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Mf14, Mf18, inc, cons, fath/dau, oral, mild WS

Your experience, your education . . . your life, is the foundation of your future. It is the essence of you. But, what happens if you lose that foundation?



Part I

Chapter One

ADDISON FINISHED ADDING GROUND coffee to the drip brewer and switched it on. Pausing, she sipped her glass of chilled orange juice enjoying the sweet flavor and pulp, then checked that the toaster was ready. With the frying pan warming, a pat of butter melting, and fresh eggs waiting at the side, she checked her watch.

Where was he? Usually he was the first up in the morning, especially today, Father's Day.

She moved the frying pan off the heat and left the kitchen, walked down the hall of the sprawling bungalow-style home, and into his bedroom. Dad was sound asleep, uncovered from the waist up, his sandy hair a mess. She moved to the bed and shook his shoulder. "Time to wake up."

He didn't stir. She shook his shoulder harder. "Wake up, Dad." With no response and a tickle of worry, she shoved his shoulder, relieved when he finally stirred, his eyes opening.

"It's Father's Day! Time to get up," she repeated.

Something was off in his pale grey eyes. They had a strange expression she'd never seen before. He studied her for a moment then asked, "Who are you?"

Addison laughed. "Stop kidding around and get up."

When his expression didn't change, a thread of fear wormed into her, her heart beating faster. "You really don't know who I am?" she asked.

"No. Who are you?"

"I'm Addison, your daughter." When he didn't respond, she asked, "Dad? What day of the week is it?"

"I don't know."

"What year is it?"

"I don't know."

"What's your name?"

He didn't answer, his brow wrinkling in concentration. She didn't like the confusion in his eyes or the lack of affection he usually had in his voice.

Now panic threatened her. "Get up and get dressed RIGHT NOW, Dad! We're going to the hospital. There's something wrong with you!"

When he didn't move, Addison yelled, fear making her louder. "GET UP!"

An hour later, Addison sat quietly in the examination room as a neurosurgeon flashed a penlight in each of Dad's eyes, talking to him in a soft voice.

"Can you tell me who the Prime Minister is?" he asked.

"I don't know," Dad answered. "Paul something?"

"Where were you born?"

"I don't remember."

As the surgeon asked more questions, Addison's fear intensified, her heart thumping, her hands damp. Why couldn't Dad remember? What happened last night?"

"We're going to conduct some tests, Mr. Roth," the surgeon said. "There could be a blood clot in your brain causing your memory loss."

"Is that my name?" Dad asked. Before the surgeon could answer, Dad glanced at Addison. "You're my daughter?"

Addison nodded and wiped her eyes before tears could fall. "You'll be okay, Dad."

Once Dad was wheeled out of the examination room, Addison found a seat in the waiting room. The doctor had told her it would be a while, with Dad undergoing x-rays and possibly an MRI scan.

Sunday morning in the hospital was oddly busy. She watched people come and go, some obviously injured, some in pain, family members distraught, one wife chastising her husband for something stupid he'd done - his arm and hand wrapped in a bloody towel.

For the first hour she was numb with shock. Adrenaline faded to be replaced by fear. What had happened to his brain? What would happen if he couldn't get his memory back?

She thought about her life with Dad. In so many ways she thought herself lucky, especially compared to some of her friends. Despite losing Mom five years ago, Dad had made sure she felt secure. Sure, he was a pain and bugged her about her school grades. He worked far too hard and long, long hours. And she didn't like the chores he made her do when she'd rather be out with her friends. But he was Dad. He was supposed to do those things. He never yelled at her. He didn't punish her. He went out of his way to support her school activities even if he couldn't be there.

Maybe he didn't spend as much time with her as she wanted. But he was Dad. My dad! The only family she had.

Worry distracted her. She waited, sitting on the hard plastic chair, lost in "What ifs?"

"Miss Roth?"

Shaking herself, she looked up. Dr. Hendricks was approaching. He was youngish, about Dad's age - mid thirties - with sharp, intelligent brown eyes behind wire-framed glasses, slender and short.

She jumped up. "Is he better?"

Dr. Hendricks sat in the seat next to her. She sat down. He turned slightly towards her. "The good news is your father does not appear to have a brain clot. He seems healthy."

"Then, what's wrong with him?"

"The truth is, we don't know." The doctor paused before continuing. "Physically, every test we've run has been negative." His expression softened. "The brain is a mystery to us, even today. We know a little about it, but there are still mysteries we don't understand. From a health standpoint, your father is fine. That's good. He's suffering from retrograde amnesia; he's lost his episodic memories."

"I don't understand," Addison told him.

Dr. Hendricks smiled gently. "Think about riding a bike. Your father can describe how to ride a bike - we call that semantic memory - but he can't remember when he learned how to ride a bike. He can't remember the event itself."

