The Past in Colorado

When the garter was off my leg, he stood and twirled it around his finger. "I think it's a tradition or something," I said with a devious smile, brushing down my dress. He rolled his eyes and slipped the garter into the pocket of his jacket.

We pulled into the school parking lot and had a tough time finding a spot near the doors, but finally parked near the football stadium. I was just about to open my door, when he held up a hand, saying, "No, no. Let me. I'm the guy." I grinned and he added, "I think it's a tradition or something." I giggled and said ok. Then he came around to my side, opened the door, and held his hand out for me. I laid mine atop his and thanked him, as he helped me step out. Then he shut the door and we walked to the gymnasium, my arm in his.

Several other couples were walking in with us, one of them a friend of mine. She had her arm through her date's, the same as I held my dad's, and she smiled and waved.

As we walked into the building, a teacher was there to greet everyone. He taught biology, but since I was a senior and he taught that to sophomores, I only knew him by name. He asked if we'd like to sign the register, and my dad seemed a little embarrassed at first, but leaned down, penning both our names. The teacher craned his neck down to look and he smiled. It was almost a smile of pity, as if taking my dad to prom was a sign of my inability to find a date. I wanted to grab him by the neck and tell him I had three offers, but turned them down in favor of my dad. Instead, I gave him a phony grin and we continued on to the gym.

Inside, it was crowded. People were milling about, dancing, sitting and chatting. The music blared loudly. My dad leaned down close to my ear, saying, "I feel outa place here." I swatted his hand and pulled him closer.

We walked around for a few minutes, as I waved to various classmates, stopped to talk for a moment with others, and then lead my dad over to the archway to have our picture taken. The photographer asked if I'd come with my dad, and once more I forced a smile and said yes. Then he ushered us under the arch and tried to pose us side by side; my dad with his hands behind his back and me with mine in front. As he returned to his camera, I muttered, "This pose sucks."

He chuckled, replying, "Have him change it then."

Just as the camera flashed, I held up a hand. Blinded, I blinked my eyes wide, while my dad rubbed his. The photographer didn't look happy about my sudden movement.

"What's that?" he sighed, putting a new photo plate in his camera.

"Um... can we try a different pose?"

"Sure," he muttered. "Just tell me when you're ready."

I turned to my dad and smiled.

"How ya wanna do this?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I dunno. It's your prom."

I stepped up to him and giggled nervously, as I awkwardly put one arm around him. He held up both his, trying to figure out what I was doing.

"Ok," I said, trying to direct him. "Now you put your arm around me... No! Not on my shoulder! God, I'm your date, not your drinkin' buddy. Around my waist... yeah, like that... no! Dad, c'mon, work with me."

I finally stepped back, grabbed his hand and wrapped it tightly around my waist, as we clasped our other hands together in front.

There was another flash.

Blinded once more, the photographer shuttled us out of the way, making room for the next couple in line.

We ended up over by the buffet table next.

"Care for something to drink?" he asked very gentlemanly.

I smiled and nodded, and he poured us two glasses of punch.

"Thank you," I said, taking a sip.

Now came the uncomfortable silence. As with my lingerie, I hadn't thought this far in advance. I just knew I wanted him to take me to prom, but hadn't thought about what would happen once we got there. Then my friend from the parking trotted over. She smiled when she saw me and held her arms.

"Oh gawd, Jess," she cried. "You look so beautiful!"

I hugged her and returned the compliment, and then she gestured with her eyes in my dad's direction.

"Oh, uh... Becky, this is my dad. Dad, this is my friend Becky. We're in the same English class."

"And study hall," she laughed. "Oh, and lunch."

My dad smiled and held out his hand to her.

"Very nice to meet you, Becky. I'm Stephen. You look very lovely this evening."

She giggled again, as she took his hand, replying, "Nice to meet you, too."

We chatted for a moment, and then she invited us to sit with her and her date and another couple at their table. I looked at my dad and he smiled.

"Sure," he said.

I grabbed his hand and Becky took mine, leading us away.

When we arrived, she introduced us, thankfully referring to my date as Stephen and not the mortifying "her dad". And since he and I didn't look anything alike, he could have easily passed as a legitimate, unrelated date.

