At the Gras...

"Yes and yes. Guilty as charged."

"What do you know! And I wouldn't have pegged you for a day over twenty-five."

"Flatterer!" Playfully, I gave her taut nipple a little squeeze. "If I were, though, I wouldn't let you out of my sight for the week."

She giggled. "What's her name? Your daughter's?"

"Ron - Veronica."

"Well," Mary started to kiss my lips even as she was speaking, "I could pretend to be Veronica, Jack. If she ain't lucky enough, you know..."

Mary and I kissed, and by the time we pulled apart, someone had already tied my wife's hands and legs with strips of cloth. June stared at me with venom in her eyes, but I returned her glare smugly. After all, I was having the time of my life, treating my wife in the same shitty manner she had come to treat me, and the way I was being fawned over ought to make any man proud.

Mary tugged at my wife's bra, and it came out after a couple of tries. Without the use of her arms and feet, June was a defeated woman. I chided myself for being a sadist as I saw her close her eyes as Mary brought a lighted candle and tipped its wax over her left nipple.

"Oooowwww!" the scream was really pathetic to hear, but thankfully, Mary had enough presence of mind to gag her with her own bra. She turned to me with a mischievious smile.

"You told us she liked this..."

I shrugged, returning her smile.

"You liar... One day, I might just punish you..."

"I'll be waiting," I promised as I walked away.

The crowd had really picked up the beat by now, and there were more topless women on the platform. Some of the really wild ones threw away their clothes and danced along the platform, picked up by the hundreds of small video cams that everyone knew were present and no one wanted to expose.

It was just gut instinct that made me turn into the mall halfway down the Mardi Gras parade. This was one of the hottest haunts even on off-days, and maybe, just maybe, my daughter was there. It was no worse than searching along the main route, I reasoned.

"Dad?"

Pay dirt!

I turned around to find a very perplexed Veronica, obviously because her father would have been among the last of the people she would have expected to run into on this kind of an occasion. She wasn't alone though; with her was her best friend of five years, a brunette called Sasha, and thankfully, both were fully clothed.

"Hi Ronnie!" I smiled at my only child.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"But how did you - I mean, I told you - how?"

"Saw you on TV," I said simply.

"Oh."

Silence.

Rather than rail at her, or, contradictorily, support her freedom of choice, I decided I would wait for her to speak. She had to deal with this entirely her way, leading it towards any direction she saw fit. It would be a valuable practice for her, for life is such that you often get to make the most difficult of decisions, not others.

In the meantime, while she was pondering her defense, I checked her out. She was just a head shorter than I, taking after her mother's dirty 'Blondie' look that reached down below her shoulder blades. Her eyebrows, though, were dark, closer to red than to yellow, and it sometimes gave her an exotic look. The gold loops that were her earrings complemented the softness of her face. Her lips... I tried to ignore them. For some reason, they had always had this quality of making me want to taste them, to find out if they did taste as sweet as the cherries whose color they so patently matched.

My daughter was dressed in a gray tee-shirt that was now pulled down over the waistband of her skirt - the last time I saw her, it struck me, the very same t-shirt had been bunched around her neck as she had bared her chest for the world to see. The thin skirt swayed about her, conservatively covering her legs when she was still but flaring out to show off her thighs the moment she moved.

"Re." Caught unawares, I shifted my focus hastily back to her face.

"I am sorry," I mumbled, "What did you say?"

"That's exactly what I said," Ronnie replied, a little edge in her voice as she attempted to melt me with her smile. "I am sorry."

"For what, young woman?"

She smacked her lips, embarrassed. "I lied to you."

"So..."

"Dad, I am so sorry! I shouldn't have lied to you... I was afraid you wouldn't let me come."

"What did you think I would have done, ground you for asking? Is that how I've treated you?" I asked, allowing a little hurt to show.

"No," she looked down at the floor, voice quivering now, "But I didn't want you to think that I was being loose, Daddy - just a little fun."

Looking at her sorry form, I lost any resolve I might have encouraged to scold her. She was sorry - either that, or she deserved an Oscar. I placed my hands on her shoulders and squeezed her gently. "Baby, Daddy's angry you lied to me," I had to make that part certain, "But he's glad you stopped at that. And, Ron...?"

She looked up at me, eyes moist, and my heart went out for her. I had been her age once; sure, I knew what she was going through. "Yes, Daddy?"

