Little Packages

"I'm sure you'll have lots of fun," I said. And then, I had a 'fuck it' moment. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I pulled up my number and showed it to her.

"Do me a favor and text me when you get back to your room safely. Us dad's worry about our girls out in the big city."

She grinned, and took a quick photo of the number, and checked to make sure she could read it. Then she pocketed her phone, and threw her back over her shoulder. Then, on impulse, she bent down and kissed me on the cheek.

"You know you just blew your chance to get rid of me for the con? You could have hid from the rambling, clumsy redhead, but now you have to deal with me all weekend."

"I'll manage."

"I'm looking forward to finding out," she said, and then headed out of the lounge. Just before she left, she paused, looked back at me with a grin. And then called out loud enough for most customers to hear.

"Thanks for supper, daddy. See you later!" Then she was gone.

A few customers gave me a look. I ignored them, left money for the meal, stood up and went to my room to change for the jacuzzi, wondering what exactly I had gotten myself into.

***

I slept like the dead, waking up only briefly around 1:30 when my phone pinged. It was a text.

"Safe and sound back at the hotel, dad." And then there was a photo of her lying in bed. It looked fairly modest...she was wearing a nightshirt with Batgirl on it and her make-up had been all removed. Didn't make her any less adorable, though.

"Good girl," I texted back. "I'll see you tomorrow." I then fell back asleep.

It was only after I woke up 7 hours later that it occurred to me she might have wanted to chat more or sext or something. Then again, that had a slight creepy vibe I couldn't shake off, so I was glad I didn't.

A quick shower, a survey of which geek t-shirt to wear that day (I opted for a Batgirl shirt from the animated series), and a restocking of critical supplies - a bottle of water, granola bars, and some trail mix. I rechecked my wallet to see if I needed to grab some from the room safe. The damage from Day 1 wasn't too bad, but some extra money wouldn't hurt.

I glanced at the pill bottle holding the anti-depressants. I was feeling good. I briefly entertained the idea of not taking them, but then remembered that being in the middle of a giant comic con would be a hell of a place to suddenly get really depressed. I took the pill.

I picked up my phone off the charger and debated texting Ashley. Suddenly I was 15 and wondering if I should ask the cute girl in my class out for a date. Those things rarely worked out for me back then.

"To hell with it," I thought.

"See you at the con. Looking forward to your cosplay."

Harmless. Not creepy.

I hobbled over to my cane, grabbed it and headed out the door.

***

I'd been at the con for a little over an hour and was absolutely not checking my phone every five minutes for a text when there finally was one.

"Finally got in :(. The line was crazy and my bitch roommates slept in. Where are you?"

"Artist Alley" I replied.

"Cool. I'm stuck with them for an hour or so. I'll come find you. Let me know if you leave that area."

"No prob."

Walking around Artist Alley at a con was the easiest thing in the world for me. Put me in a room filled with artists selling books, prints, and artwork and I was in my version of heaven. The only challenge was not spending all the money.

I was enjoying myself. I was chatting with an artist about his latest book and eyeing some of the pages he had for sale. That explains why I didn't see her coming up behind me. It was only when the artist looked away from me and said "That is an awesome Batgirl" that I turned around.

There are all kinds of Batgirls. You could go old school grey and yellow from the 70s and 80s. You could do the armored costume. The one from the animated series. The hipster Burnside costume.

Ashley decided they were all too conservative and went for the Bombshell version. Which is to say - yellow knee-high Doc Marten, purple parachute pants, a utility belt, a purple corset which pushed up her breasts giving her some modest cleavage while leaving her midriff bare, a yellow and purple cape, and a purple aviator cap with goggles. Her red hair was pulled into a ponytail out the back of the cap.

Fortunately the artist I was speaking to couldn't see my face as my jaw dropped. She was a bombshell and she knew it. I found myself at a loss for words.

Ashley beamed at my reaction, but decided to not out me to everyone as a lecherous pervert that I feared I was.

"Hey, dad. There you are? Spend all our money yet?"

I managed to compose myself before speaking. "Not yet," I said. "Have you been fighting off the boys all morning?"

"Only a few, and a couple of girls. But I've been behaving."

