The Scent of Jasmine

Tim fended of the pillow strike, pulled her sideways and bear-hugged her from behind, flat to the bed. "I see, trying to win friends through violence are we? When did that ever work?"

Jasmine struggled half-heartedly and Tim...

And Tim thought back to some years ago. A younger Jasmine, wrestling with her in his den, before it became a second reception room, full of oriental crap his wife liked. He can't remember how it starts. But there she is, beneath him, her legs around his waist trying to throw him off. Him above her... holding her hands above her head, his bodyweight holding her down. Her eyes glazing. She's moving herself against his body. A second lasting an age as they look into each other's eyes, moving ... He lets go and stands up. Walks out in silence.

Tim let her go. Jasmine still laughing. She doesn't have a delicate laugh, there's something slightly crazy about it, like the sort of person who laughs at slap stick. Jasmine grabbed another pillow and swung again. Tim let it hit him and faked a knock out, falling face down on the bed, immobile.

"Oh no! I have killed my father!" She said in the manner of a bad actress. "I must now rustle through his pockets and order room service on his credit card..."

"Can't sign it if I'm dead, stooopid..."

She laughed for a moment, then a heavy look filled her eyes, weighing on her face.

"I've missed you, dad."

He held her as she cried.

**********

Room service arrived promptly after ordering. They ate well. Jasmine chose melon and ice cream, and who was Tim to stop her? He chose eggs and cold Spanish meats. It may be a holiday, but he knew his nutrition and liked to stay in shape. The whiskey: well, that was another matter.

"So, who's using the bathroom first today? You know, so..." Jasmine smiled.

Tim laughed. "Ladies first, of course."

"So what were you dreaming about in the bath? Yesterday?"

He thought he hid his surprise well, maybe just giving a raised eyebrow. "I really can't remember..."

It was Jasmine's turn to raise her eyebrows. She finished her ice cream and left Tim pondering what that look meant. Must have been disdain...

They headed to the beach at the foot of the hotel, collecting drinks from the bar.

It was early season, and quiet on the beach, but there was still some eye candy decorating the place. Though none, perhaps, as vibrant as the woman whose back he was massaging sun tan lotion into.

"Don't forget under the straps, dad."

He slipped his thumb under the strap of her bikini. He found himself slowing. As his hand moved along, his fingers slipped round the edges of her ribs.

Such a beautiful, petite back.

He cleared his throat. "And on the, erm, bottoms? "

"Guess so."

He squirted a sliver of lotion above her bikini line, worked it in with his fingers, allowing them to seep just under the line of the bikini bottoms: strolling along the curves, feeling the dip between her cheeks. When had she ever let him do that before? Touch her so much ... so intimately. Maybe she was just maturing, or maybe ...

He rubbed the excess lotion into his chest and neck and re-gathered his thoughts.

Time past quietly and he closed his eyes against the sun. He felt himself falling asleep again. He rolled onto his side, eyes half open, just in time to see Jasmine strolling into the sea.

To be safe, he rolled onto his front, and closed his eyes.

*************

Even being with Jasmine couldn't relieve the boredom of shopping. Three hours later and he was in need of some relaxation.

The spa was on the 6^th floor of the hotel. Recorded wind chimes played through the speakers. Staff, dressed in uniform white down to their footwear, showed them around. Jasmine went for a pedicure as Tim headed for the steam room.

The heat enveloped him before he had stepped through the door. He noticed he was alone and chose a space on the bench at the back in the corner. He poured a ladle of water onto the coals and let the steam pour through him.

Within moments the sweat was rising through him, running through his hair, down his face and over his chest. As his perspiration increased, his mind went back to the day before. Jasmine in the shower. The water shimmering over her. The small translucent bubbles over that flawless mocha skin. The heat penetrated him. His mind began to wander. Stepping into that shower. Jasmine looking over her shoulder at him. Smiling with those large, deep brown eyes. Touching her shoulders, letting his hands slide down her back to her waist. Pulling her towards him, feeling her backside against his groin. Kissing her neck, his hands gliding over her stomach... rising upwards and cupping her breasts. His daughter's firm body against his ... happily giving herself to him. Their love moving to the next stage, beyond the normal boundaries. Their love moving to passion. Turning her around... kissing her soft lips. She parts her legs... he raises one of them...

