A Week in Europe

My heart pittered. "Is that what you told her you wanted?"

"Yes."

"And is that what you want, Niki?"

"Yes."

"Truly?"

"Cross my heart, Thomas. I'm crossing my heart now, look..." I heard a click, the stupid electronic shutter sound phones make when they pretend to be a camera.

Then Niki hung up, and a moment later her picture came through.

She was naked again, facing the camera, her face still red from crying, one arm stretching out to hold the phone, the other across her perfect breasts, covering them.

The phone buzzed again, a text this time: "Sweet dreams, Thomas. I love you. xxx"

THURSDAY

I was sitting in my room looking out over the park when my cell rang and I picked it up without looking at caller ID and said, "Niki!"

"Dad?"

"Oh, Hi Lil. I was going to call you."

I heard her laugh. "Yeah yeah, like you always do."

I laughed back. "No, really, I was. I'm in London. I wondered if you'd like some company over the weekend before I fly home?"

"This weekend? Sure. You're in London?"

"I believe so."

"Wow, because I'm going to be in London tomorrow. I've got a strategy meeting in Westminster. How about dinner tomorrow night?"

"That would be wonderful. I'll book you a room here," I said," You can stay over, we can catch up. I'll come back with you Saturday."

"Uh... OK. Yeah, OK."

We chatted for ten minutes and I told her which hotel to come to, told her everything would be arranged when she arrived.

After we hung up I sat and looked at the phone, willing it to ring again. I sat for an hour, and still it was silent.

Outside the light had gone.

I poured myself some scotch, shaking the bottle and holding it up, suprised at how little was left, almost dropped it when the phone buzzed again. I snatched it up, but it was a text again from Niki.

"See what a cunt Desi is," was all it said. Then I saw there was a picture attachment and opened it and my jaw dropped.

I don't know how she'd done it, but Niki had sent me a photograph of Desi sitting on the edge of a bathtub, completely naked, one leg lifted up so her heel rested on the edge of the tub, her other leg stretched out. Her pussy was completely exposed as she drew a small razor over the outer lips of her labia, shaving herself. Her legs were slim and muscled, her waist tiny and her belly flat. Her breasts were much larger than Niki's swinging pendulously as she leaned forward to see what she was doing.

Her dark skin glistened with water as though she had only that moment stepped from the shower.

I am shamed to admit I developed an instant erection. The picture was completely and utterly unposed, unbelievably erotic.

Then the phone rang again and I answered.

"What are you thinking of, Niki?"

She laughed. "You've seen it, then?"

"What they hell were you doing?"

"I know Desi always shaves after her shower. And I know when she showers. I just pretended I had forgotten something. We are not precious about being naked in front of each other, and Desi has shaved in front of me many times before. Serves her right," she finished, her voice harsh.

"I'm going to delete this, Niki," I said.

"No. Keep it, please?"

"But why?"

"I thought it might please you," she said.

"It's an invasion of Desi's privacy."

"But she is a cunt!" Niki said. "She has been awful to me all week. I want to see you, Thomas, so much, I want to see you this weekend. Will you still be in London?"

"I've just now talked with Lilly," I said. "She's coming here tomorrow, and then I'm going to Strasbourg with her Saturday."

"Strasbourg. I'm in Paris. It's not too far. Can I come too?"

"To Strasbourg? I don't know. I guess so."

"I want to meet your daughter. Is she wonderful, like you?"

"I like her," I said, laughing.

"Then I'll come to Strasbourg."

"But Niki," I said.

"What, Thomas?"

"No more pictures of Desi, promise?"

"I'll think about it."

"But I'll have another one of you, if you want to send one," I said.

"You like my pictures, Thomas?"

"I love them."

"And I will see you on Sunday?"

"Yes," I said.

When the picture arrived it was fifteen minutes later. When I saw it I realized why it had taken so long. Niki had position her phone at the end of the bed, and lay naked and exposed to the camera. Her long lean legs were perfectly smooth, her thighs slightly parted, one knee raised. Niki had one hand on her breast, her fingers open to expose her rigid nipple. Her other hand was on her belly, her long fingers lightly caressing her pussy lips. She was smiling, looking directly into the lens.

