Castles

"They were very nice," she said. "I loved them. I think Stephan is a vampire, though."

I laughed. "Oh yeah? I didn't notice the fangs."

"Susanne said he goes to Romania on business," she said. "I bet I know what kind. Vampire business."

"You are a nut," I said. "I think you might be a vampire."

"Noo, who ever heard of a black vampire?" she asked. "You gotta be pale, like Stephan."

"What about Blade?" I asked.

"Ooh, I might be a Daywalker!"

I squeezed her. "My baby having a good time? Is this everything you hoped it would be?"

She snuggled in. "It is. I love it. Thank you for bringing me. I love you."

"I love you, too," I said. "I'm glad you aren't disappointed."

"Noo, not at all," she said. "Castles, though. I need castles!"

"Tomorrow?" I asked.

"We going to Nymphenburg Palace," she said. "Did you know that Bavaria had like kings, back in the day?"

"I did not," I said. "My girl is smart!"

She giggled. "I am! I looked it up, though. This was like waaay back. Can you imagine living in a palace?"

"Not really," I said. "I'd get lost and wind up in the dungeon."

"Right?" She laughed. "We need a dungeon."

"You planning to keep this motorcycle you want down there?"

"Noo, it's going in the garage and your truck going out on the driveway," she threatened. "I need a dungeon so I can practice my dark mistress skills."

I laughed. "My daughter: the Dominatrix."

"Yass," she said. "I'd be so good at it."

I slept well, and evidently, she did, too, because at 8:30 the next morning, she came through the connecting door pushing a cart laden with breakfast. I was dressed and shaving, and she came and wrapped me up in a big hug from behind.

"You hungry?" she asked. "I'm starving. Hurry up, slow-poke. We got places to go."

She went to the cart and filled her plate while I put away my razor. The condemned man had a hearty breakfast, and was marched away to his doom. That was joining a tour of the palace, and it was as impressive as the word "palace" sounds. I really couldn't imagine living there. I'd be afraid I'd sit on the wrong chair.

We had a nice dinner and went to a little bar she'd found, trying all the German beers they had to offer. Some were delicious and some were... awful. She tried one and wrinkled up her nose. "Yuck," she said.

I had the same opinion, but I asked her what was wrong with it. "It taste like water out a bottle I've had on my bedside table so long it built up anti-predator wards,"

I nearly fell off my chair laughing. "You are hilarious," I told her.

"Yeah, I know," she said. "I got all kinds of dope stuff to say."

We were walking back, both of us pretty buzzed, and she had one arm around my waist, bumping one hip against me as we walked. She'd taken out her braids the night before, and pounds of curls in what she called a "braid-out" were swirling around. I fluffed them up so I could put my arm around her shoulders.

My baby was tall! I'd known, of course, but how did that happen? She fit perfectly under my arm. She was looking up at me, laughing up into my face, and I was struck again at just how beautiful she was.

She had a broad, high forehead, her little baby hairs on it formed into cute curls she'd carefully formed. Her eyes looked very dark as we moved from streetlight to streetlight, flashing the green in them as we passed under one. They were almond shaped, turned up at the outer corners, giving her an exotic look, the lashes very long and thick. Her cute little nose had a few freckles scattered on it, a gift from my side of the family. Her lips were full and plush and she had a square jawline, tapering down to a pointed little chin, her high cheekbones setting off her classic beauty.

"Hello," she said. "I asked you a question."

I smiled. "I was just thinking. Sorry."

"What you were thinking about?" she asked.

"I was thinking about how gorgeous you are and how lucky I am to have you," I said.

Her eyes dropped in embarrassment for a second, then found mine again. "You gotta say that. You my dad," she said. "Anyway, what you think?"

"About what?" I asked.

"About going to Neuschwanstein Castle tomorrow," she said. "We needa get up hella early."

"Are you going to be hung over?" I asked.

"Oh, no, I don't think so," she said. "I'm not that drunk. You?"

"I had more than I'm used to," I admitted. "You're going to have to be quiet in the morning. Not make a bunch of racket like you usually do."

She slapped my stomach. "I do NOT make a bunch of racket."

*****

Neuschwanstein Castle was straight out of a fairy tale. Meyers was a little disappointed to learn it wasn't a thousand years old, but it was everything she'd dreamed, she told me. We spent the day prowling around, and instead of satisfying her, she was hungry for more. On the way back to the hotel she was going over our itinerary.

