Breakdown

"I'm not 'half-naked.'"

"Aly," he said, his voice level, "I can see your... you know."

"My what, Dad?" she teased.

He cleared his throat again. "You know what I'm talking about. And I'm not going to turn around till you put on some shorts."

"All right." She hopped off the bed and returned to her own room. "If I'd known you were going to be such a prude," she shouted back, "I'd've worn a hoodie and sweats." She returned a moment later, wearing a pair of running shorts instead. "I was finished with my legs anyway."

She pulled off her T-shirt and Henry almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to face his computer.

-----

Later that night, Henry lay awake in bed. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aly's pussy. Her lips were smooth and hairless, and he wondered if she shaved the rest. As soon as the thought popped into his head, he suppressed it in a wave of guilt.

Fathers do not think of their daughters that way, he told himself.

Leanne had her pubic hair waxed. She kept a little strip above her slit, but the rest was bare. She didn't even bother to hide her body from him. It was just one way she tormented him, and he hated her for it. Personally, he liked more hair than just the strip, but that was the style these days. Besides, he'd be happy with any pussy he could get.

Except my daughter's, he added hastily.

He tormented himself for another ten or fifteen minutes. When he realized that he had an erection, he felt even guiltier. He rolled over and tried to go to sleep, but his hard-on wouldn't go away. He kept seeing Aly's smooth pussy in his mind, or her breasts, so firm and round and...

Stop it! he cried silently. Stop it, stop it, stop it!

He punched the pillow and tried to get settled. Eventually, his erection subsided and he fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

-----

Aly left the suite door open in the morning. Worse, she kept walking past it as she packed her small suitcase. She was nude, of course, and Henry did his best to keep his eyes focused on his laptop. He began pounding out e-mails, venting his sexual frustration on his computer.

Before he realized what was happening, he felt Aly behind him. Fortunately, she was dressed. She rubbed his shoulders and he began to relax.

"Do you want a sausage biscuit for breakfast?" she asked.

He looked up and felt her shrug off his unspoken question.

"We're on vacation," she said. "I won't tell."

He smiled. The old Aly was back, the girl he loved, rather than the sex kitten flashing her father. "Sure, sweetheart," he said.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

"Now c'mon," she said. "Let's stop by McDonald's on the way out of town."

He smiled and closed his laptop.

-----

For the next two hours, they talked about everything in the world, from engineering courses to music to boys. Or, as Aly corrected him, "men." He didn't like to think of her dating men instead of boys, but she wasn't a little girl anymore.

She told him about dating an English professor—a man fifteen years her senior—and Henry even managed to hide his disapproval. Fortunately, the relationship didn't last, since she didn't want a long-term commitment. Then she told him about one of the engineering professors. He'd been married and older still, but she ended their relationship after only a month.

"What about guys your age?" Henry finally asked.

She shrugged indifferently. "They're boys," she said. "They only care about one thing—getting into my pants—but most of 'em wouldn't know what to do if they got there." She shrugged again. "I just like older guys. Men." She looked at him sidelong. "I wonder why."

Henry felt his face flush, and he concentrated on the road. He tried not to think about her comment, but he wasn't entirely successful. He did manage to discreetly re-arrange his erection, but it wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

They fell silent for the next twenty miles. He didn't know what she was trying to do, but he couldn't get her out of his mind. He told himself—over and over—that fathers didn't think of daughters "that way." He had a difficult time convincing himself.

They stopped for lunch at the Arkansas-Oklahoma border. Aly ordered a chef's salad, while Henry ordered a cheeseburger and French fries. She gave him a sharp look, but he said, "Vacation, right?"

She relented a moment later, and reached across the table to pat his hand. He felt an electric tingle and immediately looked away. Aly merely giggled and stole one of his French fries.

"Oh, Dad," she said with a sigh.

They finished their meal in relative silence, but Henry couldn't keep his eyes from her. She wasn't wearing much makeup, and she had her hair pinned up. Still, she looked beautiful. She was wearing a halter top—without a bra—and he could clearly see her small nipples. He tried not to stare, but she caught him once and he turned bright red.

