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NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 09 Jan 2007 14:00:18 -0600
From: Nick Scipio <nick@nickscipio.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Breakdown" by Nick Scipio - Part 1 (MF, exhib, no sex)
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Date: Tue, 09 Jan 2007 17:10:02 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Breakdown
Part: Part 1
Universe: Hank Adair
Summary: Henry Adair is a successful businessman with an
unsuccessful life. That changes when he picks up his
daughter at college.
Keywords: MF, exhib, no sex
Revision: 1.03
Word Count: 6,888
Web Site: http://www.nickscipio.com/
FTP Site: ftp://ftp.nickscipio.com/
Discussion Forum: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Scipio_Forum/

*****************************************************************
                        STANDARD DISCLAIMER

This story is intended as ADULT entertainment. It contains
material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. If you are
offended by sexually explicit content or language, please DO NOT
read any further.

This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events
portrayed in it are fictional, and any resemblance to real people
or incidents is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities described.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without
the written permission of the author. It may be freely
distributed with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2007 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

*****************************************************************

Breakdown
by Nick Scipio

PART I

Henry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Morning sunlight
filtered into the room through the sheer curtains on the double
doors. He glanced at them and blinked. The doors led to a balcony
with stone balustrades, which overlooked a yard that made him
think of a Roman villa.

The house--Henry wouldn't call it a "mansion"--had been built by
some idiot movie star in the Seventies. It was a cross between
the Playboy mansion and Caesars Palace, complete with cypress
trees, a marble fountain, and a "pool villa" that was bigger than
the house Henry grew up in.

Personally, he thought it was ostentatious. His wife liked it--it
was her idea of classical. It was also the lifestyle she'd grown
accustomed to. With a frown, he rolled the phrase over in his
mind and imagined a high-priced divorce lawyer using exactly
those words to squeeze more money out of him. He sighed with a
mixture of disgust and resignation.

After a moment he glanced at his wife, asleep beside him. Even
after three children and twenty-plus years of marriage, Leanne
was a beautiful woman. He'd been dreaming about her and he had an
erection. Unfortunately, he knew better than to wake her. They
hadn't had sex in more than a year, and only then because she'd
been drunk after a party. She always had some excuse to spurn
him, and he wouldn't force himself on her.

The lack of sex was frustrating, but he smirked at one of the few
thoughts that gave him comfort: he still looked like he had when
he was twenty-five. He had more gray in his hair and a bit more
weight around his middle, but Leanne had to work hard to keep her
figure. Her blonde hair came from an expensive salon, and only
her plastic surgeon knew about the nips and tucks.

_Well_, Henry thought, _I know about the nips and tucks too._ He
paid for everything, of course. Why wouldn't he? She was his
wife, after all.

_But aren't wives supposed to have sex with their husbands?_ he
wondered sarcastically. _At least once in a while?_
Unfortunately, Leanne was like a Tiffany lamp: too expensive and
too beautiful to touch.

_Unless you're her personal trainer,_ Henry thought with a teeth-
grinding snarl. _Or her decorator... Or her travel agent... Or the
father of another pageant contestant... Or..._ The list went on.

None of the affairs had been for long, but Henry still resented
them. He'd even paid a private investigator to follow her for
several months. He had proof of several of her affairs--pictures,
videos, and even hotel receipts--locked away in his safe.

Since then, he'd had a security system installed in the house,
including hidden "nanny cams." Leanne didn't know about them, but
the tiny video cameras sent their feeds to a locked cabinet in
Henry's private wing of the house. Digital tape recorded every
infidelity.

Sometimes Henry watched the video. Leanne was still as wild and
uninhibited as she'd always been, just not with him. At some
point in their marriage, she'd lost interest in him. He remained
faithful to her, although he couldn't explain why, even to
himself. He'd had plenty of opportunities over the years, but
he'd never taken them.

He didn't know why he didn't divorce her, either. She'd try to
take half his money--or worse, half his _company_--but with
overwhelming proof of her infidelity, she'd be lucky to walk away
with the clothes on her back. She probably wouldn't contest the
divorce in the first place, though. She wouldn't want the
scandal.

Unfortunately, Henry had said "till death do us part," and he
meant it. So he stayed. And he paid for her exorbitant lifestyle.
He even tolerated her affairs, albeit with a silent, seething
resentment.

He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the
bed. His erection had long since disappeared. He padded into the
bathroom and shed his monogrammed silk pajamas. They were a gift
from Leanne, of course. She wanted him to look the part of the
wealthy industrialist.

