The Resort - Fathers and Daughters

"Mini...golf?"

"Yep, just you and me. Like when you were younger, and I made more time for you. What do you think?"

Meghan realized that she could be bratty here. She could insist that this was for children and ask that he take her somewhereadult, but knew that would itself be childish. The truth was that she loved mini-golf and she loved going with her father. She smiled widely and genuinely.

"Yes, Daddy, I think that would be wonderful."

* * *

Sam woke to her father gently nudging her arm.

"Time to wake up,bijou."

Sam rose up on her elbows, still groggy, looking up at her father. He smiled down at her in a kindly fashion, before his eyes wandered briefly to her chest. Sam was suddenly aware that her tube top had slipped a bit down in her sleep, and that she must have been giving him an unintentional show. She pulled her shirt back into place and felt the flush of shame, but then arousal as well. Wasn't that what she wanted? To show herself to her father? Her train of thought was interrupted as she registered her father's appearance.

"Hey, you look nice," she said, noting that her father was dressed in expensive and perfectly fitting dark jeans and an ironed t-shirt. On anyone else, they would have looked relatively standard, but these were tailored to his lean, tall body. He'd always been a snappy dresser but often had to dress in a corporate or forced casual style. Seeing him like this, casual but neat, did something to her.

"Thanks. You do too, but if you want to get ready, now's your chance. I want to get going soon."

"Where are we going?" Sam wondered if he wanted to leave the island but doubted it. After her nap, she felt much more relaxed, and despite her own nervousness, she didn't want to go. If there was even the slightest chance of what she wanted happening here...well, then she would chase it. She'd deal with the guilt and fallout later. Fortunately, her fears weren't founded.

"We're going on a date. It, uh ...doesn't have to be more than just us hanging out."

Her father was firm, but there was an unspoken "unless" that gave Sam a quiver in her belly.

"I'll be ready in fifteen minutes," she said, jumping up from the bed.

* * *

What to wear?

Sam had brought some cute outfits, or rather things thatshe thought were nice. She doubted whether her father wanted to be seen with his daughter in full goth attire, however.

"Um," she said as she looked through her open suitcase, "what kind of clothes should I wear?"

"Be comfortable," was her father's useless response. Ugh, didn't he get that she wanted to look nice for him?

"Yeah, okay, but...like...classy? I mean, I can just wear jeans and a tee-shirt, I guess but..."

Her father ambled over to her and looked over her shoulder.

"But you wouldn't be comfortable in that, would you? Not really. Hmm...you know what, I always liked you in that dress. What do you think?"

Sam watched as her father picked out the dress from her case and held it up by the straps. She looked at him, searching for any sign of mockery or sarcasm. He was serious, and she didn't think that he was just saying it to be kind to her. She took the dress and a few other things out of the case and went to the bathroom.

"I'll be out in a few minutes," she said as she closed the door behind her.

It seemed odd to be sharing a room-and indeed a bed-with her father but wanting privacy to change. Then again, she might have more of an impact if he saw the final result instead of the process. She knew that her father looked at her, of course, but he had never done so inappropriately, no matter how much she might have wanted him to. Over the last few months, as she'd gone out less and less, she hadn't given as much thought to her appearance. Still, she knew how to make herself look presentable. Sexy, even.

Be comfortable, she thought to herself. She dressed quickly. It gave her a little thrill of forbidden excitement to trade out her everyday underwear for something black and lacy that matched the strapless bra she would wear. She'd love to let her breasts hang free, but that might be too much in this dress. It was a lovely thing, something she referred to internally as a critical part of her "fuck me" outfits. It clung in the bodice, not uncomfortably, and gave her great cleavage that somehow managed to be just barely appropriate. She finished off her clothes with some thigh-high fishnets and high-heeled boots. She wouldn't wear them on the beach, but they were actually pretty comfortable, and she loved the way they made her calves looked.

She applied her make up carefully, if not with the same intensity as she might on a full night out. She used little in the way of concealer but went heavy on the eyes. She'd always been great at using mascara, eyeshadow, and eyeliner to draw attention to her blue eyes. And of course, some dark red lipstick to emphasize her full lips. She looked at herself in the mirror, judging herself harshly. It didn't matter. There wasn't really enough time to change anything else. She took a deep breath and opened the door, where her father turned to look at her.

