Playing the Part

She looked at me and rubbed my cheek again. "Once you stopped writing me, I realized what he'd done."

She started to cry, and I held her. As I pulled her close, she cried harder and hugged me.

"You have no idea how good this feels."

I could smell the shampoo she'd used for years, mixed with the shampoo I'd smelled yesterday. I bent down and kissed the top of her head.

We held each other, saying little. As I'd slept in just the sweatpants, she had easy access to gently stroke my bare chest with one of her hands.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too, pumpkin."

She waited a while before she spoke.

"Daddy, we need to talk about something."

"Anything."

"Daddy, I know how you feel about me."

"I know you do, pumpkin. You know I love you."

"That's not what I meant." Gently, she motioned with her head towards my erection, making me suddenly aware of it. I pulled away, but she grabbed my hand.

"Daddy... Daddy... shhhh. You don't know how proud I am of you. You don't know how proud I am to be your daughter. Please, listen to me." She calmed me down, but I still wanted to run. My heart was already racing for the hills.

She grabbed both of my hands and held them.

"I'm here to be with you. I'm not here to make you uncomfortable or make you do something you don't want to do. I want you to be my dad and my friend."

I started to cry, which made her start to tear up also.

"Daddy, I don't put any rules on who we are. We are whatever we want to be with each other. That feeling you feel right now, that you don't want to admit. I feel it, too."

Her voice was making me aware of my arousal feeling her like this, but my emotions felt mixed. This couldn't be right.

She sensed me freeze up.

She pulled my hands to her heart and held them there. I felt her heart beating through her chest hard and fast. Feeling how excited it made me.

She swallowed and looked up at me. "Daddy... it took a long time to come to grips with how I felt. It's why I ran away. I needed you so much. I never wanted to leave you. But I had to go make my way in the world. I had to run away from how I felt. I thought if I did, my silly teenage crush would finally leave me."

She took a break to steal herself again, and then she continued, her heart beating hard as she spoke.

"When I met Jeff... it was fun, but... it wasn't what I wanted."

I felt so horrible, finally realizing what she meant. What trauma she must have gone through to be talking like this to me. What had I done to her?

"I never figured out how to tell you without you blaming yourself. You're just that kind of person. Always wanting to play along and make things better, taking it on yourself to adjust to what I wanted. Never letting yourself have what you want."

Confused, I responded, "I got a cabin, didn't I?"

She laughed, and I smiled. At least the tension was broken some. Her sigh made me feel warm.

"It feels... so good... to be here. I could just curl up and die happy. I love the cabin."

I blushed, ashamed that the cabin was actually liveable now thanks to how much work she'd put into it yesterday.

"Thanks... for cleaning it. You didn't have to do that."

She let go of my hands and held my face, again planting her lips on mine. I should have pulled away - as my hands naturally fell to her breasts - but I didn't. She didn't seem like she was trying to jump me. But the kiss was definitely more than a daughter's kiss.

She left my lips and rolled over, pulling my arm around her until I was the big spoon.

"Just hold me for a while?"

I hugged her from behind and relaxed as we cuddled. Soon, I heard the oh-so-familiar sound of her quiet snores. I loved that sound. I just laid there listening to it.

I must have fallen asleep, too, because I awoke to Alex kissing me again. Instinctively, feeling her warmth against me, I began kissing her back. Before I knew it, my hand had slid under her shirt and onto her breast before I was awake enough to stop myself.

She grabbed my hand as I tried to pull away.

"Please... Daddy, please don't stop." The pleading in her voice hit me.

She held my hand against her bare skin.

"It's okay..." she said, looking into my eyes. "It's okay..." She just held me there, repeating that phrase. Eventually, I felt a crack in an iceberg deep inside me, and I start to lean closer to her. She nodded approvingly and met me with her mouth.

I lost track of time. We went really slowly. Mostly, we kissed. I fondled her a little, reminding myself of groping Natalie last night, but when it became too much for me, we slowed down again.

We let ourselves calm down, and Alex looked over at me.

"I give you permission, Daddy. But I don't want anything that happens to hurt you or make you feel wrong." She smiled. "We should probably get some breakfast."

