The Scent of Jasmine

"Yes. She is."

"You're a very lucky man to have such a beautiful partner."

Tim took her in, early 30s, make-up a touch heavy. But no denying her figure. He looked back to the dance floor. A young man, mixed race, was dancing close to her. Whispering something to her.

"She's just a friend. A colleague."

The woman smiled. "Good..." She twirled her empty glass on the bar.

"Oh, let me get you a drink. What are you having?"

"Sex on the beach."

Tim nodded. Of course she was. He ordered the drinks and noticed her move closer.

"She looks high maintenance". Her hand rested on his thigh. "If you're interested, I can be a very easy woman to please..."

"Not exactly what I am looking for." He said, paying for the drinks.

"You're hoping to find love in Barcelona? I can make you feel it." She said with a practiced ease.

Jasmine was making her way over to them. A smile not concealing her determined walk.

As she reached her father she leant forward and kissed him on the lips. She held it, a long soft kiss, but Tim was too confused to enjoy it.

"Come on Tim. Take me home."

********

Jasmine was silent in the taxi, staring out through the window. He didn't press her. It could wait.

Barcelona was beautiful at night. But his eyes kept coming back to his daughter. Eventually, thankfully, she spoke.

"Sorry, dad." She lent in and rested against him.

It would do.

They strolled through the lobby with Tim wondering how the mood had managed to change so much. Moments earlier they had been as thick as thieves, playing games on an unsuspecting public.

"Senor?" The concierge called out to him. It was a message from Tony. Jasmine said she would go up to the room as he called in.

A few rings and Tony answered. "How's it going fella?"

"Yeah, ok. What the hell do you want? I thought I was on a break?"

Tony laughed at him down the phone. "It's a test, Tim, see how early you got back on a Saturday night. And it turns out -- far too early for my liking."

"Hey, don't worry. It's been good."

"Well I'm going to make sure of it. I've sent something to your room."

"Shit, Tony, you know I am here with Jasmine don't you?" he panicked.

A raucous laugh bellowed through the receiver. "Don't worry. I'll let you choose your own hooker. Go back, enjoy."

He headed back to the elevator, relieved. The last thing he needed was an unexpected guest surprising Jasmine.

He pushed the button for his floor and tried to make sense of the evening. Flashes of Jasmine dancing close to him crossed his mind. She wanted him to find someone. She set it up -- it was her idea. Just a show, a game.

Best let it go.

He used his key card and entered the room. The gift from Tony was there: a bottle of champagne, already opened. Jasmine was already on the balcony with a glass.

He poured a glass and walked over to her. He cuddled her from behind and again kissed her head.

"You OK, honey?"

She nodded silently. A gentle, plaintive sigh rocked her shoulders.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?" he said, gently rocking her.

"I'm sorry dad. I didn't mean to ruin the evening."

"What? No. As long as I am with you, it's a perfect evening".

She chuckled between small sobs. "It's just... just ... one of the guys at the bar said that girl was a prostitute."

"Yeah, I kind of got that impression."

She turned, makeup smeared with tears. "Well you don't deserve a prostitute. You deserve so much better." The tears came easily now and she hugged him, tears and mascara staining his shirt.

"Hey, beggars can't be choosers." He joked. It didn't work.

She hit him on the chest. "You're not a beggar! It's that bitch that's spoiled everything!"

"What bitch?"

"That fucking bitch at home." At least, that's what he made out through the tears.

"Hey, don't blame your mum. It's difficult for both of ..."

"It is her fault! All her fault. You think she's been moping around the house since you left? It's non-stop, every weekend."

"What is, hun?"

"The men. She's been a fucking whore."

He smoothed her hair, doing what he could to placate her. "Hey, she's still your mum. You still can't talk about her like that."

"But it's true dad." She had calmed slightly now. "You deserve better. She ruined everything. I just ... I just want you back."

"Hey, babe." He lifted her chin with a finger. "I'm right here."

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. She stood on tip toes and kissed him, holding him tight.

There was a softness to the kiss, a tenderness.

"I know it must be difficult for you. Being a man, being alone."

"It's not too bad. I get by."

"Oh, please. I saw what you were looking at on the web. I saw you in the bath. I've seen how you've been looking at me sometimes."

"Hey, it's not what ... I don't mean anything, I'm just..."

"Don't worry. I understand. We all need love, dad."

He couldn't argue.

She moved to the bathroom, picking up her make-up bag on the way. "Excuse me. Let me tidy myself up."

