The Past in Colorado

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jtmalone70
jtmalone70
641 Followers

Standing before my closet, I tapped a finger against my chin, trying to find something to wear. Usually I wore a t-shirt and sweatpants, unless it was summer, and then I wore shorts. I flipped through my hangers until I found what I was looking for: a purple nightie my dad had bought for me a few months before. I found it in a Victoria Secret catalog and had to beg him to let me buy it. He seemed unsure, saying he thought it might be a little much for someone my age. But I begged and pleaded and he finally relented, albeit with a great deal of apprehension. This would be only the second time I'd worn it. It wasn't very revealing at all - just a simple two-piece nightie. It was very tame, compared to everything else in the catalog, but looked plenty sexy all the same.

I dropped the towel around my waist and slipped it over my body. Then I went to my mirror and worked my hair with a brush and blow dryer. The clock on my dresser said it was nearly quarter till eleven. He could be home any time, so I rushed along. When satisfied with my hair, I sat at my dresser and applied a tiny amount of makeup. I didn't care for it and rarely wore any, but thought if I was going this far, I might as well do it right and have some fun. No lipstick, however. I didn't want it to get on my pillow, when I went to bed.

When I was ready, I stood and looked at myself in the mirror, my hands on my hips, turning from side to side. I grinned, thinking, damn, what man in his right mind could resist this! But my smile faded. The "man" in question was my dad. I turned and walked briskly out of my bedroom, turning off the light and going down to the living room to wait. As I sat there, my conscience was beginning to gnaw at me. I was doing this for my dad, but so what? I just wanted to look nice for him, I reasoned. My conscience tried to continue the debate, but I ignored it. I was in a good mood and wanted to keep it that way.

I sat on the couch, pulling up my legs, and flipped through the channels. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a little past eleven. Just as I began to wonder when he was coming home, I saw headlights moving across the curtains of the living room window. It was my dad pulling into the driveway. My heart began to race. I shot upright and placed my hands on my thighs, fidgeting, trying to find a good pose. Then I heard the car door close. He'd be walking through the door any second. Frantically, I flopped around on the couch, quickly sampling one position after the next. The keys were in the door. I flopped some more and, when the door slowly opened, I was in the exact same position I had started in - leaning down against a pillow on the couch. I propped my head against my elbow and put on a happy face. Then he stepped inside and grinned when he saw me.

"Hey, still awake."

I sat up and smiled, my heart thumping madly.

When he turned from closing the door, he saw me in my nightie. My chest rose, as I took a deep breath. He fumbled with his keys for a moment, looking down at them, and hung them by the door. Jamming his hands in his pockets, he turned toward me.

"Have a nice evening?" he asked. "Not too boring, I hope."

Still smiling nervously, I shook my head. "Nope," I replied. "Not too painful."

"Good, good," he chuckled.

I just knew he had to be wondering why I was dressed like this.

We were both silent. I hadn't thought about what I was going to do when he was actually home. He finally broke the silence and gestured to me, saying, "So... isn't that the, uh, lingerie you bought a while back?" I smiled and looked down my body, running a hand across my midsection and pressing the satin fabric against my chest. When my nipples poked out, I quickly pulled my hand away. I smiled timidly and nodded, beginning to feel embarrassed.

"Um, yeah..."

I tried to think of something to say; some excuse for why I was wearing it. But I knew exactly why. My conscience had been reminding me from the moment I put it on.

"Um... This is only the second time I've worn it," I replied sheepishly.

I looked up to gauge his reaction. The little wrinkles around his eyes deepened, as he smiled.

His head slowly bobbed. "Well," he said. "Looks really nice."

I took a deep breath and grinned, my chest pushing out. But when I felt the tips of my breasts straining against the fabric again, I quickly sucked in my stomach.

"So," I stuttered. "It, uh... it looks ok? You like it?"

He shrugged. "Sure," he replied. "For what it cost, it better look good."

I giggled and rose from the couch. As I stood in front of him, I let my fingers pull out on the sides.

"I dunno," I said, looking down at it, almost too embarrassed to make eye contact with him. "I was just thinking... I dunno... I took a bubble bath and just sorta felt like... wearing it, I guess."

I glanced at him and he smiled, his hands still in his pockets. He slowly nodded.

"Looks nice," he said.