Yes, she was going to be the death of me. The artist I'd been speaking to asked if he could get a picture with her. She agreed. I'm not sure he believed I was her father, but he wasn't taking any chances and kept his hands visible the whole time.

We walked off down the crowded aisle, and she looped her arm in with mine and began giggling.

"I thought you were going to have a stroke."

"I'm not sure I'm entirely out of the woods. You look incredible."

She smiled. "Thanks, dad. I thought you would like it."

We strolled around Artist Alley, chatting about the different things on tables, and frequently pausing so Ashley could pose for a photo. It was a good time, but my knee needed a break and I could use a bite to eat. Finding a place to sit was going to be impossible, so I navigated towards the back wall of the convention centre. There were plenty of others with the same idea, either taking a break, having a snack, or checking their phones, but I managed to find a spot and eased myself down to the floor. I stretched my bad leg out and gently massaged it. Ashley looked worried and hunched down next to me.

"Are you ok, dad?"

I was never not going to get a thrill hearing her say that, I decided.

"I'm fine. I'm just an old man and I need a break and some food. You can run along if you want and hang out with your friends."

She pouted. "Trying to get rid of me? No chance," she said and flopped/collapsed into an inelegant pile down on the floor next to me. She then reached into her utility belt and pulled out some granola bars and water.

"Clever," I said, admiringly.

"I've got my moments," she said.

We ate our snacks and she rested her head on my shoulder. It was a nice moment, which is when my brain decided it would be a good time to try and ruin things.

"I don't understand," I said, staring off at the crowd. "You're beautiful, smart, funny and geeky as hell. You are a dream girl for a lot of people here. I am the very definition of an average, middle-age guy. Why are you spending your time with me?"

She lifted her head off my shoulder, looked at me a moment, weighed her options, and decided to punch me in the shoulder. Then she tucked her arm into mine and put her head back on my shoulder.

"Thank god I don't like you for your brains," she said. "I mean, cute, geeky and kind are good enough for me. Brains would be nice, but I guess a girl can't have everything."

I was not cute. I probably had never been cute. My hair was almost completely gray and I'm sure the beard was not helping much. However, I was in surprisingly decent shape. Turns out the two year long horror show I went through was good for weight loss. Plus the last six months I had started working out as a way to keep me distracted. Still, I was not any 19-year-old girl's definition of cute. Maybe distinguished on a good day. I took a breath to respond when she held up a finger, as if to shush me. I paused. She took a deep breath, but didn't look at me when she spoke.

"So, secret origin time. I'll be wanting yours later, by the way, but for now, we'll do mine.

"When I was 11, my dad left home. Just abandoned mom and I. Which you would think would make me hate him, but I was a good and proper daddy's girl at this point. So when he up and left because he got tired of fighting with mom over his drinking, naturally I blamed mom. And being a redhead, it means I was particularly stubborn and vicious about it. God, the fights mom and I had," she said, shaking her head.

"It also meant when I was old enough for the hormones to kick into full gear I was hell on wheels. From 12 to 17 I made a lot of really, really questionable choices. I was a little too much my father's daughter when it came to drinking and drugs, which is why I don't do them anymore. I partied a lot and...I discovered I had a type. I liked older men."

"You went looking for a daddy," I said.

She nodded. "The problem being when you're a needy wild child with daddy issues, you're going to find men who will absolutely take advantage of that situation. And I was..."

She paused a moment. I was beginning to feel like shit poking at her like this.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried like that. I know that must have been hard."

She stopped leaning against my shoulder and sat back up on the wall, staring off at the crowd.

"Yeah, it was. But I read something once. 'We learn by doing.' Simple, but I like it. And, you know, I learned some hard lessons, but I got through it. And it gave me one hell of an abusive asshole radar. Which also has its downsides. I tried to give up older guys. You know, find a nice guy closer to my own age. Maybe stop chasing after daddy figures.

"But when you try to date 18 to 24 year old guys, your asshole radar is going off all the time. Or they're so immature that I have no patience with them. It's been a pretty frustrating few years, dating wise.

"But I came here to relax, have some fun with my friends and you know, maybe try and find a guy my age that isn't, by some miracle, a complete dick. But then I literally ran into you..."