Feeling somewhat giddy as her father took her in, she did a simple twirl, feeling the dress flow out from her legs. When she stopped, she did a fake little curtsy, bowing just low enough that he would have to look down her bodice a little. She felt terrible, but her desperation to be noticed won out. As he stood there for a moment, silently, her fear increased. God, what was she thinking...she was too much of a child to ever impress a man like her father, who'd had her mother and god-knew how many women in his bed, probably some famous ones, too. What was she even thinking?

"Wow," her father said at last, "you look amazing."

Simultaneously, Sam bit her lip and blushed, but then rolled her eyes, just a little bit. He had to say that, after all. Her father noticed, however. He came over and took her arm, gently leading her to the closet door, where a full body mirror was installed. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. She felt herself growing tense again.

"Can't you see how beautiful you are?" Her father's voice was soft, as it often was, but in this case, there was something else there. An edge that she'd never heard. It sent a shiver through her body.

"I...I'm not that pretty, daddy," Sam said, equally softly, "I'm glad you like my outfit, but..."

"No," her father said firmly, "That won't do at all. Do you know what I see?"

Unable to reply with words, Sam meekly shook her head. He leaned in, his hands moving down her arms, and now he wrapped them around her chest, pulling her close. He spoke quietly in her ear, a hungry whisper that made her squirm.

"I see the most desirable girl in the world. Lots of girls are cute or beautiful, or even sexy, but you? You're irresistible. I see other men look at you. Men that I work with, with wives and daughters your age. It makes me so angry, bijou. Jealous, even."

"Oh," was all Sam could get out.

"But I can't ever stay angry with them. Do you know why?"

"No."

"It's because you're so fucking sexy that they can't help themselves. They want you on an almost primal level. Do you understand now?"

"Yes," Sam said, trying to ignore the heat on her face or her urgent wish for her father's hands to wander her body. "Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome. Let's go."

Gordon strode to the door, holding it open for Sam. As she passed back into the hall and the strange public world of the Resort, she felt a new feeling, as though she had traveled miles from her old self. She was different here, and so was her father. Here they could be together. It wasn't even illegal, and no one would judge them.

Sam smiled widely as she took her father's arm, and they walked down the well-appointed hallway. Even her mother couldn't reach her here.

* * *

Meghan laughed as her ball finally, reluctantly, went in the last hole. She'd been doing well, beating her father handily, but then on the eighth hole, he'd started making dumb puns. Before she knew it, she was laughing so hard that she missed four putts.

The ninth hole was somehow worse and better. He'd stopped joking, but when she was lining up her shot, she felt his hand on the small of her back, idly stroking her. She'd become so flustered that her ball went off of the green entirely, and she had to go fetch it from underneath a tree. After that, he seemed to be doing everything he could to work her up. And it was working.

Part of Meghan was annoyed. Obviously, he was doing it to bother her, but...it was more than that. He'd said the most exciting thing on the second hole, offhand.

"I love your legs in that dress."

It was such a minor compliment, but it was so different than anything he'd ever said to Meghan before. He'd always told her that she was pretty, or even beautiful, but never, ever complimented her body the way he did with her mother. To Meghan, it was a big step in the right direction. And quite distracting.

Then later she'd made a long putt, getting a hole on her second stroke. She'd looked up, proud, and her father had looked away face red. It had taken a moment for Meghan to realize that he'd been looking down her dress. It was just loose enough that he would have been able to see her small breasts quite clearly. She'd flushed at the thought of it, her body under his gaze, exciting him. She'd had a sudden instinct and desire to take the dress off, to wear nothing in front of him, to be consumed by his lusts right there, like a fire.

Now it was better and worse. Meghan had finished and walked over to her father, hugging him tightly. It was an innocent instinct, something that she'd done many times. She was so happy at the simplicity of being with him and having his complete attention. She just wanted to express it.