"But, he doesn't remember me!" she said.

"That's true. At the moment, you're the keeper of his memories. All he'll know about his past is what's in your mind."

Addison wrestled with the news. "Will he ever remember?" she asked.

"No one can answer that. We simply don't understand enough. He might wake up tomorrow with all his memories back, or it might take months or years . . . or perhaps never."

Addison's eyes welled. She brushed the tears away. "He didn't even know I'm his daughter."

Dr. Hendricks put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "It's going to be hard on both of you. Try not to inundate him with information. He's grappling to come to terms with his condition. Just be yourself and help him. Tell him about your life together, but don't overwhelm him. It might help."

Addison nodded, looking down at her lap.

"Has he ever been injured?" the doctor asked.

"Once, a couple of years ago, he fell off a ladder and was unconscious for a long time. But he was fine when he came to."

"How long was he unconscious for?"

Addison shrugged. "I don't know. I found him when I came home from school." Glancing at the doctor, she asked, "Is that why he's lost his memory?"

Dr. Hendricks smiled softly. "It's unlikely. If it was a couple of years ago, it probably has nothing to do with his current condition."

He patted her knee. "Come. He's waiting. You can take him home."




I SAT ON THE edge of the examining table. Across from me was a mirror. A stranger looked back at me. The void in my mind terrified me; a hole that should have been filled with something but wasn't. It was eerily empty.

The stranger looking back at me appeared just as lost. It was in his pale grey eyes; desperation to understand, full of fear.

"Dad?" a hesitant voice said.

I looked away from the stranger in the mirror and saw her - the girl who woke me up. The girl who said she was my daughter. I looked back into the mirror and studied the stranger.

Was someone playing a cosmic joke on me? Was this a dream?

"Dad?" This time softer and filled with worry.

Turning back to the girl, I asked, "Are you really my daughter?"

Tears welled in her eyes. She nodded, tears falling down her cheeks, and I felt worse for making her hurt despite needing to ask. I had to ask. She was so different.

She had long, straight, jet-black hair and, despite her normal eye shape, was clearly of Asian descent; short, petite, delicate, and very slender. I strained to see any of me in her and couldn't, except for her eye colour - dark grey, smoky and haunted.

She stood crying silently, not moving, her eyes studying me. I saw the pain battling fear in them.

"What did you say your name is?"

"Addison," she replied.

"What's my name?"

"Jim Roth."

Silence. Neither of us moved.

"Okay. I guess we should go home," I suggested.

She nodded.

Addison gave the taxi driver the address. The taxi ride was disconcerting. Everywhere I looked was new and unfamiliar. The city, or town, was neat, clean, with retail strip malls giving way to residential neighborhoods, semi-detached homes transitioning to detached homes on larger and larger plots, all with neatly manicured lawns.

Addison pulled some wrinkled bills from the pocket of her jeans and paid while I studied the house. The bungalow-style home sprawled on a huge plot backing onto a stand of trees. Ocher brick. Shingled roof. Wide double front doors. A detached two car garage to the side. The front garden was neat, lawn mowed, with flower beds full of blooming plants; a miniature Japanese Maple with red leaves the centerpiece.

As I stood studying the house, the taxi pulled away. Addison stood next to me.

"Do I have a wife?" I asked.

"You used to. Mom died five years ago."

I wracked my brain. Nothing. No feelings. No sense of loss. That terrified me even more. I'd loved someone and I didn't feel anything.

Eventually, I said, "Okay."

Addison unlocked the front door. I stepped in and recognized what I'd first seen this morning. Now more details registered. The entry opened into a broad, expansive living room tastefully decorated. There were halls to the left and right. Across from me, floor to ceiling windows looked out onto the well-maintained back garden, a shed at the back to the left, the old trees behind giving privacy, and the edge of an in-ground pool to the right. A flagstone patio stretched from left to right, outdoor furniture, and a gas barbecue grill on it.

Turning my attention back to the living room, I noticed exotic wood side tables with framed pictures on them. I hesitated. Addison stood silently at my side as if keeping me company while I tried to absorb.

Eventually, I moved, walking in. I circled the room pausing at one side table. The picture was of me with a petite Asian woman at my side and a child of seven or eight - Addison. The woman - my wife - had a wonderful smile. I looked serious. Addison was making a goofy face.

Nothing. No memory. But now I felt an ache of loss. I wanted to remember people in my life being that happy.

"What was her name?" I asked quietly.

"Christina."

I slumped onto the couch. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to do."

Addison sat next to me. After a moment of silence, she asked, "Would you like me to show you the house?"

I nodded.

Much later, lying in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, wearing unfamiliar pajamas that didn't feel right, I stared up at the dark ceiling. Had I ever been this scared before?

