Linnea: Father's Flower

I silently withdrew to my room, visibly shaken and trembling, not knowing what to make of all I had seen. This wasn't like my father. But then, I had never really thought of my father before in a sexual context. He had always been, well... my father. I struggled most of the night with my thoughts. He deserved to have sexual fulfillment. After all, it was his choice, not mine. And yet, I had taken the book with his attempt at communicating his desire toward Tabitha. Again I became confused. Would he withdraw the invitation after what he had just seen. If so, I had to return the book to the table immediately. I waited until the sounds ceased, and when I thought it was safe, tiptoed from my room, retracing my previous journey to the dining room table, and returned the book, complete with note.

I noticed Aiden sound asleep on the couch and all was perfect stillness throughout the house. I hardly slept a wink, reliving over and over again in my mind, all the different emotions I had experienced that night.

Chapter Four

Rosaria, madre mia, had receded to the back of our memories. Life goes on, and time heals the scars of death and separation from those we loved. The human body and mind are constantly in a state of renewal and healing. The sun came out the next day and the snow quickly melted. We bid farewell to Aiden and Tabitha. I noticed my father's invitation still tucked between the pages of his book as she left, giving him a smile, as if to say she accepted the offer that she was clasping tight in her hands.

Through the coming week I thought often of that smile, seeing in my mind all its meaning and consequences. My father seemed to walk with a lighter step than usual. There was a happiness that was evident... a palpable awakening from a long sleep. Who was I to judge? Who was I to step between them and tell my father she was twenty-two years his junior? As much as I wanted to say something, it was not for me to interfere. Besides, he was more outgoing than he had been for two years, and I certainly wasn't going to deprive him of that.

The week passed quickly, as you could well imagine, and father grew more and more preoccupied with the business of the weekend. He had not been to the cabin in months. I was hoping it hadn't fallen over. It was in an advanced state of dilapidation the last time I had seen it. Hopefully it could survive and provide a shelter for two trysting lovers at least one night. I was honestly happy that my father was moving on with his life, although I was not sure of his choice of partners, but he would see the folly eventually, then move on to a more practical and permanent partner.

That Thursday night I was washing the supper dishes when I heard a conversation in my father's bedroom... indiscriminate mumblings impossible to discern. I went into his room and found him at the dresser mirror, staring at a picture of mother, and talking to her as if she was there in the flesh.

"Forgive me, Rosaria," he implored, his eyes moist with tears, "I have to move on. Don't think it is because I have ceased loving you. I will always love you and carry you in my heart until the day I die, but sometimes I am so lonely without you. If I were on the other side, I would wish you to be fulfilled in this life. After all, it is the only life we'll have. I hope I made yours happy. I hope..."

His voice trembled and trailed off into the empty space around him, space that had once been filled by my mother.

I sidled up behind him and placed my hands on his shoulders. Our eyes met in the mirror, reflecting the soft incandescence of the bedside lamp.

"It's ok," I assured him, "she would want you to be happy."

He placed his hand on mine and squeezed it.

"You know?" he asked.

"Yes."

I related how I attempted to steal the book and hide it, and how I had read the note unsuspectingly. He thoughtfully told me he didn't know I prized his old books, and that he would never give another away. He promised.

He smiled for the first time that night.

"I guess you think your father is a dirty old man."

"No, not particularly. I just hope..."

I stopped, not wanting to stick my nose where it didn't belong.

"Hope what?" he asked.

"Well... I just hope you're not let down if it doesn't turn out the way you want."

He smiled again, assuringly.

"I just hope the house doesn't fall down on top of us!"

We both laughed as I kissed his head and bid him goodnight.

Our short exchange helped me in many ways. It opened us up as confidants to each other in matters of life and partnerships, love and even sex. It was nice being able to talk about things like that with my father, since my mother, whom I think would have guided me safely through my relationships, was not there to confide in.

And I felt he was going into this weekend with eyes wide open. I certainly didn't need to say anything more. I never felt closer to my father than I had that night. I sat in my bed with a book and looked out my bedroom window. Scattered flakes of snow were beginning to flutter aimlessly to earth, like tiny little fairies dancing pirouettes to the pavement of the street beyond. I can't remember closing my eyes. I was so contented.

