An Officer and a Gentle Dad Ch. 01

He pulls his mouth away and tilts his head onto the back of the sofa. I can tell he is wrestling with himself. While his brain is strong, his hand rubs my inner thigh, teasing the opening of my shorts. He slides his finger into the edge of my panties. I squirm on him, the tantalizing pressure too much to bear. I want his finger inside me. His penis grows harder at my hip, and I want that inside me.

He feels the pool I have released for him. "Oh baby, you're so wet. I want you so bad."

Something snaps in dad, and he's the military man I've never seen. He lifts me off him, stands ramrod straight, and says he needs to leave. Before I have time to say goodbye, much less kiss him on the cheek, he is out the door. I'm still wet and wondering what I did wrong.

6. Temporary Assigned Duty

It takes me a full day to unpack all the stuff dad bought me. Every item makes me think of him and what fun it was to spend the day together. When I get to the black swimsuit I laugh; I can't believe he insisted on paying good money for this thing. Then again, the bikini is skimpy, and I'm exposed in it.

The next day, I put on the black swimsuit and take an Uber to the beach.

I miss dad and wonder what he's up to. Is he even still in town, or did he already leave on TAD? That's my excuse to text him.

"Hi, where are you?"

I stare at the phone for a solid five minutes. Nothing. Radio silence. I guess he can't get to the phone, or he doesn't want to. I kill time applying sunscreen for the tenth time.

I practically fall into the sand when I hear the phone ding.

"Hey, sweetheart. How are you?"

I pause, take a deep breath. "Good. You?"

"Same here."

"Are you still in town?"

"Nope, out on TAD. Looks like it'll be about a month."

"That seems like forever. When you're missing someone."

"Yes it does."

"I hope you're someplace sunny and tropical."

"Sunny, yes. Tropical, no." He adds a bikini emoji.

"Speaking of which, I haven't worn the bikini."

"Good girl. The one I got you is much more appropriate."

I send an eye-roll emoji. Then I take a selfie in the black swimsuit and send it to him.

Five minutes go by. Ten minutes.

"If you don't say something, I'm wearing the bikini tomorrow. On the beach. Where the SEALs train."

He sends an immediate response. "You look beautiful. Please don't wear the bikini in public. Especially not around my brethren."

"What's wrong with your brethren? Aren't they gentlemen like you?"

"None of us are gentlemen when we see a woman like you in a bikini like that."

I tease him. "So I can't even wear the bikini around you?"

No response.

I'm running out of things to say. I miss you. I want you. I think about you every minute of every day. And not in the way a daughter should think about her father.

I finally write the only thing that comes to mind. "What are you wearing?"

"That sounds like a come-on."

"Only if you want it to be."

He sends me a picture of himself in camos. He looks hot. Really hot.

I can't be jokey anymore. "You look good."

"You look good too."

"I miss you."

"I miss you too."

I decide to dive in. "About that night on my sofa. I don't regret a thing."

Three little dots go back and forth, back and forth, for what seems like forever. "Me neither."

I guess we got that cleared up. I'm out of things to say. "I love you. Be safe."

"I love you too."

7. The Beach Party

Allison wastes no time meeting new friends and already has an invitation to the biggest party of the season. I'm excited to go, but I've never been to a college party. I'm curious about the details.

"So what kind of beach party is it?"

"It's on the beach."

I laugh. "I gathered that."

"There will be guys, guys, and more guys."

I'm excited. "What are you going to wear?"

"A bikini, duh."

***

When the day of the party arrives, Allison emerges from her room wearing a bright pink bikini with a barely-there white miniskirt. She looks adorable, but everything about her screams Party Girl.

I have on the black one-piece dad got me and a jeans skirt. Allison rolls her eyes at me. "What are you wearing?"

"A swimsuit. My dad got it for me."

"Um, no. Your dad is hot and all, but this is a college party, not a barbecue for your dad's crowd. Do you have a bikini?"

"Yeah, but it's tiny. Dad would kill me if I wore it in public."

Allison is nothing if not pushy. "What else is a bikini for? Go put it on. I'll be the judge of whether it's appropriate."

I haven't put the white bikini on since the dressing room. I forgot how cute it is on me—and how small. I walk out into the living room, and Allison lets out a low whistle. "Girl, I am jealous. That's a hell of a bikini. You're wearing that."