"We're checking out in the morning," she told me.

"Where are we going," I asked.

We're going to Trier," she said. "There's this really old castle there called Burg Eltz. The hotel isn't as swag as the Mandarin, but it looks nice."

"How long will it take us to get there?" I asked.

"I guess it depends on the traffic," she said. "Prolly about six hours if there isn't a problem. Tomorrow is Sunday, and I saw that's the best time for traffic, except at night. We'll be driving on the Autobahn! It's called Bundesautobahn 8. Imma drive. I can't wait."

"Dear God in heaven, we're about to die in a foreign land," I said.

"I'm a better driver than you," she shot off.

"I've driven you a million miles and you're still alive," I said.

"Yeah, and you've crashed me three times," she said.

"Hey, one of those we got rear-ended by a drunk driver, one a deer wandered into the road and the other one was on ice," I said in my defense.

"Well, I haven't crashed once," she said. "Ergo, I am a better driver."

I stared at her. "Close your mouth," she said. "A fly will go in."

I slept like a log and she roused me at the crack of dawn. Hell, it wasn't even dawn. "Get up, lazy. We want to get breakfast and get started."

I sat up and groaned. "I'm old, Meyers. Have pity."

"I did," she said. "I made coffee. Up and at 'em."

By the time we got breakfast and I had my third cup of coffee to go, I felt vaguely human. She was a bundle of energy, her usual latte in the cup holder and she whisked us onto the autobahn. It was as terrifying as I'd feared.

The traffic was very heavy, and they were all going at least 200 km an hour. That was in the restricted zones. Meyers handled it deftly, and I had to admit she probably was a better driver than I was. We zoomed along, stopping for lunch in Stuttgart. She was done driving, her thirst for suicide by car satiated, and I took it from there. It was nerve-wracking as hell, but I managed.

She got us to the hotel, and while not as "swag" as the Mandarin, it wasn't a Motel 6, either. We prowled around the old town and it was a beautiful place on the banks of the Moselle River. It was in the heart of the wine district, and had an Old-World charm.

We didn't have anything to do the next day, and she had set us up to use the hotel's spa. That was an experience. I had no idea what to expect, but when we arrived for our appointment, they took our clothes and gave us robes. We were led to showers, and then they took us to a treatment room. There were two bed thingies they called plinths, and they had warm towels laid out.

The woman who was our therapist said she would leave for a few minutes to give us privacy while we arranged ourselves. I looked at Meyers.

"Umm... what did she mean "arrange ourselves?"

"We take off our clothes so we can get the scrubs," she said.

"Uh, Meyers... you mean get naked?"

"Duh, Bennet. They're going to rub our whole bodies with some abrasive stuff, then wash it off."

"I... I... really?"

"Yes, really." She untied the belt on her robe, took it off and hung it on a hook, turning to look at me.

I was in shock. I knew Meyers was a spectacular looking girl. I mean, I saw her in tiny bikinis and often in her underwear. She never had a trace of modesty around me, but I hadn't seen her naked since she was a tiny little brown baby I bathed. I was unprepared for just how that moment was going to affect me.

God, she was a breathtaking, gorgeous, creamy-brown goddess of beauty. Her breasts weren't huge, which I knew, but they were more than a handful, firm with the resilience of her youth, sitting high and proud, completely in tune with her long, slender, slim-hipped body, and she didn't seem in the least embarrassed at exposing them to me. I was embarrassed enough for both of us.

She giggled at my look of consternation, which was quite disturbing, in itself, turned and fixed the towels before lying face down on the plinth. "Cover up my butt," she said, handing me a towel.

'Her butt.' That was not the name for it. I didn't know the name, but 'butt' did no justice to what she had. She was a serious lifter, spend ungodly amounts of time at the gym and working out in our home gym. That 'butt' was a thing of dreams. I knew that. I couldn't help knowing that. I saw it in her shorts, bikinis, workout gear, jeans, skirts and dresses. I know it was fantastic, but seeing it bare, jutting up from the table waiting for me to cover it with a towel, seeing it jiggle as she'd walked there and arranged herself, was a whole different ball game.

"Umm... Earth to Bennet," she said.

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak. She giggled again and I cleared my throat. "Sorry, umm... Meyers. Jesus, baby. Sorry."

