An Afternoon with Heather

One of the things I enjoy about my job as a marketing representative is that it allows me to get out of the office and travel. I've never liked being stuck behind a desk, though when my two kids were young, travel was a bit of a problem.

Their mother left us when they were four and seven, so I had to be both father and mother from that point on. That made out of town travel very difficult, but I needed my job to make a good living for us. Fortunately, I was able to find a grandmotherly widow who was more than happy to stay with them when I had to be away.

The kids both grew to love Mary, thinking of her in some ways as the mother they never really knew. And she returned that love in kind. I'll always be grateful to her for helping me hold my family together during some extremely difficult times.

I went on a few dates after my wife left. I was a pretty good looking guy, I guess, with dark brown hair and eyes, tall with a trim, athletic build. There was never a shortage of women who seemed to be interested. But I devoted most of my energy to my kids and my job.

But now that my son is two years out of college and my daughter is a senior at Midwestern State University, the travel is a real plus. Whenever possible, I plan my business trips to allow me to stay over a night or two with them when I am in their area. And so it was about a month ago when my travels took me to Springfield for two days, that I had the opportunity to see Jamie again. We are about as close as a father and daughter can be, and it is really hard not seeing her for weeks at a time while she is away at college.

As I drove the 15 miles from the interstate to Springfield, my mind wandered back on the struggles the two of us had shared. I knew it was harder on Jamie, than her brother or me, not having her mother around. It was clear that she deeply resented being abandoned like that, and she'd expressed that resentment in a number of self-destructive ways growing up.

I made frequent trips to school from the time she was 12 to deal with one issue or another. Most of the trouble boiled down to the anger that she could not seem to find an outlet for. Of course, we tried counseling, but Jamie was smarter than most of the well-meaning psychologists she saw. She told them what they wanted to hear, made them feel as if she was miraculously "cured," then went right back to doing what she'd been doing.

By the time she started high school, Jamie was growing into a beautiful young woman, with wonderful big brown eyes and dark brown hair with a natural curl (which she always tried to straighten). Her features were fine and delicate, and she had the long, lithe legs of a dancer, which she was. Jamie always complained about the size of her breasts, begging for implants as a high school graduation present, but this was one place I put my foot firmly down—partly because I didn't want her to risk surgery for something that superficial, and partly because I thought her breasts were just right for her trim body.

The drinking and parties started her sophomore year in high school, and I can't count the number of times I had to go pick her up and bring her home after some Good Samaritan called to alert me to her condition. Thankfully, she never got a DUI or minor in possession, but the only thing we can credit for that was sheer luck.

Of course, there were boys. And I tried to reason with her about respecting herself and all that fatherly advice—which I'm sure she ignored. I thought there might even be girls in her life, as she seemed quite close to a couple of her fellow members of the dance team. One time, at the peak of some of her problems, I searched her room and found her journal. I read about three pages before putting it back, telling myself that there were certain things a father should not know about his daughter.

With all this as background, it was an amazing transformation that took place her senior year. It was as if Jamie had finally come to her senses and decided to be the daughter I'd always prayed she'd be. She got serious about her studies and her grades climbed. Fortunately she is a bright girl, so even during the worst of times she was able to keep her grades at a decent level. But given all she'd been through, I took a special pride in seeing her walk across the stage and receive her high school diploma, and even more pride when she was admitted to my alma mater, Midwestern State.

Jamie's first couple of years at Midwestern were up and down. She started out like a ball of fire, studying hard and never missing a class. But once she felt she had the whole college thing whipped, she slipped into the freshman party scene that almost all first year students taste.

The whole situation was exacerbated, I thought, by Jamie's freshman roommate. Her name was Heather, and the two of them had been matched by computer. They'd never met each other in person before the day they moved into the dorm. They had traded emails and spoken by phone during the summer, and Jamie found that Heather was also a dancer and had many other interests that were the same as hers. They had several lengthy phone conversations, mostly in hushed tones, but I could tell that Jamie was really liking her new roomie.

