Acting Up Ch. 01

Ellie grinned inwardly as she bent over her father to buss her lips over his cheek. Her pale pink bathrobe was gaping slightly which she was well aware from his stifled reaction, allowing him to glimpse the curve of her small breasts.

"Good night, Daddy," she murmured, feeling him tense and almost pull away from her.

Smiling broadly she walked across the dark room which was lit only by the flickering light of the TV screen, confident that his eyes were fixed on her ass. She turned as she reached the door and smiled sweetly as she saw her father's flushed face jerk rapidly away from her.

"Sweet dreams, Daddy." Pursing her lips she kissed her fingers and blew the kiss to him before slipping through the open door and closing it behind her.

At twenty Ellie was still happily living at home with her parents while she attended school. She enjoyed her choice of subjects which both challenged and motivated her to study hard. She had always been a good student, the kind of child parents boasted proudly of to other parents and who had never given them a sleepless night.

Not until a few months ago.

Because it was about three months ago that there had been a shift in her relationship with her father. It was also then that she had become aware of her sexuality, previously being too immersed in her school work and love of books to notice. She had always been an avid reader, her parents telling fond tales of her at two years old, blonde pigtails bouncing as she skipped towards any adult who entered the house, a book clasped in her hands and a hopeful look in her eyes as she lisped, "Read a book?"

Her love of books, all books, came from her father. A professor at the university in the city where they lived, he had lectured on poetry, romantic literature and science fiction amongst many other subjects for many years as well as pursuing his own interest in Milton on the side.

They had always shared their love of reading, he the teacher and she the pupil. She was the first reader of all her father's writing, he penned plays which he directed with a local amateur dramatic society. She had written stories, starting with stories of made-up worlds of faeries and princesses and graduating to more mature subjects about the angst of teen-life.

Her father had always encouraged her writing, never once laughing at her efforts, instead pressing her to continue and develop her skills. It was one of her father's plays, though, that had caused the shift in their relationship. The shift that had caused him to withdraw from spending so much time alone with her and which had, she was aware, caused him sleepless nights.

Ellie had rarely performed in any of his productions, preferring instead to act as his assistant, from a tender age happily running around the backstage with a clipboard checking on props and costumes, fetching her Daddy coffee to calm his frayed nerves as opening night neared and the actors proved their dramatic skills with increasing demands.

She had, on occasion, taken on small walk-on parts where a child was required, almost as part of the scenery but appearing on stage. Being under the lights and scrutiny of an audience had never appealed to her. She was much happier backstage, helping others prepare and her Daddy to shine.

Just after her nineteenth birthday her father had been reading his latest script to her and she had felt such an empathy with one of the main characters that she had begged him to consider her for the role. And, at the auditions, it was clear to everyone that she was the best suited to the part.

And so she was cast, by her father, as a young woman driven by the grief of the loss of her young husband into a passionate affair with a much older man. At first there had been no effect on their relationship as her father directed Ellie in her role, critiquing her performance, talking her and her cast mates through the blocks and stage directions.

But gradually Ellie had noticed that her father was spending less time with her at home. She found that when he sought her out, wanting to share a passage from a book she was reading or to ask him to rough-edit some of her writing, he was almost skittish. If her hand brushed his he would leap as though burnt.

At first she had felt hurt by his reactions, thinking that he was disappointed with her acting ability or upset with something she had done. But gradually, as she watched carefully, she found that when directing her in some of the more intimate moments he was increasingly uncomfortable.

That, she decided, was the problem. Her father was having problems dealing with watching his daughter embrace and kiss an older man, even if it was only in the context of a play. She considered asking him to replace her but she was enjoying the rush of being on stage. She was in a quandary about what to do.

Her close relationship with her father had always been so important to her, such a large part of her life. It had been her Daddy who had tucked her into bed each night as far back as she could remember. It had been her father she had called for when she had woken in the night shivering with fear from some nightmare of trolls or dragons. And it was her Daddy she had run to whenever she had been hurt, the touch of his hand on her skin an instant balm. She loved her mother, but she adored her father.