He snorted. "Wealthy industrialist," indeed! He owned a company
which had survived the downsizing of California's Military-
Industrial Complex, nothing more. In addition to his company, he
personally held patents on a dozen processes used in the
aerospace industry. If anything, he was a successful businessman
and inventor.

The US government wasn't going to stop building missiles or
launching satellites anytime soon, so Henry's patents alone would
earn millions of dollars a year for years to come. Even Leanne
couldn't spend that much money, and their children would be
wealthy, without ever working a day in their lives.

Henry turned on the shower and shook his head in frustration. Of
his three children, only one of them deserved the money. The
irony was, she wanted it the least. His son, Chad, was twenty-
four, single, and an entertainment lawyer. He was also a spoiled
playboy, who partied with the Hollywood glitterati. As far as
Henry was concerned, they were a bunch of shallow, undisciplined
sybarites.

His oldest daughter was almost as bad. At twenty-two, Kacy had
two goals in life: to become Miss USA, and to marry a good-
looking, wealthy... somebody. She didn't really care what her
future husband did for a living--if anything--as long as he was
handsome and rich. At the moment, she was dating a semi-literate
race car driver. Henry snorted in disgust as he lathered himself.

How had he gone wrong? How had he raised two children who were
such... _jackals?_

He hadn't, that's how.

Chad was a male version of his mother, narcissistic and
completely amoral. And Kacy had taken up her mother's crown in
the beauty queen business.

Henry shook his head with disbelief. How had he gone wrong?

His one consolation was that he _hadn't_ gone wrong with his
youngest daughter. For whatever reason, Aly was an actual human
being. She had more goodness and decency than Chad and Kacy
combined, and she actually _used_ the brain God had given her. At
nineteen, she'd just finished her first year of college.

Henry had tried to convince her to attend one of his alma maters,
Rice or Caltech, but she'd had her sights set on Virginia Tech.
He thought she was going for the wrong reasons--she liked the
football team--but the school did have a solid engineering
program. It might not be up to the standards of Caltech, but it
was a far cry from the local community college. So he'd
reluctantly agreed, and Aly had gone to school 2,500 miles away.

The distance had been the hardest part. He and Aly were close--
too close, he sometimes thought--and they traded e-mails almost
every day. They talked on the phone at least once a week, and she
e-mailed pictures as often as she could. In a week, she'd be home
for the summer, and he'd be able to spend as much time with her
as he wanted. She had a six-week internship with a company in
Thousand Oaks, but the rest of the summer was hers.

Thinking about her always made him smile, and he finished his
shower in a much better mood. Still smiling, he rushed to get
ready. He had a busy day at the office, and he wanted to beat the
traffic. He dressed in a suit and tie, and barely spared a glance
for Leanne on the way out of the bedroom.

She was still asleep, of course. She wouldn't rise until well
after ten o'clock. Her personal trainer was due at eleven, every
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Henry clenched his jaw and
swallowed a snarl. Fortunately, his cell phone rang as soon as he
turned out of the driveway. As he talked to the East Coast
client, he forgot all about Leanne and her unfaithful, self-
absorbed, hedonistic, manipulative...

-----

Henry finished his conversation as he pulled into his parking
space. He snapped the phone closed and strode into the building.
His office was a short walk from the main atrium, and his
assistant looked up when he walked into the reception area.

"Good morning, Dr. Adair," she said.

Henry grinned at her. She normally called him by his first name,
so she must've been in a playful mood. She was the only person
who called him "doctor." Everyone else in the company called him
_Mr._ Adair, or simply Hank, if they knew him well enough. But
she'd been his assistant for nearly ten years, and she'd earned
the right to tease him.

"Mornin', Jayne," he said. Then he smiled with inner amusement--
even after three decades on the coast, he still reverted to his
Texas drawl sometimes.

"I put your breakfast on your desk," she said as she followed him
into his office suite.

_Pomegranate juice and a bran muffin,_ he thought bleakly.
_Great._ He missed the days when he could have a sausage biscuit,
or even a breakfast burrito. But the doctor had told him to watch
his cholesterol, so Jayne relentlessly fed him healthy food. He
did sneak an occasional cheeseburger for lunch, but only when she
wasn't paying attention, which wasn't often.