So it was with anticipation that we lugged our first load of clothes, electronic gear and cosmetics down the hallway of the dorm that weekend before classes began. I couldn't tell whether Jamie was more excited about seeing her room for the first time or meeting Heather in person.

When we got to 1021, the door was standing open and the room was a beehive of activity. A man and a woman about my age were busy trying to build the structure necessary to convert a conventional bed into a loft. I learned later that Jamie and Heather had decided in advance that a loft would be the best way to maximize the space in the small room.

Hardly looking up from his task, the man stuck out his hand. "Bill Manly," he said curtly. "You must be Jamie's dad."

The woman smiled at me and introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Jane. Heather's so excited about meeting Jamie."

The excitement was certainly apparent, as the two girls giggled excitedly and hugged each other hello. It was as if they had been friends for years. They chattered animatedly as they began to stake out their territory in the room—desks, closets, beds. They had decided in advance who would bring the TV and who would furnish the microwave and the CD player. Of course, they each had their own computers.

I tried to do what I could to help Heather's dad with the loft bed, but he went quickly about his work, and there wasn't really much I could do except hold a board or two in place as needed. But we did talk enough for me to get to know them a little bit. Bill was a fire chief in a smaller city in Texas, about 250 miles south of Springfield. Heather's mom was a nurse. They seemed like really nice people, although I could tell they were a bit reluctant to have Heather attend college so far from home. But she had insisted that Midwestern was the place for her, so they were going along, hoping for the best.

But it was Heather who really captured my attention. Being a 45-year-old man and Jamie's father, it made me really uncomfortable to think it, but Heather was one of those females you look at and the first thing that comes to mind is what a good fuck they'd be. I don't know if it's genetic or if it's some sort of practiced image they work on, but any man knows exactly what I'm talking about.

For those old enough to remember Gilligan's Island, it's the difference between Ginger and Maryanne. Both attractive women, but Ginger was fuckable. Today's generation might think the same of Britney Spears and Carrie Underwood.

Like Ginger and Britney, Heather simply oozed sexuality. She was about the same height as Jamie—around 5-4—but with a much curvier figure. Her breasts were full and her bottom nicely rounded, yet still firm. God, 18 is a magnificent age! I figured Heather had about a 90 percent chance of being overweight by the time she was 35. But now, at this wonderful stage of her life, she was what my friends and I used to call "stacked." And she gave every impression that she knew how to use that amazing body.

To top things off, she had straight blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders and ended about the middle of her back. And her skin was beautifully tanned, thanks we found out later, to lots of time spent during the summer on her parents' house boat on Lake Texoma.

But the thing that stood out was the way Heather seemed to enjoy showing herself off, not necessarily to me, but just in general. To move her things into the dorm room, Heather had chosen a tiny pair of yellow cheer shorts that hugged her round, firm bottom, while still loose enough at the legs to provide a tempting view of extreme upper thigh as she bent and stretched this way and that as she helped put the room in order. She wore a tight white tank top that was barely long enough to cover her belly when she stood completely still. Of course, with the slightest movement, I was able to catch a glimpse of her belly button piercing as the shiny jewel reflected the light.

Of course, it would have been going too far in this setting to go braless with her ample bosom, so instead Heather elected to show off her bra, wearing a bright yellow one adorned with lace that was fully visible through the thin tank.

One or two times I was pretty sure Heather caught me looking at her just a bit too intently. But instead of looking uncomfortable, she just gave me this little smile, as if she knew exactly what was going on in my mind. I remember hoping she wouldn't say anything to Jamie later about her lecherous old man.

It took nearly three hours to get everything moved in and somewhat livable, but finally the time had come for the parents to say their goodbyes. It was clear that the girls were getting impatient and wanted us to get out of the way of whatever they might have planned for their first weekend at college.

I took Jamie aside and gave her a big hug. "I'm so proud of you, sweetie," I whispered to her. "You know, how far you've come. Make this a great first year. Okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," she smiled back, hugging my neck just a little tighter than usual.