Meghan held herself against her father's warm, strong body for longer than she should have. Much longer. She even felt herself moving her hips, ever so slightly, against him. His manhood had responded quickly, and she felt it hardening at her contact, pressing into her belly. She knew that she should pull away, but she didn't. She couldn't. It was like a magnet.

"Daddy," she said, finally, but couldn't get the rest of the words out. She wasn't even sure what they were supposed to be. Was she to apologize for teasing him? She wasn't, not really. The truth was she wanted to submit to him, to give him whatever he wanted and needed from her. Was she supposed to demand that he go further with her? Beg and plead? She would be so happy to do that. But no, she realized that there was a reason why he had read the Guide and she had not. She was following his lead, for now. Maybe later, she could take charge a bit, but for now, reluctantly, she pulled away from his strong arms.

That's when the real surprise happened. Her father had leaned down, his hand on the side of her face, and kissed her, right on the lips. It seemed spontaneous to her. It was gentle, at first, his lips exploring hers gently. Then she felt his hand on her back, pulling her into him, and her tongue darted into his mouth as if it had a mind of its own. For what seemed like a long time, they made out there on the golf course in front of everyone. They broke off, him breathing a little harder, but Meghan was practically panting. It wasn't fair that he could arouse her so quickly, get her going, but remain in control.

"Well," he said, after a moment. "I suppose we should do more of that."

Meghan giggled then. It was such a silly thing to say. She couldn't help it.

"Yes, Daddy, we should."

"You want to get something to eat?"

Meghan looked around. The bright light of the day had turned to a beautiful orange afternoon. It made everything seem a little dreamy, and that was fine with her.

"Yeah. What do you feel like?"

"Well, I looked at a map, and there's a ton of restaurants here, but there's one spot I think you might like."

"Okay, Daddy. I trust you." To Meghan's delight, she found that she really and truly did.

* * *

Meghan had worried that the place would be too formal as she and her father walked through the slowly lengthening shadows on the path. Many such couples were walking to dinner, dressed up or down. She had seen some of the more elegant girls and thought, not for the first time in her life, that compared to them, she looked like a naive little side piece. Someone that a guy might fuck from time to time, but not someone you'd ever commit to. She knew that her father appreciated how she looked in the sundress, but how would she compete with the sleek blonde in the tight little black outfit? Or the full-figured dark-skinned girl in the tight bikini.

Meghan took a deep breath and reminded herself that she wasn't competing for her father's attention. There was no mother or firefighter groupies (lord knows her dad dealt with a lot of those) here. He had come here for her. Her insecurities were her own mind trying to sabotage her. She was repeating this mantra as her father held the door for her so as she entered it took her a moment to realize what kind of place it was. When she did, she laughed out loud, a sound of both humor and delight.

The restaurant was not, as it turned out, formal. It was the polar opposite. The whole place had a very carefully curated "thrown together" look, appearing to be made of mismatched tropical wood. A gigantic shack, really, with rough tables and chairs. The waitresses were all attractive, slightly older than Meghan, and in somewhat tight if modest outfits. The sort of thing someone might wear on a boating trip.

"So," Alexander said, placing his hand on the small of Meghan's back, "What do you think? You do love seafood."

"I do," Meghan said, "and especially crab, but it's so messy."

"You've never objected to getting messy before. Besides, you're cute when your face is dripping with butter."

Meghan blushed, wondering if her father's innuendo was intentional. They were seated quickly, and the menus were simple. It was crab, shrimp, or fried fish.

"Can I get you guys some beers?"

Meghan was about to object when her father spoke up.

"Yeah. Two Coronas. Thanks."

As soon as the waitress left, Meghan shot her father a look.

"Daddy, I'm not old enough."

"Maybe not in the states, but the drinking age is eighteen here."

"Oh. Well, that was a good choice. That's actually my favorite."

Mehgan figured that as she would be drinking, there was no harm in admitting that she'd done so before.

"I know," her father said. "You think I don't notice what beer goes missing from my fridge?"

"Oh," Meghan said, blushing a bit at her father's familiarity with her misbehavior. He really did know her better than anyone else. Especially any other man.

