Castles

"Okay, I'm not sure about any of this, understand, but here's what I've heard."

She leaned her chin on her hand, elbow on the table. "Shoot."

"Two things," I said. "The first is the genetic thing. You don't want two people who are closely related to have kids. If you have a recessive gene, it could become dominant."

"Yeah, I've heard that, too," she said. "Do you have a recessive gene?"

I laughed. "Not that I know of, but suppose I did?"

"Okay, I did some research and riddle me this: there are genes like for Huntington's Disease. If you have the gene, you will develop the disease. Your kids will have a 50 percent chance of having the gene. Is it your thought that we should stop all people with genetic disorders from having sex?"

Damn. She had thought about this. "That would not be my thought," I told her. "God, there are probably millions of people with genetic disorders."

"Right?" she said. "We can think about that one. What's the second thing?"

"Well, it's that I'm your father, you're my child. There is a kind of power imbalance there."

"Dad, I'm nineteen years old," she said. "That makes sense if I'm a minor. I can't give consent as a minor. I'm a grown-ass woman. That issue is dead. I could get a job, move out, be completely independent. The power thing is about rape, not us being related. It's no different than like a counselor, or teacher or pastor having sex with people who they have influence over. It's about consent."

I looked at her. "It seems like you have all the answers."

She laughed. "Far from it, but I have thought about it. Here's the facts: I love you. I want you. You love me. Do you want me?"

"I don't know, baby." It came out as anguished and unsettled as I felt. "I love you so much. I don't want anything, anything, to fuck that up. You've been my life, Meyers, for years. I'm afraid."

"I know," she said. "All I can do is tell you and show you that there is no possibility that I am not going to love you for the rest of your life. Do you believe that?"

I did. "Yes, I believe you."

"Then don't fight me," she said. "I'm sure, Bennet. I'm absolutely sure. I'm never going to change my mind."

She pushed at me. "Come on. Let's take the rest of this bottle up to our rooms."

We rode the elevator up, and she was pressed against me every second. She dug out her key card as we walked down the hall, and kissed me as she ducked into her room. "Go to your room and wait for me," she said.

There was a sofa and a chair in a sitting area in my room and I sat there, my thoughts swirling. I had no idea what to think. Suddenly going from zero to 100 with what Meyers had told me was a shock like nothing I'd ever experienced in my life.

I was completely unprepared, clueless, as usual, for her revelation. I'd had an experience when I was a teenager with the girl who'd lived two doors down from us. We'd been friends for years, I even thought of her as my best friend. We'd known each other since the third grade, and while I was aware she was a girl, I'd never had the slightest romantic feeling about her.

It was prom, and we'd been hanging out. We shared a love for Marvel comics, and she asked me if I had a date for the prom. I hadn't even planned on going, so I hadn't asked anyone.

"I want to go," she said. "Will you take me?"

"Really?" had been my answer.

"Really," she said. "You've never asked me out, Bennet. Why is that?"

I had no answer. It was as if I had been wearing a blindfold and suddenly, that was gone and I sort of saw her for the first time as something other than my best friend. I suddenly realized she was a gorgeous girl, and everything changed.

I felt awkward, unsure, and I had never felt that way with her before. I found the presence of mind to assure her that I wanted nothing more than to take her to the prom. That led to more dates, more awareness on my part, and six years later, Stefanie became my wife.

This was some eerie déjà vu shit. I was suddenly aware of Meyers in a new light. She had made me aware, God, at the point of a knife! Again, I was fully aware she was a gorgeous woman, hot to a degree that I now realized few women are.

I thought about it, and I was definitely sure that I had never had a single thought of her in any inappropriate way. I had a glow around my mind when I thought of her: pride, love, admiration, a protective instinct, all the things a father is supposed to feel about his daughter. Now, there was something different, caused by what she had said and done.

All those other things were still there, but I realized it was impossible to think of her in exactly the same way. There was something new. She had taken on an aspect that had never been there before. It was very unsettling and I had no idea how to handle it.

The connecting door opened and she came in, carrying her wine bottle. She had changed into shorts and little cropped t-shirt. She got two glasses and came to sit beside me, pouring us two glasses and snuggling in. I put my arm around her and she looked up at me, her left eye obscured by her curls.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I have lost the ability to think," I said.