"And Jamie . . . "

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Don't have TOO much fun." As I finished, I looked over at Heather, knowing that Jamie would understand exactly what I meant.

*****

Well, as it turned out, they DID have too much fun. A month into the semester, I received an official-looking letter from "Midwestern State University, Office of Student Affairs." It was addressed to The Parent(s) of Ms. Jamie Daniels.

"Dear Parent(s)," it read. "Your daughter was recently involved in a violation of the alcohol policy at Midwestern State University. She and her roommate were in possession of alcohol in their room in Mathers Hall. In addition to the university penalties that will be imposed, we are advising you of this infraction in the event that you wish to have a dialogue with your daughter about her use of alcohol."

The notification did indeed spark a dialogue between Jamie and me, and I told her in no uncertain terms that future incidents would cause me to stop subsidizing her partying at good old MSU. She apologized profusely and told me she'd learned her lesson. She also told me that Heather was in it up to her neck, too, which did not surprise me in the least. God only knew what else the two of them were up to in the times when they didn't get busted.

But Jamie promised to tone down the partying, and I think she did her best to keep her word. There were even a few tearful phone calls about Heather getting drunk and doing crazy things that Jamie was afraid would land her in trouble, too. So it wasn't a surprise to me that at the end of the first semester, Heather's parents returned to Springfield with their SUV and a trailer and loaded up her things and took her back to Texas.

I assumed at that point that I would never see Heather again. And I'll have to admit to feeling a little let down that I would never again be able to turn a lecherous eye to her cute young behind, knowing that she recognized exactly what I was doing. But at least Jamie's grades improved and things were much better over the next couple of years.

*****

But this particular afternoon, as I was winding up a long day of business travel, I got this little tingling in my belly when I saw a black Honda CRV with Texas tags parked in the driveway of the little house that Jamie had rented for her senior year, just a few blocks from the MSU campus,. Surely it couldn't be . . .

"Hi Mr. Daniels," Heather greeted me at the door. I felt as if I'd been transported back in time about three years. I'm sure she could tell by the bewildered look on my face that I badly needed more information.

"Jamie got called in to work this afternoon," she explained. "She asked me to wait here and let you in."

"Hello, Heather," I began hesitantly. "What are you doing here?"

She looked as cute as ever, only a little more mature. There is a lot of growing up that takes place between the freshman and senior years in college. She had cut her gorgeous blonde hair short, which gave her a more mature look. But the rest of the package was pretty much the same, sparkling blue eyes and a voluptuous figure that bordered on being almost too curvy.

Her dress hadn't gotten any more conservative, however. She was wearing a very short denim mini skirt and a black tube top that hugged her full breasts and showed off that belly piercing that had so captivated me the day she moved into the dorm.

"Aren't you glad to see me, Mr. Daniels?" She tried to feign a little pout, but her smile peeked through, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Of course I'm glad to see you, Heather. You just surprised me. What ARE you doing here?"

"Jamie invited me to come up for the weekend and go to a concert with her Saturday night."

"But it's only Thursday. Are you missing class? Or are you even still in school?"

"Actually, when I left Midwestern, I decided to go to a vo-tech school close to home and get my LPN license," she explained. "I was finished in two years, and I'm working full time now. I just decided to take a couple of extra days off."

"Well, congratulations, Heather," I replied, surely displaying some of the surprise I felt that this wild child had actually been licensed to care for the sick and infirm. "I think that's great that you decided to be a nurse like your mom. Maybe you can help take care of me in my old age."

"Oh, you've got a long way to go before you're old, Mr. Daniels," she smiled. "I think that gray around your temples is really cute, anyway. But I'd love to take care of you if you ever need it." Then she looked directly at me as if to say, "You can read anything into that you want."

But I chose to ignore the double entendre and plunged ahead. "I'll bet your mom and dad are really proud of you." I walked past her into the small living room and sat on the used couch that I had helped Jamie find at a garage sale before she moved into the little rent house. Heather followed and joined me, sitting on the other end.