"Raytheon is having problems," she said. She clicked his mouse to
bring up his e-mail. While he ate breakfast, she summarized more
than twenty e-mails. As she did, she bent over his arm, and he
had a difficult time not glancing at her breasts. Worse, her
perfume made him think of very _unprofessional_ things. He
ruthlessly pulled his mind back to the task at hand: problems
with one of their major clients.

"Thanks, Jayne," he said when she fell silent and straightened.
He peered up at her for a moment, studying her face. She wasn't a
classic beauty like Leanne, but she was pretty. Her good looks
were the reason he'd hired her in the first place, although he
quickly discovered her preternatural ability to remember things--
from names and faces to facts and figures. She was also loyal,
which he valued nearly as much as her other abilities.

He chuckled to himself. Even with her professional skills, he
still appreciated her good looks. She was shorter than Leanne,
but just as busty. He'd never asked, but he was sure her breasts
were real. And the rest of her figure suited her perfectly. She
was a bit of a clothes horse--Henry paid her _very_ well--but she
was always professional. Sexy as hell, perhaps, but still
professional.

When the silence drew out, she arched an eyebrow, teasing and
serious at the same time.

Completely out of the blue, he asked, "When did you know it was
time to get a divorce?"

She blinked in surprise.

"Sorry," he said hastily. "Forget I said anything."

She looked at him for another moment, inscrutable. She'd been
divorced for at least eight years, and Henry didn't know why he'd
even asked the question.

"Really," he said. "Forget I asked."

"I guess I knew from the beginning," she said at last. "I liked
the _idea_ of being married more than the reality."

He nodded.

"And when Jeff started talking about kids..." She shrugged. "Are
you and Leanne...?"

He shook his head, a bit too quickly. He was suddenly
embarrassed. He and Jayne knew a lot about each other's personal
lives--it was inevitable, especially since they worked so
closely--but there were some things he didn't share, like
Leanne's infidelity. Jayne probably knew (or suspected, at any
rate), but they didn't speak about it openly.

"Okay," she said at last. Her smile held a touch of melancholy.
After a moment she turned to business. "After the Raytheon
crisis, top priorities are the messages from Colonel Musgrave,
Senator Tasker's office, and Dr. Mueller."

"Right," he said. His own smile held a bit of melancholy as well.

-----

Henry ignored the beep of another call. He didn't even take the
cell phone from his ear to see who was calling. His engineering
manager was heading to Raytheon's facility in Arizona, and the
call had already taken longer than it should have. Henry was
growing annoyed with the man.

"Look, Bob," he said at last, "you're in charge of engineering. I
understand that Raytheon is working with a new process, but when
problems _do_ come up, it's your job to fix 'em. Got it?"

The phone was silent for several seconds. "Got it," Bob said at
last. "Sorry, Hank."

"I'm sorry about your fishing trip, but you know how much money
we're talking about here." The Raytheon contract ran well into
eight figures, with quite a bit more if the new guidance
technology increased accuracy, which Henry knew it would.

"Yeah, I know," Bob said. Then he seemed to brace himself. "I'll
get to the bottom of it and make sure the Raytheon guys know what
they're doing."

"I know you will, Bob." Henry's phone beeped again, but he
ignored it. "That's why I'm sending you instead of trusting this
to anyone else."

The conversation turned to details, and they talked for another
five minutes. Henry sighed when he finally snapped the phone
closed. His desk phone rang. The blinking light showed an
internal call.

"What?" he snapped.

"Your daughter's on line three," Jayne said smoothly.

"Sorry, Jayne," he said. "I didn't mean to bite your head off."

"I know."

He smiled. "What would I do without you?"

"Go bankrupt and have your family disown you," she said with
aplomb.

"That might not be so bad," he muttered, thinking of Leanne and
his oldest children.

Jayne must have heard him. "It's Aly on line three," she said.

He perked up immediately. "Okay. Thanks." He stabbed the button
for line three. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Is it a good time?" Aly said. "I tried calling your cell phone,
but you didn't answer."

"Sorry," he said. "I was on another call. An important one." He
frowned at the memory, but then took a deep breath and forced a
smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I need help, Dad," she said frankly, and Henry sat forward.

-----

"Jayne," Henry bellowed, ignoring the intercom.

"You don't have to shout," she said when she appeared in the
door. "I'm right here."

"Book me on the next flight to Blacksburg, Virginia," he said.
"And have a rental car waiting at the airport. Also, call U-Haul,
or Ryder, or whoever, and rent a truck for a one-way trip."