Everything was disorienting. There wasn't one thing I could relate to. Every thought in my mind came with questions. How old was I? Had I been happy? What career did I have and was I even good at it? Simple things were beyond me. Did I like ice cream? Did I drink? Was I an alcoholic or an abusive father? Did I have friends?

I knew some things. I knew how a car worked and how to turn on the television. I knew how to shower and brush my teeth. But I didn't know if I owned a car. I couldn't remember actually driving one. I didn't recognize my toothbrush. I didn't recognize any of the clothes in the bedroom closets or drawers.

Worst of all was seeing the pain and fear in Addison's eyes. I didn't know what she expected of me. Was I a hugger? Had I been a good father or not? How could I help her cope when I couldn't help myself?




ADDISON CURLED UP IN bed and cried silently. She felt abandoned even though Dad was in the house. In some ways, this was worse than losing Mom. At least with Mom, she was gone. Dad was here but not. Every time she looked at him she could see he was different - not Dad.

She hadn't recognized how important he was in her life. Before, he was always there, her Dad, providing an anchor in her life. Now . . .

Tears fell to the pillow. Now Dad was gone. It was in his eyes. They didn't look the same. Every familiar expression was no more. This dad was a stranger. And what made it worse was his confusion, watching him struggle to understand and not.

Until today, she hadn't understood how Dad was her foundation, the rock tethering her to life, always dependable, always consistent. Now she was adrift and didn't know what to do.


Chapter Two

Early dawn woke Addison. For a brief moment fear returned. But then, as if her brain had been working all night, a plan of action formed. And the prospect of action, of doing something, anything, calmed her.

She jumped out of bed and dressed, choosing simple blue shorts and a Tee. In the living room, next to the couch, she found Dad's Smartphone and scrolled through his contacts until she found Richard Deer's number, then dialed.

A groggy, "Hello?" answered.

"Mr. Deer? It's Addison Roth calling. I'm sorry it's so early but I need to talk to you. Something's happened."

For the next ten minutes she told him what had happened to Dad. She knew Richard. He was Dad's right-hand man at the company, short and portly, always quick with a smile, with a wife and four kids and, according to Dad, indispensable to the business. She hoped he'd be able to run things until Dad was able to. He assured her he would, much to her relief.

Next, she hunted through storage boxes kept in a spare room, pulling out shoe boxes of photos, rifling through others to find old videos. Satisfied, she carried them to the kitchen and turned her attention to breakfast.

Dad might not remember, but she was going to arm him with knowledge. Maybe it would spark a memory. Maybe it would displace the confusion and fear in his eyes.

Dad's favorite breakfast was scrambled eggs with bacon - lots of bacon - and toasted English muffins. She prepared.

Sun intensified. Glancing out into the back garden, she looked at it through new eyes. What would Dad think about it? Would he like gardening as much as he used to? Could he remember how to swim? Or how cook on the barbecue?

Before she could get frustrated at the thoughts, with breakfast almost ready, she headed to his bedroom.

He was sprawled across the bed sideways, uncovered, one arm hanging over the edge, and wearing pajamas; he never wore pajamas, always complaining they were too restrictive. His sandy hair was a mess.

She approached and shook his shoulder, secretly hoping he'd wake up and be his old self. He didn't respond. She shook him harder and he stirred, opening his eyes, looking at her without moving.

"Addison, right?"

Relief flooded through her. "You remember?"

His light grey eyes clouded. "Just your name."

Her brief moment of happiness evaporated. "I've made breakfast. It's time to get up."

He rolled off the bed and stretched. "That's an uncomfortable bed."

When he followed her into the hall, she asked, "Aren't you going to shower?" He always started his day with a shower.

"Maybe later."

As he walked, he studied everything; the framed paintings of spring flowers in the hall, the furniture in the living room, and in the kitchen, while Addison made scrambled eggs, he inspected all the appliances, cupboards, and drawers before sitting at the eat-on island counter.

"I made coffee," she said, pointing to the machine.

He hunted back through the cupboards, found a mug and poured. Back sitting at the counter, he sipped. "Coffee. This is good."

"Don't you want milk and sugar?"

He contemplated it for a moment. "I don't know." Rising, he went to the fridge, poured milk into the mug, and sipped, his face wrinkling with distaste. "Yuck!"

"Try adding sugar," Addison suggested.

"Is that how I drink it?"

"Uh-huh."

"How many sugars?"

"Two." Noticing him glance around, she added, "Up in that cupboard," nodding towards it. "No. The other one."

He added two sugars, sipped and frowned. "Double yuck!"

"Then pour another." Addison was amused with his reaction. And "Yuck?" He'd never used that word before.

With a fresh cup of black coffee, he sat, looking around. "Did your mom design the kitchen?"

"She decorated every room except for the study and kitchen. Those were your two rooms."

"So, I can cook?"