"Senor?" A cold breeze entered the room, clearing the steam.

A member of staff stood at the door.

"What?"

"Your wife is waiting for you in the massage room."

Tim thought about correcting him, but decided against it.

***********

Jasmine was already on the table, a towel over her back. Tim had taken his time getting there, waiting for the evidence of his daydream to subside. Jasmine smiled and was talking about how wonderful her pedicure was. Even under the thick towel he could see the outline in her curves. He lay down quickly, trying to escape. He placed his face in the space in the massage board and waited for it to begin. Jasmine was still talking, but he concentrated on clearing his mind. It worked. Strong hands delved deep into his well-muscled back, verging on painful. It was good. Perhaps pain was the only thing that could distract him.

Then he heard Jasmine release a long, low moan. He looked up without thinking. Her masseuse was a bottle-dyed blonde, probably pretty once. Strong woman, too. He placed his head back down, trying to block the sounds of her moaning. Perhaps there was no escape. The massage became an ordeal. Between the long moans was the occasional short escape of breath, almost as if... as if...

After an age of torment, the masseuses worked down to the legs. Thankfully this brought an end to the moans, and Jasmine started giggling.

Normality came back to him with relief.

As the session came to an end, the lights were dimmed, and the two were told they would be left alone for a moment to recover. Tim knew what this meant. It was a chance to allow any unfortunate side effects to lessen before the man had to turn over and embarrass anyone with a tent pole under his towel.

Jasmine made small talk. Tim tried to listen.

He was disgusted at himself. That night, though, he was going to find an escort agency. And tell them exactly who to send. And what she had to do.

*********

Dressed, they made their way back to their room. Jasmine ordered room service, to while away the hours before dinner.

"We should use the hot tub." She said, looking over the balcony. "Be a shame not to."

"You go ahead, hun. Need to check some stuff on the laptop."

Jasmine shrugged, grabbed a bag and headed to the bathroom.

Tim booted up the laptop, waiting to connect to the Wi-Fi. He sat at the desk, positioning himself so that should she walk past she wouldn't be able to see the screen. It was slow, much slower than he was used to, but it worked.

Numerous agencies. Good sign. Maybe too many. Shit - he should have asked Tony for a recommendation. Most of the girls had abandoned their heritage. Dyed blonde hair, garish make up. Where was the natural beauty he had seen so freely on the streets of Barcelona? Page after page of Barbie dolls. Not a good sign. Finally, one with potential. A stunning brunette, large eyes. Flawless, though possibly photoshopped complexion. He scrolled down to an image of her on all fours ... familiar curves...

A knock on the door.

"Jasmine? Jasmine?" No response. He answered the door himself. The waiter pushed the trolley in and asked where he should set it up. Tim indicated the table and searched his pockets for change. None. As the waiter opened the bottle, he went to the wardrobe and padded his jackets and trousers, looking for a few Euros. He returned with a few coins, and was surprised at the big beaming grin the waiter had.

"Have a wonderful evening senor..."

Tim nodded, slightly bemused at his demeanour, and shut door on him.

"Jasmine?" he called out. The bathroom door was open, champagne already poured, one glass missing. "Jasmine?" Bubbling water led him to the balcony.

Jasmine was sitting in the hot tub in a black bikini and large, black sunglasses. Her arms spread along the width of the tub, a glass of champagne in one hand. The water bubbled just below the line of her bikini. Where it met the water, the material clung closer to her flesh.

"Remember this bikini, dad? I promise to keep it on this time." She laughed.

Try as he might, he could not help but read too much into her smile.

**********

Tim went back inside and shut down his laptop. Had she seen what he was looking at? At least he knew what the waiter was smiling at now, seeing Jasmine stroll pass. He changed into his swimming trunks and took is champagne. Acting automatically, trying not to think, he climbed into the hot tub and joined his daughter, staring into the distance, keeping his thoughts as far away as possible.

It didn't work. She slid along the hot tub seat, thigh to thigh, and rested her head on his chest. Her arm floated lazily on his legs.

"This has been an amazing day." She said, sipping champagne.

Was there a chance? He thought to himself. The slightest chance she harboured similar fantasies? Even if so, they were just fantasies. He was a father, he had a lifetime of responsibility towards her. Yes, she was beautiful. No, stunning. But she wouldn't think of her father like that, would she? There was a love there. But it was chaste... yes. That was the word. But even if she did have fantasies, to act on them would be destructive.