So, she decided, if her father continued to avoid her she would quit the play, return to being his assistant and give the glory of the stage to another. Her relationship with her father was too important to her to risk in any way.

It had been just two days later that she began to realize that it wasn't merely her role in the play causing her father discomfort.

She had been showering one evening before bed, as always singing tunelessly and loudly as the water pounded over her skin. The door was closed but, as always, was unlocked. She had heard a muffled groan as she ran her soapy hands over her small breasts, her long nipples slipping through her fingers, and turned, just in time to see her father slip from the bathroom.

She had been jolted to her core. What had just happened? She really didn't have a clue, shaking her head as she decided that her father must have come into the bathroom unaware of her presence in the shower and had slipped out quietly so as not to embarrass her. The groan, she reasoned, must have been caused by him stubbing his toe as he rushed to leave.

Satisfied that she had solved the puzzle she put it from her mind. She had dried off and wrapped herself in her pink bathrobe; her long hair caught up in a towel as she wandered down to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Her father was sitting at the table, the script for the play open on the table before him. He was drawing lines through huge sections of dialogue, scribbling notes in the margin, muttering under his breath. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice her come into the room.

Seeing that he was working on the play and puzzled that he was re-writing so close to opening night Ellie stood behind him and, sliding her arms around his shoulders, leant down to read his scribbles.

"Fuck! Ellie!" Her father's exclamation came as he jumped to his feet, knocking Ellie sideways onto the floor.

Ellie felt her heart pound and tears spring to her blue eyes as she remained sprawled on the kitchen floor, her eyes wide with shock as she looked up at him.

"Oh God, baby. I am sorry. So sorry." His voice was full of anguish as he rushed to help her to her feet.

Her involuntary wince as his hands came towards her made him close his eyes to block out the sight of his daughter lying on the floor, where he had knocked her, her eyes full of fear and tears.

A million thoughts flitted through Ellie's mind as she watched her father open his eyes and gently reach out to place his hand on her elbow before helping her back to her feet. Her legs shaky, through her shock she fell against him as he walked her to the table where he seated her carefully.

Taking a deep breath to steady her jangling nerves Ellie looked at her father quizzically. "What's up, Daddy?"

There was silence; the sudden tension in the room was palpable as Ellie listened to her father's ragged breathing. He seemed unable to meet her eyes, his gaze instead on her chest. They sat for a moment in silence before Ellie reached out a hand to his, wanting to breach this barrier between them and to have the joyful relationship they had shared return.

As her fingers closed over his Ellie's father dragged his gaze from her chest and shook his head as though trying to bring himself back to his senses. He wrenched his hand from her grasp and with a trembling voice told her it was late before rising from the table, roughly scraping the legs of his chair over the tile floor. He stood for a long moment just looking at her then turned silently and left the room.

Ellie sat in complete confusion. She had no idea what had just happened. No idea what had caused her father to react so violently. Closing her eyes she let her chin fall onto her chest. As her chin touched the skin of her exposed upper chest Ellie opened her eyes and realized that in the melee her robe had gaped open, exposing her naked breasts. And her father had looked, no, had stared at her nakedness for several long moments.

Her father had seen her naked breasts. She flushed with shame as she understood, suddenly, why he had left the room. He was disgusted as her brazen display. He was ashamed of how she had exposed herself, albeit unknowingly.

Ellie pulled the material of her robe tightly closed, retied the knot of the belt, making sure she was modestly covered. She was ashamed of herself, couldn't bear the thought of her father thinking she was so brazen and immodest.

Gathering up his discarded script and notes she decided to seek him out, to apologize and to make him understand it was a mistake, that she hadn't known her robe was open, that she would never have exposed her nakedness to him in that way.