Dad helped with my chair, and then stepped over to help Becky with hers. As he went to have a seat, she smacked her date's arm and gave him a glare.

"What?" he cried.

A conversation that had been put on hold was now resumed, and I jumped in when the opportunity afforded itself. We talked for what seemed a long time, but my dad sat only smiling, never complaining, and even refreshed the drinks of all three ladies present at the table. Becky and the other girl glared at their dates, as my dad walked away with their cups.

We chatted some more, but I was starting to sense maybe it was making my dad uncomfortable. I glanced at him and he smiled. As I turned back to my friends, I reached under the table and softly placed my hand on his leg, giving it a gentle squeeze. I wasn't sure how he'd react, but a moment later, I felt him place his hand atop mine, squeezing in reply. As I sat and listened to my friends, a broad smile swept across my face.

Then the moment I'd been hoping for finally arrived: a slow song. The two girls, still smarting from the lack of courtesy from their dates, reluctantly followed them to the dance floor. I turned to my dad and blushed. Glancing down at my hands in my lap, I stuttered and said, "Dad, would you..." But before I could finish, he stood and held out his hand.

"Will you dance with me?" he asked.

My chest heaved, as I breathed in deeply. I took his hand and nodded, and then he led me to the dance floor, putting his hand around my waist and pulling me close.

As I grinned up at him, letting him sway me along in time with the music, I suddenly became conscious of his height. He was a good six inches taller than me and could look right down the front of my dress. I didn't have nearly huge breasts, being somewhat petite, but I had enough to have cleavage and he was getting an eyeful from his angle. And it didn't help that I was wearing a push-up bra.

I looked away, my face flush with embarrassment.

"Those pearls look nice on you," he said.

I strained my eyes to see them on my neck.

"I bought those for your mom when I took her to a dance," he said. "Just before I proposed to her."

I smiled up at him.

"They look just as nice on you," he said with a grin.

I leaned my head against him and sighed softly.

The remainder of the night followed along this simple theme. At one point, though, when a fast-paced song came on, he did pull me out onto the dance floor. I was pleasantly surprised to see that my dad, at the age of forty-one, could still cut a rug.

When the festivities came to an end, we walked out to the car. I was happy, but, at the same time, a bit dejected that it had to end so soon.

***

Dad helped me out of the car and held my hand, as we went into the house. We were standing just inside the doorway, as he hung up his keys. When he turned, I was standing in front of him, my hands hanging down and fingers interlaced. Then he stepped up, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"You looked beautiful tonight, Jessie."

Then he leaned down and softly kissed my forehead. I took a quick breath and thanked him, saying how handsome I thought he looked. He was about to walk away, when I reached a hand out for his. He stopped and turned to me. I looked up and went to speak, but hesitated. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened, as he grinned. Then, very quickly, I propped myself up on my toes and softly kissed him on the lips. I stepped back, staring down at my hands, and nervously whispered. "That was supposed to be for my date," I mumbled. "So... I guess you're supposed to have it now." He put his hand on my arm, and then leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered, and then gave me a warm smile and walked upstairs to his bedroom.

I undressed in my room, while Dad did the same in his. I was wearing a white lace push-up bra with matching garter and stockings that I'd bought for my date. In fact, I'd planned on losing my virginity on the night of my senior prom. Unfortunately, I didn't find someone I felt deserved something that special.

Just as I was about to unclasp my bra, I stopped and looked at my door. I walked over to the closet and put on my robe, and then carefully opened the bedroom door. The hallway light was still on and the door to my dad's room was open a crack. I tiptoed over and knocked softly, peering inside. My dad was sitting in bed reading.

When he saw me, he slipped a hand inside the book and closed it, saying hi. Only the small reading lamp next to his bed lit the room. My heart began pounding, as I licked my lips and jammed my hands deep in the pockets of my robe, slowly walking in and stopping at the foot of the bed.

He stared at me for a moment, and then finally asked if I had a nice evening. I nodded, and then looked to him and stuttered, "Dad... c-can I show you... something?"

He adjusted himself, as he leaned back against his pillow, and smiled. "Sure," he said. My knees were trembling, as I slowly stepped around to his side of the bed. My trembling hands came out and I hooked my fingers into the belt of my robe.