I'm self-conscious like crazy in it. "Are you sure it's not too. . ."

"It's perfect. Throw your skirt on. Let's go."

***

Allison is right: the party is crawling with guys. A lot of them look too old to be college guys, and they offer us beers before we even have a chance to put our bags down. It takes me two beers before I'm comfortable taking my skirt off. The bikini draws a lot of attention, and one guy, Lucas, won't stop putting his arm around me. He's a funny guy and cracks jokes that keep the party fun. His buddies Bryan and Carl hang around us too, and they're more aggressive—trying to get us to take off our tops and slapping our butts when we say something funny.

I'm too buzzed to care that they're super touchy, and Allison takes funny pictures of Bryan giving me a piggy back ride, Lucas and I fake kissing, Carl bent over me pretending to grope my chest. The pictures look worse than reality, and we all laugh when Allison shows us the shots she got.

She has an eye for photography and takes an amazing picture of me standing alone in front of the ocean while the sun is setting. The bikini's so small, it looks like I'm naked, but it's an artistic and beautiful shot.

Allison gets a mischievous look on her face. "We need to send this sunset shot to your dad."

"My dad? Why would I send that to him?"

"Because, it's a beautiful picture. If I were a parent worried about my daughter's first semester at college, I'd want to know she's having fun."

That's a good point, and it is a great shot. "Ok, text it to me, and I'll send it to him when I get to my phone."

Allison wants to send the picture now. "Give me his number, and I'll send it now."

I give her his number and don't give it a second thought, except to hope he'll like it.

8. Dad Loses His Cool

I wake up at 2 a.m. to my phone ringing. Who would call at this hour? I see it's my dad, and I'm excited. It's the first time he's called me since he's been away.

"Daddy!"

His tone is far from happy. "Melanie, what are these pictures?"

"Isn't that a pretty picture? Allison took it while the sun was setting."

"I'm not concerned about that one. I mean all these photos of you and the men groping you."

Oh shit. Allison sent him all the pictures.

"Dad, it was the first big college party of the year. There were tons of people. We were joking around and having fun."

"Those aren't college guys. Those are military men who crashed your party. And they weren't there to have fun. Did you take them home?"

"What? No! Are you crazy?"

Thousands of miles away, he lets out a breath I didn't know he had been holding.

"Dad, are you there?"

"I'm here. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I saw those pictures and lost my mind. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Nothing happened. We joked around with them for a while, then Allison saw a group of girls she knew, and we spent the rest of the party hanging out with them."

"Melanie, don't take this the wrong way, but you're young and naïve. Guys like that prey on girls like you. Promise me you'll stay away from those guys."

He's confusing me. "Guys like what? What are you talking about?"

"Older guys. Guys in general. Be careful."

"You can trust me. You know that."

"It's not you I don't trust. Also, don't tell anyone you're a virgin."

"What? Why? Shouldn't I be proud of the fact I'm taking my time?"

His sigh comes out sounding more like a growl. "Some guys consider it a score to take a girl's virginity."

I'm sick to my stomach. "Oh god."

"Your first time should be special, with someone you love who loves you back."

I feel like he's talking about us. "Who should that person be?"

He stays in dad mode. "You'll meet some man, and it'll feel right."

"What if I've already met him?"

"You never know."

I challenge him. "What if I'm sitting on his lap, kissing him, feeling my body respond, feeling his body respond, and I know it's right."

Dad's voice grows deep and husky. "Melanie, this isn't fair."

Something unleashes in me. "No, what isn't fair is pretending like it never happened. You call me and tell me to stay away from other men, but I'm not allowed to be with the one man I want to be with. That's what's not fair."

He lets out a breath of air. "I'll be home in a couple weeks. Let's talk about this then."

"Fine. It's late here. I need to get back to sleep."

"Ok, sweetheart. I'm sorry I'm making things confusing. I love you. And I meant what I said that evening."

He hangs up before I can respond. He just made things way more confusing.

9. Friction

Dad waits a week before calling me again. I miss him and worry about his safety. But when he calls, I act like a brat, and I don't know why.

"Hi sweetheart."

"Hi Dad."

"How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Ok. Training, missing you."

"Dad. . ."

"I'm sorry. I'll stop saying things like that."

"It doesn't help."

I'm learning he's a master at changing the subject. "Have you gotten to see the city yet?"

"No. I've spent most of the days at the beach. It's pretty here."

