by Stasia Black
He’s introducing me to the world of his colleagues and friends as his daughter.
Yes, that sort of happened at the wedding, but I barely knew him then. I certainly didn’t call him Dad back then and our level of intimacy was nothing to what it is now.
I spend over two hours getting ready, between the shower and primping and hair and makeup. At first I try for a fancy, mature updo, but at the last minute instinctively know that Dad won’t like it. My makeup is too heavy, too. The dark eye makeup I opted for gives me an air of sophistication that I like—but I can just see him frowning at it. So the last half hour is spent using my makeup remover cream and rushing as I start all over.
I go for natural and simplistic. Instead of lipstick, I opt for a shiny lip-gloss that has the slightest pink tint. My hair still has some curl to it from the attempted updo, but now it hangs in long dark waves down my back, pinned simply at the sides to frame my face.
It all makes me look very young.
I bet Dad will love it.
I step into the dress and carefully zip it up as high as I can reach. Then I head over to Dominick’s room, where I knock on his door.
He opens it, looking absolutely gorgeous in a tux. His eyes immediately widen when he takes me in.
“Holy shit, Sarah,” he breathes out. “You’re a goddess.”
I laugh at his overreaction and turn around, lifting my hair to the side. “Zip me up?”
Even though it’s officially a Father-Daughter Dance, other members of family and plus-ones are welcome at the event.
Dominick’s fingers caress the skin of my back, tracing up my spine and making me shiver before he follows it by zipping up my dress.
I turn back around, smoothing down the skirt of the dress. It’s a sleeveless silk chiffon floor-length gown with a sweetheart neckline, tailored to fit my petite frame perfectly. I’ve got on a pair of silver strappy pumps that give me a few extra inches so that I almost reach Dominick’s chin.
“Are you sure I look okay?” I ask nervously.
“You look gorgeous.” He leans down to kiss me but I smack him away.
“Don’t! You’ll mess up my makeup. I want Dad to see me while everything still looks perfect.”
He grins down at me. “My little perfectionist.” He holds out his arm. “Shall we?”
I can’t help the little melty-swoon thing my heart does. God, he really is heart-stoppingly handsome. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I manage through my suddenly dry throat. Then I take his arm and he leads me down the stairs.
Dad’s reaction is similarly gratifying. He’s waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs.
“Sweet girl, you’ve never been more beautiful. I could eat you up.” He takes me from Dominick’s arm, and before I can say anything about mussing my makeup, he’s devouring my mouth. Well, at least I brought my gloss to refresh in the little clutch I grabbed at the last minute.
“Come on, Dad,” Dominick quips. “Don’t want to be late to your big event. All the donors will be there, after all.”
Dad comes up for air and claps Dom on the back. For a second, there’s the slightest bit of tension that I sometimes think I sense between the two of them, but the next second, Dad’s laughing and ushering me out the door.
To a limo that’s waiting on the curb.
A limo.
I look back at Dad and shake my head.
He’s grinning at me, obviously watching and waiting to see my reaction. “What did you do?” I ask.
“Like Dominick said,” Dad’s grin widens. “It’s my party. Got to arrive in style.” As he walks forward, the driver steps out and comes around to open the door for us. Dad raises a hand and gestures for me to get in first. “My lady,” he says, bowing.
I laugh at how ridiculous he’s being and take his hand as he helps me into the car. Dominick is there too, lifting my dress so I don’t accidently step on it while I get in. It feels like a fairytale. Except that Cinderella was never lucky enough to have two Prince Charmings.
I sit down, still feeling overwhelmed. And we aren’t even at the party yet.
***
A couple hours later and the sense of being dazed hasn’t abated.
The ball is held in a high-rise hotel downtown and it’s clear no expense was spared. The crystal chandeliers are part of the hotel, but each table drips with huge, exotic flower arrangements. The tableware is all exquisite, the band fantastic.