"You love cooking," she told him while spooning scrambled eggs onto the plates, adding bacon and English muffins. She passed a plate across to him, wondering if he still liked eggs.

He did.

"The doctor told me I should help you remember, but he said take it slow. After we eat, I've got some stuff to show you, if you want."

Dad studied her, then nodded. "Okay."

Addison briefly thought about calling her school to tell them she wouldn't be coming, then decided not to. Dad didn't even know she was supposed to be in school anyway.

After breakfast, they sat on the couch and Addison started showing him photos, explaining each. At first, he just listened and looked. Eventually, he started asking questions, starting with one of a younger him standing next to a race car.

"I guess I liked driving. Was I good?"

"Your trophies are in the study, so yeah."

"Do I still race?"

"No. Mom said you gave it up when I was born."

Before she could show him another photo, he asked softly, "Was she happy? Was I a good husband?"

Addison choked up, a lump forming in her throat. "Yes. She was always happy. You loved her a lot."

"How did she die?"

For a few moments Addison didn't answer. Her sinuses blocked, eyes damp. She almost never thought about it, still so painful. She could still see Mom in the hospital bed, gaunt, ravaged by leukemia, so weak, and still with her loving smile, her soft eyes. The smell of the room came back in a flash. The feeling of Mom holding her, caressing her hair, whispering weakly, "I love you, sweetheart. I'll always love you and be with you. Never forget that. Take care of your father and let him take care of you. Don't be sad. These things happen."

Addison desperately tried to tamp down the memory of Dad and failed. Tears welled as she remembered sitting in the hard plastic seat outside Mom's room and seeing Dad emerge. She'd known immediately. She saw the grief in his eyes. Mom had died. And as if from afar, she heard herself wail, "Nooooo!"

"Addison?"

Wiping her eyes, she told Dad, "Leukemia. She died from leukemia." She didn't tell him the details. He couldn't remember. It was better for him. Picking up another photo, she tried to bring brightness into her voice. "This was you and Mom at graduation. You were high school sweethearts."

"Your mom's pretty. I look like a dork," he commented.

Addison laughed lightly. "She was beautiful. Mom was born in Japan and moved here when she was two years old. I have home videos. Would you like to see them?"

He leaned back. "No. I think I'd like to talk." Looking at her, he asked, "How old are you?"

"Fourteen as of last month."

"How old am I?"

Addison shrugged. "I'm not sure. Thirty-something."

"Do I work?" he asked.

"Yeah. You own a software company. I called Mr. Deer and told him what happened. He said not to worry. He has everything under control." When confusion appeared, she added, "He's, like, your best friend and runs the company for you."

Dad nodded. "Okay."

For the rest of the day, they talked. Addison answered his questions as best she could, some she couldn't. That night in bed, it occurred to her that today she'd talked to Dad longer than she ever had in her life, and strangely, it felt good. She felt better, less worried. Still, there was something odd about him beyond the memory loss and she couldn't put her finger on what it was.




I STARED UP AT the dark bedroom ceiling for the second night, my mind too busy to sleep. Now I had images to think about; my wife, our life, Addison. I had knowledge about someone else's life, distanced from reality, not part of me. Nothing I'd learned struck a bell; nothing.

It seemed to me I'd led an ordinary life, been an ordinary father, and an ordinary husband, and provided for my family quite well, judging by the house. As if reading a book, it was a detached life.

What was I supposed to do? Go back to work doing something I knew nothing about? Raise a daughter I didn't know?

Yet, how could I not? I had responsibilities; a daughter, employees, a business.

My thoughts turned to Addison. Even if I didn't feel like I was her father, she was my daughter. How hard was this on her? Today, she'd been articulate, calm, and smiled a couple of times. She'd shown maturity, coping in the face of what must be a disaster for her. What was it like to have a father that didn't recognize you? Your life pulled from under you so suddenly?

How had I treated her before? Was I stern and demanding? Had I been a good father? She seemed well adjusted.

Staring at the dark ceiling, I searched for answers and found none. I didn't have a plan, a focus, a goal. Like drifting in a raft in the middle of the ocean, I was going nowhere, and that didn't sit well. Had I been driven before?

I knew one thing. Talking with Addison today had relieved much of my stress. I liked her. Talking helped. Fear still hovered, but she'd tamped it down.

Maybe that's what I should do; focus on Addison, learn all about her, reintroduce myself to my daughter. Perhaps by focusing on her I could find some stability.


Chapter Three

"Where do we live?" I asked, eating cereal at the breakfast table.

Addison, in flower-printed tight Bermuda shorts and a royal blue Tee, was multi-tasking; eating cereal, her Smartphone to one side, and writing in a book. She looked at me in surprise at my question. "Here. We live here."

"No. I mean, what city is this?"

"Toronto."

"We're Canadian?"