After her first beer, Meghan felt a little more relaxed, and they decided to share crab legs. It was something that they used to do, many years ago, when they went on vacation together. Her mom, while appreciating seafood, couldn't stand to get messy, but Meghan always just dove right in alongside her father. Tonight, she hesitated for a moment, looking at the plate in front of her.

"What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking, I wanted to look nice for you tonight. I'm sweaty, and I'm probably about to get all gross with butter and seafood. I don't want to look childish."

"You won't, kitten. You look beautiful because you are beautiful. That's why I wanted to take you out today. I wanted you to see that I still loved you as you are and that whatever you decide to do, I'm still going to be your father. And I wanted you to see how men see you. How I see you, even if sometimes I feel guilty for it."

Meghan smiled and bit her lip. Alexander had noticed before how much his daughter resembled her mother, but now he indeed saw her beauty in a new light. The way she looked now, flushed, happy, maybe even a little aroused. He couldn't ignore her. As early as this morning, he had been horrified at what the Resort staff had been suggesting, but now, he wasn't sure if he had the self-control to stop himself.

No, he would stop, if his little girl asked him too. He would never take advantage of her. But what if she asked him to? What if she looked at him with her big eyes and asked him to...

"Daddy, did you order me another beer?"

Alexander broke from his reverie and smiled at his daughter, who was looking up at him with confusion.

"Yeah. It's a special night, and you're safe with me, so I figured why not."

"Why, Daddy, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to get me tipsy."

Then, as if to emphasize her own sarcasm, she took a long pull from her bottle. Alexander wondered what those tight lips would look like wrapped around something else.

"If I am," he said, at last, shocking himself at the implications. "It's only so you can relax enough to let me make you feel good later. Would you like that, kitten?"

Meghan grew quiet, her lips parted slightly. There was no doubt that his daughter was intensely aroused.

"Yes, Daddy. I'd love that."

* * *

"Wow," was all Sam could say when her father held the door open for her. It was, without a doubt, the nicest restaurant she'd ever been inside. "I don't know if we're dressed up enough."

Gordon laughed.

"Well, you are, and let's be honest. No one is going to be paying much attention to me."

Sam wanted to reply or say something witty or self-deprecating, but all she could do was blush. The place was amazing. Everywhere she looked, there were small cubicles with high walls, each enclosing a table. The windows were tinted, but there was quite a view of the beach and the rolling surf. The lighting was dim, and much of it came from within large saltwater tanks placed organically around the main seating area, giving the space a dreamlike, undersea character. The waitstaff were dressed as nicely as the customers, and it was clear that this was one of the more upscale restaurants at the Resort.

Without any words spoken, an attractive middle-aged woman smiled at them, and led them to a table in the back, where they could see both the beach and the fish swimming about in a nearby tank. A Blacktip Shark, maybe five feet long, swam close to the glass as Sam walked past, making her jump and lean back into her father. She felt his arms around her then, steadying her, holding her. Keeping her safe. Sam was wet for him then, almost immediately. Part of her wanted to go to her knees right then, the way she had for the one boy who had bothered even trying to arouse her, but she knew that wasn't the way this time. She would let her father take the lead. Even if he bent her over the table, right now.

Instead, and somewhat to her disappointment, Gordon held the seat out for her and gently pushed it in as she sat, then sat across from her.

"Wine - something red, please, and dry," Gordon said, and then the waitress was gone with a speed that Sam had rarely seen. Sam looked around. The place was somewhat busy, but nowhere near full, but then she felt her father's eyes upon her. She turned back, and their eyes met briefly, and Sam blushed. She'd always felt that her father was sophisticated, charming, and handsome, but this environment made her feel like she'd never truly known him or the power he could have over her. She felt more vulnerable than she ever had when she was a virgin.

"This is amazing, dad," Sam said after a second. "Can we afford it? I mean, on top of the rest of the Resort. I really don't mind if all we eat is hot dogs here, as long as we spend time together."

Gordon smiled.

"You're so mature and thoughtful. More than I ever was at your age. We're fine, Sam. The Resort is pricy, but we can afford it, and it's all-inclusive. Food, activities, all of it. I read in the promotional material that individual bills degrade the overall bonding experience', so instead, they just charge an extravagant amount of money upfront."