"Are you on a white knight errand?" she asked, smiling wryly.

"My little girl needs help."

Jayne leaned against the doorframe. "What happened?"

"Her car died and she doesn't have a way to get home from school.
The dealership told her it would be two weeks before they'd have
the parts. Damned Eurotrash imports!"

She rolled her eyes. It was one of his frequent rants.

"Anyway," he continued, "it's a good time for me to go--"

"To escape, you mean," she interrupted.

"--and I'm..." He turned sheepish. "Am I that obvious?"

She smiled fondly and shook her head.

"Yeah, I guess I'm taking an impromptu vacation. But I won't
_really_ be out of contact. I'll have my laptop and my cell
phone. Bob can handle Raytheon, and you can handle everything
here."

She nodded.

"So I'm going to rescue my little girl."

"That's what daddies are for," she said. Aly was like a kid
sister to her. "I'll make all the arrangements," she added. "Do
you want me to drive you to the airport?"

He considered for a moment, but then shook his head. He didn't
want to inconvenience her. Besides, he needed her running things
in the office. "I'll take a limo," he said.

She nodded. "I'll have the driver meet you at your house."

With a nod and a smile, he turned back to his computer. He had a
dozen e-mails to send before he left. He'd also have to tell
Leanne, but she wouldn't care. She and Kacy had a pageant in San
Diego. He vaguely recalled that it was part of the Miss
California USA competition, but he didn't give it a second
thought.

-----

Virginia was hot. Hot and sticky. Henry had already worked up a
sweat just walking to his rental car. Five minutes later, with
the air conditioner on full blast, he was headed toward
Blacksburg and the Virginia Tech campus. He called Aly once he
was sure of his bearings. She gave him directions to her dorm,
but he remembered the place from when he'd brought her to school.

She met him in the lobby and his eyes lit up when he saw her.
Unlike Leanne and Kacy--who were salon blondes--Aly was dark-
haired. And while Leanne and Kacy were busty--courtesy of very
expensive boob jobs--Aly was petite and natural. She was nothing
like her mother or sister, and Henry liked that just fine.

She hugged him tight. "Thanks for coming. I could've driven home
by myself, but..."

"Nonsense," he said. "That's what fathers are for."

She looped her arm through his and leaned her head on his
shoulder. "Thanks, Dad. You're the best."

-----

They picked up the rental truck and returned to the dorm, where
they loaded Aly's things. Henry couldn't imagine how she'd fit so
much stuff in her tiny dorm room. It filled nearly half of the
small truck.

After she checked out of the dorm, they had dinner and spent the
night in a hotel. Her car was still with the dealer, but Henry
arranged for them to send it cross-country when the repairs were
complete. The service manager had balked at Henry's "request,"
but the dealership's general manager understood the unspoken
threat in Henry's voice.

The next morning, Henry and Aly were on the road by seven
o'clock, with sausage biscuits and hot coffee. Henry cringed at
Jayne's imagined reproach, but he savored the buttery biscuit and
willed her to silence.

"What're you smirking at?" Aly asked.

He felt his cheeks heat. "Smirking?"

"Yeah. Just now. You were smirking."

"I shouldn't be eating this," he admitted.

"Because of your cholesterol?"

He nodded.

In the blink of an eye, she snatched the biscuit and began
rolling down her window.

"Aly, _no!_"

She tossed it out, wrapper and all.

"Aly, that was my breakfast!"

"We'll stop for an early lunch," she said, unperturbed.

He glared at her.

"You know Jayne's going to ask me how you ate," she said. "And I
won't lie to her."

"You could've lied this once," he muttered, half serious, half
joking.

"No, I couldn't've. If you won't take care of yourself, the women
in your life will just have to do it for you."

-----

The trip through Tennessee was uneventful. After more than ten
hours on the road, they stopped for the night in Memphis. They
asked the hotel clerk for adjoining rooms, and opened the door
between them.

Henry checked his e-mail while Aly took a shower. He'd just
finished replying to the urgent messages when she walked through
the adjoining door. She wore a towel around her head and a baggy
Hokies T-shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her toss a
bottle of lotion onto the bed and flounce after it. He glanced at
her, but then immediately looked away. She wasn't wearing
panties, and he'd caught a glimpse of her...

He felt an all-too-familiar stab of desire, but he quickly
suppressed it. He cleared his throat. "Um... sweetheart," he said
tentatively. "This isn't your dorm."

Even out of the corner of his eye, he could see her confusion.

