A Small Souvenir

"Daddy, my Daddy," she whimpered, her eyes shining with moisture.

"Don't go, please don't go."

"What?"

"Stay here, stay with me. Please. We can be together."

"What about Eleanor? What about your family?"

"I choose you. I want to be with you. Always and forever."

"Oh Dad."

They looked at each other, both of them beaming. He cupped her face in his hands and smiled warmly at her.

"We kiss on the lips in..."

"Oh, shut up."

She silenced him with her mouth, her tongue meeting his, her arms wrapped round his neck. The two of them stood there, outside WH Smith's and kissed with an intensity and passion that made passers-by look on in amusement. They might have been a little less amused if they had known the truth about this particular romantic couple.

"It's not going to be easy for us," he said.

"No, I know. But I don't care. And who is 'us'?" She asked.

"You and me, the two of us?"

"No, that's the thing, not just two of us. The three of us."

She took hold of his hand and brought it to her stomach, leaving it there in a rather pointed fashion. He looked at her face, looked down at her stomach, and looked up at her again. He raised his eyebrow in a questioning fashion. She nodded and smiled, perhaps a little apprehensively. Then he whooped with joy and lifted her up in his arms, spinning her round in a circle.

After a few dizzying moments, he lay her down on her feet once more.

"How long have you known?" He asked, giddily.

"I've suspected for a while. I've tested positive on two home kits. I was going to get a doctor's appointment back in America."

"Well, we'll have to rely on the good old NHS now, won't we?"

"Yes, I suppose we will."

"A baby, we're having a baby."

"You want it then? You want me to keep it?"

"Of course I do. It's our baby. Our baby."

"But what if there are problems? I mean what with us...?"

"Being father and daughter?"

"Yes."

"We'll take our chances. But everything will be fine. How can you give birth to a baby that would be anything other than perfect?"

"Do you think I'll be a good Mom?"

"I know you'll be an amazing Mum."

She giggled and hugged him once again.

"It's crazy," she said, "I came here looking for a father, and now I'm going to be a mother."

"Yes, it's crazy, but it's incredible too."

"You know, my mother - the first lady in my family that you fucked - once told me that every time you go somewhere, you should get yourself a memento."

"A small souvenir?" He responded, suddenly reminded of a moment, twenty-five years earlier, when he received a small souvenir of his own.

"Yes, a small souvenir. But now I have a pretty big souvenir. Two of them, in fact. Your heart and your child."

He smiled and they kissed once again. A tender, sweet kiss, and then they embraced emphatically. Holly went to the airline desk, cancelled her ticket, and got her suitcase back. The two of them walked together, hand in hand, heading back to the short-stay car park. There was a spring in both their steps, as they disappeared among the crowds.

Father and daughter, boyfriend and girlfriend, soulmates; looking forward to the new life they were going to forge together.

14

Two years later

Matt had promised himself years earlier that he would never wear a tie, and yet here he was trying to do a Windsor knot, while also making sure he was lining both ends of the thing up correctly. He hated it when the thin end appeared below the fat end. Or when the the fat end was too low down his body. But it was a big day for his new family and he had promised his daughter that he would look his best.

They had moved to London, Matt and Holly, and lived in a flat in the fairly well-to-do district of Ealing. Eleanor had pretty much cleared him out in the divorce, taking the house, the cars, full custody of Hayley and Liam, plus a fairly big chunk of his monthly salary. Matt hadn't contested much of anything, somewhat to his lawyer's irritation, for obvious reasons.

But, as Eleanor had told Holly on the day of the barbecue, when she met her half-brother and half-sister for the first time, they were embarrassingly well off; so, even in reduced circumstances, things weren't too bad. Financially, at least. And Matt could hardly complain. His ex-wife could have destroyed him. She could have gone to the police for starters, bearing in mind what he and Holly had got up to.

But she didn't.

In many ways, Eleanor had acted like a saint, showing a forgiveness and compassion Matt couldn't quite understand. She had stood by and let her husband leave her, for his own adult daughter. She had been humiliated, in the most visceral and obscene way possible, and watched a twenty year marriage fall to bits. She would have had every right to crucify him, metaphorically speaking at least. And yet she had essentially let things pass.