I took the towel and that glorious ass disappeared. Her mother had been a beautiful woman, but damn. I was embarrassed about taking off my robe, and I grabbed the towel meant to cover my own ass, wrapped it around me and hung up the robe.

I glanced over at her and she was looking at me with accusing eyes. "What?" I asked.

"Bennet, we're going to be naked here. They don't have the same taboos we do, and I've never had them. You might as well get used to it."

"Well, I know you're not very... modest," I told her. "I don't like being naked in public. It's... hell, it's embarrassing, especially being in front of you with my dick hanging out."

She laughed. "Is it a secret you have a dick?"

I had to chuckle. "I guess not, but it's sure not something I go around showing people."

I arranged myself on the table, pulling the ends of the towel out to cover my ass, making sure my dick remained a secret. I lay there in an uncomfortable silence, which didn't seem to be at all uncomfortable for Meyers, who chattered away about the castle we were going to see the next day.

The woman came back in after a bit. She explained that she was going to exfoliate us with a mixture of sugar, salt and oatmeal. I mentioned that this sounded like breakfast cereal, and Myers laughed. The woman smiled. I wondered how often she'd heard that. Hey, I wasn't getting paid as a comedian. Dad jokes were more my thing.

She worked on Meyers, first, and I watched as her creamy brown skin took on a glow. She seemed to love it from the sighs and little sounds she made. The woman then worked me over, and I felt thoroughly sanded of any spare skin by the time she finished.

She washed us off, we donned our robes and went to the massage room. There was an identical disrobing and she oiled us up and went to work. This wasn't an erotic massage, but as she worked on Meyers, it was a sight to behold. She didn't miss an inch, and when that towel came down, I had to look away, especially when Meyers was on her back.

I got the same treatment, then we went to the steam room. It was hot as fuck in there, and we were both slick with sweat and oil. We sat on long stone benches that were attached to the wall, and steamed like lobsters.

"Imma melt in here," Meyers said. She took off her towel spread it on the bench and lay on her back. Again, I had to avert my eyes.

"Bennet?" Her voice was dreamy and languid.

"Hmm?"

"This is dope," she said. "I don't think I've ever been so relaxed in my life. Feel how smooth my skin is."

I scooted over until my thigh was against her head, her curls hanging down, tickling my calf. I reached out my hand and ran it over the ridges of her abs. She felt like wet silk. "Very smooth," I said.

I watched as she took my hand in hers, long slender fingers squeezing my big ones, and she slid my hand up onto one of her firm beautiful breasts. I tried to pull it away, immediately, but she hung on and she was strong. She arched her back, pushing that breast into my hand and I could feel the hardness of her nipple.

"Baby... I..." I stammered. "What..."

"Bennet, don't you think I'm pretty?" she asked.

"God, Meyers, 'pretty' doesn't begin to describe you," I was babbling. "You're gorgeous, heart-stopping; you know that. But... what are you doing?"

"Do you love me?" she asked.

"Yes, with all my heart. You're my life... but..."

"Same," she said. "I love you with all my heart. Tell me, when two people love each other, why shouldn't they be able to express that love in any way they want to express it?" She moved my hand to the other breast, and I was dying.

"I... I have no idea," I managed. "Have you been thinking about this, Meyers?"

She looked up at me, eyes liquid pools. "I have, for a while. I've been trying to get my head around my feelings."

"It just... it isn't right..." I tried to say.

"Who said so?" she asked.

"Well, society, religions, it's just..."

"I give zero fucks about society and religions," she interrupted me. "Since when do you care what society and religions think? They can think want they want. That's fine for them, but me, I'm finna turn up. Don't fight me, Bennet. Love me."

"I do, Meyers, God knows I do, but..."

"Look at me," she said.

I did. The breast she had my hand on, the other one, a pulse-pounding mound of femininity, the little brown nipple erect, her areola crinkled, the smooth sheen of her, down the toned muscularity of her torso. She was smooth satin, mons rising, smooth again, the V-shape of her pussy beginning between muscular thighs, strong calves tapering to her ankles and beautiful feet with cute little toes, the nails white and shiny with her polish.

"I love you, Bennet. I want to give you all my love," she said. "Don't you want me? I've been dreaming about this, you are in my dreams at night, every happy memory I have, you're the center of it, everything good in my life is you. I planned this, got you away, just you and me, here in this place, castles, fairy tales. Make mine come true."