We didn't do much the rest of the day. After we ate, I showed her the land around the cabin. For the rest of the day we watched TV and settled into a simple rhythm.

I set her up with a guest bed. I'd kept her long twin bed, much to her surprise, and we said our good nights.

-=-=-

I awoke alone the next morning. I longed for the warmth of having Alex against me again. It was such a simple thing, having her touch, but going with out it for so long hurt me more than I'd realized. By feeling her yesterday, I knew it was true.

Her door was closed.

"Alex?" I knocked and waited for a reply. "Alex?"

I walked around the house looking for her but I didn't see her downstairs, either.

I walked back upstairs and knocked again. When I didn't hear anything, I opened the door and looked in.

Alex was lying on top of her sheets wearing her pajamas. She didn't look at me. Instead, she looked up at the ceiling unblinkingly.

It made my heart skip a beat.

I walked up to her and felt her skin. It was warm. I chuckled. How long had it been since she'd played dead?

I softly stroked her arm and looked down at her. I thought about how much I loved her. How much having her here meant to me.

I touched her cheek and ran my fingers through her hair. She just laid there.

"Alex?" "Aleeexx?" I said, seeing if I could get a reaction. "Someone is going to get the death of a thousand kisses." Ah, the torture. I smiled, but she didn't. I sighed, surprising myself with the loneliness in my voice.

"On second thought, you're going to get snuggled."

There wasn't much room on the bed, so I gingerly laid down against Alex, wrapping my arm around her. I kissed her cheek and settled myself.

"I'm so glad you came."

I laid my head against her breast and held myself there. I was vaguely aware she wasn't wearing a bra only from how soft everything felt.

I rubbed her stomach with my free hand at first over her shirt, then under it. I'd done this countless times to get her to sleep. It felt so nice to be able to touch her like this again. I hadn't let myself do it for years, but this felt different somehow.

I felt myself react to her, and I couldn't help myself. I heard myself whisper, "you've grown into such a beautiful woman, Alex."

I laid against her, rubbing her stomach, feeling her heat against me. She stayed perfectly still.

"Do you want breakfast? I was thinking of making bacon."

No response.

"I hope I'll be able to wake you up. Carrying you downstairs might get tricky."

Nothing.

I kissed her on the cheek and just laid there with her. In time, my thoughts swung into a reverie.

"When your mother passed, I waited. I didn't want to date anyone, but everyone told me with time I would heal and that would change. I would meet other people. I never got to that point.

"I don't have any regrets... I don't regret the time we spent finding a good school, or working on a homework project, or acting out a scene you were practicing. If I had it to do over again, I would do it. Without hesitation."

I rubbed her belly as I talked, nuzzled against her.

"It was always worth it."

Maybe it was the raw feeling of admitting something I'd never told her, but I could feel myself get more turned on as I looked at her. I noticed her nipples were hard, but I stayed my hand.

"Come on sleeping beauty, let's get breakfast."

I leaned up and kissed her. I could taste salt from her tears. She'd been crying during my story.

She awoke and kissed me back. I wanted to pull away, but she was insistent. This was an emotional release for her, too. We cried and kissed each other until we were a pile of spent emotions squeezed onto a twin bed.

As if synchronized, we both said, "Yeah, breakfast sounds good."

The rest of the day went normally. We watched some TV and then went our separate ways to bed.

I awoke to darkness and the sound of someone in my room.

"Mr. Foxhill, my apologies for the other night," I heard in Natalie's voice. "I do not mean to startle you, but I would be remiss if I did not repay your kindness."

I turned toward the voice and saw Natalie's silhouette walk towards the bed ramrod straight, as if she was gliding. Then, she gently sat on the edge of the bed.

"I heard about your troubles, Mr. Foxhill, and I find your sacrifices admirable. I do hope my attentions can be some small acknowledgement of their worth."

Natalie's hands went up and started undoing the buttons on her blouse, the same one she had worn the night before. I should have stopped her... stopped... my daughter... but I didn't.

When it was almost all unbuttoned, she grabbed my hand and put it on her bare breast. I immediately became hard feeling it. A deep ocean inside me rose as another large chunk of an iceberg fell into it.

Despite becoming more aroused, I still instinctively started to pull away, but she held my hand against her breast.