"I should be pampered like this more often."

Tim nodded. "Yup. You deserve it." He kissed her hair.

"Josh was never like this."

"Who's Josh?"

Jasmine let out a sigh. "Just some guy who dumped me."

"When was this?"

"Last month."

"And I never met him?"

Jasmine looked up at her father. "Relax, dad. He was nothing."

Tim hugged her closer.

"I guess we're both losers in love." She said.

Tim kissed the top of her head again, resting his face there. As he looked down, he noticed his fingertips were lightly touching the upper line of her bikini top. He let them rest there.

***********

The mood was more subdued that evening. They tried to joke their way out of it, but it was forced and unsustainable. Jasmine started her beauty regime, and Tim searched the internet for two things. Firstly a night club that he might send Jasmine to. Secondly, that brunette girl again. He took the address of the first, and the number of the second as Jasmine walked around in her dressing gown, singing badly, preparing herself.

"Dad? You got that blue linen suit? You should wear that with your pink shirt."

"The pink shirt? You sure?"

"It works, trust me."

"You saying I'm a gay boy?" Tim joked.

"God, dad. If you were some skinny little wuss, then it would look gay. But you can get away with it."

"Well I bow to your superior knowledge, hun".

"Good!" She flashed him a smug smile, and it worked. He ran up behind her and started tickling her. She whooped and started laughing, trying to get away from him. He chased her across the room and she jumped onto the bed, arming herself with a pillow. He dove onto her, absorbing the pillow blow and shoving her to the bed. More screams. He straddled her, finding ways past her guard to tickle her ribs. She laughed too hard to speak properly, and struggled to keep her dressing gown together.

"Whose superior now, hun?" he joked. The excitement in him started to change in nature. As she struggled, still laughing, still trying to get away, he let her half escape, only to pin her down again, his right leg between hers. As he lay and rolled on top of her, her dressing gown rose up her thighs. He allowed himself to look, briefly. He quickly surrendered, not pushing it too far.

But it worked; she had only finished laughing by the time she took her clothes into the bathroom to get changed.

Tim waited on the balcony, with his second glass of champagne. It's a beautiful city, he thought to himself.

"Dad?" A voice called behind him. He turned.

She was beautiful. He told her so. She smiled. "I'm ready."

They clinked glasses, drank and left. Both wearing the broadest of smiles.

*********

They walked through the lobby. Once again, Tim noticed people staring at them. Maybe they thought he was her sugar daddy, but he didn't care. And Jasmine was enjoying the attention too.

The restaurant was on the top floor of a hotel a few moments' drive away in a taxi. Its panoramic views reached from the hills to the ocean. The food deserved all the stars the guides said they had, and Tim was impressed by the wines. Even Jasmine managed to find a red she liked, rather than the sweet whites she usually ordered. The talk was free and easy. They had spent too much time apart and had much to talk about, but both avoided the separation, the impending divorce and home. Neither wanted to sully the evening.

Over desert, Tim broached the subject of sending Jasmine to the premier night club in the area. She asked him what he would do. He shrugged his shoulders and said head back to their hotel, read a paper in the bar.

A coldness swept across her face.

"No, I don't like that." She said.

"Oh come on. You want to spend some time with the young crowd. You're in Barcelona, hun."

She shook her head. He knew that look: she wouldn't give in. "I know what I want, and it's not leaving you alone on our second night."

He could tell there was more going on. Something had upset her.

"Well, ok. What do you want to do then?" He didn't want to make an issue of it and mar the evening.

"Just stay here. It's nice enough. There's a band and DJ in the bar next door at eleven. I looked it up on your laptop."

There was a hint of mischief in her eyes as she said it. Tim took a sip of his wine to hide his smirk. His little girl had seen his laptop, and was trying to keep him away from women of ill repute.

"Sure you don't want to find yourself a cute Spanish boyfriend?"

"Well maybe if you dance with me, you'll find some nice Spanish senorita. A nice one."

"Oh yeah, how will that work? Wouldn't you scare off the competition?"

"It's psychology dad. If a girl sees you with another woman, it says two things."

"Go on."