After lunch, he was glad to get back on the road. Aly wasn't built like her mother, but her lithe figure accented what breasts she did have. Unfortunately, she turned in her seat and sat with her back against the door. She rested her thigh on the seat, and her shorts were loose enough that he could almost see...

He gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Aly grinning at him.

-----

The drive across Oklahoma was mostly uneventful, and Henry kept his mind on business. When he had good cell phone service, he made a few calls, and got updates from Jayne about the situation with Raytheon.

When they neared the Texas border, the truck started grinding each time Henry let off the accelerator. Aly took out the map. They decided to stop for the night in Amarillo. It was the next big town, and they could have a mechanic look at the truck.

Unfortunately, the grinding grew worse. When the truck gave a final lurch, Henry gripped the steering wheel. He might not be a mechanical engineer, but he knew the sound of metal on metal when he heard it. The interstate was straight and flat, but it was also full of 18-wheelers traveling eighty miles an hour. He looked for a place to pull over.

The transmission gave a final squeal and the engine died.

The steering grew heavy and Henry aimed for the shoulder. An air horn bellowed as a truck barreled past. He turned on the hazard blinkers and sat back, his shoulders suddenly hot with tension.

"Wow," Aly said. "That was close."

Henry nodded wordlessly. Then he flipped open his cell phone. It didn't have a signal. "Try yours," he said.

Aly opened her phone, but then shook her head.

"Well," he said, resigned, "I guess we're walking."

They shouldered their bags and started walking toward the town ahead. A battered old tow truck passed them about twenty minutes later. It pulled to the shoulder and waited for them in a cloud of dust.

"Is that your truck broke down back there?" the driver asked, hooking a thumb behind him.

Henry nodded.

"I can't tow it with this rig," the driver said, "but I can give you a ride to town. That's where I'm goin'."

"That'd be great," Henry said. "Thanks."

"I'm Tyler," the driver introduced himself.

"Hank," Henry said. "And this is my daughter, Aly."

"Pleased to meet ya."

They made small talk during the drive. The town was called Lela, and Tyler owned the only garage in town.

"Sorry I can't tow your truck tonight," he said. "My main tow truck's on the rack." He pointed to a brown cardboard box on the dash. "Fuel pump."

Henry nodded.

"I'll have it fixed tomorrow, 'bout midmorning," Tyler said. "If you'd like, you can call Moneymaker's Towing in Shamrock," he continued. "They'll charge you for the trip out here, in addition to the tow, but I won't be able to look at your truck till I get mine off the rack anyway. You can have Moneymaker's tow you back to Shamrock, though." He shrugged.

"Will you be able to fix our truck once you get it to your garage?" Henry asked.

"Won't know till I look at it."

"Fair enough."

"Do you want to call Moneymaker's?" Tyler asked. "I can give you the number."

Henry looked at his watch. It was nearly nine o'clock. He had an emergency number for the rental company, but he decided to deal with them in the morning. "Do you have a hotel in town?" he asked. Tyler gave him an appraising look. It wasn't a puzzled look, though, which raised Henry's opinion of the man.

"Sure," he said at last. "We have the old Grand. It's not very modern, but it's clean."

"Then I think we'll spend the night," Henry said. "If you can tow the truck in the morning..."

Tyler nodded. "I'll drop you off at the hotel and give you a call when I'm ready in the morning. Should be nine or ten o'clock. A'ight?"

"Sounds good," Henry said. He pulled out his wallet. "How much do I owe you for the ride to town?"

"No charge."

"Are you sure?"

Tyler snuffled and nodded. "Wouldn't be able to call myself a Christian if I'd left you there on the interstate." He tipped his hat. "See you in the morning."

Henry thanked him again and then shut the truck's door. It pulled away with a cloud of dust.

The Lela Grand Hotel was clean, but small and dated. It must've been built in the Twenties, and it hadn't been renovated since. It looked like something out of a movie, with faded red carpet and battered wood paneling. The manager perked up and smiled as they approached the desk.

Probably the owner, Henry thought. "I'd like two rooms for the night," he said aloud. "I don't suppose you have adjoining rooms?"