Tim walked back into the room. This evening had taken more of its share of strange turns and it had left him disorientated.

He finished his champagne, as if that would help, and poured some more. He distracted himself with his laptop. Some music, perhaps. Something gentle, mellow. Sinatra should be perfect.

Jasmine came back in. She offered her empty glass and Tim refilled it. She was still beautiful, but drained. Even her subtle make-up couldn't hide it.

"I'm sorry, dad. Really. I didn't mean to ruin the evening."

"You haven't. Trust me."

"Do I look ok?"

"Electric."

She moved in to him and started dancing again.

"For a moment there, I thought you said Electra."

They gently moved to the old jazz. "Electra?" Tim asked, not really interested in the answer.

"She was from Greek mythology. Freud referred to her. Or Jung. Don't know."

"Ahh. Psychology again. And what sort of head case was she?"

"Oh, he meant it as a stage some girls go through. Where they want to kill their bitch of a mother and have their father all to themselves." She hugged him closer, as if to emphasize the point.

"I hear he did a lot of coke, that guy." He could feel her smile against his chest.

"Maybe. But he could see into our minds. We all have fantasies. We just bury them deep."

Her arms snaked around his neck, and she looked into his eyes. "I bet you have some interesting ones."

He could feel his heart beat through his chest. Surely she could feel it as well? He tried to smile it off.

"I hope you find someone special, dad."

"Me too."

She leaned up and kissed him again. A warm kiss, lingering again, his arms snaking around her waist. He noticed his groin stirring again, gently pressing against her belly.

He needed some distance so twirled her away in time with the music, holding her hand. But she simply twirled back in, close. Eyes on him.

"Someone to help fulfil your dreams too. You do have dreams, don't you dad?"

He nodded.

"Me too." She added.

His breath was becoming laboured now. She held him close.

"I love you, dad." She said, and kissed him on the cheek, slowly withdrawing, leaving moisture on his skin.

He looked down at his beautiful girl. "I love you too." Another kiss. She rose to meet him, her hand to the cheek where her lips had just parted. Their lips touched and held for a moment. They separated, for one heartbeat, to look into each other's eyes, and kissed again.

This time there was movement. Subtle, but real. She gently rolled her mouth against his. He noticed his hands drift down to the top of her backside, to the beginning of the curve. They moved further down, and gently squeezed. He heard her moan... felt it on her lips as she hardened her kiss.

He pulled away, just an inch, to take it in. To see if this was ... happening. He wanted to say something but nothing sensible would come to mind. She rocked slowly in his arms, staring intently at his eyes, his mouth, her breathing slow and laboured. Some force made him slow down. He drew her head against his neck, not risking another kiss.

He felt her mouth on his chest. As he breathed deeply the scent from her skin, her hair, filled him. An intoxicating blend of youth and perfume.

He had to hold her close. To control things. But his hands ascended her back, the left gently rising to caress the nape of her neck. He found his lips making the faintest of touches on her delicate, tanned flesh. She responded immediately: arching her neck, her head deeper into his chest. He kissed her, and as he opened his mouth, he allowed his tongue to take the faintest sample of her taste before closing his lips on her again. She replied with a gentle, slow sigh. He tried to think clearly, but to no avail. He kissed her, allowed his mouth to open and gently bit her neck.

Jasmine threw her head back. He continued kissing her throat, all the way round to the other side of her neck. He gripped her hair, and bit her again...

"Ohhh, yessss." She purred. And in hearing her voice remembered who she was. Again he pulled back.

"Jasmine ... this ..." he tried to find the words, again they failed him.

Her flushed face looked up at him. "Shhhh..." She pulled his face to her and kissed again. This time her lips parted and he felt the moist, faint touch of her tongue. He received her warmly, mingling with her.

It lasted, uninhibited.

His hands found the zip on the back of her dress and slid it down. She responded by brushing the jacket from his shoulders.

He kissed her shoulders as he moved the dress strap over them. It slid to the floor. Her naked beauty shone through him.

"I want you." He rasped.

She stepped out of her dress. "I want us to be together...just us."

They kissed fervidly. She tore his shirt open and he lifted her around his waist. Her legs locked fast around him. He turned and carried her to the bed, his shirt open, Jasmine in nothing but her thong and heels.