"Well, duh!" she responded, immediately followed by, "Sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Don't worry. I think I'm going to have a lot of stupid questions. What day is it?"

"Tuesday, June ninteenth, two thousand and eighteen."

"After breakfast, how do you feel about driving around with me?"

Addison studied me. "Are you sure you know how to drive?"

"Nope. But I'll try," I told her with a smile, despite some nervousness. "What are you writing?"

"My diary. I've kept one forever so I don't forg . . ." Her face fell. "Sorry."

"Don't be. We can't hide what's happened."

On entering the garage, I saw two cars; the first, a dusty Subaru station wagon, the second, a gunmetal grey Range Rover. Since it wasn't dust-covered, I assumed it was mine. Oddly, when I sat in the driver's seat, I knew what everything was for. While I couldn't remember driving before, I instinctually knew I could.

We started with canvassing the neighborhood. Addison kept up a running commentary:

"This is the Bridle Path area. Turn right. Up here on the left is my school, Park Lane Public School."

I pulled to the curb and watched kids playing sports on a field. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Yeah. I'm taking a couple of days off until you've adjusted. Besides, finals are over. It's only two weeks to summer holidays."

"Okay."

"Really?" Addison asked, surprised. "You don't mind?"

"No. What grade are you in?"

"Eight."

I resumed driving. The area we lived in was rather ritzy. Huge mansions behind electronic gates, with tall, old trees, slowly gave way to smaller plots featuring oversized homes. Our house, despite being large to me, was quite modest for the area.

"Turn right," Addison suggested.

I did. The road dipped and rose, widening.

"That's Edwards Gardens," she said, pointing to a beautifully maintained park of rolling lawns, trees and blooming, colourful flowers.

For the next couple of hours, Addison navigated us around the area, circling back to our house. I'd seen luxury homes and condos and small bungalows and semi-detached houses. The area was quite a mixture. But as soon as we turned back into the Bridal Path area, quiet luxury, opulence, and gated estates returned; a small enclave of wealth. It was a very elegant area.

At home, Addison prepared lunch. I watched her. She'd gathered her long jet black hair into a high ponytail. It shone in the bright light coming in through the kitchen windows. Having seen photographs, I could see the resemblance to her mother; petite of stature, slender as a reed, delicate features. With the exception of her slate grey eyes that didn't have the hooded lids of her mother, I struggled to see any of my features in her. To me, she didn't look like she was fourteen years old.

"Here you go," she announced, placing two plates in front of me. One had a sandwich, the other a small salad.

She brought a couple of plates for herself to the kitchen table and sat. I took a bite of mine and frowned. Mystery meat with a tang.

"What's the matter?" she asked, a fork of salad paused on its way to her mouth.

"What is this?"

"Tongue with grainy Dijon mustard on dark rye. It's what you always eat."

I looked at her sandwich, putting mine back on the plate. "What's yours?"

"Bologna with yellow mustard."

"Can I try it?"

Addison pushed her plate across the table. I took half of the white bread sandwich and tasted it. "Much better."

Addison's eyes opened wider. "You've really changed, Dad. You hate bologna!"

Mouth full, I murmured my pleasure, "Mmmmm." Swallowing, I added, "That's what I call a sandwich! Can you make another?"

Addison gaped at me, then let out a bright laugh, her smile like a million-watt spotlight. She nodded. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Physically, yup. Mentally, who knows?"

Shaking her head with amusement, she got up to make more sandwiches. Her laugh pleased me. It chased away the fear in her eyes and lit up her face. I might be suffering from worry, but at least she was happier, and that made me feel better.

"What did I do for hobbies?" I asked.

"You didn't have any. You read a lot and gardened . . . when you were at home."

"Did I work long hours?"

"Most of the time I'd only see you on weekends," she replied, cutting two more sandwiches.

As she brought them over - one for her, another for me - I observed, "It doesn't sound like I was much fun. Did we take vacations?"

"No."

"Why not?"

She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed, contemplating me. "After Mom died, you buried yourself in work."

"Must have been tough on you," I said, not really liking what I was learning about myself.

Addison shrugged.

Glancing out through the kitchen window, I admired the crystal clear, aqua-coloured pool. "Can I swim?"

"If you want to," she answered.

"No. What I mean is, do I know how?"

A glint of mischievous pleasure passed through her eyes. She smiled. "Yes. You can. You rarely did, though."

"I assume you swim."

She nodded, still smiling.

"Let's swim after lunch," I suggested. "If you want to."

"Okay."

When lunch was over, I dumped the plates in the sink. We went to change. In the bedroom, I hunted through drawer after drawer for swimming trunks to no avail.

"Addison?" I yelled. "Where is my swimming suit?" Waiting for a response, I yelled again, pushing clothes aside in a drawer. "Addison!"

"You don't have to yell," Addison admonished quietly. "I heard you the first time."