Hearing the sounds of a movie playing on the TV she pushed open the door to the family room. The room, dimly lit with candles and the light from the screen, provided the only illumination. Squinting into the room she saw her mom curled up under a woolen comforter, a box of tissues in hand as she sobbed through another showing of a tear jerker. There was no sign of her father.

"Hey, Mom." Ellie spoke softly so as not to alarm her mother, who was looking intently at the screen.

"Oh, hey sweetie," her mother spoke with a smile and a sniffle, "are you just off to bed?"

"Yeah, I had a shower and think I am going to read for a while in bed."

Laughing softly her mother dragged her eyes from the screen to look towards Ellie for a brief second. "You and your books! Just like your father, you both always have your head buried in a book."

"Night, Mom." Ellie spoke softly, her face flaming with shame as her mother mentioned her father.

"Sleep well, sweetie." Her attention already back on the movie, Ellie's mom blew an absent-minded kiss to her.

"You too, Mom." Closing the door gently Ellie thought for a moment about where her father could be. She shook her head as she realized that there was really only one place he would be. The same place he always was when he wasn't in the family room. His study.

Study was actually a very grand name for the room, but it had been called "Daddy's Study" for so long that it no longer seemed incongruous. It was actually a spare bedroom which was crammed to capacity with shelves full to overflowing with just some of his many books. There was also a small desk where he spent many hours hunched over a laptop on his latest labor of love.

She smiled fondly as she thought of the many hours she had spent sprawled on her tummy, reading or scribbling in her notebooks, as he tapped furiously on the keys as he wrote. He would pause from time to time, either to seek her advice, showing his respect for her opinions or to ask her to read him some of her words.

They had always enjoyed each other's company and she didn't want that to end.

Taking a deep steadying breath she climbed the stairs, heading to the study which was situated at the back of the house. Passing her own bedroom she paused to open the door and turn on the bedside lamp, setting the papers she was carrying down on her bed.

Starting back to the hallway she paused, closed the door and slipped her robe from her shoulders. Walking naked to the dresser she selected a t-shirt style nightie which she pulled over her head before putting her bathrobe back on, making sure to tie the belt securely. Her hand absently touched her upper chest, still exposed by the cut of the robe but now carefully covered in the soft cotton of her nightdress.

Satisfied that her modesty was secure she crossed the room and opened the door to seek out her father. As she passed her parents' bedroom she noticed the door was ajar and the light was on. Knocking gently she waited to hear her father's voice bid her to enter. There was no reply.

Knocking again, she waited for a few moments then peered around the door. Her father was not there. His clothes, however, were. The jeans and shirt he had been wearing just minutes earlier were lying discarded on the floor. Listening carefully she knew that the shower was not running, meaning her father was not in the adjoining bathroom.

Shrugging she decided he must be in his study after all. She walked down the hallway and saw that the door was ajar, and as with his bedroom, the light was on. Knocking had never been necessary when Ellie entered her father's study so, even now, with the shame of her accidental exposure still burning on her cheeks it didn't enter her mind to knock.

As she entered the room Ellie would have given anything to have thought to knock.

Her father was sitting, slouched low, in his chair. His eyes closed, the bathrobe he was now wearing gaping open as his hand slid up and down his very hard cock. He was sitting with his side to the door, giving Ellie a clear view of the length of his erection.

Stifling her gasp Ellie stepped back, standing just on the other side of the door as her father, totally unaware of her presence, continued to slide his fist along his shaft. Frozen with shock, not wanting to embarrass her father, Ellie didn't know what to do.

Should she make a sound, to let him know she was approaching and give him time to cover up before she went into the room? But, she wondered, how could she disguise her feelings? Her father had always been able to tell what she was thinking, always knew when she was hiding something. Surely, he would be able to read the shock on her face, she thought.

Just then a low groan from her father startled her. Listening from just behind the door she could hear his breathing grow ragged and labored. She could even hear the sounds of his hand sliding furiously over his slick cock, wet with his pre-cum.