"How do you think I knew you were here?"

For a moment, her beautiful face creased into a puzzled frown. "You said you saw me... on TV." Silence. Realization. Enlightenment. "That means... you were watching the Parade, weren't you?"

I took my hands off her for just a brief second, to signal surrender, and then they were back on her shoulders. "Guilty as charged."

"Cool!" For the first time that evening, I heard Sasha speak. Ronnie grinned at her friend, and then turned to me, pretending to be shocked. "You don't say..."

Before I could reply to that, Ronnie surprised me by going up on tiptoes and kissing me on my lips.

At that instant, something changed. I cannot define it, for neither was the moment nor was the sensation quantitative, but because it fell in the space between a father-daughter kiss and a lover-lover kiss. Not this, but not exactly that. You have to experience it to understand it.

And then I felt her tongue, for just the fraction of an instant, brush my lips... and that was the end of the kiss...

"Wow!" which was accurately how eloquent I suddenly felt, "What was that?"

She smiled warmly at me. "For being such a great Dad!"

"If you two can just hold that pose," Sasha broke in, the third voice sounding a little harsh to me - and that was mainly because I realized I could never have enough of hearing my daughter talk - "I think I can snap some quickies."

That was the first time that evening that I noticed that Sasha had a digital camera with her, a compact Yashica - or Nikon, I am not sure now - and had it aimed at us. Apparently, she was just one of the few hundreds who would be recording this year's Parade for posterity, and she must have thought that a sensitive father-daughter moment was one of those worth immortalizing. True, I would never forget the smile of relief on my daughter's face...

Sasha snapped off a couple even as we turned to face the camera, and before we knew it, she was barking out poses and we, my daughter and I, were dancing to her tune. Finally, after the sixth or the seventh shot, Sasha asked us to hug each other.

Ronnie was the first to catch on, and she smiled brightly as she threw her arms around me, pressing herself to me in a flash. By the time I realized that she would feel my hard-on, she had already felt it; her face grew red as she jumped away, staring at my poking crotch. "WHAT was THAT?"

I felt myself flush with embarrassment at having been caught so much on the wrong foot, and was almost ready to apologize when it struck me that the two females were laughing their heads off. I attempted a weak smile, seeking to remove any suspicion that either of them had caused it. In my hearts, though, I knew that my daughter had, indeed, been the single-handed cause, and for that, conscience bothered me.

"I can explain," I began, not sure how much of it would sink in for Ronnie and Sasha.

"What's to explain?" Ronnie cut me off with a wry grin. "I know a winner - or should I say weenie," and Sasha broke up at that, "When I feel one, and that, daddy, requires no explanation."

"Yeah," Sasha added, still giggling wildly, "Not unless Ronnie caused it!"

My face froze. Guilt.

Ronnie noticed it. Her face hardened the next second.

"Oh my God! I did that?"

For some reason, Sasha bent over laughing when she heard that. My silence was a damning indictment, and even as Ronnie and I just stared at each other, one surprised, another sorry, my daughter's best friend managed to cry out, "That is so funny!"

"SASHA!" my daughter growled.

Still doubled over, Sasha mumbled something about being sorry before laughing again. And to this day, while I'll never know for sure whether it was intentional or not, it did have the desired effect - Ronnie started to laugh at the situation. Relieved, I joined her.

"Did Ronnie ever tell you that she masturbates about you once in a week?"

This time, it was Ronnie's turn for her smile to freeze on her face. And mine had all the glamour of a fish fresh out of water. Gaping, I managed to ask, "What?"

"Don't you dare -" my daughter began, but Sasha continued as if there was nothing wrong about revealing your best friend's secrets.

"You heard me, didn't you, Jack -" we had dropped the Mr. Mathew bit long ago - "Your daughter, your darling Veronica, has a huge crush on you. In other words, you form the backbone of her sexual fantasies... why, she even gets off when Tony pretends he is you."

"Damn, Sasha, you are gonna pay..." Her face red with fury - or embarrassment, I am not sure - Ronnie lunged at her best friend. Expecting such an attack, however, Sasha moved away in the nick of time and ran down the corridor, and it was only then that I noticed that the floor was practically deserted. There were groups here and there, but there was not a hint of the characteristic hustle and bustle of a mall. The shops were open though, a fact my wallet would come to regret a few minutes later.