"And the nights?"

"Hanging out with new friends."

"Tell me you're staying away from those men."

He can't see me roll my eyes. "You're making me crazy."

"I'm sorry, I can't help but be a dad."

"Are you being a dad, or are you being jealous?"

"Melanie, I can't have this conversation right now."

"Fine."

"Don't be angry with me. All I can tell you is I miss you. I think about you all the time."

"What do you think about when you think about me?"

"Oh, god, Melanie, are we going to do this?"

"Do what? Be real with each other? We should be."

"Ok. Fine. I think about what a beautiful young woman you've become. I think about your hand on my stomach, what you asked me, and how I wanted to say yes. I think about you in my lap, how good your lips tasted, and how close I came to laying you down on that sofa. I think about the fact you're my daughter, and I'm ashamed and embarrassed of myself for the way I feel about you."

I'm breathing too hard to respond. My nipples are small pearls, and I'm going to need to change my wet panties.

"Melanie, are you there?"

"Yes."

"Did I go too far?"

"No."

"Don't leave me hanging here. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I feel the same way."

We hang on the line for a minute and listen to each other breathe, thousands of miles away. I break the silence.

"Daddy, I need to get back to sleep. I love you."

"I love you too. Sweet dreams."

It takes me forever to get back to sleep. I can't believe I'm falling in love with my dad.

10. Nightie

Allison is nothing if not a trouble maker.

"Melanie, who's calling you late at night?"

"My dad. He's on duty somewhere far away, so our nighttime is his daytime."

"Do you tell him he's waking you up?"

"He knows that. But I want to talk to him."

"Do you tell him he's waking your roomie up?"

"I didn't realize he was waking you up."

Allison gets a naughty grin on her face. "Tell you what. We'll take a picture of what I look like when I'm sleeping and send it to him, then you can tell him he's waking me up."

She races in her room and comes tearing out with the skimpiest pale pink nightie I've ever seen.

"No way."

She's still grinning. "Remember, I have his number in my phone."

I feel sick. And jealous. She's going to send my dad a picture of her in her nightie.

Allison backs off. "Tell you what, how about we send your dad a picture of you wearing this, so he knows what you look like when he wakes you up?"

"I don't know, that's pretty intense."

A nasty side to Allison emerges.

"Look, Melanie, it's you or me. Who do you want it to be?"

Oh god. I don't want it to be Allison. I grab her nightie and put it on.

For all her negative qualities, Allison has a good eye with the camera. She takes a crazy-sexy shot of me lounging on my bed, then stands over me to make sure I text it to my dad. I can't believe I'm sending it to him, but it's less revealing than the bikini photos, and he's already got a dozen of those.

***

I turn my ringer off because I don't want Allison to know he calls. I pick up as soon as it vibrates.

"Melanie, what is this?"

"It's a long story."

He lets out a noncommittal grunt.

I owe him an explanation. "Remember my roommate, the one who sent you the pictures from the party? The photo I sent you today was her idea."

Again, he gives me no sense of what he's thinking. "Hmm."

"It's her nightie."

"Mm-hm."

"Dad, don't you have anything more to say?"

"Melanie, I don't know what to say."

Do you like it?"

There's a long pause over the many miles. "Sweetheart, you look beautiful."

"Thank you Daddy."

"But you can't send me that kind of stuff."

"Didn't you like it?"

There's that long pause again. "I love it."

"Then what did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just hard to keep my head clear when you send me something like this."

"What's not clear?"

"That you're my daughter."

"Of course I'm your daughter. That's why you're calling me at 2 in the morning."

"Sweetheart, the issue isn't that you're my daughter. The issue is I shouldn't be having the thoughts I have."

"Like what?"

"Like—things I can't put into words."

"But I need to hear you say it. What things?"

"Like taking that nightie off you."

I let my voice drop. "And then what would you do?"

His voice mirrors mine. "I would show you what making love is all about."

I'm insistent. "I want you to show me how to make love."

Dad hesitates. "I want to be your first."

"I want you to be my first too."

"The idea that some other guy might be kills me."

"I want you to be my last too."

"Sweetheart, you're too young to know that."

"I'm a woman. I know how I feel. I know that when I touch myself at night, I think of you."

I hear nothing except his breath for what seems like hours.

"Dad, are you there?"

When he speaks, he sounds pained. "I wish I could be there to touch you."