"You may give a woman the impression you don't find her attractive. Do you think I'm sexy, Will?" Hearing Natalie's tease grabbed me. I could feel myself drip pre-cum.

"Yessss"

With that, she attacked my mouth, hastily unbuttoning and throwing her blouse to the side of the bed. Both my hands went up and hungrily massaged her breasts. She ground herself into me and I moaned.

Giving into this forbidden feeling, finally being given the permission... I snapped. I turned and threw Natalie on her back and tore her panties off. I took only enough time to slide the sweatpants down to my knees. Then I was on her. I could barely hear her egging me on "oh my god please please please"

I entered her like an animal and fucked her like one. Hard strokes with no pretense. This was carnal. Years and years of "no" turning into a resounding "YES".

Her "please please" instantly turned into an "uhn. uhn." with each pump. She held on to anything she could as she slid under my assault. I didn't last long. I emptied into her with a deep, long, guttural moan.

I rolled off her and before I had a chance to realize what I had done, she attacked my lips. Her enthusiasm was contagious and soon I was passionately kissing her back, dancing with her tongue and sharing her saliva.

I was still hard, and she pulled me back onto her. I could feel how sloppy her entrance was.

We kissed as I held myself over her without moving. She was crying. I could hear her say "yes" over and over.

"Baby, are you ready?" She went quiet and looked at me. I felt all the gentleness a father has for his daughter. I could feel how much she wanted this, this strange and new part of our relationship. I felt the last frozen piece of my heart fall as I looked into her welcoming eyes.

Natalie... Alex... spread her legs further as I gently touched my head to against her opening. I wanted to savor this moment.

So did Alex. She looked up at me. Anticipating.

Then, she gave me a small nod. I rocked my hips forward, and just as before I slid into her. The feeling of love and warmth that came from of her insides hugging me was indescribable. It was the most profound hug I'd ever felt, one few fathers will ever feel. Alex wrapped her legs around me and gave me a squeeze, pulling me the last half inch until I felt myself bottom out inside of her.

She leaned her head back then, her eyes starting to tear.

"Daddy?"

"I know, baby. I'm here."

-=-=-

Alex's Story

I've had a crush on my dad since I was 16. I knew to keep quiet about it. Most girls my age weren't talking about wishing it was time to snuggle against their father after dinner to watch TV. Or how strong the warm fuzzies were when he'd see me perform. None of my friends wished their dads would hold them close as they kissed. That... that was all me.

By 18, my desires were intolerable. I'd pick fights just to put space between us, but he never wavered. The love in his eyes always held so strong even when they silently asked me "why are you doing this?"

It killed me to admit to myself that I needed to leave. For myself and for him.

I knew he had feelings for me. They were buried out of sight. He would never, in a million years, have ever acted on them... let alone even admit them to himself. There are some things good fathers never do, and I loved him for it.

I trusted him completely. Yet, I also wanted him. I wanted to see what he would do if he would, for just one moment, see me as a woman and not just as his daughter.

In hindsight, I can say all that. At the time, my hormones were a pressure kettle that drove away as fast as I could run. I couldn't face them. I put that energy into trying to build an acting career.

I loved my mother. Some of my earliest memories are of the three of us on the sofa, me squeezed between mom and dad. Mom was playing a pilot of a show she hoped would take off - which, sadly, did not - with the two of us glued to the screen. It wasn't that the performance was rivoting, but here she was, my mother, on TV.

She played a lot of bit parts. My mother had lovely, pale white skin. Somehow, along the way, she landed a part playing a corpse in a medical drama. One of those "dead girl" roles. It seemed kinda odd to see her just lying there, everyone pretending she was dead.

I tried it, too. I'd wait for my parents to be busy with something, then I'd lay on my bed as still as possible until they realized I was missing and came to check on me. They'd try their best to get me to budge. Tickling me almost always worked. With practice, though, I could lay there and they could try to make me laugh or tickle me, and I wouldn't even break a smile.

Made me proud to be able to do something Mom could do.

It was fun until... sadly... she passed. I don't like to talk about it. Needless to say, playing dead wasn't so fun after you find yourself reaching up to touch your mother's hand for the last time.