I’ve lost count of the times Dad has introduced me as, “my beautiful daughter.” He’s recounted the story of his lonely existence before marrying my mother and how he never expected to inherit the amazing gift of a ready-made family.
You’d never know Mom’s not part of the picture with the happy-family portrait he paints. But really, apart from her fictional presence, I have to admit that everything he says feels completely true.
I was so achingly lonely before they moved in. And now everything is rich and full because of them. I have family now. The fact that I get an entire glamorous evening out with them just seems like icing on the cake.
And seriously—the cake is crazy delicious. The entire meal is gourmet. Seared salmon with asparagus, peppers and baby potatoes. Then the most amazing and gorgeous little individual chocolate cakes.
Dominick could see how absolutely enthralled I was by mine and he gave me his. I know, Dominick, he of the hollow leg, actually sacrificing a scrumptious dessert? If that doesn’t say love, I don’t know what does. But by now, I know that that’s just who he is—always taking care of me in every way he can.
And if I didn’t already suspect that tonight was the night, he confirmed when he texted me that when I went to the bathroom, I should also stretch out my pussy with several fingers so that I’d be completely comfortable later.
I’d never even considered that, but what a good idea. Pre-stretching. Just like for the gym. But for, you know, other very athletic activities. I snickered to myself even as I secreted away to the bathroom, lifted my beautiful, dainty pink dress, and fingered myself. Such a dirty and delicious little secret.
I washed my hands twice afterwards, but swore I could still smell myself when I sipped at my sparkling cider while Dad was up at the podium making a speech about how the expansion of the oncology ward would never have been possible without the gracious donors present tonight.
They just found out yesterday right before he came home the hospital met their fundraising goal. Tonight really is a celebration in every meaning of the word.
“And now,” Dad announces from the podium, “Let the dancing begin. I invite all fathers and daughters to the dance floor. I myself am so excited to welcome my newest addition to the family—my lovely daughter Sarah—to dance with me tonight.” He holds out a hand in the direction of our table. “Sarah?”
Heads swing in my direction and I feel my stupid cheeks heat. But I hate the idea of disappointing Dad, so I hurry to my feet.
Please don’t trip. Oh God, please don’t let me trip.
Squaring my shoulders, I smile as brightly as possible and walk toward Dad where he’s moved to the center of the dance floor.
Dad beams at me, white teeth on display, green eyes flashing brilliantly under the chandelier. He looks more handsome than ever.
When he raises one arm and rests his other hand at my waist, I’m so glad that I’m not the ignorant little girl I was all those months ago who didn’t even know how to dance. If life is all about discovering who you are, then the last six months have been one helluva crash course.
I grin at the thought as I confidently lift one hand to his and put the other on his shoulder. The music starts and he begins rocking me back and forth as a sweet, sentimental song plays through the speakers.
The dance floor fills up with other father-daughter couples and we’re soon lost in the crowd. Dad pulls me tighter against him and as the song progresses, I lay my head against his chest.
I feel the déjà vu of the first time we danced like this. When this man
entered my life and I got just an inkling of how important he was going to be to me. I hadn’t even realized about Dominick yet. I had no clue just how deep the intimacies would go. Maybe I still don’t.
Tonight.
I squirm against the fullness in my backside. Part of me thought there was no way I should keep the plug in for such a fancy occasion as tonight.
But a little devil inside wondered—how deliciously naughty would it be to be dressed up so innocently in this perfect pink dress, all the while having a toy buried inside my ass, reminding me of exactly what Dominick wants to do to me later? The devil won.
Imagining Dominick’s constant state of arousal has kept me in a state of near permanent stimulation all week. I haven’t done anything about it either. That felt like cheating. And knowing that tonight is coming…whatever tonight might be…
God, the only thing that kept me from coming when I was stretching my pussy earlier in the women’s restroom was the steady stream of traffic in and out of the other bathroom stalls. I didn’t think I could stifle my cries if I’d let myself even begin to go there.