Chapter Five

The next morning the ground was covered by a soft snow. I woke up before my father and made some cinnamon toast and fresh squeezed orange juice. We both sat around the table and talked a while. I asked him his plans. When was he heading out to the cabin? Was she meeting him there?

"We decided to go separately so as not to raise any suspicion. I'm heading out soon to fix the place up a little so it's livable, and Tabitha's buying some groceries and bringing them up a little later."

"Sounds like a plan!" I kissed him on the cheek and told him I needed to buy a little food for the house myself, and I would be leaving before he left, to get to the store early.

I was leaving as he was taking a shower, so I thought I'd go into the master bedroom and yell through the bathroom door that I was going.

"Bye, Dad," I called, "and good luck!"

I turned to leave when something caught my eye on the bed by his one set of clothes he had set out for the whole weekend. My father wasn't good at packing. Lying by the trousers was a small package of Viagra tablets. I couldn't believe it. He was only fifty. Surely he didn't need it. I realized, though, that he was probably a bit insecure since he hadn't been in the action for a couple of years at least.

"Well," I thought smiling to myself, "He'll get his confidence back in no time I'm sure. Especially with a girl like Tabitha!" I was snickering to myself as I shut the door to leave.

I spent a lot of time shopping. The snow was beginning to accumulate and I wanted to make sure I'd have everything I needed for a few days, in case I got snowed in. I went to the hardware store and bought a snow shovel. I needed some snow boots, but couldn't find any, as all the stores had had a run on them. I figured I'd just have to stay inside. Finally, when I felt I was prepared for whatever, I went to the grocery store. It was getting late and the snow was falling thicker. I heard on the car radio that it was expected to be a heavy snowfall.

You can imagine my surprise when I found Tabitha in the parking lot at the food market. She should have gone up to the cabin at least two hours ago. I went up to her car, which she was sitting in with the heat running, reading a magazine, and I asked her what she was doing here. I hopped in the passenger side. Books were everywhere; my father's book was sitting on the dashboard with the invitation still sandwiched between the pages.

"You didn't seriously think I'd go up a mountain and stay in a cabin with weather like this?" she said.

"Well, yes," I replied. "My father's expecting you to bring up the food supply for the weekend."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be ok," she countered.

I took my father's book and pulled the invitation out and threw it at her. I was furious. I left the car, slamming the door, and strode into the store muttering to myself.

"I can't believe it! She stood him up!"

The snow was turning into a full-fledged blizzard, and I realized that my father might be stuck up in the cabin for three or four days without food. I couldn't let that happen. I bought what supplies I could: candles, matches, flashlights, things I thought might come in handy. I made sure there was enough food for three days at least, and on a whim I bought a bottle of wine, just to make sure we felt a little civilized up there in a blizzard. I packed everything in the two duffle bags I had bought, and headed straight out to the cabin without stopping by home to pack anything else. Time was critical, as the roads might not be passable in another hour or so.

The drive out to the cabin was risky at best. Indeed, I didn't even know if I could make it. Cars were in ditches on the sides of the highways, and some were simply abandoned, buried in the rising drifts. Luckily, I had my car dealership rotate a special set of snow tires onto my vehicle every December, and they certainly came in handy that day. The blizzard was intense, not only for the heavy snow, but for the wind which swept the flakes to a frenzy and caused snow drifts the size of small hills.

I was so relieved when I saw the cabin, but the drifts prevented me from getting any closer than about thirty or forty yards from the door. The snow was so heavy that I could barely see, but I discerned some smoke rising in wispy curls from the chimney. I hauled both duffle bags out of the car and began the final ascent to my destination, but it was more than I could handle. I hadn't dressed for the cold and had nothing on my head. Add to that the fact that I sank into the drifts up to my waist. I began to panic.

"Dad!" I screamed as loud as I could, "Help me!"

The wind was whistling and bending the conifers surrounding the cabin, making me realize he probably hadn't heard me. The more I strained, the more I sank into the unforgiving snow. I would struggle to the surface only to sink back before I had traversed a few yards. I didn't think I would make it. I stopped for a few moments, heavily breathing in the frigid air that stung my lungs. I started to cry. I couldn't move.

"I tried," I told my father, who was but twenty yards away by a warm fire. "I love you."