She laughed. "I know. It's going to be okay. I've been thinking about this for a while, but I was kind of a mess when I first realized how I felt about you."

"What settled you down?" I asked.

"Well, I felt like I was weird, at first," she said. "I felt kind of guilty and ashamed, like something was wrong with me. I tried to hide it from myself. I kind of had an epiphany one day."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Well, I met this guy at the gym. He was funny and kinda hot, and after a couple of weeks, his wife came in with him."

She paused for a minute. "And..." I prompted her.

She smiled. "Sorry, I was just remembering. Anyway, she was this beautiful redhead. What was different was that she was like 20 years older than him. She didn't look it, but she did look older and they told me."

"I guess that is unusual," I said. "Did they say anything about how that worked?"

"Yes. She was a friend of his aunt. That's how they met. Anyway, he did some work on her aunt's house, asked her out and they started dating."

"Was there a problem about their age difference?" I asked.

"Yes. Not with them, but they had friends and family who talked trash."

"And this got you thinking?"

"No, I had already been thinking. Seeing them together, how brave they were, how they gave zero fucks about what anyone else thought made me ask myself some questions."

"What kind of questions, and how did you answer them?" I asked.

"Well, one was why what anyone else might think mattered to me. I mean, it never has. Why would I care? Did you care about what people thought of you and Mom being together?"

"You mean because I'm white and she was black?"

"Yeah, I know that can't have been popular with some people, especially back then."

I laughed. "Well, it wasn't exactly the dark ages, Meyers. We got some looks, yeah. A few people said stupid shit."

"We get looks, you and me," she said. "That hasn't gone away. It's better here even than at home. Several tourists have asked me if they could take a picture with me."

"I hadn't noticed," I said.

"Yeah, well, I do," she said. "I feel eyes on me. I don't feel that here so much. Do you think people are imagining that you're my father when they see us together?"

"I have no idea what they're imagining," I said. "What do you think they're imagining?"

"I think they're imagining you my sugar daddy," she said.

I had to laugh. "They're not wrong."

She poked me in the ribs. "Yeah, but not like they think. When we go in a store or a restaurant at home and people stare at us, do you care?"

"Meyers, I don't even notice, so no, I guess I don't care. I'm used to it. I got used to it with your mother, and it never changed with you. I still don't care. Do you care?"

"It's not that I 'care,' exactly. I don't like it, but I'm not going to waste any energy on it. It's that thing again: why shouldn't I be with you? I'm a human, you're a human, I love you and I'm proud for people to see me with you. You love me. You tell me all the time. You also tell me you're proud of me. I believe you, and really, you're the only person whose opinion matters to me. Does that make sense?"

I nodded. "Yes, and I am proud of you."

"See?" she said. "So, I saw how it worked for the couple I was telling you about, and I decided I was going to be like them. They wanted each other and they went for it. I want you, and I'm going for it. Now, tell me what to do."

I laughed. "I have no idea. I don't know what to do, so how can I tell you? What do you want to do?"

"We'll go slow," she said. "I'm just getting used to feeling like I do about you, so I know you need to get used to it, too."

"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to it," I confessed.

"Yes, you will," she insisted. "Right now, we should go to bed. Tomorrow, we're going to Burg Eltz."

"Okay," I said. "Let's do that."

She went off to her room, leaving the connecting door open, and I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. I was just about to drift off when I felt the bed move, the covers lifted, and Meyers slid in, moving over to lie half on top of me, her right arm and leg over me and her cheek on my chest. Her curls tickled my chin.

"Umm... Meyers?"

She snuggled closer. "Yeah, we're sleeping together from now on. I only booked one room for the rest of the time."

"You little devil," I said. "You've been planning this all along."

She giggled. "I have. I'm cunning like that."

"I thought you said 'slow;' this seems like a big change."

She rubbed her cheek on my chest. "It is. I have on my sleepy shirt." I wrapped my free arm around her, and she did.

Her "sleepy shirt" was always the same. I think she bought them by the dozen. They were always these Pink Panther t-shirt things that were long enough to come about halfway down her thighs.