"I... I d-don't want you... to freak out, ok?" I whispered.

He smiled, but gave me a puzzled look. "Ok... I won't."

"P-promise?"

He squinted his eyes and slowly nodded, wondering what I was up to.

"Ok," I said. I licked my lips again and swallowed, saying, "I got this for my date... for the guy who was supposed to be my date... but, I uh... I guess that ended up being you... but I didn't know it was gonna be you... ok?"

He nodded once more and quietly asked if I was all right. My head jittered up and down nervously, and then I slowly pulled my belt loose. I lifted my eyes to his, and he gave me a curious smile, but then looked down at my hands. I let the belt fall apart and brought my hands up to my collar and slowly pulled open the robe, letting it fall down my shoulders where it hooked onto my elbows. I stood before him in my negligee, my hands shaking and held up just high enough to keep my robe from falling to the floor. Then I swallowed hard and looked up at him. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Dad seemed to be staring right through me, as if in a deep trance. There was no expression on his face. My eyes drifted down my body. My breasts, pushed up as they were, jiggled as my body trembled.

"W-well?" I asked, my voice cracking.

He sat staring blankly at me.

"Dad...?"

Then he took his glasses off and carefully set them and his book on the nightstand. He swung his feet to the floor and stepped over to me, carefully bringing my robe up my shoulders and tying it shut. With his hand still on the belt, he put a finger under my chin and lifted my eyes to his.

"You're a beautiful young woman, Jessica," he whispered.

I felt like crying for humiliating him like this.

"Thank you," I replied with a whimper.

"You oughta get to bed," he said.

I nodded and turned to walk away, but stopped and glanced over my shoulder.

"Dad... I love you... you're very handsome."

And then I quickly walked to my bedroom and shut the door. Inside, I fought back the tears and took off my robe. I looked at myself in the mirror and sniffled, and then removed the negligee, placing it in my dresser drawer and silently vowing never to wear it again.

In the middle of the night, I awoke to go to the bathroom. My dad's door was still open, and when I came back down the hall to my room, I peeked inside his. The light was out and he was sound asleep. Wearing only panties and my robe, I quietly entered his room and slipped into bed next to him. I lay facing him for a while, and then closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

***

The next morning, I awoke to sunlight flooding through the open windows. Still groggy, I slowly sat up, shading my eyes from the bright light. The bedroom door was closed, and I glanced to my dad's side of the bed. He was gone.

With much effort, I flung my feet to the floor and looked down my body. My robe had come untied during the night and my bare chest was exposed. And then memories from the night before slowly drifted back to haunt me. My eyes fluttered and I grunted, wagging my head in disgust and cinching my robe closed. I stood from the bed, mumbling, "God, probably saw my tits." Then I trudged to the bathroom. Inside, I took off my robe and panties and turned on the shower. Outside in the backyard, I heard the lawnmower start. I peeked out the window and saw my dad pushing it around the yard. Then I went back to the shower and stepped inside.

A short time later, I was in my bedroom, standing at the closet naked and trying to decide what to wear. There was then a soft knock at my door - my open door. Before I could react, my dad poked his head inside, saying, "Hey Jess, you know where the..." And then our eyes met and went wide. We were both mortified, as he looked me up and down and I gulped. Then he quickly pulled away and shut the door. It all happened very fast.

"Sorry!" he called from the hallway.

Utterly stunned, I clasped a hand to my chest, breathing hard. My dad had just seen me naked. Worse yet, he checked me out. Or so I thought. I gasped nervously, and fell back onto the corner of my bed.

"It's.... it's ok," I yelled back.

I looked down at myself, at my naked body, and sighed. As incredible, or idiotic, as it may seem, when I saw my bright orange pubic hair, my first thought was, "God, I really need to trim that up." Then I chuckled and fell flat on my back, my heart still racing wildly.

A few minutes later, I walked downstairs – this time, fully dressed.

"Dad?"

Outside, I heard the lawnmower start up again. I had butterflies in my stomach, as I walked to the backdoor leading out to the patio. Through the sliding glass door, I saw him pushing the mower. He finished one row and, as he turned, happened to look in my direction. I giggled and stuck out my tongue. There was a moment of hesitation, as he lifted a hand and waved, then continued on his way, shaking his head, likely from embarrassment.