Dad dealt with her death by drinking a lot. He tried to hide it, but when it was my turn to take out recycling I saw the bottles. I started worrying about him, so one day I pulled out the box of videos of Mom's old parts. I figured seeing her would help us both.

It did. Maybe it was seeing her playing dead, or maybe it was just starting up a tradition that had fallen away again, but being snuggled against him as a child of 10 or so reminded me just how much I loved my father. It seemed to help him, too. We made it a habit, as much as possible, to spend some time together most nights. This was our time.

I even did my "play dead" trick a few times. He would create these hilariously elaborate setups as he played the doctor trying to teach a class of students how I had died. Of course, he threw in as many dad jokes as possible to see if he could get me to laugh.

By the time I was a teenager, I noticed he was more careful about how he touched me. He stopped tickling me and was cautious about how we snuggled on the sofa. When I asked him about it, he said he didn't want to do anything inappropriate as now I was becoming a young lady and soon would be a woman.

As if he had to tell me that. When my breasts started coming in, that's all the boys wanted to look at. They stopped being able to talk to me.

While my body blossomed, my drive to date others did not. Instead, I put that energy into doing other things. I tried sports, but it was acting that hooked me. Unsurprising. I was my mother's daughter.

I loved being on stage, even on a school play, and saying a line that made the audience laugh. I could be anyone! I just had to throw myself into it and something would click.

Dad loved it.

He took me to acting lessons. I learned how to watch other people and how to really listen to them. I soon realized there were so many cues I missed and loved putting my new powers to work. I knew who each person in my homeroom at school liked, even as that changed week to week. I even called out my teacher once about how she looked at the science teacher.

She wasn't married to the science teacher.

She called in sick the next day, and I never saw her again. For the rest of the year we had a rotten substitute. After that, I stopped telling people what I saw.

That's why, at 16, when I noticed how Dad looked at me, I never said anything. I didn't want to hurt him like I had Mrs. Henry. I don't think he knew I could see it. I don't think he even could admit it to himself.

That's when my crush started. I wondered "what if?" but still played the good daughter. If he was going to be strong, I was going to be doubly strong. No one I met at school held a candle to him. They'd take me out on a date and then want to be groping me at the end of the night. They were just... kids.

My acting got better over the next two years. This came, in part I'm sure, because I had to act all the time, even at home, lest I risk doing something that I'd regret.

By 18, I'd landed a few parts in productions around town. We'd moved from L.A. years ago, so there weren't many troupes that I could jump into. I even landed a commercial.

I just... I couldn't help myself at that point. I was either going to break or I was going to run away. I chose the latter.

I justified it to myself - as Sara and I drove to L.A. soon after my 18th birthday - that this was me being a woman. This was me staking my claim on the world.

Two months later, after many failed auditions, I found myself sitting on the couch with my head in my hands. Dad had tried to call, I saw on the Caller ID, but I just couldn't talk to him. Avoiding him made me feel even worse.

I called up an actor friend of mine who suggested I come to a party with them. It was a bunch of indie directors celebrating a new edgy romance one of them had made. I forgot the name. Someone offered me E five minutes after getting there and I thought "what the hell."

L.A. has a way of making you do things you thought you'd never do.

That's when I met him. Jeff. He had finished a moderately successful indie film the year before and was almost done with his next one. When he saw me, I could feel his eyes lock onto me. Maybe it was the E. Maybe it was how much he reminded me of my dad that made me comfortable with him. But, as he approached, we didn't say anything. I just reached up and kissed him.

The evening became a blur. At one point, he and I were making love in the corner of a bedroom since someone else was already on the bed. After that, I remember him holding me, telling me about one of his movie ideas.

I actually gave him my real number. He called me.

He took me to the gallery. He showed me the real Mulholland Drive. Despite our inauspicious beginnings, we settled into a comfortable pace early on. It helped he was fifteen years older than me and was looking for someone who had a brain along with their nice pair of legs. While I was naive about how Hollywood worked, I was learning quick.

I found him at the kitchen table one day trying to figure out how to fund his next project. When I asked him what he was doing, he talked me through it.

"Sounds simple enough. We just need two people who are willing to come on-board for about $750k a piece? I can try to make some calls."