"Shouldn't you put on some shorts or something?"

She laughed. "Oh, Dad."

_What's_ that _supposed to mean?_ he wondered.

"It's not like you're going to attack me or anything," she added.
But she didn't cover herself, and Henry resolutely stared at his
laptop.

"No," he said, "but you shouldn't walk around half-naked,
either."

"I'm not 'half-naked.'"

"Aly," he said, his voice level, "I can see your... you know."

"My what, Dad?" she teased.

He cleared his throat again. "You know what I'm talking about.
And I'm not going to turn around till you put on some shorts."

"All right." She hopped off the bed and returned to her own room.
"If I'd known you were going to be such a prude," she shouted
back, "I'd've worn a hoodie and sweats." She returned a moment
later, wearing a pair of running shorts instead. "I was finished
with my legs anyway."

She pulled off her T-shirt and Henry almost gave himself whiplash
as he turned to face his computer.

-----

Later that night, Henry lay awake in bed. Every time he closed
his eyes, he saw Aly's pussy. Her lips were smooth and hairless,
and he wondered if she shaved the rest. As soon as the thought
popped into his head, he suppressed it in a wave of guilt.

_Fathers do_ not _think of their daughters that way,_ he told
himself.

Leanne had her pubic hair waxed. She kept a little strip above
her slit, but the rest was bare. She didn't even bother to hide
her body from him. It was just one way she tormented him, and he
hated her for it. Personally, he liked more hair than just the
strip, but that was the style these days. Besides, he'd be happy
with any pussy he could get.

_Except my daughter's,_ he added hastily.

He tormented himself for another ten or fifteen minutes. When he
realized that he had an erection, he felt even guiltier. He
rolled over and tried to go to sleep, but his hard-on wouldn't go
away. He kept seeing Aly's smooth pussy in his mind, or her
breasts, so firm and round and...

_Stop it!_ he cried silently. _Stop it, stop it, stop it!_

He punched the pillow and tried to get settled. Eventually, his
erection subsided and he fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

-----

Aly left the suite door open in the morning. Worse, she kept
walking past it as she packed her small suitcase. She was nude,
of course, and Henry did his best to keep his eyes focused on his
laptop. He began pounding out e-mails, venting his sexual
frustration on his computer.

Before he realized what was happening, he felt Aly behind him.
Fortunately, she was dressed. She rubbed his shoulders and he
began to relax.

"Do you want a sausage biscuit for breakfast?" she asked.

He looked up and felt her shrug off his unspoken question.

"We're on vacation," she said. "I won't tell."

He smiled. The old Aly was back, the girl he loved, rather than
the sex kitten flashing her father. "Sure, sweetheart," he said.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.
"I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

"Now c'mon," she said. "Let's stop by McDonald's on the way out
of town."

He smiled and closed his laptop.

-----

For the next two hours, they talked about everything in the
world, from engineering courses to music to boys. Or, as Aly
corrected him, "men." He didn't like to think of her dating men
instead of boys, but she wasn't a little girl anymore.

She told him about dating an English professor--a man fifteen
years her senior--and Henry even managed to hide his disapproval.
Fortunately, the relationship didn't last, since she didn't want
a long-term commitment. Then she told him about one of the
engineering professors. He'd been married and older still, but
she ended their relationship after only a month.

"What about guys your age?" Henry finally asked.

She shrugged indifferently. "They're _boys_," she said. "They
only care about one thing--getting into my pants--but most of 'em
wouldn't know what to do if they got there." She shrugged again.
"I just like older guys. Men." She looked at him sidelong. "I
wonder why."

Henry felt his face flush, and he concentrated on the road. He
tried not to think about her comment, but he wasn't entirely
successful. He _did_ manage to discreetly re-arrange his
erection, but it wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried to
ignore it.

They fell silent for the next twenty miles. He didn't know what
she was trying to do, but he couldn't get her out of his mind. He
told himself--over and over--that fathers didn't think of
daughters "that way." He had a difficult time convincing himself.

They stopped for lunch at the Arkansas-Oklahoma border. Aly
ordered a chef's salad, while Henry ordered a cheeseburger and
French fries. She gave him a sharp look, but he said, "Vacation,
right?"

She relented a moment later, and reached across the table to pat
his hand. He felt an electric tingle and immediately looked away.
Aly merely giggled and stole one of his French fries.

"Oh, Dad," she said with a sigh.