"You are the father of my children," she had said to him, on one of the brief occasions they had met up face to face, "I could hardly see you marched off in leg irons."

The relationship between them was now tense but civil. They didn't communicate much, save for inevitable conversations about the kids, but when they did, there was at least a certain cool courteousness to their interactions. Matt always dreaded those calls, hating the way he felt when he spoke to her, hating the sense of shame he felt when he hung up, but they both endured them.

Matt wouldn't change a thing in his life, or go back to how things were, but he still mourned for his first marriage. He loved his ex-wife and would have always said their relationship was essentially ideal. Eleanor was funny and smart and sexy and kind and he had adored her in every way a man could adore a woman. If Holly had never entered his world, he was sure he and Eleanor would have spent the rest of their lives together.

Actually, there was one thing he would change in his life if he could. Liam. He hadn't spoken to his son in two years, not since he walked out of his marriage and drove to the airport to find Holly. Or, to be a tad more accurate, Liam hadn't spoken to him. He was always a lot closer to his mother, and he clearly couldn't forgive his father for the way he had treated her. He'd only picked up fragments from Eleanor, who had barely spoken to him herself for the first few months, but Liam had clearly been furious.

"I don't think it would be safe," she had said to Matt, when he had tacitly proposed a meeting between him and his son.

"What do you mean, it wouldn't be safe?" Matt had asked.

"I'm frightened he might try to hit you. He hates you right now. I mean really hates you."

"Oh," Matt had said, his voice cracking, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Give it time. He might get used to the idea eventually."

But eventually was turning out to be a long, long time. Matt missed his son more than he dare admit. He remembered all those moments they had shared together. Playing football with him in the garden. Taking him swimming as a small boy. Watching silly superhero movies together on DVD. All those moments were memories now, and he feared never being able to make new memories in the future.

Eleanor had sent him photos of Liam. He looked like a man. In the intervening period of time, he had shot up by about five inches, and towered over his mother. Being a teenage boy, he hardly ever smiled in any of the pictures, but he always looked adoringly at Eleanor. There was something oddly intimate about the way they interacted through a camera lens. He always seemed very protective of her, his hands holding her and shielding her. Her face would shine with love as she looked up at him.

He'd seen some pictures of them together on social media. A few selfies with the two of them out and about somewhere. The first one showed them cheek to cheek, the wind blowing their hair this way and that. Eleanor looked great, like she'd lost some weight, and her face was glowing. She had a little make up on, which was a rare occurrence. Liam was even smiling, his cheek pressed tightly against his mother's. Matt swiped to see the next picture. Eleanor was cupping her son's cheek in her hand and kissing him on the other cheek.

The accompanying text said, The only man I need in my life. Matt shrugged his shoulders and closed the web browser down.

If the relationship between father and son was damaged, apparently beyond repair for now, there was happier news when it came to his youngest daughter.

For quite a while Eleanor hadn't allowed him to see Hayley. He understood her anger and let things stand. But over time, her resistance eroded. It turns out Hayley had been pestering her mother to allow her to see him, and in the end Eleanor had given in. Their first meeting had been at a McDonalds, equidistant from their respective homes. Hayley had screamed Daddy, when she saw him, and ran into his arms. Both of them had wept as they hugged each other, stood amongst the discarded chips and ketchup wrappers on the floor.

Eventually, Hayley began coming over to spend the occasional weekend with her father and his new family. He had been a little concerned about her response to Holly, but Hayley seemed as happy to see her as she had been to see him. She had always loved having an older sister, and nothing had changed now. Apart from everything of course. The two of them were still as thick as thieves, and Hayley seemed to adjust to the strange new domestic situation she found herself a part of.

Spencer didn't hurt, of course.

Holly took to pregnancy like a fish to water. She positively glowed. There were plenty of perks for the prospective father/grandfather. Her boobs, already impressive in stature, swelled up to become even bigger. And her libido accelerated beyond the speed of lust. Father and daughter had always been a couple of horny fuckers, even before he got her up the duff, but once her hormones took hold, they were insatiable. The couple took to calling that period their lost weekend, and they would sometimes look back with a slight sense of embarrassment and disbelief at just how much screwing they did.

