Forbidden Dance Ch. 01

I wish I could say that I had a terrible marriage. I wish I could say that Mandy, my wife of 25 years, and I had fallen out of love, or that she was a selfish and wicked woman. But none of these things are true. So why would I go and ruin such a beautiful thing? Why indeed, I have asked myself a hundred thousand times. There is no answer; there never is a single, simple answer. Nothing should have broken us up. Nothing should have come in between us. And I could honestly say, no other woman outside of our home did break us up. The mistakes, the errors, the temptations and weaknesses, all came from within. So let me start from the beginning and you may sympathize with me, I hope. Perhaps it is too late for forgiveness, but I would at least beg for understanding, as all human beings wish for in life: to be known and understood.

Mandy and I were college sweethearts. We met in Biology class and continued our flirtations and romance through dance. We had both loved and enjoyed dancing, even competition dancing, that it was to no one's surprise that we ended up partnering for life. Mandy got pregnant with our only child, Alexandra, in our second year of college. Mandy chose to continue school and we shared the joy and burden of raising our daughter through all the tumultuous pains of a higher education. Of course, Mandy and I went on to enjoy successful careers, she in elementary teaching, and me in the financial markets. Allie grew up precocious, care-free, brilliant, and happy. Mandy and I instilled in her our love of the arts and dance.

Mandy and I continued to compete in local and national ballroom dancing competitions and, when we heard about Dancing with the Stars, we thought we would enter the tryouts to become celebrity instructors. Yes, we were that good. But as luck would have it, Mandy had a terrible break in her femur during a difficult leap and twist into my waiting arms. I was there for her, as always, but her foot caught and she fell hard. The pain and suffering were devastating, so much so that Allie left school after her final exams and flew home to be with her mother.

Dejected and heartbroken, we were forced to back out of the tryouts for the television show. But the nationals were approaching and Mandy insisted I continue to train and compete.

"With what partner could I possibly dance?" I asked her.

From her hospital bed, Mandy nodded to our dozing daughter, now fully grown at nineteen and into her second year of college. She was a vision of innocence and beauty and sometimes my heart broke at how lovely she had grown. She was not a simple, spitting image of her mother. She was her own person. She was her own young woman. And my own heart fluttered at the thought of all the unlucky boys that would not win her heart. Allie would need a special man in her life to win her over. She was far too smart and sophisticated, far too picky, to settle for less.

Mandy said, "What about Allie? She's just as good as me and probably far more athletic. She can make that jump, Sam. I know she can."

My brows furrowed, considering. "But she hasn't trained as often as you have. She's more interested in photography and poetry. She can't fill your shoes."

"Then you and she have to train. Starting now. The competition is in four months. You can get her up to speed. If anyone can, I know it's you. At least consider it. We have never backed out of the nationals before and this year we could make the top five."

Mandy had a point. She always did. By the time Mandy's leg could heal, the competition would only be weeks away. I glanced over at Allie and she was stretching from her nap in the hospital chair. She rubbed her eyes, the innocent girl once more, and smiled at us. "What's for dinner, guys?"

Mandy and I shared a chuckle and we breached the subject of the dance competition with Allie. At once, her eyes brightened and she eagerly agreed. "No way I'll be as good as you, mom, but I will do it for you. For you guys. I'll help dad win the competition this years."

And so, that is how it began. We had Frankie, our long-time friend and dance instructor, coach Allie and me. We used his studio and found every free opportunity to practice. Allie packed up her belongings at school and moved home for the next few months.

I recall the first night with Frankie, while Mandy sat in the corner, her leg propped up on another chair with three pillows, smiling at us and waving with encouragement. Frankie said, "All right, boy and girls, let's get started. My assumption is that the easier numbers, the jazz and modern pieces will be a bit easier, so let's get through those first. I know you've been away for a while, Allie, so we'll take it slower for now."

Allie had her hands on her hips and defiantly said, "I don't need you to go slow with me. I think I can keep up with my dad."

Mandy giggled and Frankie blushed. "What I meant by taking it slow is the easier dances, the ones where the music and beat are actually faster, will be easier for you to catch on. The other dances where there needs to be constant contact, those are going to be a little more difficult. Now get with it. Get over yourself and get in step!"

Frankie was the boss. It was clear and we both fell in line. He was a drill sergeant at times, but very patient at others. Since Frankie had other classes during the day and I had work, we would often practice from 7:00PM until we were sweating and exhausted, 11:00PM on most weeknights. The weekends, we trained during the day and at a more leisurely pace.

As the dances progressed to the more intimate variations, it was clear that Allie and I were becoming more uncomfortable. Frankie noticed this and, in conspiratorial whispers, asked if we should modify these portions to accommodate our comfort level. Allie and I exchanged nervous glances and then we looked at Mandy, off in the corner and reading a magazine.

"What do you think, hon?" I asked.