"Hold me," she said. "I wanna be the little spoon."

She rolled with her back to me, pulled my arm under her head, scrunched her pillow up on that arm and scooted back into me. She took the arm under her head and folded it up across her body until my hand was on her breast, that firm little mound, an erect nipple crowning it.

She pulled my free arm over her and whispered, "Hand in my panties."

"What? I thought you said..."

"Do it," she said. "This is how it's going to be. Just hold me. Nothing else."

I allowed her to slide my hand down, feeling the soft cotton of her night shirt, down onto the smooth satin of her thigh, then back up, sliding under the shirt until I felt the lace of her panties, a thin strap over the swell of her hip. I moved my hand on my own, across the ridges of her abs, down, silk under my fingers, down to the tiny lace triangle barely covering her mons; the slight rise, still smooth silk, and she parted her thighs slightly, the natural gap a perfect fit for my hand. I was holding her, and I could feel the heat.

She sighed deeply and trapped my hand with those muscular thighs, wiggling back more firmly against me.

"Yass, that's it. Everything I've dreamed this would be. This is where I wanna spend the rest of eternity." She giggled a little, moved her curls a bit, out of my face, and we murmured soft words. I felt her breathing changing and her words slurred, becoming more infrequent. She was asleep.

I had held her, in every conceivable position, I had thought, all her life. Not like this, though. Her profile, just sheer beauty and innocence in her sleep, brought a tear to my eye. She was my life, and she was trusting me with everything. Our conversation had been incredible, her feelings out there, raw, exposing everything to me, even things that could have only been excruciatingly difficult to think, let alone say.

My heart swelled with love, admiration, every imaginable emotion. I became aware of new feelings, things that had never crossed my mind before. Her breast under my hand was incredible. I squeezed it a little. With her on her side, gravity had swelled it downward, but it still held its shape, the firmness filling my hand, soft, but firm, her nipple plainly pressing into my palm. I squeezed it a bit with my fingers and she sighed. Immediately feeling guilty, I stopped.

Her pussy felt like it had an internal heater against my fingers, warm, moist, and I was suddenly aware that my cock was so hard against her butt it was aching.

I dated. After Stefanie passed, it took me a long time to be in a place dating didn't seem like cheating on her memory. By the time I was in a good place about that, I had become comfortable with it just being me and Meyers.

I had the ordinary needs of any man, but I had this little brown toddler who depended on me for everything, filled my life with joy and made everything else seem unimportant. I still loved sex, and Stefanie had spoiled me rotten in that department. I was mature enough to understand that sex wasn't life, by that time, and although I had a series of relationships, they never went beyond casual. My sexual adventures had been limited to carefully selected partners, who had selected me with the same care.

This was something different, and I was wandering in the wilderness. I just knew one thing: I loved her without reservation, I was going to give her what she needed, and just the sheer impact of her physical beauty was nearly overwhelming.

I lay awake, walking pathways in my mind until sleep took me away. I vaguely felt her leave the bed, then drifted into a drowsy state until she was shaking me.

"Hey, you gonna sleep all day? Up, lazy one! Castles to see!"

I groaned. "Have pity. I'm old, tired and you killed my arm during the night. I think it's going to fall off if I move."

She beat me with a pillow until I had to take defensive action, pulling her down on top of me and tickling her into submission. I got up, made my morning ablutions and we had breakfast. Burg Eltz awaited, and after a beautiful little drive, we wound up the rocky outcropping overlooking the river to fairy tales.

She knew every detail of the history, and explained everything to me as we made the tour. Parts of it were from the 1500s, and it was everything she had been hoping it was. She flitted around, making our tour... interesting for everyone in our group, including our tour guide.

There were several Germans, touring in their own backyard, and several Japanese tourists, as well. One couple from Seattle was with us, and I think everyone in the group was fascinated by this tall gorgeous dusky goddess, curls swirling, chattering to them, even if they didn't speak English.

There was one tiny little Kazakh girl, accompanied by her grandparents, who fell in love with Meyers, and the feeling was plainly mutual. She spoke some English, and as the tour continued, she was drawn to Meyers like a moth to a candle. The last third of the tour, she was riding Meyers' hip as Meyers carried her around from place to place while her grandparents smiled and chattered away to each other in their own language.