The phone buzzed again, a text: "Think of me like this. until sunday xxx"

FRIDAY

It was a long, long day. I spent most of it wrapping the job up. The company, like all of them, believed its problems were unique, and I went along with the notion, made them feel special, then recommended the same things I did to everyone. Stop wasting money. Concentrate on your core business. Tailor your systems to your business and not the other way around. I think it went well, but as I left around six my mind wasn't on the job anymore.

Lilly was arriving on the train at about the same time. We would both be making our way back through the early evening. Traffic was snarled up everywhere, hardly moving, and I took the underground again, packed in tight with thousands of others. Lil might have been ten feet from me in the same carriage and I wouldn't have known it.

I checked she had not arrived, double checked she had a room booked and was assured she did, and that it was next door to my own on the eight floor.

I went upstairs and showered, spent some time deciding what to wear, finally picked a pair of dark linen slacks and a white linen shirt. I had bought both that week in one of the big stores on Oxford Street, surprised at how warm London had been. It was not my first visit, but the previous ones had been in Fall and Winter, and there had been rain and grey skies. Now, in late June warm winds blew up from over Africa and as evening settled in the temperature remained high.

I had booked a table at a small restaurant around the corner from the hotel for nine. I hoped Lil was not going to be late.

I sat in a chair and again looked out the window over the park. My cell was in my hand. But Niki had still not called.

It felt as though there had been progress over the week, but also worried that I had hurt her so much she didn't want to risk that kind of pain again.

I didn't know her number, had no way of contacting her. Maybe, just maybe, she might have left instructions to pass my messages through now, but even then I doubted Desi would pass them on.

I wanted a drink, but waited, watching the shadows lengthen under the trees in the park, watched people drifting around the open space, watched the heavy traffic, black cabs and red buses mill around Park Lane and the wide road out to the west.

When the phone trilled I jerked and pressed the answer button, but it kept on ringing and I realized it wasn't my cell but the room phone. I dropped it first time, picked it up and said, "Hello?"

"Dad?"

"Lil. Are you here?"

"Here and settled in. Arrived an hour ago. D'you want company?"

I laughed. It felt so good to hear her voice, to know she was next door. "Of course I do."

"What room are you in, Dad?"

"809," I said. "Next door to you."

"Next..." she laughed. "They didn't tell me that. Open up then."

I put the phone down, walked across and opened the door and my beautiful daughter stood outside grinning and I opened my arms and hugged her, kissing the top of her head, smelling the shampoo fresh in her dark blonde hair. She hugged me back, tight, then a little tighter.

Finally she stepped back and looked at me. "You've lost some weight, Dad. Deliberate?"

I shrugged. "I thought, at my age, it couldn't hurt."

"Looks good," she said.

I stepped back, letting her into the room, hugged her again. "God Lil, it's so good to see you. How long's it been now?"

She shook her head. "Couple of years, I guess. Hey, and thanks for the room. This is one cool view." She stood at the big window looking out, and I watched her, noticing how she too had grown, had also slimmed down a bit.

Lil was in her mid-twenties now, just reaching her prime. She had been a slightly awkward, slightly plump kid. As a teenager she was more into class than boys, and we had worried about her, that she wasn't making friends. But she had always been a happy kid, and I was glad my wife had lived to see her go to college, even if she hadn't lived to see her graduate.

The French influence showed in her dress; cut just below the knee, elegantly styled. Her hair and nails and makeup were the same, giving an air of something European. If I saw her on the street, I would have never guess she was American. Even her accent was changing. I listened as she talked, telling me her news, telling me of her job and what it involved, how much she loved it, how much she loved living in Strasbourg, the European headquarters almost straddling the border between France and Germany.

"And you, Dad, you're really OK?"

I nodded. "I'm fine. Same as ever, Lil. You know me."

"No romance on the horizon?" She grinned. She had given me a couple of years after Angie died, but then she believed I needed to get back in the saddle. She bullied me, and I enjoyed it.

I shrugged in reply, not yet ready to tell her about Niki.

"How about you, Lil? Some good looking Frenchman swept you off your feet yet?"

She giggled. "Not quite..."

An odd look crossed her face and she sat in one of the big chairs looking out through the window. I walked across and sat across from her.

"What is it, Lil?" I asked. A father can sometimes read his kids - most often not, but sometimes - like an open book.

"You know me too well, Dad."

"Always have," I said. "So there is someone...?"

"Maybe..."

I waited, then said, "So...?"

She looked at me. I waited some more. She nodded.

"Yeah, there is someone."

"What's his name?"

She hesitated.