They finished their meal in relative silence, but Henry couldn't
keep his eyes from her. She wasn't wearing much makeup, and she
had her hair pinned up. Still, she looked beautiful. She was
wearing a halter top--_without_ a bra--and he could clearly see
her small nipples. He tried not to stare, but she caught him once
and he turned bright red.

After lunch, he was glad to get back on the road. Aly wasn't
built like her mother, but her lithe figure accented what breasts
she did have. Unfortunately, she turned in her seat and sat with
her back against the door. She rested her thigh on the seat, and
her shorts were loose enough that he could almost see...

He gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead. Out of the corner
of his eye, he thought he saw Aly grinning at him.

-----

The drive across Oklahoma was mostly uneventful, and Henry kept
his mind on business. When he had good cell phone service, he
made a few calls, and got updates from Jayne about the situation
with Raytheon.

When they neared the Texas border, the truck started grinding
each time Henry let off the accelerator. Aly took out the map.
They decided to stop for the night in Amarillo. It was the next
big town, and they could have a mechanic look at the truck.

Unfortunately, the grinding grew worse. When the truck gave a
final lurch, Henry gripped the steering wheel. He might not be a
mechanical engineer, but he knew the sound of metal on metal when
he heard it. The interstate was straight and flat, but it was
also full of 18-wheelers traveling eighty miles an hour. He
looked for a place to pull over.

The transmission gave a final squeal and the engine died.

The steering grew heavy and Henry aimed for the shoulder. An air
horn bellowed as a truck barreled past. He turned on the hazard
blinkers and sat back, his shoulders suddenly hot with tension.

"Wow," Aly said. "That was close."

Henry nodded wordlessly. Then he flipped open his cell phone. It
didn't have a signal. "Try yours," he said.

Aly opened her phone, but then shook her head.

"Well," he said, resigned, "I guess we're walking."

They shouldered their bags and started walking toward the town
ahead. A battered old tow truck passed them about twenty minutes
later. It pulled to the shoulder and waited for them in a cloud
of dust.

"Is that your truck broke down back there?" the driver asked,
hooking a thumb behind him.

Henry nodded.

"I can't tow it with this rig," the driver said, "but I can give
you a ride to town. That's where I'm goin'."

"That'd be great," Henry said. "Thanks."

"I'm Tyler," the driver introduced himself.

"Hank," Henry said. "And this is my daughter, Aly."

"Pleased to meet ya."

They made small talk during the drive. The town was called Lela,
and Tyler owned the only garage in town.

"Sorry I can't tow your truck tonight," he said. "My main tow
truck's on the rack." He pointed to a brown cardboard box on the
dash. "Fuel pump."

Henry nodded.

"I'll have it fixed tomorrow, 'bout midmorning," Tyler said. "If
you'd like, you can call Moneymaker's Towing in Shamrock," he
continued. "They'll charge you for the trip out here, in addition
to the tow, but I won't be able to look at your truck till I get
mine off the rack anyway. You can have Moneymaker's tow you back
to Shamrock, though." He shrugged.

"Will you be able to fix our truck once you get it to your
garage?" Henry asked.

"Won't know till I look at it."

"Fair enough."

"Do you want to call Moneymaker's?" Tyler asked. "I can give you
the number."

Henry looked at his watch. It was nearly nine o'clock. He had an
emergency number for the rental company, but he decided to deal
with them in the morning. "Do you have a hotel in town?" he
asked. Tyler gave him an appraising look. It wasn't a _puzzled_
look, though, which raised Henry's opinion of the man.

"Sure," he said at last. "We have the old Grand. It's not very
modern, but it's clean."

"Then I think we'll spend the night," Henry said. "If you can tow
the truck in the morning..."

Tyler nodded. "I'll drop you off at the hotel and give you a call
when I'm ready in the morning. Should be nine or ten o'clock.
A'ight?"

"Sounds good," Henry said. He pulled out his wallet. "How much do
I owe you for the ride to town?"

"No charge."

"Are you sure?"

Tyler snuffled and nodded. "Wouldn't be able to call myself a
Christian if I'd left you there on the interstate." He tipped his
hat. "See you in the morning."

Henry thanked him again and then shut the truck's door. It pulled
away with a cloud of dust.

The Lela Grand Hotel was clean, but small and dated. It must've
been built in the Twenties, and it hadn't been renovated since.
It looked like something out of a movie, with faded red carpet
and battered wood paneling. The manager perked up and smiled as
they approached the desk.