My grin twitched, at hearing that word again: just "nice".

He hooked his thumb toward his bedroom, saying, "Gotta take my jacket off." Then he turned and went upstairs.

I stood there for a minute staring down at the floor. The depression I had fought off all night was slowly returning. I looked up the steps, down the empty hallway toward his room, and could see the door open. Then I gazed down at what I was wearing. I felt like a dope. What in the world was I doing? I turned to the television, and then leaned over and picked up the remote, turning it off. Slowly I trudged to the stairs and, no sooner had I put my foot on the first step, then my dad appeared in the hallway above. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. As he approached the steps, he stopped and looked down at me. I tried to smile in reply, but my heart wasn't in it. I let my eyes drop and took another slow step up the stairs. Gazing down my body, I thought, "God, you're an idiot, Jessica."

As my dad came down the steps, he placed a hand on my shoulder, as he went to pass me.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked.

I forced a smile and looked up, shaking my head.

"Nope," I replied.

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"I was just gonna change for bed," I said softly.

This time, he raised both eyebrows and nodded. "Oh... well, ok then."

As he continued on, I slowly raised my foot to the next step, and then heard him speaking to me from the hallway by the kitchen.

"Hey, Jessie?"

I stopped, staring down at the carpet, and said, "Yeah?"

"Well, come down where I can see, when I talk to you," he replied.

Sighing and wanting to put on my regular clothes, I grudgingly turned and stepped down, peering around the corner into the kitchen. Dad was opening a cabinet and pulled out a bowl. When he saw me, he turned and said, "You look really nice, sweetie. You're a very beautiful young lady." I forced another smile, knowing that was the sort of thing a parent was supposed to say. Then he pulled open the silverware drawer and reached in for a spoon.

"Want some ice cream?" he asked, stepping over to the freezer.

My head slowly wagged.

He opened the freezer and reached in for the tub of ice cream. Holding it in his hand, he called over to me. I raised my eyes and he smiled big. "You're beautiful, no matter what you're wearing," he said warmly.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

He didn't seem to think my gratitude was convincing, so he took a deep breath and set the ice cream on the counter. He walked over and put his hand on my arm.

"I'm sorry," he said, gently squeezing my arm. "You're just as beautiful as your mom. Same eyes, same pretty red hair. It doesn't matter what you're wearing, ok?" Then he brushed the hair from my face.

"You look very lovely," he said with a tender smile, and I felt the sour mood enveloping my heart slowly ebb. "Don't change, ok?"

"Ok," I muttered.

"Want some ice cream?"

I shrugged.

He grinned. "That a yes or no?" he asked.

When I shrugged again, he wrapped his fingers around my arm and pulled me into the kitchen. As he went to get another bowl, I stood leaning against the counter.

"Dad?"

When he looked at me, for an instant his eyes drifted down my body, down my legs and slowly back to my face. It seemed to be an unconscious reaction on his part, to seeing me standing dressed like that. A surge of adrenaline shot through my heart, as my hands fidgeted nervously.

"Can I just share yours?" I asked. "I don't want much."

He nodded and closed the cabinet.

"Sure," he replied.

We sat on the couch, side by side, with our legs crossed and knees touching. Every now and then, he'd hold out the spoon for me, as I leaned forward and took it into my mouth. By the time the bowl was empty, the depression that had tried to make a second assault was now firmly in retreat. I was feeling good - very good, very romantic.

When we were both yawning, he helped me to my feet and gave me a soft smile.

"You're a very beautiful young woman," he said, and I felt myself blush. "Ready for bed?" he asked. I nodded. "Alright," he said. "Let's go to bed, sleepy."

The way he said that made my heart flutter. I followed behind him all the way upstairs, up to his bedroom. As he stepped into his doorway, he suddenly stopped and turned, causing me to nearly bump into him. Apparently he thought I was going to my room. Startled, we both took a step back. He gave me a curious grin, and I hesitated for hardly a second and gestured to his bedroom, mumbling, "I was gonna..." It seemed to take him by surprise. After all, I was eighteen years old and asking to sleep in the same bed.

My dad's eyes roamed, as he thought about it.

"Oh... ok," he replied, seemingly befuddled, and then turned and walked over to the bed.

I knew the feelings welling up inside me for him weren't normal, but at another they felt right. They certainly didn't feel wrong. Perhaps in my mind they were, but not in my heart.