Mandy shrugged. "I think you guys can do it. I mean, you know every contour of her body. You've already seen her in her birthday suit."

Allie rolled her eyes and I cleared my throat. "Yeah, that was kinda eighteen years ago. A lot's changed since then."

Mandy shrugged again. "It's up to you two, really. I'm out of it. I believe you two could pull it off and I see the obvious chemistry. I mean, do we even have to announce that they're father and daughter?"

Frankie shook his head. "There's certainly no requirement for that, so if everyone will feel better, we don't have to say a thing. Besides, you two look like you could be brother and sister anyway. I guess."

Allie shrugged and looked sheepishly at me. "I'm okay with it, dad. If we can do the tango, then we can do all the other ballet moves. Let's give it a shot."

The days that followed were difficult. Sure, we were sweaty and tired and probably didn't smell the greatest after a full day of work and then dancing into the late hours, but the proximity of this young woman, holding her close to my body, intimately, seductively, was surely getting to my senses.

Frankie, of course, noticed my hesitation—our hesitation—and admonished us to forget ourselves and continue to work on the romance and the love that these dances were supposed to evoke. We were to project a Romeo and Juliet ballet, a tragic love story, in our movements and our motions. It was very difficult and we both knew he was losing his patience with us. "More love! More contact! More intimacy! " he would yell.

One night, when Mandy had chosen not to join us, Frankie insisted we stay until we got it right. The dance competition was a mere three weeks away and we were at the very end of the sequence. It required more closeness and a lover's kiss at the end. We did practice this, amidst smiles and embarrassing pecks. We promised Frankie, however, that on the night of the competition, we would be able to pull it off for real. Honestly.

As Frankie killed some of the light switches and headed for the door, he turned to us. "Remember guys, the rule is this: we train as we fight. You know what that means. I've said it a thousand times. If we train sloppy and we train with half a heart, that is how we will perform. Good night. Lock up when you leave."

He left us alone. Mandy was home, probably asleep, and in the dimness of the dance studio, I looked at Allie nervously. She shrugged. "Why don't we just do what he says. Let's practice it again, a couple more times, and see if we can get it right. Train as we fight, right?"

I nodded and quietly took her in my arms. We looked deeply into each other's eyes, getting into our roles, and started the slow, romantic dance. Again and again, I twirled my daughter, threw her up in leaps and spins, and held her close, like a lover, like a man to a woman he loved. It was true. It was all true. When I dipped my head close and our lips met, it was magical, ethereal, surreal. Her lips melted into mine and she wrapped her arms around my head slowly, seductively. She returned the kiss, tentatively at first, but then with a fervor that bordered on desire! My heart was pounding and I knew this was wrong.

We broke apart, gasping for air, and looking around nervously. "Maybe we should..." I said.

"Yeah," she said.

We got our things and locked the door. The ride home was quiet, each lost in our own thoughts, and our goodnight was shy, almost fearful. Had we stepped over the boundaries? Had we lost ourselves in the moment? Was it so forbidden, this dance, this union? Were we not playing out what we had intended to do from the beginning? We both wanted to perform well in the competition. We both wanted to make Mandy and Frankie proud. But what had transpired in that soulful kiss? What dread line had we stumbled across?

In the days that followed, Allie and I never found ourselves alone again. Mandy was there, ever watchful and encouraging from the corner, and Frankie was there to scream and shout. But he did appreciate that our lover's kiss in the end was less chaste and more realistic. He applauded our acting and our efforts and Allie and I were relieved that there would be no late night practices. The night before the competition was to be easy. We would have a sort of break. After practice, Frankie and Mandy would take us out to dinner and we would celebrate our toil and efforts. Mandy dropped us off and Frankie took us through our usual routines. He was very pleased and clapped loudly at our accomplishments.

Excusing himself to get ready for dinner, Frankie said that we could lock up as soon as Mandy got to the studio to pick us up. He would go home for a quick shower and meet us at the restaurant.

The clock ticked 8:15PM on the wall, so loud, so quiet in the empty dance studio. But not loud enough to stifle the hammering of my heart. I looked over at Allie nervously, like I was some lost school boy. I gave her a tentative smile.

She smiled back. Then shrugged. "Mom should be here in about 45 minutes."

I nodded. "Yeah." I didn't know what to say. What was there to say? We had shared an intimate, forbidden kiss. We had said nothing about it, but I know we both knew it was an intimate, inappropriate kiss.

"Should we...uh...practice some more? I mean, we can change now if you want...but..."

I nodded again and moved closer to her, looking down into her innocent eyes, so full of water now, so full of love. Her lips parted slightly as she looked up at me.

"Yes," I said, "We should practice. Train like it's for real." If nothing else, I could hold her in my arms, quietly, alone, for the last time until tomorrow night when we would be in front of a hundred other people.