_Probably the owner,_ Henry thought. "I'd like two rooms for the
night," he said aloud. "I don't suppose you have adjoining
rooms?"

"Sure do," the man said. He had Henry sign the register--an
honest-to-God paper register--and swiped Henry's credit card
through a reader. The device chirred as it dialed. Then a busy
signal blared. "Ah, that happens all the time," the manager said.
"You look like the trustworthy type, though. I'll just make an
imprint of your card and we'll run it through when you check out.
Is that okay?"

"Fine," Henry said.

The manager handed over two keys--genuine brass keys, with faded
plastic fobs. "Rooms 6 and 8," he said, "at the top of the
stairs, to your right. Do you need help with your bags?"

Henry shook his head. The hotel might be quaint, but the manager
was polite, and Henry couldn't ask for more, especially in the
middle of nowhere.

The rooms were just as dated as the lobby. The TVs were fairly
modern, but the phones were old single-line clunkers. Henry threw
his suitcase and laptop on the bed. It squeaked as they landed. A
moment later, Aly knocked on the adjoining door. He unlocked it
and swung it open.

"Nice place, huh?" she said. She was serious. "It's kinda cool,
isn't it?"

"It's not what I'm used to," he said, "but it'll do in a pinch."

"The bathrooms have old cast-iron bathtubs. Cool, huh?" Ten
minutes later, she met with her first disappointment: her
bathroom didn't have any hot water. She started to call the front
desk, but then had an idea. She went into Henry's bathroom and
tried the tub.

"It's hot," she said. "If you don't mind, I'll just take a bath
in here."

He gestured with a smile. While she ran a bath, he plugged the
phone cord into his laptop. The dial-up connection was slow, but
the computer began downloading e-mail.

He listened to Aly hum as she soaked in the bath. His thoughts
wandered to her body, and he quickly flushed with embarrassment.
After a guilty moment he shook off the thought and concentrated
on his computer.

-----

"Do you want to have a late dinner?" Aly asked when she emerged
from the bathroom.

Henry turned but then quickly looked away. She was wearing a
single white towel. Around her head. Her nipples were puckered
and stiff from the air conditioning, and he had an answer to his
question about her pubic hair: she had a small strip above her
slit.

"Oh, Dad," she chided, "don't be such a prude."

"Sweetheart, I'm your father. I'm _not_ your boyfriend."

"So? You've seen me naked before."

"Not since you were _ten_."

"That's not true. You've seen me plenty of times since then."

He _had_, but he felt guilty remembering. She and her friends had
a cavalier attitude about nudity. He'd seen her and the other
girls as they sunbathed topless. Or when they spent the night and
wore scanty nightshirts. Or when her best friend, Jordyn,
accidentally sent him e-mail with...

"Hello?" Aly said. "Dad?"

He shook his head and looked at her. He'd forgotten about her
nudity, and felt his face heat as he looked away. His
embarrassment redoubled when he felt his erection bind in his
underwear.

"Oh, Dad," Aly said. She leaned over his shoulder to kiss his
cheek.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her nipples, pinkish-
brown and pointy. She walked to her room and he breathed a sigh
of relief. His erection didn't go away, but at least he could
shift it and ease the pressure.

-----

The diner across the street was open, and they ate a quiet meal.
Henry's thoughts were chaotic and completely inappropriate--he
couldn't get the image of Aly out of his mind. Back in the hotel
room, he lied and told her he had a headache. He closed the door
between their rooms and leaned against it, mentally exhausted.

A cold shower didn't do anything to dampen his libido. Every time
he closed his eyes, he saw Aly's firm breasts or trimmed pussy.
He climbed into bed with an erection. He wanted to jerk off, but
he refused to do it with thoughts of his daughter clouding his
imagination.

He tried to think of Leanne, but his mind's eye kept returning to
Aly. He thought about a half-dozen other women, from movie stars
to employees, but Aly always returned to the forefront. He even
went to his computer and tried surfing for porn, but the dial-up
connection was painfully slow. In the end, he went back to bed,
where he tossed and turned until he eventually fell asleep.

-----

Henry opened his eyes and gazed up at the plaster on the ceiling.
It had once been white, but age and water stains had turned it a
dull yellow. He had an erection--he'd been dreaming about Leanne.
Again. He could've _sworn_ he felt her next to him, but that was
crazy. The feeling persisted, so he glanced to his right, just to
be sure. He recoiled in surprise and leapt out of bed.

