Chapter 2

The phone rang. Henry answered it brusquely. He'd already spent most of the morning arguing with Aly--about Leanne. Unfortunately, her arguments found fertile ground, and he was beginning to question his commitment to his wife. So he was glad for the distraction of dealing with the broken-down truck.

"Ready when you are, Hank," Tyler said. "Do you want me to pick you up at the Grand?"

"Please," Henry said. "I'll meet you out front in five minutes."

When he hung up, Aly stood and reached for her cell phone.

"Uh-uh," Henry said immediately. "You stay here."

She arched a defiant eyebrow.

He softened, but didn't give in. "Look, Aly, I need some time alone. Okay?"

She searched his eyes for a moment. Then hers softened as well, and she smiled. "Sure, Dad." She made a vague gesture. "I'm sorry. I just hate what Mom does to you. You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who loves you. Instead..." She made another gesture, full of anger and frustration. "You deserve better."

"I know, kitten, but you take what life gives you."

"What if life isn't fair?"

He laughed with genuine amusement. It was his first laugh in hours. "Life isn't fair, sweetheart. That's why you have to grab the bull by the horns and take what you can get."

They heard the diesel clatter of the tow truck outside, and they shared a final look. Aly crossed to him and he hugged her.

"I love you, Dad," she said. "I just want you to be happy."

Tyler towed the rental truck to his garage and quickly confirmed the problem: the transmission.

"I can't fix it here," he said gravely. "It needs a complete rebuild."

"What are my options?" Henry asked.

"You can call Ryder and get 'em to send me a new transmission. Or I can take the transmission to Shamrock. I know a place there that can rebuild it for you." He wiped his hands. "But it seems to me like this is Ryder's problem, not yours."

Henry nodded. Unfortunately, he'd been preoccupied with Aly all morning, so he hadn't called the company's emergency number. He took out his cell phone and called Jayne instead. She'd get results faster than he would, and she'd be more polite in the process. Five minutes later, she called him back.

"You should be getting a call in a few minutes," she said.

The phone beeped. "Thanks, Jayne," he said. "They're on the other line now."

Fifteen minutes later, Henry wanted to fling the phone across the dusty parking lot. The rental company insisted on sending their own mechanic, who wouldn't arrive until later that day. They wouldn't send a new transmission until their own man looked at the truck. Henry understood the business logic behind their decision, but it still irked him. At some point, customer service was more important than the bottom line. He should know!

He resigned himself to the wait. Tyler went to work on a broken tractor, while Henry spent the afternoon on the phone. His cell phone battery died in the middle of a conference call, so he had Jayne patch him in on Tyler's battered office phone. He spent four hours holed up in the cramped and grimy office, either talking on the phone or receiving faxes on Tyler's ancient thermal fax machine.

At four o'clock, when the Ryder mechanic still hadn't arrived, he called Jayne again. She called him back with the news that the mechanic had had a breakdown of his own. Henry wanted to pound the desk in helpless frustration. Unfortunately, that wouldn't do any good.

He called the truck company and worked his way through people until he was talking to the fleet manager. The man promised that the mechanic would arrive first thing in the morning, Saturday or not. Henry gritted his teeth and hung up.

"Sorry, Hank," Tyler said from the doorway.

"It's not your fault," Henry grumbled. He forced a smile. "What do I owe you for the tow and rental of your office? I think I used most of your fax paper."

"Aw, let's just see how this whole thing plays out," Tyler said. "Besides, Ryder should pay for everything."

Henry agreed. "But I don't want you to get stiffed."

"I trust you," Tyler said.

"You're a good man," Henry said.

They shook hands, and Henry walked back to the hotel.

"You look exhausted," Aly said as soon as she saw him.

He smiled bleakly. He plugged his cell phone into the charger and sank into a chair. In addition to the real work he'd done, fighting with the truck company had been an ordeal. But he was used to cutting through red tape, and the frustration made him even more determined. Aly started rubbing his shoulders.

"Why don't you take a shower and get cleaned up," she suggested.

Tyler's office had been dusty. Henry didn't care at the time, but he realized that he probably looked like he'd spent the day in a Panhandle garage.

A few minutes into his shower, Aly knocked on the bathroom door. She opened it without waiting for an answer. The shower curtain was transparent, so Henry shielded his privates.

"I brought you some extra towels," she said. "And when you're done, I'll give you a massage. How's that sound?"

He had mixed feelings about the idea, but he didn't want to disappoint her. "Sure, kitten, that sounds great."

She closed the door and he was alone with his thoughts.