Spencer's arrival came at about four in the morning. Holly's waters had broken the night before and Matt had driven her to the local hospital in a reasonably calm manner. This wasn't his first rodeo, after all. They were quickly taken to the maternity unit and a few painful, stressful hours later, their little baby came howling and screaming into the world.

He was a strange looking, hairy little thing, his skin a demonic dark red, flushed from his traumatic exertions; but he seemed perfectly healthy, as every scan and test had told them he would be. Father and daughter looked at their little child, blinking and oblivious to the world around him, and they kissed tenderly. Holly, her hair wet with sweat, her face covered in snot, looked up at Matt and smiled.

"Our little boy, Dad," she whispered.

One of the nurses overheard her and laughed uproariously.

"Already calling you Dad, and the little chap has only just arrived?" She said, "She's got you well trained."

Matt nodded and the new parents continued gazing at their baby.

Now, Spencer was fifteen months old and happily toddling around the flat, being pursued by his older sister, who also happened to be his auntie.

"Spencer! I'm going to get you Spencer!" Hayley shouted, in a sing-song tone, as she ran behind the young boy.

He giggled and screamed, desperately trying to avoid being captured, not understanding for a second that Hayley could, of course, grab hold of him whenever she wanted, and was holding back, simply to extend their fun. His chubby little legs were pumping away furiously, in the smart little outfit Holly had bought for the day's main occasion. He was wearing shiny black shoes, with silver-effect buckles, a pair of check shorts, a polo shirt and an adorable little bow tie.

He was going to be their pageboy after all.

Hayley was wearing a silk dress, the companion piece to Holly's wedding dress. Hayley's was a pinky red, and much too provocative and grown up for Matt's tastes. In the same way Liam had physically matured, Hayley was growing up too. She was a teenager now and was beginning to get interested in all the things teenage girls got interested in.

She had literally jumped with joy when they had asked her to be a bridesmaid. She hugged them both and immediately started talking about what she would wear and how she would get her hair done. The morning of the wedding she had visited a local salon and had sat happily while the hairdresser put blonde highlights into her reddish-brown locks. They had applied a slight wave and now her mane of hair was pushed up above her head, with curls tumbling down her cheeks.

The dress came to her knees, but was completely backless, tied up in a halter round her neck. Hayley wasn't terribly well developed yet, so she could get away with no bra, but Matt had been very cross with Holly when he saw the outfit she had selected for his youngest daughter.

But that was then, and this was now. A happy day. The happiest of days.

"Hayley, the taxi will be here soon," Matt said, "make sure your brother's nappy is clean and then put on his jacket."

"Okay, Dad."

Hayley scooped up the small child and kissed him on his equally chubby little cheeks. He giggled and started tugging at her hair.

"How long will it be until your car gets here?" She asked him.

"About ten minutes, I think."

"Okay, see you at the church."

"Okay, Hayley, and remember what we said. When the vicar gets to the point where he asks if anyone knows of any reason why this couple shall not be joined in holy matrimony, what do you do?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I will forever hold my peace," she said, grinning.

"Good girl."

Hayley walked off with Spencer and a few minutes later he heard the front door slam shut.

The idea that they would get married seemed so inconceivable at first, it was never even raised as an idea. It was Holly's immigration status that had prompted action. She was over on a temporary visa, but it was due to run out eventually. Initially, they had planned to declare she was his daughter, and Holly could then become a British citizen. But, bearing in mind the nature of their relationship, that left them somewhat a hostage to fortune.

It was one afternoon, after they had spent a couple of hours fucking, that Matt had put forward a different proposal. The emphasis being on the word proposal. He was lying there, spreadeagled on the bed, naked and covered in sweat, resting on the headboard. Holly was lying at an angle, her legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. She was lazily playing with his cock, licking it clean, relishing the sweet, tart flavour of her pussy juices on his prick, when he suddenly spoke up.

"You know, I've been thinking," he said.

