By Jon Eugene

“Daddy,” she shouted as she bounded into his bedroom. “What do you think of this dress?”

“Ummm,” came the answer from the towel-draped man emerging from the bathroom connected to the bedroom. “A little small, isn’t it?”

“Well, the tag says it’s my size,” Lexi said.

“Still, it looks a little small. What are you doing in my bedroom, anyway, Alexandra?” asked her father, Alex, as he reached up in the closet and pulled down a pair of shorts.

As he stepped into them, she said, “Oh, my mirror’s too small to see any outfit on me all at once. Your mirror is much better. And you’re supposed to call me Lexi, like all of my friends do. If you keep calling me ‘Alexandra,’ I’m going to start calling you Alexander!

“Now, I love the color, but I don’t know if it contrasts too much with my hair. What do you think?” she asked as she turned one way, then another, always looking over her shoulder at her reflection. “And I don’t know what to do about the wrinkles or my nipples. Any suggestions?”

Alex reflected for a minute, then said, “Take the dress off. I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, Lexi shimmied out of the dress, dropping the bodice over her tummy, then scootching the material over her hip while wriggling back and forth. By the time she was done, standing there in just her lace panties and heels, her father was back, a box of bandage strips in one hand and a hand-held steamer in the other. She eyed him curiously and wondered, “What are the bandaids for, Daddy?”

“You’ll see,” he said. He picked up the dress, draped it on a clothes hanger, and hung it on the back of the closet door. He plugged in the steamer and as he waited for the water to heat, he picked up the box of bandaids.

“Come here,” he said as he took a bandage out of the box. “I once saw a program about models,” he said, “and they said they used bandaids to keep their nipples under control.”

She came and stood very close to him and he placed the tape directly on one nipple, pushing it inward before he smoothed the bandage across her areola. “What if it doesn’t work, Alexander?” she asked.

He reached into the closet, rummaged around on a shelf and produced a roll of duct tape. “If it doesn’t, we can try this!”

He repeated the process and said, “There! I don’t think you will have to worry about your nipples now!” He turned away from her and picked up the steamer. “Now, to work on those wrinkles!”

As he ran the steamer up and down the dress, Lexi stood up very straight and pushed her chest out, looking in the mirror. As she did, the tape on her right breast popped off of her nipple. “Uh, Daddy,” she said, plaintively, “it didn’t work.”

Alex looked up from the dress. “Hmm,” he murmured. “I was afraid of that with those old bandages. I guess we’ll have to go with the tape.” He reached out and pulled the offending bandages off her nipples, then proceeded to pull off a short strip and put it over the nipple. “There,” he said, as he taped the other nipple. “That should hold ‘em!”

He turned back to the dress and the steamer. Lexi again posed in front of the mirror, trying to get the tape to pop off. It wouldn’t move, so she reached up and pulled the tape a little from her breast. “Ow,” she yelled, wincing as the tape tried to stay stuck to her nipple. “That hurts!” She swung her fist into his shoulder. “That hurts!” she repeated.

“But your nipple won’t show,” he said, gently rubbing where she had hit him. “The models in that program said that duct tape was a ‘last resort’ kind of thing to use if the material won’t show the tape. You don’t want your boy to know just how excited you are, do you?”

She hung her head a little. “No,” she said, “but you didn’t tell me it would hurt to take it off.” She replaced the small square. Then she brightened up. “When I get home and take it off, will you come and kiss it better?”

“Sure,” he replied, “and I’ll even tuck you in.” He continued working on her dress. The wrinkles were stubborn, but they were yielding to the steam, smoothing out nicely.