"Yeah, I guess they are now. But when they pulled me out of school here halfway through my freshman year, they weren't very proud. In fact, I was in big trouble."

"Well, it looks like you have more than made up for it now," I said reassuringly, hoping to turn the conversation away from some unpleasant memories.

But Heather was not ready to move on. She turned her body toward me and looked directly at me with those wide, innocent blue eyes. "Yeah, my dad was so mad when they came and got me that he gave me the hardest spanking I've ever had when we got home!"

The whole idea of spanking a grown daughter was so foreign to me that I couldn't do anything but stare back at Heather with my mouth open. When she realized that this revelation had caught me by surprise, she went on.

"Oh, didn't you ever spank Jamie when she was bad?" she asked, seemingly genuinely surprised.

"Not even when she was a little girl," I replied honestly. "I just thought there were better ways to discipline children."

"I sure wish my mom and dad had thought like that," she laughed. "I can't tell you how many times they spanked me growing up. And that one when I had to leave school hurt like nothing I'd ever had before."

"So your dad just . . . ," my voice trailed off with the question.

"Oh yeah," she jumped back in, "when we got back home he had me go to my room and wait for him. I always knew it was going to happen when he did that."

"And what happened then?' I put one arm on the back of the couch and faced her, feeling that tingling sensation grow more pronounced.

"Well, I waited and waited. It must have been nearly an hour while they unloaded all the stuff from the car. God, I always hated to wait for a spanking. I get these butterflies in my stomach and my heart just goes crazy while I think about what they're going to do."

"So, I guess he finally came up?"

"Yeah, I finally heard his footsteps in the hallway, and when I saw the doorknob turn, I just about wet my pants I was so nervous." She giggled a little at what she'd just confessed. All I could do was stare back blankly, wondering what the hell she was going to tell me next.

"Well, Daddy came into my room and his face was red and the veins were all standing out in his neck. I knew it was going to be bad. He just stood there and stared at me for a long time before he sat down on my bed. I knew what to do then."

"What was that?" I genuinely did not know what to expect next.

"Well, I did what he always had me do. I took off my jeans and panties and laid across his lap."

My mouth must have dropped open about that time, and Heather just sort of grinned a little and looked right at me. By this time, I was the one who was feeling butterflies in my stomach. As well as a pronounced swelling a little farther down.

But Heather didn't wait for me to respond to that last revelation. Instead, she just tucked her legs underneath herself on the couch and in the process, parted her knees just enough for me to catch a glimpse of pink fabric beneath her short skirt. "He didn't even bother with his bare hands," she said. "He just jerked his belt out of the loops on his jeans and started whipping me. I knew better than to try and get away from him, but it hurt so bad, I couldn't help it."

I could see her face flush slightly as she recounted the story, and I couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or excitement at revealing something so personal and intimate to me. All I knew was that I had developed a full-blown erection that I was doing my best to hide.

"He wouldn't let me get away though," Heather plunged ahead. "He used one leg to keep me from kicking my feet and pressed a hand in the middle of my back. I was pretty much helpless, and all I could do was lay there across his lap and take it."

"God, Heather," I finally managed, "how long did this go on."

"It seemed like forever. But I guess he must have given me about 25 swats. By the time he finished, I was crying like a baby and begging for him not to do it any more."

"So did he leave you alone then, to sort of 'lick your wounds'?"

"Well, eventually he did."

"Eventually?"

"Yeah, first he made me do corner time."

"What do you mean, 'corner time'?"

"Well, I got up from his lap like I always did after a spanking, and went over and stood in the corner of my bedroom. I had to touch the wall with my nose."

"But I guess you put your jeans back on first, right?" By this time, my imagination was really running wild, and I was trying to get a complete picture of the scene there in Heather's bedroom.

"Oh no," she said, "I had to leave them off and stand right there with my bottom all on display. He even had my mother come in and see how red I was, just so she'd know he did a good job."