"Frankie," she said at last.

"And? What's he like. When do I meet him?"

"Her," Lil said, and waited a long time, looking at me, searching for a reaction. "I call her Frankie, but her full name is Francoise. She's French."

"French," I said, playing for time, getting my head around what she had just thrown at me. I wasn't shocked, but I was surprised.

Lily watched me, this time her turn to wait. She watched and tried to judge my reaction, as I tried to judge it myself.

"So when do I get to meet her?" I said.

Lil smiled. "She's next door. If you really mean it?" She had moved forward and was sitting on the edge of her chair.

I smiled at her, relaxing back in mine. "Of course I want to meet her."

Lil jumped up, suddenly the elegance dropping away and she was my teenage daughter again. She skipped across and gave me a big hug, smacked her lips on top of my head. She left the room and I sat back and waited. It only took a moment and then she returned, accompanied by a slim dark haired woman of her own age. They were holding hands.

"Dad, this is my special friend, Francoise." Lily announced.

I stood and offered my hand. Francoise smiled and shook it, then approached me more closely and offered her cheek. First one, then the other, finally back to the first. Very French.

"I am pleased to see you, Mr. Harper," she said, her voice heavily accented, words cut off at the ends, the Mr. very soft. "Lily has told me so much about you. I really wanted to meet you."

"And I want to hear all about you as well, Francoise. And please, call me Thomas."

"Thomas? You're sure?" She said my name with the start slurred, the end missing.

"Please."

She smiled, and I could see why my daughter was in love with her. She was very beautiful, her dark hair cut very well and very short, brown eyes large and sparkling, her skin bronzed and smooth.

"And you must call me Frankie, the same as Lily does."

I laughed. "You're going to join us for dinner, Frankie, yes?"

"English food?" she asked, pulling a face.

"I booked a table in a small place nearby. But it's Italian. Will Italian be OK?"

She smiled. "Did you know that it was really the Italians that taught the French how to cook? When most of Italy was part of France?"

I shook my head. "I didn't know that, Frankie."

We walked around the hotel, down a quiet tree lined street and found the restaurant. I had booked for two, but one extra was no problem, and we were shown to a good table at the window looking out over the sidewalk. Two good looking women sitting in your window, there was no better free advert.

Frankie told me about her childhood, her parents who were still both alive and lived on the West Coast near Nantes. Lil told me how they had met, skipping over any explanation of her sexuality, although I was curious about when she had known she preferred women to men. It didn't bother me, not in the least, but I was curious. Most men, I guess, would be.

They were a real couple. Exchanging glances, touches and brushes of arms, and I could see the light in both their eyes when they looked at each other.

The meal, as it turned out, was superb. We drank more wine than we should, and over cheese the conversation turned back to me, and Lil said, "So, Dad, you were being very enigmatic before. Have you met someone or not?"

"I might have..." I started to say and was interrupted by my cell. "Sorry," I said, glancing at the screen. Number withheld.

"Take it," Lil said.

I glanced at her and nodded, pressed the answer button.

"Thomas Harper," I said.

"Thomas," Niki said. "I think I've missed you even more this week because I have been talking to you. I tried to call you earlier but you did not answer. I was worried. I love you, Thomas." It came out in one rush, and I thought of her sitting, tense, worried I might have changed my mind.

"Niki," I said.

"Tell me you love me too, Thomas. I need you to tell me, please." Her voice sounded strained, and I pictured her alone in a hotel room in Spain, coiled tight.

"You know I do, Niki," I said.

"Tell me then."

"I love you, Niki. I love you so much."

"How much, Thomas?" There was a catch in her voice.

I saw Lil and Frankie trying not to make it obvious they were listening, talking softly among themselves, but aware of me.

"More than anything. More than anyone ever before." I said.

I heard Niki sigh over the line, her voice crystal clear despite passing through God knows how many miles, how many satelites and exchanges.

"I will meet you in Strasbourg, Thomas. Ask your daughter now. Is she with you?"

"She is," I said, and looked across at her. "Lil, Niki wants to come to Strasbourg. I'll get us a room somewhere, but she'd like to meet you. Meet you both."

Lilly smiled. "That would be wonderful, Dad. And she must stay with us."

"You sure? There's room?"

Lilly looked at me. "I am assuming you'll be sharing a bedroom?"

I might have blushed. "You assume right."

"In that case she has to stay."