Glancing at her, I asked, "Do you know where they are?"

She nodded, walking in. Pulling the bottom right drawer open, she reached back and pulled out a black suit. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied, walking out.

With the bathing suit in one hand, I paused. Addison, in a simple, teal bikini looked good. Her legs appeared to be longer, her body nicely proportioned. She was, I thought, a good looking girl.

She was in the pool when I emerged. Cautiously, I walked down the steps. While having no recollection of swimming, it came instinctively. The water was the perfect temperature, warm yet cool, easing the heat from an intense summer sun. Coolness caressed my skin. Why didn't I swim a lot before? This was very relaxing.

Addison swam slowly, a lazy breast stroke, watching me with those smoky eyes. When she came near, I splashed her. Shock registered quickly followed by a broad smile and she laughed as she splashed me back. A water war erupted, neither of us ceding to the other, her bright laughter loud.

When she made a strategic error of getting too close, I reached out and shoved her head, pushing her underwater. Surfacing, spluttering, she lunged and shoved me under.

"That'll teach you!" she exclaimed when I surfaced, then screamed when I lunged toward her.

We fooled around in the pool, tiredness eventually turning the war into peace. Insects buzzed in the quiet. In the distance, a lawn mower cut grass. The pool skimmers gurgled. Eventually, I got out.

"Would you like a drink?" I asked.

"Yes, please. Diet Coke."

By the time I returned, having found sodas in the fridge and figured out how to work the ice dispenser, Addison was just leaving the pool.

Almost unconsciously, with her bikini plastered to her, I noticed small mounds on her chest, too small to show under a T-shirt. Her hips were narrow, just hinting at a mature shape, thighs tapered. And her bikini bottom was stuck to her like glue, a small camel toe forming. Fourteen? My daughter was a late bloomer, I thought.

"Here you go," I said, placing her glass on the intricate cast iron patio table.

Addison bent and wrung her long hair out, then grabbed a towel wrapping it around her.

"Thanks. I brought you a towel too," she said, passing me a pale blue bath one. She sat, sipped her drink, then looked at me.

"You're really different, Dad."

"How so?"

"You're . . . relaxed, not as intense and serious as you used to be."

She sipped her Coke again, then continued, "I know what you're going through is no fun, but . . ."

"But, what?"

She looked away. "It's probably wrong, but I like who you are."

For a while, I pondered it. I didn't know how I was before. The few snippets of information Addison had given me sounded like I was a driven man, focused on work, and probably not much of a father to her. She appeared to be quite independent. Was that from my absence? Forced to cope on her own?

And what would happen if my memory returned? Would I forget everything that had happened since losing it? Would I revert to the man she was describing?

"I can't imagine not wanting to spend time with you," I told her. Then, with a grin, added, "Besides, you're the only person I know, so what choice do I have?"

Addison laughed. "You're more of a goof now. I like it. Maybe that's how you were as a kid."

I shrugged. "Maybe."

That night in bed, studying the dark ceiling, I thought back over the day. Fear in me had not left. I still felt stress over who I was, what would happen, and how my life could be restored with so much gone. But there was one bright spot. I was pleased with Addison. She'd relaxed. The fear in her eyes had gone. And I was discovering my daughter was a charming young girl. Hour by hour I was learning more about her and, even if fatherly feelings hadn't yet returned, I did feel some pride. Surely I had done something right for her to be who she is?

For the first time, I thought there might be a light at the end of this dark tunnel. I could see myself eventually returning to work and finding out what I did, whether I still had skills, and, nervous or not, face reality no matter what it was.


Chapter Four

ADDISON WALKED HOME FROM school. The sun was hot despite the leafy shade of old trees lining the road. She hardly noticed. Her mind was busy. For the last two weeks, she'd seen Dad cope. Today was his first trip to his company. He'd met with Mr. Deer a couple of times over coffee at Starbucks and each time he'd returned lost in thought.

At first, she'd worried he'd slipped back into his remote, serious self. But his smile of pleasure at seeing her was open and honest, and it warmed her every time. This dad was so different. She felt guilty that she liked this dad so much more. He spent time with her, talked, joked, and yesterday before going to bed, he'd drawn her into a hug and whispered, "Thank you for everything, honey."

It wasn't all a bed of roses. Dad couldn't cook worth a damn. He didn't know his way around the kitchen. He knew what spices and herbs were, but didn't have the foggiest about how much to use or which to use. He could make pasta, but overcooked it. He knew every cooking appliance in the kitchen but had forgotten what to make with them. Before, he could create a recipe out of thin air. Now, he was consulting his Smartphone.

However, getting used to him was fun. She'd asked for her allowance and, when he asked how much she'd get, she upped it to thirty-five dollars a week without him blinking.

Even more fun was asking him to let her pierce her ears and he had agreed she could! Before, he refused to let her.

