I Have Always Loved My Father

"You never came to visit."

"Are you sure of that chérie?" he asked, plucking a red rose from a nearby bush and tossing it at my feet. It was identical to the ones that had been left on my doorstep every Sunday for three years.

"It's true that I never knocked or rang the doorbell, but I was there just the same mon chou. I was there," he said solemnly, his eyes wet with tears.

I ran up the steps and threw myself into his arms, crossing the divide that had separated us for so long.

"I love you," I whispered, pressing my body close to his.

"I love you too sweetheart," he said, his hands resting on the small of my back.

I flashed him a devilish grin before sliding my hand down the front of his slacks and squeezing his hardening member. He licked his lips hungrily and swept me off my feet, carrying me into the house with my laughter trailing behind us.

We devoured each other. Our lips, tongues, and teeth sought out the other's flesh in the gathering dusk, our naked bodies melting together atop the winding staircase. I spread my legs wide on the polished wooden stairs, guttural moans scraping my throat as my father teased my pulsing clit with his tongue. He ingested what remained of my anger as it bled into the sugary juice that coursed down my swollen pussy lips, taking it into himself until there was nothing but love left to swallow. My guttural moans gave way to screams when I reached an incredible climax, quieted only by my father's passionate French kisses as he slid his tongue in and out of my mouth. "Oh Daddy, you're so good to me," I panted, wondering how I had survived without his touch.

"I haven't been good to you yet. You'll know when," he whispered, picking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist. He sat down on the stairs with me facing him in his lap, slowly pushing his hard dick inside me. When the last inch of his throbbing member had disappeared, he grabbed me firmly by the hips and began bouncing me up and down on his enormous cock. He leaned back on the stairs and bit his bottom lip as he slammed in and out of me, lifting and lowering my pussy on his dick so hard and fast that I gripped the railing for support. When he began hitting my g-spot something snapped within me, and I turned into a snarling beast. I pushed his hands away from my hips and began to ride him, fucking him just as hard as he had fucked me. He smiled at my challenge, and made quick work of putting me back in my place. He lifted me off of his lap and bent me over on the stairs, my round ass pointed towards the ceiling. He entered me roughly from behind, pumping hard and deep as I cried out for mercy. He ignored my pleas, and continued to pound me until he had delivered the most intense orgasm that I had ever experienced. I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't even cry out, my face frozen in a perpetual, soundless scream. He finally gave himself permission to cum, and he released his own anger and frustration deep into my gaping hole. I closed my eyes and smiled when I felt his thick, hot liquid shooting into me, and I turned around and took the head of his penis into my mouth in order to consume the rest of his sticky seed. I drank deeply from the tip of his throbbing dick until I had swallowed the last of his fluid.

"Am I good to you mon amour?" he asked, holding me close to him.

"So good," I whispered before closing my eyes and falling asleep in his arms.

After five months of living together in effortless bliss, I began to notice a change in my father's behavior. He became secretive and guarded, sectioning off pieces of himself that were closed to me. He spent more time in his study, whispering into the receiver of the telephone late at night when he thought I was asleep. If I happened to walk by during one of his phone calls, he would either hang up or close the open door right in my face, leaving me standing out in the dark hallway to wonder when my father had stopped loving me. I endured his aloofness for two weeks before I reached my breaking point. By that time I was convinced that there was another woman on the receiving end of his calls, one who was granted full access to the parts of my father that were beyond my reach. My father and I had already separated once, and I was determined that only death should separate us again. I dried my tears and fought for my father tooth and nail, using all of the weapons at my disposal with ruthless abandon. I cooked his meals to perfection, I cleaned the house from top to bottom, and I took care of his needs before he opened his mouth to tell me what they were. But the biggest weapon in my arsenal is the one that I used the most, making love to him until he barely had enough energy to leave our bed. I made sure that he never left the house without the scent of my sex lingering in his nostrils, so that even as he lay with another woman he would be reminded of his home. One morning I climbed on top of him and fucked him with such ferociousness that he threw up his hands in surrender after an explosive climax.

"I give up! Take everything in my wallet and all the money in the safe! Take whatever you want, just don't hurt me," he laughed, his smile stretching from ear to ear. His laughter was infectious, and I could feel my mouth form itself into a sad grin even as tears made a slow procession down my cheeks.

"Baby what's wrong?" he asked, his smile fading.

"I'm so scared...I don't want to lose you," I said, gently wiping the sweat from his brow with my fingertips.

"Nila what are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere," he said, confusion etching itself across his handsome face.

"I just...I feel like you're slipping away from me. Like maybe I'm not enough for you anymore."

"What would make you say something so ridiculous? Of course you're enough for me. You make me happy and I love you," he said, kissing the palm of my hand.