I shut my eyes, exhausted.

Chapter Six

A set of strong hands gripped my shoulders and wrenched me from the snow drift in which I was quickly being buried. I was laid practically lifeless on the surface while my father retrieved the duffle bags from the accumulating powder. We were both covered in snow and looked like two snowmen making our way past the last few yards remaining between us and the door.

Inside the cabin, it was a different world. Through my numbness I could feel an instant blast of heat. The drifts that surrounded us provided an insulation and protection from the wind. My father had stretched some waterproof tarps over the roof earlier, so it was quit cozy, all things considered. We had food and supplies to make it through a few days, but we were both soaking wet from the snow that had at first clung to our clothes, but now melted and left us drenched, like we had just stepped, fully-clothed, out of a shower.

We sat by the fire, but we were still shivering. I was still in a slight state of shock.

"That was close!" I exclaimed.

"I heard someone call out," he said. "I thought it was Tabitha. I didn't know until I pulled you out of the snow that it was you."

I couldn't hold my feelings in any longer.

"The bitch stood you up!" I yelled, taking the book, now soaking wet, from my pocket, and tossing it on the table. "I could kill her."

"It's ok," he replied, trying to soothe my rattled nerves. "At least you're safe and warm."

"Warm?" I countered, seized by another shivering fit. "I don't think so. You wouldn't happen to have another set of clothes here?"

The look in his eyes belied the fact that he wasn't expecting to get snowed in and the only set of clothes either of us had were on our backs. As I said, he didn't like to pack.

All I could do was laugh and throw my hands up.

"Great!" I said, "This is like some plot from a formulaic romance novel: Two people are soaking wet, stuck in some inaccessible situation, with a warm fire. Gee, I wonder where this is leading? Aaaargh!"

I paced back and forth in front of the fire.

"Well, at least we're related, and not horny romance characters. I think we can handle this. Don't you?"

"Sure," my father replied in a most unsure manner.

It was a small, one room structure with a tiny water closet connected to it by a lean to. There was no real way to be private, so I just decided what had to be done... well... had to be done.

"So," I started, "it's like this. I'm going to take my clothes off and wrap up in a blanket by the fire. You're going to take your clothes off, and I guess you're either going to be naked, or maybe find a towel or something. Is that ok?"

"Sure," he muttered, a bit embarrassed.

"For the next day or so," I continued, "this is just the way it's going to be. I need to cook. We need to get up and do things. Are you ok with all this?"

He shrugged his shoulders and stared into the fire.

I saw he was having trouble with this, but it couldn't be helped.

I turned my back on him and began stripping off my clothes. I couldn't keep my back turned forever though, because I had to hang them up somewhere near the fireplace. I began to search, stark naked, around the room for various places to hang my jacket, dress, stockings, bra, and panties. I dried myself off a little with our only towel and tossed it to my father.

"Your turn," I said, matter of factly, figuring the sooner we got this over with, the better.

He slowly removed his coat, his shirt, shoes and socks, then hesitated. Then, with a deep breath accompanying his reluctance, he removed his trousers and boxers.

"Just what," I asked, "is that?"

He blushed as he realized I noticed his rather prominent erection.

"Well... uhh..." he seemed at a loss for words. Then I understood what was happening.

"You took the Viagra, didn't you?"

He leaned against the mantle and nodded his head.

"Uhmm... it doesn't seem to be going away," he sheepishly replied. "I thought she'd be here any moment. I'm such a fool."

"You're not a fool," I consoled him. "You're just human. What does the package instruct you to do in a case like this?"

"I don't know," he answered. "I can never understand those directions."

"What?" I asked, amazed. "Dad! You can read Linear B... and you can't read a pill package?"

I was learning a lot I didn't know about my father.

Trying to make the best of the situation, and empathizing somewhat with my father's predicament, I invited him to sit with me on the couch, and shared the blanket with him. Both chairs were covered with wet clothes and the couch was the only place left, and my poor father was beginning to shiver.

He sat down and I wrapped the blanket around us both. I know this is where the formulaic romances get all steamy, but it was nothing like that for us. We were more concerned with just driving away the chill, and the fire was cozy and warm. Ever so often, he would rise and stoke the fire with more wood.