We crawled under the covers and, after a few minutes of lying in the dark, I turned and looked at him, as he faced away from me.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

I smiled in the dark.

"Thanks," I whispered.

He strained to look over his shoulder, thinking about what I'd said. And in the faint light, I saw him smile.

"You're welcome," he replied.

I leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. He grinned again, and then turned away and closed his eyes. I pulled the blankets up over us and curled up behind him.

***

Over the next several weeks, I felt really good. I couldn't wait to come home and see him after school. I'd sit on the floor next to him, as he sat at his desk typing at his computer. I felt giddy, yapping about this and that and nothing in particular, content to be in his presence and happy with his genuine interest in hearing all about my day.

He only had that one date with Janice, his reason being they didn't seem to click. I didn't care what his reasons were, only satisfied it didn't work out. And for my part, I began dating less and less, until one day, not long before my senior prom, my dad questioned me on this.

"Gotta date for the prom?" he asked, as he dumped the spaghetti from the pot into a strainer sitting in the sink.

I was standing next to him watching. "Nope," came my curt reply.

He set down the pot and picked up the strainer, shaking it a few times, and gave me a puzzled expression.

"Why not? Didn't anyone ask you?"

I nodded. "Yeah, a couple guys asked." But then I shrugged. "I dunno... they just don't interest me, I guess."

Dad chuckled and gestured to the cabinet. "Wanna get a couple plates?" I turned to retrieve them and came back, setting them aside one another on the counter. He used a big fork to dole out the long wet strands of spaghetti.

"Were you hoping for someone in particular?" he asked.

I shrugged again. "I dunno."

He smirked, replying, "Geesh, Jess, you don't sound real enthused about this."

I shrugged once more and said, "I am, I guess. I just don't know who I wanna go with."

He handed me a plate and we went to the dining room table to eat.

"Well," he said, jabbing a fork into the mound on his plate. "You better ask someone soon. The pickin's are gonna get awful thin."

I poked at my spaghetti with my fork, thinking quietly to myself. Then I had an idea. I looked at him, anxiously saying, "Dad?"

He looked up, just as he pushed the fork into his mouth, and raised his eyebrows.

I smiled and said, "Ok... here's what I'm thinking." I laid my hands flat on the table and giggled nervously. He swallowed, and then asked what my idea was. "I've had three guys ask me to prom, ok? And I like them all, but my problem is, I'm friends with all three of them. I don't wanna take one and have the other two mad at me. Sooo..." And then I grinned meekly.

Dad raised a hand, as he held another load of spaghetti up to his mouth, replying, "So...?"

I giggled again. "So," I said. "I was wondering... and you don't have to, but I was wondering, if maybe you would like to take me... to prom." He stopped chewing for a second and stared at me. I was smiling from ear to ear. Then he blinked and slowly set his fork down and reached for a napkin, dabbing it against the corners of his mouth. He glanced at me, and then set the napkin down. Suddenly I was scared he might decline my offer.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, and then reached for his glass of water. I watched, as he slowly raised the glass to his mouth. He seemed to be thinking about it, as he took a sip, and then set it down.

I leaned forward and bobbed my head a little, saying, "Well?"

He looked across the table at me and smiled. "Wouldn't that seem a little odd?" he asked.

I furled my eyebrows, as if shocked he would think such a thing. "No," I replied. "Why should it be? I think it'd be fun. You've never danced with me, anyway. Plus, this way, they can't be mad at me... because I came with my dad. See how that works?" I wiggled my eyebrows and nodded happily.

He chuckled and pushed his fork into his spaghetti. "Oh, all right," he said, as if this was such a terrible bother to him. But he was smiling. I clapped my hands together gleefully and jumped from my chair and dashed around to give him a kiss on the cheek. As I sat back down, he was shaking his head, but still smiling.

***

A few weeks later, I was in my bedroom getting ready for the dance, while he did likewise in his room. I hadn't let him see my prom dress and, in turn, I had no idea what he would wear. I assumed he'd rent a tuxedo.