Ten minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He used another to dry his hair and torso. Aly smiled at him, but her eyes seemed to roam over his body. She looked... hungry. Fortunately, he was too tired to react, and his dick remained mercifully limp.

She spread a towel on the bed. "Here," she said. "You just lay here and relax."

He settled on his stomach and crossed his arms beneath his chin. Then he closed his eyes and replayed his afternoon. The conference call had gone surprisingly well. His other calls were a mixed bag of problems and opportunities. Fortunately, he had the ability to either fix the problems or turn them into opportunities.

Aly climbed onto the bed and settled on his towel-covered behind. "Just relax, Dad," she said softly. Then she began kneading his shoulders, and he groaned softly. She was using some kind of warm oil--it smelled like flowers--but he didn't care. He tried to turn his thoughts back to business, but he couldn't focus. Instead, his mind wandered.

Why had Aly been flashing him for two days? And why had she dropped so many innuendos? He wasn't stupid--he understood her looks and comments. She had to know that. So why?

Was she trying to seduce him? Was that what this morning's conversation had been about? He knew he shouldn't talk with her about his problems with Leanne, but she seemed to know about them already. And she seemed to be suggesting... an alternative.

His mind balked at the idea, but his dick twitched in spite of his conscious reaction. Aly reminded him of Leanne, back when his then-future-wife was Miss Bexar County Fair. When they'd first met, Leanne was an ambitious beauty queen, with luxurious dark hair and natural breasts. She'd had pubic hair back then, too. Henry grinned at the memory.

Aly's body was just like Leanne's had been: lithe and slim, but curvy in all the right places. Henry felt his penis growing, and he shifted to let it expand. His mind returned to Leanne, but after a few moments, he found himself thinking about Aly again. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Are you ready for me to do the front?" Aly said.

Henry's eyes snapped open. The last thing he wanted was for Aly to see the lump of his hard-on.

"C'mon, Dad," she said. She swatted his butt as she climbed off him. "Roll over."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she was nude. At first he was shocked--so shocked that he simply rolled over when she prodded him. His shock turned to arousal and he tried to suppress it by force of will alone. Aly casually climbed onto the bed and settled astride his hips. Her pussy was right over his...

She smiled. "Someone's enjoying himself," she said, grinning slyly.

He started to get up, his face hot with embarrassment.

She put a hand on his chest and held him down. "Just relax," she said. She poured more oil onto her hand and set the bottle aside. Then she began rubbing his chest.

The oil was cool, but Henry barely noticed. He shut his eyes, but the backs of his eyelids played images of Aly's pert, round, succulent...

Stop it! he cried silently.

He felt a pressure on his erection, and he realized that it must be her pussy. He wanted to reach down and...

Stop it, he told himself again, sternly this time.

Aly's hands felt good, but her hips felt better. She wasn't being blatant about it, but she was rubbing his dick with her pussy. He knew that in the process, she was also rubbing herself. He wondered if her pussy was wet.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his imagination. It didn't do any good. He imagined her body over him as she rocked herself on his dick. He could almost feel the softness of her thighs, the heat of her pussy. He opened his eyes with a start.

He could feel the heat of her pussy.

She smiled down at him. Then she moved lower, her hands on his sides, her hips over his thighs. He breathed a sigh of relief. Without her rubbing his towel-covered dick, he could control his desire. He'd kept it in control for years, whenever Leanne refused him. He wasn't going to lose control now, especially with his own daughter.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything but Aly's body. When that didn't work, he tried going over business figures. That didn't work either. He decided to sit up, but froze when he felt her hands at his waist.

Without a word, she pulled his towel open. Cool air bathed his penis and testicles. His erection jerked, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to get up, to run away, to do anything but lie there and let her do... whatever.

His imagination betrayed him. He imagined her straddling his hips and lowering herself onto his erection. He imagined her sucking him. He hadn't had a blowjob in years--Leanne used to do it, but not anymore. Not for him, at least. He wanted Aly to suck him now. He knew he shouldn't think of his daughter that way, but he couldn't stop himself. He imagined her...

She stroked his dick.

Pleasure shot through his body. A wave of guilt followed close behind.

"Just relax," she said, her voice soft and oh-so-reasonable. She stroked him again. She must have put more oil on her hands--her fingers slipped over his shaft.

Henry knew he should stop her, but it had been so long! He swallowed hard, his emotions warring within him. Her hands felt incredible, but she was his daughter. He wanted to come, but if he did, he'd never be able to look her in the eye again. He wanted her to mount him, but he needed to stop her before...

"Mmm, nice," she said, soft and sultry. She stroked him with one hand and kneaded his balls with the other.