"Me too."

"Sweetheart, I hate myself for asking this, but are you going to touch yourself tonight?"

"Would you like me to?"

"Yes. Tell me what you'll do."

"I'll hold myself until my nipples get hard. Then I'll rub my panties until they're wet."

"Oh god. What else?"

"I'll picture you, the time we were on the sofa, and how I wanted your finger further inside my panties."

"Sweetheart, what else?"

"I'll imagine you're on top of me. I'll pant and moan your name until I ache so bad I have to stop."

"Have you ever put your finger inside yourself?"

"No."

"Have you ever rubbed inside your panties?"

"No."

"Oh my god. Sweetheart. I have so much to teach you."

"Daddy, I can't wait."

"Me too, baby."

"I love you."

"Sweet dreams. I love you too."

11. A New Home

Dad calls a week later, and I'm not my usual happy self.

"Melanie, what's going on?"

I'm trying to sound brave; I don't want to add to his troubles. "Allison moved out with no warning. She moved back to New Jersey and never gave me a head's up or any explanation. I'm stuck with the rent, utilities, everything, and I can't find a new roommate before the next rent comes due."

Dad is a problem solver. "Melanie, don't worry, this is an easy fix. Maria left me with a big, empty house. I'll send some guys over to move you in to one of my spare bedrooms. Your rent is month-to-month which means you can cancel now. If the landlord gives you a hard time, call me."

"Are you sure? I feel like I'm imposing."

"After eight years of living on different coasts, you can live with me for a while."

We leave unspoken the implications of living together. For now, I'm thrilled to have my housing situation solved. And even more thrilled to get to be closer to dad.

"When do you get home?"

"About a week. Please don't trash my house between now and then." I can sense him winking over the phone.

"I can't wait to see you."

"I can't wait to see you too. I'll have guys at your place around 7 a.m. to move you."

"Thanks Dad. I love you."

"I love you, baby."

12. Homecoming

Dad's house is amazing. It's much better than living in an apartment off campus. Maria took half of anything that wasn't nailed down, so it's good I have the stuff dad bought me.

There are three bedrooms, and the master bedroom is, of course, the best. I spend the first evening rolling around in dad's sheets and smelling him on his pillow. I can tell which side of the bed he sleeps on by his musky scent. Finally, I decide no one's looking, so I spend the nights in his bed. Even though he's too far away for too long, sleeping where he sleeps makes me feel closer to him.

After I've been in his house for a week, dad calls me to tell me he's coming home. I go for an extra-long run to try to pound out some anxiety.

I've decided to make him dinner. I'm not much of a cook, so I keep it simple in hopes it will taste good. Yikes did I plan wrong.

Dad's half Sicilian and loves Italian food. Easy. I'm going to make spaghetti with a jar of marinara sauce, a few frozen meatballs, and a head of broccoli.

I get three pots on—two filled with water for the spaghetti and the broccoli, and one with the sauce. Figuring simplicity is best, I start all three pots at once and crank them all to high. By the time the waters are boiling, the sauce is bubbling everywhere. The stovetop and my t-shirt are a mess. I throw in the pasta and the veggies. A few minutes in, I realize I forgot to set the timer, so I set it, and try to adjust how long the pasta has already been cooking. Meanwhile, I can't get the sauce to stop bubbling, and I have giant orange circles all over my white t-shirt and across the counter.

When the timer goes off, I pour the spaghetti in a colander, and it comes out in one giant gelatinous mess. Inedible. I try to drain the broccoli into a separate bowl, and it is years overcooked, falling apart into little flakes that look like green potato starch.

I hear dad's key in the door, and that's when I realize I forgot the meatballs, still lying frozen in their bag. Ugh, what a homecoming disaster.

He opens the door, inhales, and says, "Mmm, I'm starving."

Lucky for both of us, there's a good pizza parlor around the corner.

He looks even better than I remembered, even better than the camo selfie I've look at a thousand times. Throwing myself at him, I wrap my long legs around his waist and press my cheek against his. But he's in full dad mode. "Whoa, champ. I need a shower. And food."

I've been waiting for him for so long—it's hard to be eclipsed by a shower and dinner. Maybe he's changed his mind. Maybe he doesn't remember. I remember everything—the late-night phone calls, the evening on the sofa, the photos and words that aren't usually exchanged between a father and his daughter. But dad's acting like none of it ever happened.