"You do pack quite a punch for such a little package..."

"Jerk," she said, blushing a bit. "But my asshole radar didn't go off with you. You could have been furious with me, and you weren't. When I was weird and stalked you outside the con, you were more concerned about feeding me and making sure I was warm. I texted you in the middle of the night, and you were just happy I was home safe and didn't try to sext me.

"And I know you like me. I know you do. I can see it when you look at me. But you're concerned about coming across as a lecherous old man and taking advantage of me..."

"Wow," I said. "Are you studying psychology?"

"Design, actually," she said. "I'm just good at reading people and knowing what they want."

"You're very good at it," I said.

"So you do like me, daddy?" she said. Daddy. Not dad. Whole other thing. Wow.

"I do," I said, surprising myself a bit with admission. "But I'm carrying some damage of my own in my Secret Origin."

She nodded, sliding up the wall, rubbing her butt to get rid of numbness. I leveraged my cane to help push me up the wall. She took my hand and leaned up to give me a kiss on the cheek.

"I know, daddy. And when you're ready, I want to hear it. But just so you know, I'm ok with this and seeing where it goes. You're not taking advantage of me. To answer your earlier question, I like you because you're kind and I think I can trust you. And I have a daddy/daughter kink that doesn't seem like it's going away. and I hope I can help you relax and play with me because I think we could have some real fun."

Her phone chose that moment to be annoying and interrupt the moment. She grabbed it on reflex, looked down at it and rolled her eyes.

"My presence is demanded. There's a photo shoot taking place and I'm late. I have to run," she said. Then she looked back up at me. "Are we ok?"

"You've helped reassure your old man he's not a lecherous pervert."

"Oh god, I hope he's still a bit of a pervert," she said, taking a quick glance around. Then she leaned up and kissed me quickly on the lips.

"I'll touch base later, daddy," she said, dashing off into the crowd, a purple and yellow cape flapping behind her.

****

I was in a surprisingly decent mood as I hobbled through the madness of the Friday crowds at the con. I could only imagine what Saturday was going to look like. I'd need to replace my cane with a machete to make any progress anywhere. But the crowds weren't frustrating to me. I was just basking in the glow. I felt like a teenager, which was weirdly exhilarating.

"She likes me," I thought. I was already doing some quick research on dd/lg play on my phone, because I understood the theory of it, but I suspected she had a bit more practical experience with it. But that was fine. I think it was going to be a fun thing to learn and experiment with. There was also the matter of, you know, where she lived compared to where I lived. It was a sure bet we were both from out of town, but with my luck, she lived on the other side of the country.

Deep breath. One worry at a time, old man. Just enjoy that something is happening you never thought would happen again...you found someone who likes you.

That alone was enough to put a slightly dopey grin on my face.

But by 4:30 I hadn't heard from her. Trying to 'accidentally" run into someone at a comic con of this size is ludicrous, but I spent 45 minutes fighting the crowds to reach one of the areas where cosplayers hang out to see if I could spot her. If not, then I could always text.

But she wasn't there, although I could see her two friends, dressed as Supergirl and Wonder Woman, holding court. No sign of my Batgirl, though. I was beginning to get worried, when I spotted a flash of purple and yellow down a side hallway where there were rooms to get into panels. She was sitting on the floor, with her head on her knees, looking upset and miserable. I got next to her and slid down the side of the wall. That's when she finally noticed me.

"Ashley, what..."

She threw her arms around me and began sniffling, trying not to cry and not completely succeeding. The smart, composed woman from a few hours earlier was absent. I put my arms around her and gave her a hug.

"It's ok, Ashley. What's the matter?"

She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry, daddy. I didn't want to bother you. Teenage girls stuff."

I appreciated being kept out of it. I had limited experience with teenage girl drama warfare, but I knew I would be way over my head.

"You're never a bother. What happened?"

From that simple question came a torrent of anger, upset, drama, and frustration. Heather and Lesley had been upset with her being late for the photo shoot because she had been with me. They then proceeded to give her a hard time for chasing after an old man. She fired back a few remarks about them being sluts who were chasing after whatever boy paid the slightest bit of attention to them. Which is when they told her they had "company" coming back to their room after a party tonight and they didn't care much for weird girls, so maybe she ought to find another place to spend the night.