"Are you having an affair?" I asked, fresh tears stinging my eyes. He stared at me in disbelief before shouting angrily in French, pushing me off of him and exiting the bed. Although I couldn't understand the string of words that he spat in my direction as he got dressed for work, I knew that he was swearing.

"Don't leave," I whimpered, afraid that his anger would lead him to seek out his mistress for comfort.

"I have to leave. If I stay here with you I might say something that I'll regret," he said, grabbing his keys and disappearing down the hall. When I heard the front door slam shut, I ran over to the bedroom window to watch as he got into his car. Once inside, he hit the steering wheel with his fist before backing out of the driveway, leaving behind a cloud of dust in his wake.

I cleaned the house in a frenzy, as if the gleaming surfaces and shining floors would convince my father that I was still worthy of his love. I saved his study for last, giving it the most attention because it was usually the first room that he settled in after coming home from a long day at the office. I was dusting his leather-bound law books when the phone rang, it's shrill cry slicing through the air and making the hairs on the back of my stand up. My heart pounded loudly in my chest, filling my ears with its thunderous beating as I stared at the ringing telephone. Maybe it's a client, or one of his friends I thought nervously, rooted to the place where I stood by my growing anxiety. But my worst fears were brought to fruition when a woman's voice came floating out of the answering machine.

"Hi John, it's me. I was just calling to make sure that we're still on for Friday night. I know you can't stay long, but I thought maybe we could have a light dinner before going up to the hotel room. Call me back and let me know what you think," she said before hanging up. Dinner...hotel room...hotel room...HOTEL ROOM! I covered my ears in a vain attempt at silencing the screaming in my head, and shut my eyes to block out the image of my father sharing a private room with this woman. A woman who was so familiar to him that it had become unnecessary for her to leave her name and number on his answering machine. A woman whose voice he would recognize, whose phone number he would remember. I sank to the floor, collapsing under the weight of my sorrow.

When I regained my composure, I walked over to the answering machine on weak legs and forced myself to dial the woman's number. I pressed my tiny cell phone to my ear and took deep breaths, trying to steady myself so that my lie would sound convincing.

"Hello?" she said, her voice driving knives through my heart.

"Hi! My name is Sharon Stewart, and I'm calling on behalf of John Lacroix. I'm Mr. Lacroix's secretary, and he's asked me to confirm all of his appointments for this week. I see that Mr. Lacroix has you written down on his schedule for Friday, but he forgot to include the time and place. I'll need this information so that I can arrange all of his other appointments accordingly," I said, doing my best impression of my father's fifty-year-old secretary.

"Sure, no problem. He's meeting me on Friday at 7pm, at the Windsor hotel. If you can, try to schedule his last appointment as early in the day as possible so that he can make it to see me on time. I hate it when he's late," she said, her tone light and airy.

"I'll see what I can do," I said darkly before hanging up on her.

I spent Friday afternoon in a whirlwind of activity, cooking up a delectable feast that could have filled the stomach's of a dozen men, with enough time left over to make myself every bit as edible as the glazed ham that sizzled in the oven. I swept my hair up into an elegant bun, and I applied a flattering touch of makeup to my unblemished face. I stepped into a tight black dress that barely contained my heaving breasts, and slipped my small feet into a pair of sexy high-heels that my father would have referred to as "fuck me pumps". To make sure that my father returned home instead of heading straight to the hotel after work, I called him and told him that I needed to see him right away.

"Daddy we have to talk. It's important," I said, sounding frantic.

"Oh my God Nila are you alright? Are you hurt?" he asked, obviously worried.

"I'm fine Daddy, but I really need to see you."

"I have a meeting at seven sweetheart. Can't it wait?"

"No Daddy, it can't wait! You have to come home right now!" I cried, doing everything in my power to keep him from going to see her.

"Okay baby, calm down. I'm on my way," he said. I hung up the phone and smiled, feeling as though I had won a small victory in the battle for my father's heart.

When he turned his key in the lock a short while later, I was standing on the bottom step of the winding staircase with a flute of champagne in one hand and a manila envelope in the other. He stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over the romantic candles, lit fireplace, and sound system that filled the house with soft music before they finally settled on me.

"What is this?" he asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

"I thought we could have a nice romantic dinner before I tell you the good news," I said, smiling.

"Here, this is for you," I said, handing him the glass of champagne. "I made a big ham, and there's lots of vegetables and a few pies too," I said. He took a few sips of the champagne before setting it aside, more interested in me than in the meal that I had prepared. He walked over to where I stood and removed my hair from its clasp, sending it cascading down my back in a series of soft, silken waves. He tilted my head back and put his fingers in my hair, pressing his warm, wet mouth to my own until nothing existed save for the sweet agony of his touch. Without breaking our kiss, he picked me up and carried me over to the kitchen table, sending hand crafted bowls, saucers, and plates crashing to the floor as he cleared a place for me to sit. I sat perched on the edge of the large table as he spread my legs and stuck two of his fingers in between them, slowly pushing them in and out of my dripping cunt as his tongue flitted in and out of my pleading mouth. He fucked me with one finger and went after my clit with the other, applying pressure and friction until I burned as hotly as the flames that hissed and crackled in the fireplace.