Pleasure seared through him and he jerked as though he'd touched a live wire. He clamped his eyes shut and tried to focus through the roaring in his ears. He jerked again and felt a splash of hot semen on his belly. She stroked him, her hand strong and sure. He felt another surge of pleasure, along with another hot gush.

"That's it," she urged quietly, still pumping.

He felt warm all over. Aly kept stroking him, although she avoided his sensitive head. He grew soft quickly, but she didn't pull her hands away.

He knew he should say something, but what? He didn't want to tell her how good he felt, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings, either. What she'd done was wrong, but at least it wasn't sex. He kept telling himself that, over and over again. He didn't quite believe it, but it was all he had.

He struggled to sit up, weak from the intensity of his orgasm. Aly smiled at him. Her breasts were shiny with oil, and they rose and fell with her breathing. He tore his eyes away and met hers. She smiled again, a little whimsically.

"Let me get a towel and I'll clean you up," she said. "And then we can go to dinner. I'm starving. Okay?"

He could only nod.

All through dinner, Henry wanted to talk about what had happened. It was wrong. They couldn't do it again. But a tingling warmth still filled him, and his dick twitched every time he shifted in his seat. He kept up his side of the conversation--about her summer internship, of all things--but a part of him focused on how to prevent a recurrence of...

He called it what it was: incest. It wasn't exactly sex, but it was still wrong. Worse, he remembered what he'd been thinking at the time. His face heated at the memory.

They finished their meal and walked across the street to the hotel. He worked up the nerve to say something, but lost the thread when she smiled at him. She looked so beautiful, so innocent. She didn't look like the girl--the woman, he corrected--who had given him a handjob earlier. She looked like what she was: a teenager out with her father. He felt his determination wither and die.

When they reached their rooms, she changed into a pair of shorts and a midriff T-shirt. The shirt clung to her braless breasts. Her nipples made little shadows when the light was right. She sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, TV remote in hand.

"What do you want to watch?" she asked.

Aly, we can't do that again, he silently told her, working up the nerve to say it for real. It's my fault. I should've stopped it.

"How about something on HBO?"

I love you, and you're my daughter. I'm flattered that you... He stopped. He sounded condescending, even to himself. I think you're a beautiful girl, but... Too patronizing. I know you love me, but... Too wishy-washy.

"Do you want to watch something else? CNN?"

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he said. He snorted softly at the double meaning of his words.

For her part, Aly seemed perfectly comfortable with what had happened. What I let happen, Henry sternly told himself. I could've stopped it, anytime. He knew the lie as soon as he thought it. He couldn't have stopped it any more than he could've stopped the truck from breaking down.

He yearned to be home, where he wouldn't have to face the shame of what he'd done. He glanced at her. She smiled at him again, the corners of her mouth quirking whimsically.

Henry steeled his nerve and vowed not to repeat his moment of weakness. If it didn't happen again, he wouldn't have to talk about it. He kept telling himself that as he gazed at the TV with sightless eyes.

After an hour of mindless television, Aly yawned. "Are you ready for bed?"

He desperately hoped she'd go to her own room.

"If you don't mind, I'll sleep in here tonight," she said, dashing his hopes for a painless separation.

"I don't know..."

"I forgot to call the manager about my air conditioner," she said. "It still makes a racket. I can't sleep with it on."

Henry didn't think she'd "forgotten" at all.

"Please, Dad?"

"Sure, sweetheart. I can sleep on the floor."

"Oh, don't be silly."

They went round and round for two minutes. She was insistent, but Henry had made up his mind.

"Okay, fine," she said at last, exasperated. "If you're going to be unreasonable, I'll just sleep in my room. I won't have you sleep on the floor."

That started a second round of arguing, and Henry eventually agreed to sleep in his own bed... with Aly.

"I'll be good," she said, sensing his reluctance. "I promise."

He didn't want to disappoint her, but he couldn't--could not-- allow a repeat of what had happened.

Aly changed into her sheer top and panties while Henry went into the bathroom to change into his silk pajamas. He tried not to look at her as she climbed into her side of the bed. He turned out the bedside light and rolled away from her. It took him a long time to get to sleep.

He was dreaming, and Leanne was sucking his dick. Her lips felt so good. He moaned and put his hand on her head. She liked it when he did that. Her hair was soft and silken under his fingers. Her lips felt even better. She sucked gently and then pulled back, her lips tight around his shaft.

He wasn't close to coming, although he could feel the pressure building in his balls. She didn't particularly like the taste of semen, but she still let him come in her mouth. She even swallowed. He thought about the first time she'd given him a blowjob, years ago, in the back seat of his old Chevy.