I sat nervously in front of my mirror, making last minute adjustments to my hair and makeup. I pinned my hair back, leaving two long, curly strands to hang down in front of my ears. My dad had never really seen me all dolled up, so I wanted his first time to be special. I opened my jewelry box and pulled out a string of pearls, delicately lacing them around my neck, and looked in the mirror and smiled. Then I stood and took a few steps back so I could see my dress. It was white satin with puffy shoulders and a large billowing skirt. I giggled nervously, thinking how it almost looked like a wedding gown. Carefully, I then lifted the skirt to reveal my white low-heel shoes and sheer white stockings. There was one last item I needed to install. I stepped over to the dresser and opened my sock drawer. Reaching far in back, I pulled out a small box. Inside was a white and red garter. I took it from the box and stepped to the bed. Putting my foot on the mattress, I slipped the garter up my leg, halfway between my knee and hip. With everything in place and satisfied I was presentable to my date, I walked over to the bedroom door and slowly opened it.

I peered out into the hallway. The door to my dad's room was wide open.

"Dad?" I called out. "You ready?"

"Yeah," he replied. He was downstairs waiting.

I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, holding my skirt up, as I made my way to the top of the steps. I stopped before reaching the stairs and said nervously, "You ready?" I saw my dad's head suddenly come into view down below. He could see my face, but nothing else. And when I grinned, he did likewise.

"Ready," he said.

My heart raced, as I took a step forward, letting myself come slowly into his field of view. When he saw me standing at the top of the stairs, he whistled.

"Good God, Jessie," he mumbled. "You look beautiful."

Hearing that put me on the verge of tears, but I wore a broad smile. Very carefully, I made my way down the steps, holding my skirt up high so as not to trip over it. And when I came within reach, my dad held his hand out. As I took it, he guided me down. When I was standing in front of him, I felt my face flush red with embarrassment. My teeth were showing, as I grinned, my eyebrows high. He held my hand out to the side and gazed at me.

"Thank you for asking me," he said softly.

I giggled nervously, my teeth chattering – a strange quirk I have whenever I'm grossly nervous.

"You're welcome," I squeaked.

He made no effort to hide his delight, letting his eyes roam up and down my body. God, I was nervous. And when our eyes met again, he smiled and held out a box to me. Inside was a red corsage.

I gasped, having not thought of this moment. It didn't even dawn on me that he'd get one. He opened the box and pulled it out, stepping over to me. As he went to put it on my wrist, I asked him to pin it on instead. His eyes met mine and he smiled. "Ok," he replied and carefully, but cautiously, brought the corsage to rest just above my breast. I felt the tip of his finger slip under the fabric of my dress, as he pinned it to me. When it was firmly in place, he stepped back.

"Looks a lot better there," he said. I felt so nervous; all I could do was giggle. "Matches your eyes," he said with a grin. My stomach muscles contracted, bending me slightly at the waist, as I fell into fit of nervous giggles.

He took a few pictures of me in the living room, and then I took a couple of him. He had the tripod set up and put the camera on it, so we could get some of us standing together. In the last picture, I stood just in front of him, both of us looking at the camera. My hands were clasped together, hanging down in front, and then I wondered what his were doing. I looked and they were just hanging limp at his sides. I reached down and brought his hands to my waist and rested mine atop his. We smiled and there was a flash.

As we walked to the car and were just about to get in, I stopped abruptly and cried out.

He was about to open his door, when he asked what was wrong.

"I forgot something!"

"What?"

I dashed to his side of the car and grabbed him by the arm, towing him back to the house. Inside, he questioned me again, as I walked over to a chair and placed my foot on the seat. He cocked his head, as if puzzled, and I snickered. I wiggled my finger for him to come closer. When he was standing next to me, I slowly hiked up the skirt on my raised leg to reveal my garter. As I worked my fingers on the fabric of my dress, I smiled at my dad. An anxious expression crossed his face, as he folded his arms, holding a hand to his mouth and trying to hide an embarrassed grin.

"Gotta do it, dad," I said menacingly.

He wiped his hand over his mouth and shook his head.

"Oh God," he groaned.

I chuckled.

With the garter in view, and nearly my entire leg exposed, he sighed and dropped his hands and stepped closer. Then, very carefully, he put his fingers around my thigh and grasped the garter. I pulled back on my skirt just a wee bit, so he could see I was wearing stockings. When the white strap of my stocking came into view, his hand paused for but the briefest second, and then resumed its descent.

Deep in my mind, I couldn't believe I just teased me own father.

jtmalone70
jtmalone70
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