"Sure do," the man said. He had Henry sign the register—an honest-to-God paper register—and swiped Henry's credit card through a reader. The device chirred as it dialed. Then a busy signal blared. "Ah, that happens all the time," the manager said. "You look like the trustworthy type, though. I'll just make an imprint of your card and we'll run it through when you check out. Is that okay?"

"Fine," Henry said.

The manager handed over two keys—genuine brass keys, with faded plastic fobs. "Rooms 6 and 8," he said, "at the top of the stairs, to your right. Do you need help with your bags?"

Henry shook his head. The hotel might be quaint, but the manager was polite, and Henry couldn't ask for more, especially in the middle of nowhere.

The rooms were just as dated as the lobby. The TVs were fairly modern, but the phones were old single-line clunkers. Henry threw his suitcase and laptop on the bed. It squeaked as they landed. A moment later, Aly knocked on the adjoining door. He unlocked it and swung it open.

"Nice place, huh?" she said. She was serious. "It's kinda cool, isn't it?"

"It's not what I'm used to," he said, "but it'll do in a pinch."

"The bathrooms have old cast-iron bathtubs. Cool, huh?" Ten minutes later, she met with her first disappointment: her bathroom didn't have any hot water. She started to call the front desk, but then had an idea. She went into Henry's bathroom and tried the tub.

"It's hot," she said. "If you don't mind, I'll just take a bath in here."

He gestured with a smile. While she ran a bath, he plugged the phone cord into his laptop. The dial-up connection was slow, but the computer began downloading e-mail.

He listened to Aly hum as she soaked in the bath. His thoughts wandered to her body, and he quickly flushed with embarrassment. After a guilty moment he shook off the thought and concentrated on his computer.

-----

"Do you want to have a late dinner?" Aly asked when she emerged from the bathroom.

Henry turned but then quickly looked away. She was wearing a single white towel. Around her head. Her nipples were puckered and stiff from the air conditioning, and he had an answer to his question about her pubic hair: she had a small strip above her slit.

"Oh, Dad," she chided, "don't be such a prude."

"Sweetheart, I'm your father. I'm not your boyfriend."

"So? You've seen me naked before."

"Not since you were ten."

"That's not true. You've seen me plenty of times since then."

He had, but he felt guilty remembering. She and her friends had a cavalier attitude about nudity. He'd seen her and the other girls as they sunbathed topless. Or when they spent the night and wore scanty nightshirts. Or when her best friend, Jordyn, accidentally sent him e-mail with...

"Hello?" Aly said. "Dad?"

He shook his head and looked at her. He'd forgotten about her nudity, and felt his face heat as he looked away. His embarrassment redoubled when he felt his erection bind in his underwear.

"Oh, Dad," Aly said. She leaned over his shoulder to kiss his cheek.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her nipples, pinkish-brown and pointy. She walked to her room and he breathed a sigh of relief. His erection didn't go away, but at least he could shift it and ease the pressure.

-----

The diner across the street was open, and they ate a quiet meal. Henry's thoughts were chaotic and completely inappropriate—he couldn't get the image of Aly out of his mind. Back in the hotel room, he lied and told her he had a headache. He closed the door between their rooms and leaned against it, mentally exhausted.

A cold shower didn't do anything to dampen his libido. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aly's firm breasts or trimmed pussy. He climbed into bed with an erection. He wanted to jerk off, but he refused to do it with thoughts of his daughter clouding his imagination.

He tried to think of Leanne, but his mind's eye kept returning to Aly. He thought about a half-dozen other women, from movie stars to employees, but Aly always returned to the forefront. He even went to his computer and tried surfing for porn, but the dial-up connection was painfully slow. In the end, he went back to bed, where he tossed and turned until he eventually fell asleep.

-----

Henry opened his eyes and gazed up at the plaster on the ceiling. It had once been white, but age and water stains had turned it a dull yellow. He had an erection—he'd been dreaming about Leanne. Again. He could've sworn he felt her next to him, but that was crazy. The feeling persisted, so he glanced to his right, just to be sure. He recoiled in surprise and leapt out of bed.

Aly, sleepy-eyed and disheveled, blinked at him from the other side of the bed. "Unh, what time is it?"