"Thinking about what?" She said, between long languorous licks of his semi-flaccid meat.

"About your visa situation."

"Oh?" She replied, still only half paying attention.

"Yes, I think we've been going about things the wrong way. We're going to tell the authorities I'm your father, and get you your 'right to remain' that way. But that could get us into trouble at some point, if anyone finds out what we get up to."

"You mean the fact that you fuck me, your own biological daughter, on a regular basis?"

"Yes, that," he said, in a droll manner.

"So what do we do?"

"Why don't we get married?"

"What?" She said, his dick dropping out of her mouth, as she suddenly turned her full attention towards him.

"We get married. You become my wife."

"But isn't that...you know...illegal?"

"Well yes. It's also illegal that I stick my dick inside you. That doesn't seem to bother you all that much."

"No, I suppose not. But still."

"Who knows we're related? More importantly, what evidence is there that we're related? I'm not mentioned on your birth certificate. You were born in the States. Is there anyone in any official capacity who would suspect for a second you're my daughter?"

"Eleanor knows."

"I said in any official capacity. But yes, she knows, and that will take some special diplomacy on my part. But she's been incredibly good about everything, considering how we betrayed her; I don't think she would do anything."

"Liam might."

"Hmmm, yes, possibly. But if we can get Eleanor on side, she'll be able to restrain Liam. And anyway, what do you think would happen if he did go to the police?"

"I don't know, you'd be arrested? I'd be deported?"

"No, I'll tell you what would happen. The square root of fuck all; that's what would happen."

"You sound pretty sure of yourself."

"Well, think of it from the police's point of view. Someone comes in, Liam or Eleanor or A N Other, and they make a very serious allegation about a gentleman who's putting his pork sword inside his daughter. It's a pretty outlandish accusation, and where's the proof? Yes, we're sleeping together, but where's any evidence I'm your Dad?"

"Apart from the fact I scream the word Daddy at the top of my lungs every time you cum inside me?"

"Well yes, apart from that."

"The DNA company that did the test."

"Yeah, but how easy would it be to get that information? Wouldn't the boys in blue have to get a warrant or something?"

"Actually, I think the company said they destroyed the samples after six months, anyway. Something to do with data protection."

"I don't think it would get that far. If Liam were to say anything, and the police did feel obliged to speak to us, we could just say he's really pissed off that I left his Mum to shack up with some young hussy from America. He's just an angry kid, trying to get revenge by making crazy accusations."

"Yeah, that sounds plausible," she said, pushing herself up to her knees, then swinging her leg over his, and straddling his lap. "So I'm your young hussy, am I?"

"My hussy. My whore. My incestuous cum-slut. Delete as applicable."

"And what makes you think I'd marry you anyway?" She said, grinding her naked cunt against his dick.

"Because you're my soulmate, the love of my life and you want to be with me, the same way I want to be with you."

"Oh Daddy," she said, her voice cracking in emotion.

"Holly Mary Severinsen, will you marry me?"

"Yes, Daddy, of course I will."

And now, eighteen months and one baby later, here they were. Matt continuing to struggle with his tie, getting increasingly exasperated as he looked at himself in the mirror.

"You want a hand with that?" Said a familiar voice ringing out across the room.

He turned round and saw his daughter walking towards him. He gasped at the sight of her, fully made up and dressed for her wedding. She looked stunning. She always looked stunning, as far as he was concerned, but especially so now. Her dress was a similar material to Hayley's, a shiny silk, but the colour was obviously different, a sort of Pearl white, as was the design. Whereas the bridesmaid's dress finished at the knee, Holly's dress swept down to the floor. On both sides, there was a slit almost to the waist.

Her dress was also backless. That seemed a little daring for Hayley, a teenager aspiring to look like a grown up, but it was almost obscene for Holly, a grown woman with large, voluptuous breasts. And a woman who'd only recently had a baby. An extremely generous amount of what showbiz gossip sites called side-boob was on display. Unlike her younger sister, Holly wore her hair down, but it had also been curled for the occasion. Completing the outfit was a pair of white stockings and Doc Marten boots; Holly always determined to be a bit different.