We danced then, perhaps our best, perhaps our most compelling story of two star-crossed lovers, young and free, in love, with passion. When I dipped her backwards now and my lips touched hers, we shared again that melting, mesmerizing, forbidden, electrifying, dangerous lovers' kiss. Her lips melted into mine and I held her close to me now, her arms snaking around my neck.

We pulled each other close, our bodies seeming to join, muscle and bone, eyes shut tightly, not wanting this dance to end. But it had to. It had to. It was not right. It was taboo.

I was the first to break our lip-lock and stared madly into her eyes. She was wildly breathing and her heart was thumping out of her chest. Her chest. Her breasts, so soft and youthful, pressed against my own.

"I..." I whispered. "I don't..."

"I know, dad," she whispered back, anguish and pain in her voice. "I know. I'm sorry. But..."

I crushed her lips again with mine and our tongues met and sparred feverishly.

"We shouldn't," I whispered harshly, even as my lips and tongue attacked her neck.

Allie threw her head back in ecstasy and moaned. "I know. We shouldn't. We can't. We're not supposed to." But she was soon pulling me down onto the floor. I lay on top of her, not gently, not tenderly. We had saved the dancing for tenderness and caring. This was lust. This was passion and madness.

Her leotard top was easily pushed off her shoulder and I was soon devouring her succulent left breast, as my other hand sought out her other. She reached down between us and was fumbling for the buttons of my pants and we were gasping for breath, desperate for our own release.

I sat up momentarily and nearly tore my shirt off. I worked her bottom tights off and soon, she was lifting her pelvis to help me with her silk panties. I kicked off my pants and we held each other once more in total nakedness on the dance floor of the studio that had been our salvation for these past few months.

"Oh God, baby, what are we doing?" I gasped as she spread her lithe body for me. Her milky thighs, so graceful and athletic, and now I was between them!

"I don't know, dad. I don't know. But I know what I want, what I need. Oh God!" She reached between us and grasped my throbbing hardness, putting it to her moist opening. She was cleanly shaven and her pussy lips were glistening with desire.

"Oh God, Allie. You're wet. You're so wet and tight!" I grunted as I pushed into her.

"Oh yeah...wet...wet for you...oh God! This is so bad! So wrong! Oh Dad..."

"I know, baby. Should we stop? Should we not do this?" But I was a fool to even speculate. I was already pushing deeply into her forbidden folds, already burying my straining cock into her tight confines, the one place no father was allowed to go! I was too far gone.

"I don't know, daddy! I don't...know...oh God!" Allie arched her back to meet my initial thrust. She was not a virgin, but she felt like it. She was so tight. She wrapped her legs around my waist and we began our forbidden dance.

In and out, I thrust, and her hips met mine, like the eternal dance of lovers, joined in this unholy union of father and daughter. The dance studio echoed with our grunts and moans, our promises of love and devotion, our swears that this would never happen again. In the morning we would go back as father and daughter. In the morning, we could be a normal family again. In the morning, all would be forgiven and forgotten.

"Oh God...mom doesn't have to know. Mom doesn't have to find out. Ever. Just...just...oh God, just keep fucking me!"

I held myself up, looking down at her lovely face, twisted in the throes of passion and ecstasy. "Oh God, Allie. I have to—I have to come!"

"Oh yeah! Yeah! Do it! Just do it, dad! Please! I need you! I want you! I want all of you! Just do it! Come inside of me!"

And so I did. What father could refuse his beautiful daughter when she asked him to come inside of her? No one. Not me. No man could resist. I exploded deep within her fertile womb, shooting jet after molten jet of my unholy seed, deep in my daughter's seething pussy.

In time, I collapsed on top of her in a sweating heap of mass and muscle. We held each other close as my cock softened inside of her. We shared tender kisses and a smile. Allie touched my face softly and put a finger to my lips when I went to speak.

Silently, we got dressed and were waiting, holding hands, when Mandy came to pick us up. The dinner was wonderful and Allie seemed to glow like a new person. We did win fourth place, better than when Mandy and I had ever competed, and there were no words exchanged about the future.

Over our celebration dinner, Frankie innocently asked, "So Allie, when do you fly back to school?"

She looked at me, then at Mandy, then back at me again. She gave a small smile and shrugged. "Not sure. I was thinking maybe I should transfer to a school closer to home. I seem to have this dancing bug in me now." I felt a foot touch my leg from under the table, and I was pretty sure it wasn't Mandy's foot. My heart leapt but I had to contain myself.

Mandy looked concerned. "Are you sure, honey? You love that school."

Allie smiled sweetly. "Frankie's a great dance teacher and dad's a wonderful dance partner. How could I ever leave now?"

I shrugged and said, "Well, just think, in another year, we can go through basic training again with Frankie!"

All of us shared a good chuckle, but there were two of us at the table that shared a secret smile.