as they passed the obviously shocked couple.

Nick's mind was awhirl. To his own shock, he realized he now had an erection, his hard cock pressing against his pants. He hastily buttoned up his sports coat, hoping it would cover up the bulge. For a fraction of a second, he had forgotten Blossom was his daughter and had become lost in a passionate kiss with a very lovely young woman. Now, realizing what he had done, Nick was in a daze.

Somehow he made his way to the car. As he opened the door for her, Blossom pecked him on the cheek -- a very daughterly thing to do. By the time he'd gotten in on his side, he'd almost convinced himself he was exaggerating what had gone before. He felt his erection subsiding as he slipped his key into the ignition and started up the engine. Then he looked over at his daughter. She was looking out the passenger window, the light from a passing car throwing her into silhouette. Nick smiled at the familiar profile. But then his eyes went down, down to her chest, where he could see her breasts heaving. It wasn't just him, he knew then.

And as the car passed and his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw the smooth curves of Blossom's silky legs. He closed his eyes briefly. His erection was back.

Suppressing his stormy emotions, Nick opened his eyes again and pulled out of the parking spot. "Good food, don't you think?" he said, an artificial brightness making his voice brittle.

"Hmm? Oh, yes," Blossom said, still staring out her window. She seemed far away.

"Yes, good food," Nick repeated.

They didn't say another word while they drove across town to the theater, got their tickets and settled into a back row in the crowded screening room.

The lights dimmed, but it took a few minutes, while the trailers zipped past, for the audience to quiet down. The theater was hushed by the time the feature was underway. It was a romance -- Blossom had picked it out, of course -- filled with lingering moments and tight embraces.

Nick became aware, little by little, of a subtle scent of roses. He bent closer to Blossom -- yes, it was her perfume. She noticed the movement and bent toward him, resting her head on his shoulder. Nick watched as the light from the screen cast a flickering halo around Blossom's long brown hair. Each strand seemed to catch the light a different way, lending a sultry sheen to her appearance.

A man from further down the row bumped past then. "Excuse me! Pardon me!" Nick and Blossom settled back into their seats after he passed.

On the screen, it grew cold and wintry as the lovers struggled to make a go of it. The sound of the wind rushing through the cracks in their hovel seemed to fill the theater, and soon everyone in the audience was shivering along with the actors. Nick put his arm around Blossom's shoulder and drew her close.

She burrowed into his side. He felt his heart thump loudly and was amazed that everyone else in the theater didn't turn around and tell him to shush.

Nick's hand was resting on Blossom's bare arm. Then she shifted slightly and his hand slipped in between her arm and her side. Instinctively he flexed his fingers and felt her warm flesh give a little. The feeling was familiar. His eyes staring straight ahead, Nick realized with a thud that he was groping his daughter's breast. His cock grew harder and he squirmed a bit.

Blossom made no move to get away. It seemed to Nick that his hand didn't belong to him any more. Without conscious direction, it followed the sensuous curve of Blossom's firm mound. His fingers moved slowly, tenderly across the velvet. A prickle of electricity shot up Nick's arm as they strayed off the material and onto her skin in the deep valley between her breasts. Her pendant slipped over his fingers as they explored further.

"Sorry! Coming through!" The man from down the aisle worked his way back past them, a huge tub of popcorn and a vat of soda clutched to his body. This time when he passed Nick and Blossom remained linked.