I tried not to stare, but he was hard not to notice, towering over everything in the room, and face it, it was hard ignoring his pill-enhanced member sticking out. I was trying not to giggle. The poor man was embarrassed enough already. An hour passed, and his condition wasn't going away. We somehow had to get past this.

Chapter Seven

I rose to cook something for supper, walking about, trying not to care that I was nude, but it was an uncomfortable experience all around. Finally we sat down together on the couch in front of the fire, our dinner plates in our laps. It was a simple affair of soup and crackers, but it was delicious after an exhausting day. At first, he couldn't hold his plate in his lap because of... you know, but we solved the dilemma by grabbing one of the pillows from the bed, which he used as a lap table for his meal. I sat upright and bare breasted, but I was getting used to it, and it didn't seem quite so sexual or embarrassing as it did at first.

Sometimes I could feel him staring at me, but I didn't want to check to see if it was true, as I didn't want to embarrass either him or myself. I rose from dinner and cleared the plates, uncorking the bottle of dessert wine and pouring each of us a big glass. I thought maybe it would ease our discomfort with the situation, if not helping to ease his condition somewhat.

The conversation diverted us to other less volatile subjects.

"I think this place needs a little more attention," I told him. "Maybe we can come out in the spring and start fixing it up a little."

"The dogwoods are beautiful in the spring," he replied. "I'd like that."

"In fact," I continued, "I'd like to spend more time up here."

"When it's not buried in a blizzard, it's quite a restful place to be," he countered, anything but relaxed.

I don't know what made me do it. Maybe it was the wine, which was rather strong, or maybe it was just my concern for my father's discomfort.

I reached under the blanket and took his bare penis in my hand.

"You know Tabitha's too young for you?" I piped up, wondering where that came from.

"You really think so?" he asked.

"Yes I do," I replied. "Besides, Aiden is quite a bit bigger. I'm not sure someone like Tabitha would give him up for an old guy like you."

I let out a little snort of laughter, as a few drops of wine dribbled from my nose and onto my breasts. I blushed.

My father chuckled to see me in my state of semi-intoxication. He laid back, enjoying the feel of my hand gently squeezing his shaft.

"How would you know how big Aiden is?" he inquired. "You two aren't..."

"Oh my God, no," I interjected. "I was watching the two of them the other night from the bathroom, and noticed you in the hall doorway."

Now it was his turn to blush.

"I didn't know," he stammered. "I'm sorry. I..."

"Don't sweat it," I said, putting an end to the matter. "It was making me a little excited too, to be honest."

It seemed as though his penis grew a little harder with the last statement, contemplating our combined voyeurism. I began to massage his cock, hoping to resolve the situation, but I was feeling a bit flushed by the process, and the conversation.

My father laid his head back, looking up at the ceiling, letting out little groaning sounds as my hand stroked him up and down.

"I know you're just trying to help, and I shouldn't be enjoying this, but..."

"Enjoy it, Dad. It will help you to cum that much quicker, and this whole embarrassing situation will be in our past."

I couldn't believe I was actually giving my father a hand job, but it really didn't seem as awkward as I thought it would be. It had only taken a few hours for us to get used to being completely naked around each other. So what if his penis was erect because of a pill. It could simply be taken care of and put in the past, along with our nudity when our clothes dried out. Eventually this all would be a memory we could laugh about every time we came up to the cabin.

After half an hour of steady stroking though, it was obvious he wasn't going to have an orgasm in my hand, and I still can't believe what I did next. It was like something I had read about in cheap romances dealing with situations like these. I'd always laughed when I read the pulp crap publishers dared to call literature, yet here I was, a prisoner in my own pulp fantasy, kneeling between my father's legs and telling him to close his eyes and think about Tabitha.

Facing my father allowed me to switch hands as I slowly kept massaging him while wrapping my lips around the tip of his penis. The sensations that I felt while doing this were... well... sensational! A small trickle of vaginal juices dribbled down my thighs. I can't believe I was being turned on by this. After all, he was my father. My original intent of relieving his Viagral erection was giving way to a more intense, animalistic, primal need. My insides were beginning to churn, and my mind was taking me to a different place, a place where feelings and sexual needs displaced all reason and boundaries.