Plus, I’ve waited this long. What’s a few more hours?
“You’re such a good girl,” Dad whispers in my ear. “You’ve waited so patiently.”
Whoa. I look up at him sharply. It’s like he can read my thoughts. Did Dominick tell him about the plugs?
“I’ve been patient too,” he continues. “Dominick said we needed to let you heal fully.” His grip on my hand tightens as his voice lowers. “But sweet girl, Daddy’s missed you.”
When I look back into his eyes, they’re filled with such raw need and desire, he looks like he’s about to throw me onto the ground in the middle of all these people and have at me right here.
But then as if he too realizes just where we are, he pulls back from me and softens his features into something more benign. “Good things come to those who wait.” It’s a mutter, and I can’t tell if he’s reminding me or himself.
The song continues to play, and right as the last notes ring out, there are hands suddenly jerking me backwards out of Dad’s grip.
What the—?
“So this is my replacement?”
A woman wearing a tight black dress with her hair in pigtails has a grip on my forearm so tight she’s going to leave claw-marks from her sharp nails.
“Ow, let me go!” I jerk away from her but she’s got a death grip. She shakes me roughly, still glaring at Dad.
“What does she have that I don’t?” she shrieks.
Now that I get a better look at her, I see that she’s got carefully applied makeup to try to make herself look doll-like. Rosy cheeks, eye makeup intended to make her eyes look larger, lipstick painted in a little rosebud mouth even though it’s not her mouth’s natural shape.
While from far away I bet the effect is impressive, from close up, it’s just grotesque.
Dad advances on her, his features twisted in disgust. “Get out of here, Janine. I told you I don’t want you anymore.”
Her nails pinch into my skin even harder. “You don’t mean that!”
Dad glares at her, standing taller and towering over the both of us. “You’re causing a scene,” he hisses underneath his breath. He’s not wrong. Heads all around us have turned to see what’s going on.
“I don’t care,” Janine says. “They need to know. I’m your little girl. Not her.”
She still has hold of me me but her words are such a blow, I stagger back and she finally loses her grip. She’s too busy trying to get close to Dad.
I blink.
“Sarah, are you okay?” Dominick runs up and catches me before I stumble into anyone in the crowd that’s circling around us.
Janine whips around at his voice. “Dommie, make Daddy listen to me!” she cries.
Her words are like an arrow piercing my heart.
She starts to come at Dominick now but Dad catches her in his arms and starts to lead her away through the crowd. She clutches onto his lapels but looks over her shoulder at where Dominick holds onto me. “No, I want Dommie too. It’s not right without the both of you!”
I double over, feeling all the breath knocked out of me. Dominick rubs my back but I pull away from him.
Air. I need air. I start to move as quickly as my stupid heels will let me in the opposite direction Dad took that woman.
No, he’s not your Dad.
God, how pathetic have I been all this time?
What number am I anyway?
How many times have they done this?
How many women?
And I felt so special.
I thought all this happened spontaneously.
So naturally.
Because we were family. I thought that word meant something.
God, I’m so stupid.
I get to the edge of the dance floor and yank off my shoes, hike up my gown and start to run.
“Sarah,” Dominick calls. “Wait. Sarah!”
I keep running, up some stairs to the area that leads to the hotel lobby. But even with my shoes off, of course my strides are nothing to Dominick’s long legs. He catches up to me easily and grabs me around the waist.
“No.” I hit at his chest as he tries to hold me. “Let go of me. I don’t want to hear your excuses!”
“Stop. Wait, it’s not what you—”
I smack at his chest, his shoulders, his face. He ducks out of the way and tries again. “Sarah, just give me a second—”
But I don’t want to. No seconds will be given. I’m done being made a fool of. Stupid naïve little Sarah, is that what they thought? And God, I was, wasn’t I?