Aly, sleepy-eyed and disheveled, blinked at him from the other
side of the bed. "Unh, what time is it?"

"What're you doing in here?" he blurted.

"My air conditioner started making a racket, so I came in here."

"Alyson..." He drew a deep breath and waited for his heart to slow.
"We need to talk."

"About what?" She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes.

Henry immediately sat on the bed again. Aly was wearing a midriff
halter top and a matching pair of panties. The outfit was tight
and translucent. It certainly didn't leave anything to the
imagination. He rested his arm on his thigh to hide his renewed
erection.

"Alyson," he began, slowly, deliberately, "I'm not your
boyfriend, and this isn't a dorm room."

"I know. So?"

"I'm your father, and you shouldn't dress like that around me.
More importantly, you shouldn't sleep in the same bed with me."

"But my air conditioner..."

He set his jaw. "It's not right."

She rolled her eyes. "It's vacation. I won't tell if you won't."

"This isn't like a sausage biscuit, sweetheart."

"So?"

"Alyson, I'm your _father_. For that matter, I shouldn't see
_any_ girl your age dressed like that."

"I'm not a girl," she shot back.

"Okay," he conceded, "I shouldn't see any _woman_ your age
dressed like that."

"Why? Don't you like me?"

"I love you, Aly, and that's precisely why I shouldn't see you
like that. And it's precisely why you shouldn't be sleeping in my
bed. It's not right."

"Why? We didn't do anything. I mean, you didn't even know I was
there until you woke up."

She was right, and it scared him. He was used to sleeping with
someone, and he hadn't even noticed when the someone in question
_wasn't_ his wife. "That's beside the point," he said. "Wrong is
wrong, whether I know about it at the time or not."

She huffed. "When did you become so repressed, Dad?"

"I'm not repressed."

"Then why are you so uptight about how I'm dressed?" She flung
back the covers to make sure he could see everything.

He controlled his breathing with an effort of will. "Aly, that
outfit doesn't leave anything to the imagination."

"It's not _supposed_ to. That's why I wore it, Dad. I'm a grown
woman. _I_ choose who gets to see my body." Her eyes glinted.
"And I choose you."

"Aly..."

"I know you're not a prude, Dad. So relax. And don't worry about
what I'm wearing. I don't dress like a slut in public. So if I
want to dress sexy in private, why should you complain?"

"But I'm your father," he said, which sounded feeble.

"So? You're still a man, aren't you? Or has Mom finally cut off
your balls?"

He squared his shoulders and scowled. "Now listen here, young
lady--"

"Oh, come _on_, Dad! Do you think I don't know about Mom and her
affairs? I know what she's been doing to you, and I hate her for
it."

"That's between her and me," Henry said.

"You think it doesn't affect me? Or Chad and Kacy? We know what's
going on."

"Still, it's none of your business--"

"It _is_ my business when I see how unhappy you are. Why don't
you divorce her?"

"Because I made a vow, and I'm going to honor it."

"Even if Mom ignores it?"

"I made a vow," he said stubbornly.

"Then why don't you have a mistress? Tons of women would sleep
with you. And not just women your age, either. You're totally
sexy. Women my age would sleep with you."

His eyes widened.

"Sure," she said. "Jordyn's always thought you were hot. She'd
sleep with you in a heartbeat. And she's not the only one."

"This is _not_ the kind of discussion we should be having," he
said suddenly. "Do you want to take a shower? Or do you want me
to go first?"

"Why don't we take one together?"

He ignored the question.

She rolled her eyes.

"Fine" he said. "I'll go first."

Once again, the cold water didn't do a thing for his erection. He
didn't want to emerge from the bathroom clad in just a towel, but
his pajamas wouldn't hide his hard-on any better. So he wrapped
the towel around his waist and hoped that Aly had returned to her
room.

She hadn't, and her eyes fell to his groin. He quickly turned to
face the sink, but he could feel her looking at him. She casually
stripped off her halter and panties. She stood behind him, almost
defiantly. He could see her in the mirror, but he resolutely
focused on his own reflection.

"You can't avoid the issue forever, Dad," she said at last.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a man," she said, "not a monk. If Mom won't have sex with
you, then you should find someone who will."

He stubbornly kept his mouth shut.

She shook her head in resignation. "Fine. Have it your way. But
that"--she nodded at his hidden erection--"won't go away simply
because you ignore it."

-----

Copyright (c) 2007 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

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