Jasmine's glass hung from her hand, affecting an almost Audrey Hepburn-like pose as she lectured her father. "Firstly, it pre-selects you. If I think you're ok to hang out with, then other girls will think you'll be ok for them to hang out with."

Tim nodded. "Ok. So far so good."

"Secondly, she'll get jealous, and try to win you over."

"Really?" He said, enjoying his daughter's forthrightness and basking in her intelligence.

"Haven't you noticed?"

"What?"

"Those looks you're getting when we are out together? Especially when I take your arm?"

Tim felt a slight pang. "Oh, so that's why you were doing it?"

"No." she said, exaggerating her hurt. "But I noticed it."

Tim raised his glass. "Ok, then. Here's to psychology."

*********

The bar was cast in blue light, lending a sultry feel over the easy jazz quietly coming from the small band at the back.

Jasmine led the way to the bar and, in accordance to her little ruse, Tim entered about a minute behind her. He walked over to her barstool as she studiously ignored him.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

"Not yet. You can keep it warm if you like." She said, giving her best sultry look.

She must be a handful, he thought, as he took his place beside her. "Well can I get you a drink while I keep the spare seat warm?"

"Champagne."

"Really?"

"We don't want to look cheap, do we?" He couldn't fault her logic, and got himself a large bourbon, one ice cube.

"So, are you single, senora?"

"Recently, as it happens."

She is good at this, he thought. "So who have you got your eye on?"

"Well, wait ... for you or for me?"

He decided he didn't want an answer just yet. He let it go, and just smiled at her.

They shared jokes, laughed like old times. For a moment, all was well with the world. An old Louis Armstrong standard. One of his favourites. He began strumming his fingers against his thigh.

"May I dance with you?" She said.

"My pleasure."

She smiled, took his hand, and walked him to the dance floor.

She slipped her arms around him, and he rested one hand on her soft, naked shoulder, one on her back. They moved closely together through the dark room to the gentle jazz. He twirled her once, and pulled her in, a kiss to her forehead. Her smile was radiant, her eyes hypnotised him. Was he falling in love? It felt like it. But love was ok, wasn't it? The song passed in an instant, lost in her charms.

The next song was slightly more up tempo, prompting Jasmine to move more. She turned her back to him, and danced close to him. He could feel her backside against him... she reached back with one hand around his neck, he allowed his hands to find her waist. A table of three women stared at them. He ignored them, preferring to concentrate on the young woman moving against him.

Too soon, she turned around again. She leant into him and whispered something. But he was too distracted by her closeness and scent to pay attention. Tim allowed his hands to slip down his daughter's back, and drew her in for a brief kiss. He didn't try to hold it. He felt in control now, it was ok.

He led her back to their drinks.

"Did you see the girl in the white and black dress. Back to the right?" Jasmine asked.

Tim shook his head. "I only have eyes for you .... dear." He crooned.

"Agh, don't sing, dad!"

"Well at least you know where you get it from".

She leaned forward and slapped his leg in mock punishment. Both sipped their drinks.

She told him about the woman in the monochrome dress, about how she was trying to catch his eye while giving her disdainful looks, but Tim only caught the barest details of it, captivated by the intelligent beauty in front of him.

"So, it's a plan then?" She said.

"Erm, what is?"

"Tim!"

"Tim?"

"Well I'm not going to call you dad in here and blow the game am I?" she explained.

"OK, so the plan again."

She sighed, slightly annoyed that her master plan was not getting the full attention it so clearly deserved.

"Keep an eye on her drink, when it's finished I'll go and dance, and I bet you she comes right next to you to order her drink."

"Won't her boyfriend get..."

"She's out with girls. Do you not listen, dad?"

"Tim, you mean."

They shared a smirk, and Tim noticed her hand had stayed on his thigh through her lecture. He wondered for a moment, then realised it was part of her show. Get a grip, Tim.

She turned her head. "OK, let's do it!"

She slipped off her stool and made her way to the centre of the dance floor, capturing centre stage with all the confidence of youth.

Tim watched her intently, looking at her as a stranger might, watching those curves move as she danced.

It wasn't long before a few local men, all ages, had gravitated towards her, trying to catch her eye. He wanted to swat them off, and wondered to himself if he was being protective as a father, or was just jealous.

"She's beautiful."

Tim turned towards the voice. Sure enough, the woman Jasmine had singled out had approached him.