And she heard something else.

She heard him groan a name as he came.

"Ellie."

Her father groaned her name as he shot his come over his fist.

She let out a low cry of distress, of surprise, of complete shock. Turning on her heel she had dashed to the safety of her room and closed the door, having the presence of mind to close it quietly and not slam it as she leant against it with her heart pounding.

A multitude of thoughts crowded her mind. Her Daddy had been jerking off thinking about her. Her Daddy had looked at her naked breasts. He had been uncomfortable around her for some weeks. He pushed her away when she tried to affectionately hug him as she had done all her life. She had felt a bulge in his crotch as she had thrown herself playfully at him on his return from work. He had not been himself around her for so long now that it was almost hard to pinpoint the moment it had changed.

Shaking her head, trying hard to make sense of all that had been happening, Ellie threw herself onto her bed. Burrowing her face into her pillow she lay with her heart pounding. She felt tears come to her eyes, confusion coursing through her.

What was happening? Why was her Daddy acting this way?

Shifting slightly she heard the rustle of papers. The script her father had been working on when she disturbed him in the kitchen. Sitting up she gathered them into a bundle, leaning over to set them down on the bedside table.

Mid-reach she paused. Maybe reading his notes, seeing the changes he was making to the script would help her understand what was happening. Sniffing and rubbing her nose on the sleeve of her robe she wiped her eyes and sorted the papers from the bundle they had become.

Huge sections of dialogue were scored out with replacement notes scribbled in her father's familiar handwriting. Leaning towards the light Ellie read the amendments and immediately felt her heart clench.

Her father had rewritten sections of the play, changing the reactions from the older man to the young woman. No longer was he trying to seduce her but instead was now telling her how their relationship could never be, how it was wrong.

But that wasn't what made her gasp.

In the rewritten dialogue the character was no longer addressed as "Jennifer", now she was "Ellie".

Reading it again, Ellie realized that these words came from his heart, as all her father's words did. But these words were telling of his feelings for her. Through the character he was declaring his love for her, his desire for her, and of his struggle to subdue those feelings.

Ellie held the papers in numb hands as she let the implications of the new dialogue sink in.

Did her father desire her? Did her father have sexual feelings for her?

She shook her head. This couldn't be how her Daddy thought of her. The words on the pages were the words of a tortured man, one who was struggling with feelings he declared "wrong" and "unnatural". But one who was failing to convince even himself.

Her heart clenched as she thought of the torment her father must be enduring. Her heart hurt for him in a way she had never thought possible. She loved her Daddy with all her heart, but he was her Daddy. This relationship he was writing about could never be.

Suddenly she realized that if her father discovered she had read these scribbled words he would know she knew of his feelings. And she knew the shame of that would destroy him. And she could never be a party to his destruction. She leapt from the bed and pulled open her bedroom door, glancing towards his study to make sure she would not be seen as she returned the papers to the kitchen.

Running lightly down the stairs she scattered the papers over the table, taking a moment to try to simulate the way they had been when she had gathered them up. Feeling her heart pounding as though it was about to jump through her chest, she hurried back to her room and closed the door in relief as she heard the sounds of her father moving around in his study.

Throwing her robe over the chair she climbed into bed and pulled the comforter around her face, her heart still racing and her breathing fast and shallow. She lay rigid in her bed, not knowing what to think or feel as she heard the sounds of her mother coming upstairs, closing the door to her bedroom and the sounds of the house settling.

Despite her determination that she would never sleep, Ellie felt her eyes flutter closed as the heaviness of sleep overcame her, taking her thoughts and concerns away.

Ellie's eyes opened with a start. She looked at the illuminated face of her bedside clock and saw that she had been asleep for several hours. She listened carefully and heard a creak as her bedroom door was slowly and carefully opened. Screwing her eyes closed she feigned sleep as her father crept across the deep pile of the rug to stand at the side of her bed.