Addison smiled to herself. She'd told him he used to work out regularly at the gym on Don Mills Road - a membership he'd bought and never used - and now he did! It replaced the gardening he used to do, which wasn't great since the garden was beginning to look unkempt. Maybe she'd suggest he hire a service to take care of it; like the pool service they used.

Walking, Addison laughed to herself. Dad liked action movies now! He even liked popcorn!

Even better was cuddling at his side to watch movies together, his arm draped over her shoulders. He'd never been touchy-feely. Now he was and she loved it! She felt loved. She adored the look in his eyes when he'd study her, full of . . . pride!

New Dad was almost too much for her. She loved New Dad and wanted to spend time with him instead of avoiding him. She knew how hard it was on him to adapt, but secretly, she was glad he'd suffered amnesia.

New Dad didn't shave every morning. New Dad didn't wear suits. New Dad laughed at his mistakes. New Dad was just better.

She turned into the long circular drive, noticing his car wasn't there.

Dumping her backpack on the floor of her bedroom, she changed out of her school uniform. Finally, summer holidays!

Heading to the kitchen for a snack, she saw the mess in the living room - something Old Dad would never permit. Oddly, the mess bothered her. She started cleaning up.

Almost finished, Dad walked in the front door. In casual jeans and a T-shirt, his sandy hair mussed from driving with the window open, he noticed her, grinned, and announced, "Well, I know nothing."

"So what's new?" Addison asked with a laugh.

"Did you know the Don Valley Parkway is jam-packed from the bottom all the way to Lawrence?"

"Is it?"

Addison picked up the last empty plate and headed to the kitchen. He followed her.

"I don't know anyone at work and they seem happy about it? What's with that?"

Putting the plate in the dishwasher, Addison suggested, "Maybe they like the new you as much as I do."

He sat at the kitchen table. "It's hot. Is it always this hot?"

"No. It's cold in winter," she replied with another smile.

"I can't code worth a damn, according to Richard. Apparently, that isn't my strength. On the bright side, it's going to rain tomorrow!"

"Why's rain good?" Addison asked, rinsing her hands.

"For you, it's nothing. I've never experienced rain. That's something. I'm excited."

Addison laughed and shook her head. "I can tell."




Addison woke up dying of thirst. Her room was inky dark. She checked her Smartphone: two-twenty-four in the morning.

She rarely woke up in the middle of the night and never because she was so thirsty. It must have been the excessive soy sauce Dad used in the stir fry dinner . . . which was pretty awful.

Sleepy, she got out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Oddly, as she approached the end of the hall, she saw a soft glow of light in the living room. She paused, glancing in.

Dad was sitting on one side of the couch, still dressed, one knee over the other, the side table lamp casting a soft light. He wasn't watching TV. He wasn't reading. He seemed to be looking off into the distance.

And then she saw his eyes. They were full of pain and confusion. Concern hit Addison, a wave of worry and annoyance. Over the past several weeks Dad had appeared so relaxed, as if he'd adapted to his condition, funny, sometimes goofy, always considerate; the New Dad. But, watching him, she realized he wasn't better. Then another thought hit her: Dad had been bright and positive for her! He was still hurting and he'd hidden it for her!

Warm love washed through her, suffused, soft, her heart aching like she'd never experienced, almost painful. This dad was so different from before, so much better than before, so considerate.

Without a word, she moved silently, sitting next to him.

He automatically put his arm around her and smiled slightly, forced. "Hey, you. What are you doing up so late?"

"I was thirsty. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said quietly.

"Don't lie, Dad. There's something wrong. I can tell."

A long moment of silence followed. Then he sighed. "It's lonely in my head," he told her.

Not understanding, Addison asked, "What do you mean, lonely?"

He caressed her shoulder. "When you sit quietly, alone, your mind fills the silence with memories and thoughts. They float, glimpses of events, feelings, good or bad. They keep you company. I have nothing. I have a silent void, a blank slate, no cherished memories to keep me company. I have nothing to look back on with fondness, and nothing to look back on with anger, or embarrassment, or pride. I have nothing to fill the emptiness. I haven't figured out how to cope with it."

He smiled slightly. "Nothing to worry about. Eventually I'll adapt."

Addison brought her knees up and cuddled closer. "I can help," she said. "I can tell you about things that happened."

Dad slipped his arm around her and squeezed. "Maybe. Stories won't replace feelings or emotions. Don't worry about it, honey. It is what it is."

Cuddled to his side, Addison picked up his scent. It was different. She tried to understand why. Then it hit her. Dad used to wear aftershave. Now he didn't. Now, his smell was different, cleaner, yet distinct and nicer.

"Well, you should get back to bed. I'm going, too," he said, removing his arm.

Before he stood, he leaned in, smiled at her, his grey eyes soft, and kissed her cheek lightly. "Thanks for the company, sweetheart."