"Ooooooooh," I sang, tugging on the fancy tablecloth as the rest of the empty dishes went flying off of the table's surface. I tried to run as I neared an orgasm, inching away from his feverish hands and smoldering tongue before he reduced my body to ash. He caught me and held me in place, touching his embers to my skin, melting away my flesh, bone, and blood until I was just another flame flickering in the darkness.

"I'll be back in a little while," he murmured, covering my neck in soft kisses.

"Please don't go," I said, still weak from our passion.

"When I come back you can have me all to yourself...I promise," he said, removing his fingers and bringing them up to his lips. He licked them clean, savoring the taste of me as he pulled himself away.

"If you love me you'll stay!" I cried, panic breaking the spell that he had placed me under.

"I can't miss this meeting Nila. It's important," he said, straightening out his clothes and hunting around for his keys.

"But I still haven't told you my good news!" I said, hopping down off the table and clinging to his arm.

"It'll have to wait until I come back. I'm already late," he said, glancing at his watch. He grabbed his keys and put on his coat before heading out the door, my screams drowned out by the sound of his roaring engine.

I had to see her. I needed my misery to have a face, something that I could attach to the chasm that yawned and stretched in the distance between my father and I. I jumped in my car and followed my father to the hotel where she had arranged to meet him. I parked my car on a side street as my father handed his keys and a wad of money to a valet, and I pursued him on foot when his back was turned. I stayed hidden in the shadows as he searched the lobby for her, sifting through the crowd until he spotted her at the bar. I watched him walk up behind her, and heard her squeal with delight when she turned to see that it was his hand that rested on her shoulder. She rose from her seat and hugged him, her mini skirt riding up on her thighs as they swayed in each other's arms. They exchanged pleasant words and easy smiles before she took him by the hand and led him to the bank of elevators that traveled between the first and twenty-fifth floors. She was a buxom blonde, pretty enough to grace the cover of a magazine, pretty enough to be seen on my father's arm. I stood inside the lobby long after they had disappeared, praying silently for him to realize that the woman that he held by the waist wasn't me, for him to reemerge from the bank of elevators alone, my scent still the only one to linger on his skin. After twenty minutes of prayer, I accepted my defeat and went home to gather my things, ready to leave him once and for all.

When my father returned a few hours later the house was pitch black, with nothing more than the eerie quiet to greet him. He switched on the lights and called out my name, searching for me in every room in the house. When he came back downstairs he made a beeline for his study, the only room that he hadn't yet visited. He walked over to his desk and turned on the small lamp that sat next to his phone, illuminating the manila envelope that I had held earlier. A small slip of paper that bore my handwriting sat on top of it, the last communication from me that my father would ever receive.

Dear John,

I followed you to the hotel. I saw the two of you together. I begged you not to go, but you ignored my love, my grief, my pain in order to be with her. You've made your decision, and I've made mine. I'm leaving you. I hope she's able to succeed where I've failed.

P.S. It was a boy.

My last line prompted my father to tear open the manila envelope, where he got his first and last glimpse of the son that I had tried to tell him about before he left for the hotel. He laid his head on his desk and cried, still gripping the grainy sonogram in his hand.

"Nila, baby please come home. I know what you saw, but it's not what you think," he sobbed, recording his message on the cell phone that I hadn't answered after a dozen rings. Unbeknownst to him, the small phone that was normally glued to my ear was lodged in the space behind our bed, switched permanently to the "silent" position.

"The woman that you saw me with is a jeweler. She sold me the diamond bracelet that I left on your doorstep when you graduated from college, and when we met at the hotel she sold me the engagement ring that I was going to propose to you with. She sells her most expensive jewelry out of a hotel room rather than in her shop, so that she won't have to split the commission with her business partner," he sighed, touching a hand to the velvet box that contained the beautiful engagement ring.

"I pulled some strings and had a good friend of mine doctor your birth certificate, and everything else that identified me as your father. I spent weeks ordering the false documents and planning our trip to Hawaii, where I wanted us to get married. That's why I tried my best not to let you overhear me when I was on the phone. I wanted it all to be a surprise. But now I just want you to come home. I love you so much," he whispered, placing the receiver back in its cradle and wondering where I could possibly be at four o'clock in the morning.

The mystery of where I had gone was solved when he opened the garage door, revealing my lifeless body as it swung from a sturdy fixture in the ceiling.

I have always loved my father. And in death I love him still.