I just keep hitting his chest, so furious. It hurts, God, I never thought anything could hurt this bad, and I want to make him hurt—
“Stop it,” Dominick says again, and this time he grabs both of my wrists in a single one of his hands. I wrestle against his hold but it’s no use. Stupid boys being so strong. I growl in frustration as I continue trying to free my hands.
His cheeks are spotted pink with frustration as he glares down at me. “If you’re going to act like a little girl, so help me I’ll flip you over my shoulder like one and take you somewhere I’ll make you listen,” he threatens.
I scoff at him and roll my eyes.
And the next thing I know I’m ass over head as he flips me up and over his shoulder.
“Let me down!” I shriek. “You giant— Oaf!” I finish for lack of a better insult.
He pushes open a door and when I look around, still disoriented from, you know—being upside down!—I realize we’re in yet another bathroom stall.
“Oh no you don’t, mister,” I growl. “You better not even think I’m going to—”
But suddenly the world is being flipped topsy turvy again as he sets me back on my feet. Apparently the multi-stall bathroom is empty, because Dominick locks the door. Then he stands in front of it and crosses his arms over his chest like some kind of Viking sentry.
“What are you— You can’t just—” I try to pull him out of the way and get to the door but he’s a giant and completely immovable.
I let out a huge huff of frustration and cross my own arms over my chest. I turn my back to him. Which doesn’t really help because I can still see his reflection in the multiple bathroom mirrors. Stubbornly, I squeeze my eyes shut.
“You can lock me in here until someone notifies hotel security, but I’m not going to talk to you.” I jut my chin out.
“Fine,” he says, breathing out so loudly I can hear how frustrated he is. Even without looking I can imagine the hand he’s running through his floppy locks.
Dammit, I hate that I know him so well.
No, Sarah, that’s not true. You don’t know him at all. It was just a trick. Pretend intimacy. Really this has just been a whole big scam. A game he and his dad have played many, many times before. The thought is a spear through the chest and I want to go curl up in a stall and put a barrier between us, even if it’s as feeble as a
bathroom stall door.
“You won’t talk, then listen. Janine is not a healthy woman. We didn’t know that when we started dating her. And yes, we both dated her at the same time. It was something we tried for a while.”
I wince and take a step away from him. In spite of my determination not to say anything, I have to ask the question. “How many women? Have you shared?”
Another loud expulsion of breath from him. And then silence.
Oh my God. There have been so many he can’t even remember—
“Five.”
I blink. Was that more or fewer than I was expecting?
More than I wanted.
Fewer than my horrible imaginings had started cooking up.
I rub my hands up and down my arms. “How did it start?”
I turn around to look at him.
He’s dropped his arms but hasn’t moved from the door. His eyes are pleading. For me to understand? Not to leave them?
“It started with my high school tutor.”
I jerk back from him. What? I didn’t expect that. “How old were you?”
His eyes are clear and steady as he answers. “Seventeen.”
My mouth drops open. “She abused you.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t really think of it like that at the time. She was only twenty-one. I was getting laid so I was happy. I was combining my Junior and Senior year so I felt old enough. She was hot.”
“Dominick, that doesn’t make it okay—”
“Yeah well, that’s not all. Turns out she was sleeping with Dad too.”
My mouth which I’d just closed drops wide open again. “What a bitch!”
Dominick laughs at my reaction. “Dad caught us together, but it was after I’d just turned eighteen. For all he knew, she hadn’t come onto me until I was of age. Anyway, she got super freaked out that he was going to get pissed and fly off the handle.”
Dominick shrugs again. “He didn’t. He just came and joined in. Well, Dad being Dad,” he rolls his eyes, “she got her punishment, but in Dad’s way.”
“And you were…” I pause, not knowing how to put this delicately, “okay with that?”
He looks down. “Dad and I have always had a… how do I put this… a complex relationship. I was mad at the woman for cheating on me with Dad. I mean, him busting us like that was how I found out about it. I was hurt—she’d been my first and I guess, I don’t know.” He looks up at me and smiles self-deprecatingly.