In the Way Ch. 03

Closing her eyes, she placed her face in the palm of my hand. "He didn't tell me anything, actually. He asked me many questions like what kind of a father were you, whether you were alone with me a lot of time, whether you were very physically expressive about your affection. What was your attitude towards my friends, did you encourage me to bring them over. And then he wanted to know whether I wore swimsuits at home, and were you around when I went into the pool."

She paused. When she opened her eyes, they looked right into mine. "He never actually came out and asked me whether you were molesting me, but all the questions he initially asked seemed to tend towards that. Then he shifted tactics and asked me what I would feel whenever I thought about you, whether I thought you were handsome and attractive, and he wanted me to think before answering his last question."

She waited for me to ask her what it was.

"What would I do if you ever wanted to have sex with me?"

"Shit," I said. For an instant there, I had an image of Dr. Chivago's face crumpling under my fist, like those slow-mo movies of a Mike Tyson KO. I was so caught up in my own anger that I did not catch what she said next. Returning from my reverie, I asked her to repeat her answer.

"I said," she spoke, her eyes leveling with mine, dark orbs that seemed to hold mine captive, "That's for me to know and you to find out and none of his fucking business. And then I slapped him and walked out of there."

No wonder he did not want to talk about her session with me, I thought. The bastard would probably never have gotten to the end of his story. Somehow, the thought of Nikki having the last word lessened my rage into a seething anger that could wait until the next time I saw the good doctor. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of his face crumpling under a Nicole Kane KO. I laughed.

She joined me. "Yeah, I know. And damn, it felt good. Not to hit him or anything, but to actually shut him, to let him know he can't get away with what he asked me about us. About you." I noted her distinction between 'us' and 'you' with pride. She wanted to defend not just her own honor but also mine as well, and I daresay she could not have been more emphatic about it.

I boxed her shoulders playfully. "Looks like you take after your old man after all. I was afraid you would grow up into a wuss."

"Like mom?" she asked and immediately held up a hand. "Sorry, won't happen again."

I patted her cheek, which were still a fiery shade from her excitement. "Look, you can tell me whatever you want. About me, about Rachel, about anything. Use me as your punching bag." I gave her my best smile. "A very handsome punching bag."

"You wish," she said, the gleam back in her eyes. "And I might take you up on that offer, you know. More frequently than you may think."

"You won't get any objections from me," I told her.

"In fact, there is one thing I want to ask you right now," she said a few seconds later.

"The answer's no, if you think I am going to get you a brand new car."

"Stop kidding, Dad," she said, clutching both my hands. "And stand up."

I obeyed. "Are you going to propose to me?" I asked, affecting a feminine voice.

"Not yet," she said, mimicking my brogue. I did not read any significance into those words, at the time. She stood in front of me, half an arm away, and looked up at me coyly. In her own voice, she asked the next question. "Can I kiss you?"

"'Course you can, little one," I told her, using the nickname she hated just to tease her further. "You kiss me all the time. Why start asking now?" And then I thought it was because of all those things that Dr. Chivago had asked about. Perhaps she thought that I would maybe want to put some distance between us in order to save myself from further allegations. Before I could ask her, though, she clarified her request.

"Not like that," she said, her hands brushing against my lips. "I want a real kiss. Like you kiss mom."

I would have amended that to "Used to" if I had any sense of humor left, but it seemed to have left me all of a sudden. This was literally a bolt out of the blue. Like a lottery. Or the Dodgers winning the World Series. I tried to salvage the situation - and my control over it - by sounding all grown-up and father-like. So I said, "I don't understand why you would want to."

I had barely finished when she placed her hands on either side of my face and kissed me. She had to stand on her toes, and gentleman that I am, I bent over slightly so that she did not have to. I was surprised at her sudden move, but somehow had enough presence of mind not to open my mouth and attack her with my tongue. Nosirree, the Attack of the Killer Tongue was definitely not playing in this theater.

But it is amazing what it can do when it is somebody else's. Nikki ran her tongue across my lips, and Open Sesame! said the thief. She was young, and her inexperience showed in her rush to get her tongue into my mouth, almost jamming itself under mine. Her mouth tasted sweet, of lemonade and mint, and her tongue was soft and pliant - and don't make me tell you where you can find stiff, frozen tongues - and her hands were pressed so tightly against my face they might have hurt had I cared.

My hands found their way around her of their own volition, with one resting in the small of her back and the other running up and down her side. I felt her stiffen momentarily as my fingers brushed against the sides of her breasts for the first time, and then she seemed to melt into me, into my hands and mouth and nose and eyes, with her whole body somehow giving off a vibe that I picked up, a vibe that said that she was enjoying every second of it. Her eyes were closed and she looked as if she were channeling her entire concentration into our kiss. I could feel the nipples, hard and heavy, press against my chest, and I longed to feel them in my hands, to play with them, to kiss them, to taste them... to swallow them as deeply as I could.

However, these were emotions I later recalled feeling during that kiss. At that moment, however, in her embrace, all that mattered to me was giving her the most passionate kiss I had ever given anybody, even Rachel. I wanted it to be a kiss she would never forget, because I knew, simply knew, that I would forever taste her on my lips every time I thought about this moment. I held her tighter, and she held me tighter, and no longer was I the suave older man - she made me feel like a teenager sharing his first kiss, mouths mashing, tongues sliding over and under each other, tasting each other. It seemed we could have gone on forever.

We might have, if it had not been for the interruption.

"Jerry, I need to pick up - Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to - Oh, shit."

If there was anything that could have broken the spell of our kiss, it was the voice of my wife. We jumped apart guiltily and turned towards the source, who was retreating into the living room, her purse clutched tightly in her hand, mumbling something repeatedly, something that sounded vaguely like, "Stupid, why did you walk in on them?"

I glanced at Nikki, who seemed too stunned to say anything. I would like to think it was the kiss, but it was more probably the shock of having her mother walk in on us. I ran after my wife.

"Rachel, wait. It's not what you think..."

The door slammed behind her, and I slammed into the door.