A Week of June: Tuesday

"Do you like it?" She asked, somewhat hesitantly, and then spun to show me all sides. Like in the front, the right side of her back was bare from her left shoulder down her back to her hip, where the strap came around from the front, and then half of her right buttock and the rest of her leg. She was wearing five-inch black heels, and she carefully walked around to stand in front of me. My wondering expressing must have been the response she was looking for, for she smiled a private smile. I took in her face, done up perfectly, allowing her own fine complexion to shine through. Her hair was swept up, exposing her swanlike neck.

"Um. Wow. Uh... how do you keep the dress in place?" I managed to ask.

She giggled, handed me her handbag, and artfully twitched the dress slightly. Right there, in front of me, in the middle of the St. Regis Hotel lobby, her pussy came into view. Just as I had remembered it this morning, with the tiny tuft of hair at the top, the lips extending below and out of view in the enticing darkness between her thighs. And then just as quickly, the dress settled back into semi-propriety. She winked at me.

"Silly," she replied coyly. "You don't!" And she turned and started to walk towards the restaurant entrance, her well-turned ass swaying from side to side with each step she took on the tall heels. I stood up and rushed to her side.

The restaurant is a beautiful room with plush carped with large medallions on it, and a large waterford chandelier in the middle. The walls are white with gold trim, and the tables and chairs match. The maitre d', an older woman, elegant and attentive showed us to our table, which was in the back corner. We settled into our chairs, June sitting slightly towards the room with her right leg crossed over her left. In this position, the entire leg up to her hip was uncovered, and the center of the gown threatened to bare her navel.

The waiter was a young man, whose general air of uncertainty revealed him to be new. June seemed to take pleasure in unnerving him: she made a great show of uncrossing her legs and recrossing them when he approached. The motion almost certainly let the boy know that she was pantyless. The tease went on through the evening. During the appetizer course, she dropped her napkin, and gracefully bent forward to pick it up. The dress shifted a bit to the rear, and the waiter was treated to a quick glimpse of the right side of her ass. After the main course, she walked to the bathroom just as the young man was coming to clear the plates. As she walked towards him, she performed the same trick for him that she had for me in the lobby, uncovering her mons for his eyes only. As she brushed past him, magically the dress was back in place. I had to cover my amusement at the poor boy's discomfort.

"Listen," I said to her when she returned, "take it easy on the poor kid. You don't want to make him lose his job, do you?"

"Oh, I suppose you're right. I'm just having a bit of fun."

"I'm enjoying myself, too, kiddo. You're pretty accomplished at this."

"Well, I've had some experience."

"So I gathered. Do you want to tell me about it?"

She hesitated. Her amusement of a moment before was replaced by a solemnity that made her appear even more mature than all of her dressing up had done.

"I'm not quite ready to tell you that story yet. In fact, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with all of this." It was her frankest revelation to date.

"June, I'm fascinated by what you've been doing, and more than a little bit flattered. I trust you to let me know what you're hoping to gain from it when you're ready to."

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered, gratitude in her eyes. My emotions for June were becoming more and more complex with every minute I spent with her. Combined with fatherly love and a towering lust was an appreciation for the woman she was becoming. I covered the sudden lump in my throat by retrieving a small wrapped package from my pocket.

"Happy birthday, princess."

She looked at me with surprise, and then took the present and opened it. Inside was a flat box, containing a velvet choker with a round diamond pendant attached. Her eyes glistened.

"Oh, Dad." She murmured. "Could you help me put it on?" The unexpected echo of this morning's photo shoot awoke a frisson of arousal deep within me. I stood, and moved behind her. She held the choker around her neck, and I hooked it together at the back, and then let my hands fall on her shoulders. She put one hand over mine, and looked up at me, one tear gliding down her cheek.

"For all of the years we've missed, honey," I said. She smiled up at me, angelic, perfect. I sat back down again, marvelling at my daughter, so changed from the fifteen-year old child she had been.

The meal passed in a blur. June let up her teasing of the waiter, and he got a grip on himself. I left him a hefty tip when we left. I am sorry to say that I remember little about the meal. I was too involved in June and her blossoming maturity to note the fine food and wine. But every penny I spent on that extravagant dinner was well spent indeed.

****

We walked for a while that night, holding hands. I don't really remember where we went, and I know we spent most of the time in a companionable silence. Her hand felt so right in mine, bringing back memories of crossing the street with a little girl, her energy boundless, her life ahead of her. At one point she laid her head on my shoulder, and I passed my arm around her waist, resting my fingers on her bare hip. She seemed content like that, so we continued on, the gentle swell of her hip communicating security and happiness through my hand.

Eventually, we took a cab home. The hour was late, although the sounds of the city remained as dense as ever. At the door of my apartment building, she took both of my hands in hers as she faced me, looking up at me, searching my face for some answer. Then without a word, she stretched up on her tiptoes and placed her lips on mine. The kiss was at once chaste and demanding. Her soft mouth was insistent against mine, although she did not open her lips. The space between our bodies remained patent, a reminder of the continued gulf between us, one I hoped would be bridged by June in the days to come. Finally, she pulled back, still looking at me with a fiery intensity. I tried to defuse the tension.

"A kiss on the second date? Better watch it, girl, you're going to get a reputation!"

"Idiot," she said, punching me in the arm, but she smiled anyway.