"What're you doing in here?" he blurted.

"My air conditioner started making a racket, so I came in here."

"Alyson..." He drew a deep breath and waited for his heart to slow. "We need to talk."

"About what?" She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes.

Henry immediately sat on the bed again. Aly was wearing a midriff halter top and a matching pair of panties. The outfit was tight and translucent. It certainly didn't leave anything to the imagination. He rested his arm on his thigh to hide his renewed erection.

"Alyson," he began, slowly, deliberately, "I'm not your boyfriend, and this isn't a dorm room."

"I know. So?"

"I'm your father, and you shouldn't dress like that around me. More importantly, you shouldn't sleep in the same bed with me."

"But my air conditioner..."

He set his jaw. "It's not right."

She rolled her eyes. "It's vacation. I won't tell if you won't."

"This isn't like a sausage biscuit, sweetheart."

"So?"

"Alyson, I'm your father. For that matter, I shouldn't see any girl your age dressed like that."

"I'm not a girl," she shot back.

"Okay," he conceded, "I shouldn't see any woman your age dressed like that."

"Why? Don't you like me?"

"I love you, Aly, and that's precisely why I shouldn't see you like that. And it's precisely why you shouldn't be sleeping in my bed. It's not right."

"Why? We didn't do anything. I mean, you didn't even know I was there until you woke up."

She was right, and it scared him. He was used to sleeping with someone, and he hadn't even noticed when the someone in question wasn't his wife. "That's beside the point," he said. "Wrong is wrong, whether I know about it at the time or not."

She huffed. "When did you become so repressed, Dad?"

"I'm not repressed."

"Then why are you so uptight about how I'm dressed?" She flung back the covers to make sure he could see everything.

He controlled his breathing with an effort of will. "Aly, that outfit doesn't leave anything to the imagination."

"It's not supposed to. That's why I wore it, Dad. I'm a grown woman. I choose who gets to see my body." Her eyes glinted. "And I choose you."

"Aly..."

"I know you're not a prude, Dad. So relax. And don't worry about what I'm wearing. I don't dress like a slut in public. So if I want to dress sexy in private, why should you complain?"

"But I'm your father," he said, which sounded feeble.

"So? You're still a man, aren't you? Or has Mom finally cut off your balls?"

He squared his shoulders and scowled. "Now listen here, young lady—"

"Oh, come on, Dad! Do you think I don't know about Mom and her affairs? I know what she's been doing to you, and I hate her for it."

"That's between her and me," Henry said.

"You think it doesn't affect me? Or Chad and Kacy? We know what's going on."

"Still, it's none of your business—"

"It is my business when I see how unhappy you are. Why don't you divorce her?"

"Because I made a vow, and I'm going to honor it."

"Even if Mom ignores it?"

"I made a vow," he said stubbornly.

"Then why don't you have a mistress? Tons of women would sleep with you. And not just women your age, either. You're totally sexy. Women my age would sleep with you."

His eyes widened.

"Sure," she said. "Jordyn's always thought you were hot. She'd sleep with you in a heartbeat. And she's not the only one."

"This is not the kind of discussion we should be having," he said suddenly. "Do you want to take a shower? Or do you want me to go first?"

"Why don't we take one together?"

He ignored the question.

She rolled her eyes.

"Fine" he said. "I'll go first."

Once again, the cold water didn't do a thing for his erection. He didn't want to emerge from the bathroom clad in just a towel, but his pajamas wouldn't hide his hard-on any better. So he wrapped the towel around his waist and hoped that Aly had returned to her room.

She hadn't, and her eyes fell to his groin. He quickly turned to face the sink, but he could feel her looking at him. She casually stripped off her halter and panties. She stood behind him, almost defiantly. He could see her in the mirror, but he resolutely focused on his own reflection.

"You can't avoid the issue forever, Dad," she said at last.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a man," she said, "not a monk. If Mom won't have sex with you, then you should find someone who will."

He stubbornly kept his mouth shut.

She shook her head in resignation. "Fine. Have it your way. But that"—she nodded at his hidden erection—"won't go away simply because you ignore it."

-----

Copyright © 2006 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.