A Week of June: Monday

For our main meal, I had the bass with cockles and mussels, while she had the halibut. The food was succulent, and June's eyes sparkled in the half-light. Continually I found myself staring deep into her blue gaze. I felt myself drowning in the depths of her eyes. I loved my daughter, but could I be learning to love her in an entirely different way? We had finished our first bottle of wine, and had started on a 1998 Gevrey-Chambertin Pinot Noir. The richness of the red enhanced the flavor of the fish.

"Dad, do you think I'm pretty?"

The question came out of the blue. How to respond? As a father? As an interested male? Could she really have any doubt at all of my response? She was looking down, toying with the last few bites on her plate. Then she looked up at me, fixing me with her intense blue eyes.

"June. You are, without doubt, the most attractive girl I've ever known." The simplicity and earnest nature of my words seemed to satisfy her, and she nodded gently to herself.

"Well, mister," and her usual gaiety seemed to have returned, "you ain't half-bad yerself. Fer an old codger!"

"Watch it young miss! I can still tan your backside if you don't mind yer sassiness!"

"Is that a threat or a promise?" she shot back, looking coyly from under her eyelashes.

I laughed outright, the mood restored. For dessert she had a small dish of vanilla ice cream, while I had the lemon pound cake. There was a new bond between us: it was forged out of the same strong metal that had formed our father and daughter relationship, yet it was tempered by an acknowledgement of a mutual sexual attraction. The potential for a stronger alloy was there, yet I needed to let June test the strength of it.

I paid for dinner, and we got up to go. Was it my imagination, or were the side slits on June's dress higher than they had been before? Now I could see her ribs through the sides of the dress, the parting of the material awfully close to the undersides of her breasts. As she sashayed ahead of me, the rear flap swung gently from side to side, allowing glimpses of her ass. Gone was the hesitancy, the confusion she had shown on our way to the restaurant. In its place was a confidence, a self-assurance in her sexiness.

The maitre d' hailed a cab for us, openly ogling my daughter. I felt a surge of pride: my gorgeous daughter was learning the freedom of exhibitionism! We got into the cab, and I gave the cabbie my address. When I turned back to June, the side slits had opened up even more. In fact, there were only two inches of closed dress under each arm. The undersides of her breasts were obvious through the slits. She leaned forward to ask the cabbie some question, and the front flap of her dress fell forward. Suddenly, it was as if I was sitting next to a naked young lady. From the lower curve of her breasts to her red pumps, all I saw was golden flesh. Now I could tell for sure: she had no tanlines on her astounding form. Because of the way she was leaning forward, I could not see her mons. But the sexy girl, essentially nude, sitting on the cab seat next to me, was one of the most memorable sights in my entire life.

When we got to my apartment, she slid out of the cab ahead of me. The back part of her dress slid away from her body as she moved across the seat, and when she stood up, her back and ass, like the front part earlier, was completely uncovered. I paid the cabbie, and he gave me a wink as I stepped out. I stood next to my daughter and looked down at her. She smiled up at me, stood on her tiptoes, and raised her arms around my neck.

"What shall we do now, Daddy?"

I looked down into her flushed face. My arms went around her, and I felt the free movement of her dress across her shoulders. She giggled, and I stepped back to take another look at her. The side slits were now all the way up to her armpits, and the dress was only held together by the short sleeves.

"Concealed zippers. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Is this your way to experience Gauguin's freedom?" I said in a mock stern voice.

"Oh, don't be hypocritical, Dad. I've seen the clothes you like to wear."

"All right, kitten. Let's take a walk then. It's a beautiful night." I slid my arm around her waist, under the dress, enjoying the feel of walking alongside a girl covered only with two long flaps of dress in front and behind of her. The smooth soft skin under my hand felt like satin, and I loved the way her muscles shifted under the skin as she walked. She had her arm around my waist, her head leaning against my upper arm. People we passed openly stared, or did double-takes as they realized the state of undress June was in. And indeed, from the side, the curve of her ass was easily visible due to the drape of the dress over my arm. And in front, her breasts proudly pushed the dress out so it hung slightly removed from her belly and legs. For all intents and purposes, June could have been walking around NYC in shoes alone. Yet the bare covering heightened the erotic picture she presented. And she was walking with me!

I did nothing else to push her into further exhibition. This was her maiden voyage: she needed to be in control. And yet she needed the support of my arm to make it on our little walk without falling over. I felt the strain in her legs as she endured the opprobrium of the unenlightened admixed with the admiration of others. She told me later that all she heard was the pounding of her own heart within her ribcage; the catcalls and wolf whistles went unnoticed.

Finally, as we rounded the corner back to my apartment, she shuddered, shaking all over as an orgasm silently ripped through her. Her eyes closed, she sagged into me. I supported her weight, and guided her through my door to the elevator. She continued to lean on me, the dress askew on her shoulders, hanging off of her breast so that the majority of its curves were hanging out; further down, the line of her dress intersected the junction of her legs. We stumbled into the elevator.

All the way up, all I could hear was the deep breathing of my daughter; the smell of her arousal was overwhelming in the enclosed space. I held her up with two hands, grasping her waist, feeling the soft curve of her hips. My eyes were fixed on the numbers on the elevator; finally, the door opened, and we spilled out. I opened the door, and June went through, flopping down on her sofabed.

"I think I need to sleep now, Dad," she murmured into the pillow. I took her shoes off her feet and helped her to the middle of the bed. Already her breathing was becoming deeper. I moved quietly towards my bedroom, when I heard her say softly:

"Let's do that shoot tomorrow morning."