The two were racing around the corridor now. I was impressed by the way Ronnie was cutting the distance shorter between her and Sasha, but things went awry when, while making a sharp turn, Ronnie slipped. Sasha and I were by her side in an instant.

Veronica smiled sweetly at me. "No bones broken," she remarked, turning to Sasha. "Which is more than I can say when I get my hands on you, you squealing pussy!"

"Oh, really?" replied the feisty girl, "You and what army?"

"Me... and Dad."

"In that case," Sasha quipped, "I don't have to worry about a thing. The minute you two get together, baby, I've got a feeling someone's got to tell you to stop all that screaming."

Even before I had gathered the sexual innuendo, my daughter rose to the bait. "You should know all about that, given that you invite me over for a night and then spend it screaming your head off when your dad reams you..."

"At least," Sasha managed a very serious expression, "I don't deny that I like it - or even the fact that we do it. Unlike some people here who let their daddies slide their hands into their skirts..."

The warm flesh of my daughter's waist, which I had been rubbing absently, stung my fingers at once, and I jerked my hand out of her skirt. True, I hadn't gone beyond a fatherly instinct to rub her pain away, but in the light of the admissions, and particularly those comments of Sasha, my relationship, I would realize later, with my daughter changed forever.

"Wait a minute," I figured offence was the best form of any defense, "Do you actually sleep with your father?"

"Every other night," Sasha claimed smugly. "When Mom's home. If she's on a trip or something, we take an entire day off just to try out new things... don't get me wrong, Jack, I'm not queer or anything, and Dad's not a perv either. It's just that the sex is so good we talked Mom into letting us be. Dad can have me whenever he wants me - I can have him even if he is about to make out with Mom.

"It's quite a nice arrangement, you know. Maybe you should try it?"

"No, thanks," Ronnie and I shouted out in unison.

Sasha grinned. "See. You two are connecting already..."

I helped my daughter back on her feet. She gave her hip a wiggle to see if anything felt broken; to me, it looked about as sublime as the sex-dances outside.

"What now?" my daughter asked. "And where's Mom? I don't think she would have let you come here all on your own."

"You know her too well," I began, then went on to tell my daughter how her mother was, probably, at the very moment, being gangbanged out on the streets by punks less than half her age. Not wanting to appear sadistic, however, I edited my role with the whole affair, juicing up my wife's insolence, and by the time I finished, it was my daughter who had a bigger smile.

"Serves that slut right."

"Watch your tongue, dear", I warned, but not really meaning it, "She is your mother."

"Okay," nodded my daughter, "How 'bout 'it serves that two-timing wife of yours right'?"

We all laughed at that, myself included. Of course, I told myself, Ronnie had been more accurate in her description the first time. "And it's quite ironic, you know, she was calling you a slut."

Sasha chuckled. "If she knew what you guys know, I wonder what she would call me."

"Probably her twin sister," my daughter joked. "But what about the keys, Dad? You told me when you left her, my dear mother didn't have a stitch of clothing on her..."

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a set of keys. "There were a couple of cops who warned us, so I decided I would hold on to these."

We looked at each other for some time, a temporary lull in conversation as the irrepressible Sasha checked out a newly-arrived gang of half-naked girls and boys. Presently, Ronnie spoke. "Well, I guess it's time to go back home, huh Daddy?"

It was an unplanned deviation, but I figured all of us needed a really good break. At my wife's expense, of course. I reached into my pockets once again and pulled out two credit cards. "Only if you want to, Hun, but I am sure your mother would be real disappointed if we didn't break these in today..."

The two girls cheered as they snatched the cards away from my hands. "How much can we spend, Daddy?" Ronnie asked.

"Max them," I said, feeling very naughty. "After all, it's June's cards. I'm sure she wouldn't mind spending a little on the two of you."

"Me too, Jack? That's so sweet." Sasha was quite surprised at my 'generous' gesture.

"Well, I don't there are enough things here for Ron to burn up two credits all on her own... she's gonna need some serious help."

"What can we buy, Daddy?"

"Anything," I told her, meaning anything.

"Can I - uh, you know - buy some clothes, Daddy?"

"Of course, what sort of a question is that?"

"What she means, Jack, is that she is looking for something to wear under. Like as in silky bra and panties, transparent negligees, little-duckling knickers... maybe even a stocking or two, throw in a garter belt..."