"Did you hear any of that?" I said into the phone.

"All of it," Niki said. "And I look forward to sharing a bedroom with you again, Thomas."

"Me too," I said.

"You mean it, Thomas?"

"I mean it."

I heard voices in the background behind Niki, then silence as she put her hand over the phone. When she came back she said, "I have to go, Thomas. I'll call you tomorrow and we can arrange where to meet. I love you."

"I love you too, Niki."

I thought she'd gone, but then she said, "I believe perhaps you do, Thomas." Then she really was gone.

I slipped the phone back in my pocket, looked up to see my daughter and her lover staring at me, heads cocked in expectation.

I cut a slice of soft brie and spread it on a corner of bread.

"Da-ad!" Lil said.

I chewed slowly.

"Who was that?"

"A friend," I said.

"A special friend?" She was trying not to grin.

"Could be," I said.

"Tell me."

So I did.

SATURDAY

We took the train early from London, dipping down beneath the English Channel and came out into gray fog which cleared slowly as we sped south, the train traveling at over 180 miles an hour through flat countryside. We changed trains in Paris, seeing nothing of the city, and then sped east.

I had offered to get a hotel room for Niki and myself but Lilly insisted we were to stay with her and Frankie. She had a spare bedroom, and there was no way she was going to miss out on the chance to meet this new woman of mine. I had explained that Niki was a lot younger than me, and Lil had just grinned and said "Good. Because you're young inside too, Dad."

By mid afternoon I had unpacked my few things in Lil's spare bedroom. Her apartment was in an old stone building overlooking the river which formed the boundary between France and Germany, although to listen to Lilly and Frankie talk national boundaries were now a thing of the past in Europe.

The apartment was large with tall windows, wooden floors and clean furnishings.

On their own territory Lilly and Frankie were more relaxed. They changed into clothes suited for lounging around, Lil in sweatpants and tee shirt, Frankie in a French equivalent that clung more tightly to her narrow hips, draped more softly over her breasts. I tried to avoid looking at her, but it was difficult, and though I guessed she knew I was doing it she didn't seem to mind much. She was easy to look at, and I felt guilty for sizing up my daughter's girlfriend while I waited for my beautiful Finn to arrive.

Still, I was a man, and there are times when we can barely help ourselves, so I spent a pleasant hour sitting on Lil's couch watching my daughter move around preparing an evening meal, watching as Frankie helped her, admiring the smooth curves of her legs, her ass tightly embraced inside the black material of her pants that looked little more than tights. She has a small, rounded ass and I noticed when she turned how the material clung against her pussy, cupping a pronounced mound. I imagined her with my daughter. Imagined what they did with each other, and tried not to get turned on by the images. Tried and failed.

Just after four my phone rang but it was a text, brief and to the point, Niki telling me she would be arriving Sunday morning at 10. I tried to text her back to say I would be there, but again her number was blocked.

I was nervous and edgy so I went out and wandered the town, drifting through the older parts, then finding the new government buildings and admiring their architecture. Eventually I found a park on the river, with a modern footbridge and simply had to cross it, walking over the green deep water of the Rhine into Germany just to say I had been there.

On the way back I found a small cava and bought six bottles of wine, a mixture of white, rosè and red as I wasn't sure what the girls would like. When I arrived back at Lil's apartment it was early evening and they had started laying out the meal. I put some of the wine in their large refrigerator, left the reds out to warm, kissed Lil on the cheek and then, when she tapped her own face meaningfully, repeated the kiss for Frankie.

They both looked happy, relaxed and at ease with each other. As they passed they touched, sometimes lightly and casually, other times more meaningfully. I tried not to stare as Frankie slid her hand down inside my daughter's track bottoms and held her ass cheek in her palm. I wondered if they were becoming used to me in the apartment. It must have been strange for them, having someone else around, particularly when that someone else was a father.

Lil and I had always enjoyed an open relationship. She knew her mother and I enjoyed sex. She knew I had had lovers after her mother died. She had never been shy around me, and growing up, as a kid she was often naked, and as she moved into her teens and I expected her to grow more conscious of her body she didn't. I recalled a summer vacation, before Angie had died, the four of us staying at a beach house and both of them, Lil seventeen, John fifteen, Angie and me, then about forty, would wander around naked, swim in the sea, lounge on the beach, our house isolated enough that no-one overlooked us. They had seemed innocent enough times then.