My heart was bursting, so full of emotion, love, fear, longing and I couldn't stand it. I reclaimed my hand, slipping one arm under her head, the other behind her knees and lifted her, holding her on my lap, crushing her to me. She raised her face to me, offering me her lips, and I kissed her.

I had kissed Meyers thousands of times, but not like that. She made it into something that caused my head to swim, feeling this love on a level that I had never experienced. It went on until I felt like I was going to pass out. I pulled away, squeezing her body to mine.

"Hey," she murmured. "I gotta get out of here. I'm roasting and I can't..."

I laughed and stood, carrying her to the door. "Towels," she squeaked. I sat her down, grabbed them off the hook outside the door and we stepped out into air that was frigid after the heat of the sauna. She held my hand and we went to shower.

I let the water run over me, my thoughts swirling and disorganized. Washing away the sweat and oils, I couldn't seem to force a clear thought through the suddenly ossified channels of my brain. Visions of Meyers, the impassioned look on her face as she made her case, and even more, the images of that naked goddess looking up at me, brown beauty in sharp contrast against the white towels kept floating to the surface.

It occurred to me that I had similar memories of her mother, whom I had loved and lost, gone too soon. I turned off the water, dressed in my clothes that someone had put in a basket in the locker area and opened the door. I walked into an ambush.

Meyers was outside the door, and the first thing she did was leap on me, wrapping me in her arms with her legs around me like a boa constrictor. She kissed me fiercely and I felt her little pointy tongue seeking access. She was completely irresistible, and she gradually allowed her legs to slide down, standing and pressing me against the door.

She pulled back, looked at me and laughed. "I know. You're going to be okay. Imma make sure of that."

She put my arm over her shoulders, her arm around my waist and walked me out of the spa and into the lounge. She found a booth that suited her and sat me down, pushing me over so she could tuck herself right back against me. A server came and she asked for a wine list and a glass of Poire Williams for me.

He went away, and I asked her, "What the hell is Poire Williams, and how do you know I'll like it?"

"I know you," she said. "You like whiskey and brandy. I researched and this is pear brandy. Have you ever had any?" She was excited about introducing me to something new.

"I haven't tried pear brandy," I said. "It sounds... interesting."

The guy brought her list and my... whatever she called it. "This is in the famous Moselle wine district," she said. "After we go to the castle, I have two winery tours lined up the next two days." She scanned the list, selecting a Riesling from Forstmeister Zilliken. "This is local," she said," and we going there for a tour." She got the bottle, the dude poured her a glass and we settled in, exchanging tastes of our beverages. She wrinkled her cute little nose at mine, but her wine was good.

"Talk to me, Meyers," I said. "What's going on?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I've been thinking for a while, Dad. This is part of why I asked you if I could call you by your name, instead of "Dad." I'm changing things. You know I date; I go out with Rob; I've dated a few guys from the gym and college."

"Yes, I know. Did you not have a good time?" I asked.

"Yeah, I have a good time, but for a while I've been realizing that even when the guys are fun, I'm always just kinda waiting for the dates to be over so I can go home and be with you," she said.

"Wow! Well, that's flattering as hell, Meyers, but maybe you just haven't met the right guy."

"'Guy' has nothing to do with it," she said. "I've also been on dates with Riley."

"I had no idea," I said. "Are you two... no, obviously not."

"Were you gonna say gay?" She giggled.

"Yeah, but I guess today kind of put that to bed," I said.

"I think I could be with a woman," she said. "I love Riley, you know that, but again, I always find myself wishing you were with us."

"Well, when you start college, you'll meet a whole new crew," I mentioned.

"Yeah, but the problem is, I kinda feel like the guys I'll meet are gonna just be... sort of immature, you know? I'm most comfortable around older guys, and I dated one about your age. It was better, but he wasn't you. No one is you. I love you, you get me, I'm in tune with you like no one else."

"Yeah, but I'm old enough to be..." She snorted and we both laughed for a while.

"Yeah," she said. "I asked you a serious question earlier. I love you. You love me. It's right, so don't tell me it's wrong. Why shouldn't two people who are in love with each other be together, in every way?"

"Let me think a minute," I said.

"Okay, I'll just sit here and be quiet," she said. "How long do you think it will take? Do you think I'll like drink this whole bottle of wine, or just the rest of this glass?"

"I thought you were going to be quiet," I said.

"I am. I'll stop talking now." She giggled.

I sipped my very good brandy and marshalled my thoughts. Finally, I was ready, I thought.