They reluctantly parted company when the tour was over, Meyers kissing her soundly and with a final hug, then Meyers dragged me away to see the ruins of a fortress a little apart from the castle.

"She was so cute!" she exclaimed as we climbed the path. "I want her."

I laughed. "I think her grandparents might object a little. They seemed pretty fond of her, themselves."

She signed. "Yeah. She's a cutie, though."

"You're a cutie," I told her, squeezing her up.

"Right? I was a fright when I was that age, though. Why you let me go out with my hair looking like that in all those pictures we have?"

I laughed. "You wouldn't have it any other way."

She drove on the way back to the hotel, and we made our leisurely way through beautiful river valley. "Tomorrow, we finna go to tour the wineries," she informed me.

I groaned. "I'm going to need a vacation when we get home."

She laughed. "I am so good for you. I keep you young."

I fluffed her hair, twirling one glossy curl around my finger. "You do. I'm fully aware of how lucky I am."

She shot me a side-eye look. "Oh, you have no idea," she smirked. "You know, I hate it when people touch my hair," she said. "For some reason, I love it when you do. It makes me feel all warm inside, just this feeling of euphoria. I wonder what that mean?"

"I'm pretty sure it means you are in the beginning of a psychotic episode," I said.

She shook her head, all those pounds of curls swinging. "So mean," she said, then shot me a flashing smile. "I inherited my mental illness from you."

"Noo, I'm quite stable," I said. "I always suspected your mother of having tendencies, though. In fact, your grandmother is constantly psychotic."

She laughed. "Nuh-uh, Gram is dope. She been putting up with you for years."

A thought occurred to me. "Umm... Meyers..."

"Hold that thought," she said. "We're eating right up here."

After our food came, she got to what I'd been thinking. "Dad, I don't think Gram and Pops needa know, umm, about you and me, I mean. I love them to death, but they're like, old school, you know."

"Yeah, I do know," I said. "I've known them practically all my life, Meyers. A lot of my good memories growing up have your grandparents in them."

"Tell me," she said.

"Well, they moved into the neighborhood when I was in the third grade," I said. "I saw them unpacking a truck when they moved in, and asked my mother if I should help. She thought that would be nice."

"I wish I could have known your parents," she said.

"I know, baby. They would have loved you. Anyway, they had a little girl my age, and we were carrying boxes into her room. She opened one, and it was full of comics. She had every one of the Beta-Ray Bill volumes. That was one of my favorite Marvel superheroes, and we bonded. That was the day I met your mother. I spent nearly as much time at their house as I did at mine after that. We were best friends."

She put her head on my shoulder and her little hand tucked into mine. I got that euphoric feeling she'd mentioned earlier, and she said, "Aww, that's so sweet!"

"They never seemed to mind having a weird little white kid hanging around all the time," I told her. "I was a constant dinner guest, and they treated me just like I was their kid. That never stopped. I love them, Meyers, and I wouldn't hurt them for the world."

"Same," she said. "That's why this is going to be our business, okay?"

"Don't you think they'll notice you don't have boyfriends?"

"No, I don't like deceiving them, but it's for their good, so they won't get hurt," she said. "I've told them hundreds of times I'm happy by myself and not very interested in ever changing that. They're used to it."

*****

The winery tours were fantastic, we visited more castles and Meyers loved every minute. Germany turned out to be everything she hoped it would be and I loved watching her immersing herself in life.

Every night, she came and crawled into bed with me, the same rituals, her warm body pressed against mine and I discovered that I craved that intimate time. I had always been under her spell, but it reached whole different dimensions.

The last night of our journey found us back in Munich, ensconced at the Mandarin in the same suite where we began. She took me dancing again, and it was a great memory.

The walk back to the hotel was filled with her laughter and she leaned against me in the elevator. When we got to our room, she went in the bathroom and I just sat there, enjoying a little buzz and winding down.

She opened the door and stood in the doorway. I just watched her, the play of emotions across her face. "Imma shower," she said. "Come with." She held out her hand to me.