He kicked off his shoes and pulled off the rest of his clothes, as quickly as he could less the magic evaporate in a moment of clarity. He clambered between her open thighs. They continued to kiss, hungry for passion, desperate to connect. His hands took in her shape. The slight roundness of her stomach. The firmness of her breasts. He took them into his mouth in turn, sucking, gently pulling on her dark nipples with his lips. She moaned and arched underneath him, her groans driving his desire further. He smoothed her thighs with his hands, and kissed her stomach. Slowly, slowly down.

Her legs parted as he kissed the line of her thong. Her hips rose to his mouth, and he slipped his thumbs under her last piece of clothing. She pulled her legs together and lifted her arse, allowing him to slide it over her legs and shoes. Throwing them to the floor he gently parted his daughters thighs...sliding his hand down them as he did. She gripped the headboard and held her legs wide. He looked into her eyes ... she smiled. Nothing but love and desire in her eyes.

He leaned forward and stroked her face, kissing her just below her rib cage. He stroked her lips and she turned to take his finger into her mouth. Gently sucking. He took her nipples into his mouth again before moving down. Licking, kissing her stomach. Tracing his hand around her pubic hair and down her thighs. He kissed her lips and her body moved up to greet him. Slowly, despite the burning desire inside him, he moved his tongue over her pussy... supping her. She tasted like fresh, dark honey.

Her noises aroused him more... the animalistic bucking of her hips. His tongue slipped into her, over her clitoris. Taking her in.

"Oh, oh, yes..." her voice low and throaty. He grabbed her backside and moved his mouth to cover her pussy entirely. Her lips, his lips, moving in synchrony.

"Please ... please..." He paused to look at her. "Please ... let's be together."

He sat up, moved over her. Her body still writhing just under him.

She reached down with one hand, and he felt her fingers curl around him. Despite the heat, he felt a freshness to her touch, a vitality. He lowered himself, led by her. He felt the warm touch of her pussy. There was a tightness there, an inviting one. A promising one. He looked into her eyes, watched them open in flashes as he moved into her. Her body gently flinched, her mouth moved noiselessly. Their gaze never faltered as Tim slowly, fully, entered his daughter.

She let out a short, stifled cry. He paused for a moment. Savouring the feeling. She was breathing hard, but she was ok. He brought his knees up slightly, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. Her hands reached out to his face, bringing him forward to kiss. And as they did, they began to move. Slowly rocking back and forth over her hips, feeling her warm embrace on his cock. Her hips moved perfectly with her fathers. He raised himself on one hand to see her more clearly, her dark tones against his olive skin. Her slender thighs around his body...her whole being fusing with him.

His other arm traced the outline of her body, coming to rest on her hips. Holding her closer, watching her move under him. With him. Warm lava began to build inside him. Possessing him. He moved faster, her groans like a metronome for him, matching his pace. Faster and harder now, the feeling built... he looked into her eyes... wanting this moment between them.

The surge of heat burst through him, too intense for him to keep his eyes open, enrapturing his body. It flowed into the beauty beneath him. He forced himself to look at her, an unearthly glow to her face.

Anxious thoughts crossed his mind. It had happened. He could feel her trembling beneath him. He lay back down and kissed her. She kissed back.

They held each other close, not a word spoken between them.

*********

Tim was dreaming. In a kitchen that wasn't theirs. Jasmine was sitting at the table crying. His wife, hurling insults and blame. She produced a kitchen knife. He sensed other men in the house, one in each room, waiting for her to expel the intruder. He backed out into the garden. Now it was cold. Dark. He found himself naked. Lying on cool grass. Jasmine kneeling by him. Something was stirring. His mind resurfaced into the dark of the night.

He heard himself moan, still unsure what was happening. He awoke, his eyes adjusting to the light, his mind to a source of unknown pleasure.

He looked down. The sheets had been moved down past his thighs. Jasmine held his cock in one hand, the dark tumble of her hair moving up and down, over his groin. She sensed his waking, looked up and smiled at him. Without saying anything, she traced her tongue along his length, once; twice, then slipped it back into her mouth. Squeezing with her tongue, she worked him until he came again. He felt her throat undulate as she wallowed.

"Sorry, dad. I just wanted to do that."

**********

Tim awoke from a more pleasant dream, hard again. He looked over his shoulder, but the bed was empty.

The memories from last night came back to him. A shudder went through him. Christ. Could he put it down to the drink?

He got out of bed, grabbing a robe. The lounge area was empty. He went to the bathroom. Nothing. He began to panic, tension in his chest. He checked the wardrobe, her suitcase and clothes were still there. And her passport. Good sign. But where was she?