"Jesus," I pretended to be shocked, "You are making her sound like a 20th century whore."

"Definitely not," Sasha explained. "You can't turn a nice girl like her into a whore -"

"My mother's one," Ronnie pointed out.

Sasha shook her head. “You ain't got the itch for it, you know, you are more a stay-at-home-and-I'll-love-my-daddy type. Which explains the sexy underwear you've been planning to buy, doesn't it?"

"You are so gross," Ronnie was clearly flustered by the way her friend kept propping me up as a centerpiece.

"So are you when you drool at him," Sasha looked at me pointedly. This was turning out to be quite embarrassing for me, so I decided to change the topic.

"Like I said, anything your heart desires, you can buy it."

"Even whips, chains and handcuffs?" Sasha asked, hopefulness in her voice. "Mom's been getting too bossy lately, and Dad and I are planning to pull her down by a couple of pegs."

"Whatever!"

"Thank you so much, Jack, you're too cool." With that, she threw her arms around me, as if in abandon, and started kissing me. With a beautiful girl in your arms, in a state of arousal, with your daughter looking on to add to the lustiness, and if the girl was kissing you fiercely, AND if you can push her away... you are not human.

So I did the only thing I could. I grabbed Sasha's ass, pressing her to me, and kissed back, instinctively knowing that the girl loved her kisses hard and furious, proceeding until I tasted a drop of her blood. She moaned loudly.

"Cut it out, you two," Ronnie, jealous (?), played the spoilsport. "That's my father, in case you've forgotten, Sasha dear." Sarcasm reigned her tone.

Pulling her face away, Sasha grinned at her friend with all the satisfaction that can be expressed without words. "Well, my dear Ronnie, you can have him once you get home. Why don't you learn to share?"

"Have him... share?" My daughter sputtered. "Haven't you the hell realized anything?"

"Cool down," Sasha was calm. "Your father deserves a kiss. A big one foe being such a great guy, and if you are not going to oblige him, I am more than happy to. Besides, it's not like I stole your boyfriend or anything." Touche.

Ronnie, too angry to realize that her friend was making her do exactly what she was trying to avoid, stared at Sasha. Then, without a word, she walked up to me, bumped the 'other woman' away, and - this is the moment that remains forever etched in my memory - smacked her lips before tilting her face and kissing me with twice the passion and intensity her friend had shown.

Or was it that, because I was kissing my Princess, I felt a higher sensitivity to those things?

I closed my eyes as I felt her lips press against mine, her crotch colliding rather solidly against my erection, and the only thing I saw with my eyes closed as I kissed her back were those luscious red lips heading towards me. Everything else paled into the background.

I could feel her nipples, pointed and hard, press against my chest.

I could feel the warmth across my pants, across her skirt, across her panties... I could feel her arousal.

I could feel her legs snaking around mine as she absently sought firmer support; I wasn't too sure I didn't need help myself.

Sasha was forgotten. Her kiss was a distant memory, something like taking a cab when you go to buy your own car.

I could feel only the softness of my daughter's lips. I could only feel the shallow breaths emanating from her nostrils teasing my moustache.

I could feel only the sum of my passion and hers, my feelings and her reciprocation. I could feel only one thought - if at all the kiss had to end, it would only be too soon...

We were out of breath by the time we pulled away, arms still hooked, eyes fixed on each other. She smiled shyly, making no effort to move away, and the blush on her face looked so cute I wanted to kiss her again. There was this faint tremor about my cheeks that told me I wasn't being so dispassionate either, a quivering of my lips where she had kissed.

"How about an encore, guys? I didn't get enough time to focus on you..." Sasha cut in.

"Oh, shut up," my daughter retorted, though with a smile, "Look what you made me do!"

"Nothing you didn't want to do," returned her pal. Click. "And from the looks of it, you seem ready for more."

"Maybe," Ronnie replied. "It's none of your business."

"It is, when you come here with me and then leave me alone so that you can go make out with your own father... wait till the girls hear this!"

"Don't you dare -"

"I've got the pictures to prove it."

"Girls, girls," I stepped, reluctantly, away from my daughter whom I had kissed so feelingly only a few seconds ago, "How about a ceasefire? Sasha, dear, what do I have to do to earn your silence?"