She'd said fine and stomped off. She'd then realized she had no place to stay tonight, or perhaps the rest of the con, and she didn't want to impose on me because she knew I was still nervous in thinking I was taking advantage of her, which clearly she had no problem with us being together...

This all came out in about 20 seconds.

I was honestly trying not to laugh because, god, the drama. So I did something rash, especially given where we were.

I reached down, put my finger on her lips, and then leaned in and kissed her.

God, she was nice to kiss. Soft lips. Some kind of flavoured gloss which had miraculous remained on all day. Her eyes went wide for a second, then she threw her arms around me and kissed me back. It lasted about 15 seconds until I heard some people gently laughing at us. I pulled back. She looked at me, slightly glazed.

"Get your stuff, and stay with me at the hotel. Crisis averted."

"Really?" she said, looking amazed.

"Really," I said. And then added "There is absolutely no expectation of anything happening. I'll talk to the concierge and have a cot brought up to the room. I'll feel better knowing you're safe and sound rather than sleeping on a subway platform."

She hugged me again, harder this time.

"Thank you. You're the best daddy."

While being gently crushed by my pixie, I managed to fumble out my wallet out of my back pocket, reached in and handed her a few $20 bills. She looked confused.

"I don't want you dragging your luggage across the city. It's a surefire way to have more drama happen to your day. There's not that much time left before the doors closed. Go get changed now, and head back to your room and grab your stuff before the drama queens arrive. Then grab a cab and come back to the hotel. Text me when you get the cab and when you're arriving," I said.

She nodded, and took the money slowly from my hands. Then she headed towards the coat check-in area to get her stuff, disappearing into the hordes. A few minutes later my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from her.

"You really don't need to get the cot from the concierge, daddy. I'm pretty small and don't take up much room in a bed."

Christ almighty.

***

Before I came to this con my friends and family were concerned I might do something crazy. I thought they were afraid I'd spend all my money or get into a random fight. During the past two years I had...flashes of irrational behaviour. Seething rage that could be triggered with the slightest insult. I wasn't reckless with money; it's not like I was buying stupid sports cars. But I didn't care so much about money. I'd worked hard and saved and still lost the most precious thing in the world to me. Money couldn't get it back, so why did it matter?

I'd gotten better the last six months. Medication helped. Finally talking to professionals and listening to what they had to say rather than just blowing them off was working. The whole reason I was at this con was that everyone believed it was safe for me to go and do something by myself.

"I would have picked a beach and gone swimming in the ocean. Leave it to you to go someplace chilly and swarming with people who have dubious hygiene habits," my mom said to me. She questioned if it was a rational decision. I insisted it was.

It occurred to me as I headed back to the hotel that hooking up with a 19-year-old with a daddy fetish and a drama field probably also qualified as not a completely sane decision.

I did not care. The last two years had been pain and heartbreak and now I had Ashley who at least wanted to make me happy right now. I'd figure out the rest later.

I got back to my room and tidied the place up a bit. I had clothes, books and comic con swag tossed all over the room. It wasn't long before I got the first text telling me she was in a taxi. Twenty minutes later there was another text telling me she was pulling up to the hotel. I gave her my room number. And then there was a tentative knock at the room door. I opened it and there was a pile of bags with a tiny redhead in the middle.

Cosplayers don't travel light, but Ashley dragging around a piece of luggage on wheels, a hiking style backpack with a smaller, school sized one in her arm, it's a miracle she managed to get here in a taxi. I could only imagine what it would have been like wrestling all this stuff onto the subway.

"Jesus, Ashley," I said, grabbing her luggage and small backpack and bringing into the room. "Did you fly here carrying all this?"

"Bus, actually," she said. "They're a little bit more flexible about how much you can carry on board."

She walked into the room, shrugging her shoulders and let the large backpack drop to the floor. She then looked around the room. It was a fairly standard hotel room. King-sized bed, a large TV above the dresser, a small desk if you wanted to do some work and a couple of comfy chairs positioned by the window. The bathroom had a solid shower and bath. The hotel was less than five years old, so the usual wear and tear hadn't settled in yet.