Hot tub? No. She was gone. He rang reception. Yes, they had seen her. She seemed fine, but no, she didn't say where she was going. Oh, and now that he was up, she had ordered room service for him.

Nothing to do but wait. Left alone with his thoughts.

He supped some warm stale champagne to calm himself. Revolting, but he needed it.

He took stock. She hadn't left. Couldn't have.

Had she just fled without thinking? What the hell was he thinking last night? How could he make her do that for him? But she had been receptive.

Hell, perhaps it was even fifty per cent her fault. No, you can't blame her. It was you, Tim. Shit, was she on birth control? Oh, fuck. What had he done? Yeah, but she was the one who woke you up in the middle of the night with a blow job. What had she said? Sorry, I wanted to do that. OK, so they were both in on it. But, what would be next? She'd probably never speak to him again.

Sorry, dad, I just wanted to do that. The words echoed in his head. I just wanted to do that. Her smile, her tongue. His cock disappearing into her mouth...

Your fucking daughter's mouth, Tim! Two lonely fucked up people playing out a Greek fucking tragedy.

Calm down, Tim. Calm down. Speak to Jasmine, get the facts. Don't make any assumptions until then.

Room service arrived. Eggs Benedict and a mimosa.

He took the drink.

**********

It was nearly midday before he dared leave the phone and take a shower. He tried to keep his thoughts clear. The mimosa didn't help. He entered the main area of the suite and had a quick look around. Still no Jasmine. He choose some clothes, got dressed. He went out to the balcony and scanned the beach below. No, still no sign of her. Their flight was Monday evening. They had one day left to sort this out. And one night.

He slapped his forehead. Stop it, Tim. Get a grip.

The phone rang. He crossed the room and lifted the receiver.

"Senor, it is a message from Jasmine."

Tim braced himself. "Great. What is it?"

"She says to meet in Taverna Can Margarit. She says you know where it is."

Tim hung up. She wanted to meet in a bar. She'd obviously needed some time to compose herself. And now she was drinking, steeling herself for a confrontation.

He stopped by the lobby bar for a quick whisky, then hailed a taxi.

He paused outside the taverna, wondering what was waiting for him: what he had done to his relationship with Jasmine.

He'd have to face it. It was another negotiation. It sickened him to think of dealing with his daughter in this way, but this was outside of his skill set.

He pushed the door and entered. It was dark inside, and normally it would have taken a while to adjust. But he couldn't miss her, waiting at the bar.

He walked over to her, stopping short of his natural impulse to kiss her. In a fatherly way of course. Well, he was her father, but ...

"Hello."

She didn't look at him. Took another sip of wine. She gestured to the beer on the bar and walked to a corner table.

They sat in silence. They both took sips of their drink, and set them down at the same time.

"Kind of like last night." She said.

"What is, hun?" he asked, noticing the desperate hope in his voice.

Still nothing. "You gave me a bit of a scare." He added.

She raised her eyes to his. "Is that all I gave you, dad?"

"Maybe, maybe don't call me dad just now."

"Sorry, Tim."

That sounded even worse to him. Distant. Cold.

"Hun, I just need to know one thing. Are we ..."

"We're fine dad ... We're fine. I know what I ... what happened."

"How do you feel, hun?"

"I'm, fine. It's just..."

"If I could take it back, I would..." he pleaded. He could feel her growing more distant.

"Why didn't you come and see me more?"

"I couldn't. Your mother and I ... it's difficult. It's a divorce, its, there are lawyers involved and ..."

She dropped her head, shoulders hunching up.

"Believe me, hun. I love your more than anything. If I could see you more. I mean, she changed the home number, went ex-directory. We only talk through lawyers..."

She stilled herself. Took a deep breath. "I know, dad. I know what she's been like."

He tried to think of something to say. She beat him to it.

"I need to do some stuff. I'll see you at six."

As she got up to go, his eyes stayed on his beer.

********

Tim wondered the streets alone, trying to distract himself with Gaudi and museums. He walked through the Museum of Contemporary Art without being able to recall a thing. His mind driven from pole to pole, beyond his control: between the incredible, passionate encounter of last night and the destruction of his relationship with Jasmine. At one point he found himself in a museum devoted to chocolate. His mind betrayed him, the tones on display reminding him of his daughter, imagining the liquid cocoa flowing over her body. He left quickly.