Half an hour later, I heard the mower stop. When he didn't come inside right away, I walked out the back door and found him pushing the lawnmower into the garage. I walked down the steps in my bare feet, my arms folded, and headed toward the garage. As I stood in the doorway, he placed the mower behind our bikes, and then turned in my direction. I leaned against the door and give him a knowing smile. When he saw me, he stopped and brushed his hands together with an anxious chuckle. He tried to grin and mumbled, "I, uh..." But he was clearly uncomfortable with what had happened, and said, "Sorry 'bout that."

I smirked, replying, "What were you gonna ask me?"

Then his demeanor changed dramatically, obviously an attempt to bring things back to a normal plane, and said, looking back at the mower, "Oh, I was just wondering if you knew where the oil for that thing was. I found it." As he walked past me toward the house, he patted my shoulder. I gave him a pretend glare and came up behind and smacked him on the behind. He yelped and gave me look of surprise.

"Bad boy," I grumbled, still pretending to be mad at him. But the truth is, I was the bad person here. What he did was an honest mistake, an accident. What I did the night before had purpose and intent behind it, only I was too ashamed to admit as much.

In the kitchen, I made us sandwiches for lunch. Dad walked in and took two glasses from the cupboard and asked if I wanted something to drink. I smiled and nodded. After he poured the drinks, he came over and set mine on the counter next to me. Then I heard a slight sigh from him.

"I'm really sorry about what happened earlier," he said. "I, uh... I shoulda knocked and waited for an answer."

I was cutting our sandwiches in half and paused. I shrugged, saying it was ok, and then quietly apologized for what I did the night before. He was taking a drink and set his glass down, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"Nah," he said. "Don't have to apologize. It was your special night."

I glanced at him and smiled. Dad squeezed my shoulder, and then turned to go out to the living room. But then he stopped in the doorway and looked over at me.

"Say, uh... Jess?"

I set the knife in the sink and looked to him.

He was standing slightly sideways, like he didn't want to face me directly.

"You looked, uh... very beautiful... last night."

I took a deep breath and smiled, as he glanced at me. "Thanks," I mumbled.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the glass he held, and after a short pause said, "I want you to promise me something, sweetheart."

"Sure... ok."

Then I watched his chest rise, as he inhaled. He looked right at me and said, "Jess... I want you to save yourself for someone special, ok?"

My heart leapt into my throat, and I nodded quickly, replying, "Yeah... ok. I will. Promise."

His face relaxed and he slowly nodded, and then walked out to the living room.

***

For the next few weeks, there seemed to be a lurking tension between us. Nothing that left you feeling bad or awkward, rather it was something unacknowledged, something we both knew existed, but tried to ignore. We went on with life as usual, but this strange feeling remained haunting in the background. I spent many long hours thinking about it; thinking about my dad and the feelings I had for him. I knew it was wrong, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why. Why was it wrong to love him? But more specifically, why was it wrong to be in love with him? And that's what it was: a romantic inclination I was developing for him. At first I thought it was merely a phase, something I'd get over in short order, but it had been slowly growing over the last few years. In fact, it seemed to have always been there, only now coming to fruition where I could recognize it for what it was. When I went out on dates, I always felt awful about leaving him behind, for not being with him instead. He went on two more dates with other women, after the one with Janice, and all three times I felt nothing but sadness and jealousy. And when he came home, I was practically all over him; talking with him, talking about anything other than his date, subconsciously reminding him of me - of what he already had at home. I didn't even think of him in terms of sexuality. Sure, I thought he was a nice looking man and, judging by the remarks of my friends, they seemed to think so, as well. But it was more than that. I admit to being attracted to him, but it wasn't something of a solely sexual nature. I was becoming greatly attracted to him on an emotional level. Everything about him seemed perfect to me. He was kind and generous, thoughtful and courteous. He was interesting to talk to and fun to be around. I enjoyed his company tremendously and looked forward to being alone with him every day. Even if all we did was rent a movie and order pizza, I was happy as could be, sitting next to him on the couch and sharing the last breadstick. I felt bad when other teens my age talked ill of their parents. I simply couldn't, because I had no reason. What was there to complain about? In my eyes, he was perfect.