Back in bed, Addison could still feel the spot on her cheek where he kissed her. Warmth permeated her body. She knew why. She adored him. She adored this dad, the one who spent time talking with her not at her, the one who hugged her, touched her unconsciously, the one who smiled with pleasure, who made her laugh, who made her feel special.

Surprising her, familiar feelings blossomed; the warmth of excitement, the gentle pulse below, the awakening of desire. In the quiet of her bedroom, Addison let those feelings grow, arousal suffusing her.

This time, for the first time ever, when she reached down into her pajamas to caress her panties, it was with images of Dad playing, of Dad laughing, of Dad being goofy. As she stroked herself, this time it was dreams of his scent and the soft brush of his lips on her cheek. This time, as her pussy responded, growing damp, flushed, her heart beating faster, it was Dad kissing her, Dad touching her, Dad making her so horny. And as her body built to a familiar climax, she reached inside her panties and diddled her clit faster imagining it was Dad bringing her pleasure, Dad loving her and, when her orgasm blossomed and erupted, she gasped quietly, wave after wave of pure ecstasy washing over her, Dad loving her, Dad touching her, God, so good Dad!

Perspiration cooled on her brow as she lay quietly, her heart still beating fast. This one had been so much more intense, her body liquid and languid, her panties damp. Strangely, she felt no shame for dreaming of Dad sexually. It felt good . . . really good!




When Dad finally emerged in the morning, Addison studied him as if through new eyes. She still felt no guilt about last night. If anything, it still excited her.

He was sleepy, his sandy hair spiked in odd spots refusing to behave as he rubbed a hand through it.

"Morning," he greeted her, heading for the coffee pot.

In old soft cotton shorts, a loose olive green T-shirt, and barefoot, he looked rather sexy. Never overweight, he was now lean from his workouts. She appreciated how tall he was, maybe over six feet? She liked his unshaven appearance, his firm jaw, and his eyes - that light grey was very attractive. Then, as he sat at the kitchen table, he smiled at her and her heart flipped, pattering in her chest.

She tried to distract herself. "You didn't tell me everything about yesterday at the office. How was it?"

"Didn't I? Apparently, I know nothing about actual coding or programming. God knows how I started a software company. Richard told me I'm the strategy and sales guy. That's a problem. I don't know anything about our software programs. How can I sell them?"

"You'll learn," Addison assured him.

"Yeah. I guess I will. Anyway, I'm going to go into the office a couple of days a week; dip my toes in. Is that okay with you?"

Before she answered, he said, "Where's the rain?"

"It'll come. The weather app said it'll start this morning."

"Good."

True to the forecast, rain was announced by a deep, sudden clap of thunder. Addison was in the middle of straightening her bedroom when she heard:

"Addison! Addison! Where are you? It's raining! Come here!"

Involuntarily, she giggled. It was so strange to hear excitement from him, especially over something so ordinary.

"ADDISON!"

"I'm coming!" she yelled.

She found him standing at the living room windows looking out. Spotting her, he smiled. "C'mon," he said, grabbing her hand.

"Where are we going?"

He led her to the front door. "Outside to walk in the rain."

"There might be lightning," she warned.

"Who cares. C'mon."

It was strange, she thought, how one could enjoy something so simple when experienced through another person's eyes. Dad, as soaking wet as she was, strolled down the road smiling, sometimes his face turned up, sometimes his hand held palm up to feel the downpour. Her feet squished in her sneakers. Her T-shirt stuck uncomfortably to her skin. Despite it, she had fun, even if passing drivers looked at them like they were mad.

Then, the rain chased warmth out of the air and she shivered. "Let's go back," she suggested, grabbing his hand.

"If you want."

"I do." He held her hand all the way home. It made her feel so good.

"Feet squishing in sneakers is an interesting experience," he observed. "I'm not sure I like it."

Addison giggled. What a goof!

The day passed quickly. She showed him where the vacuum was, explained how to use it, then told him to vacuum the house. Vacuuming had always been her chore, but he didn't know it, so he vacuumed; at first fascinated, then complaining about it being boring.

Other chores ignored for too long - like laundry - were done and by early evening they were eating dinner; or rather, he was eating dinner.

He'd suggested Brussels sprouts with pork chops. She'd told him he preferred spinach - not true (she didn't like sprouts) - and now she was pushing limp, tasteless spinach around her plate while ignoring the shoe-leather pork, and planning what to have as a snack.

"This is spectacularly awful," Dad commented after endlessly chewing a piece of overcooked, dry-as-a-bone pork. Glancing at her barely touched plate, he added, "I see you agree."

"Yeah. It's horrendous."

"That's it! Let's go out to eat. Get us some real food!"

Addison laughed. "Okay!"

In the Range Rover, he asked, "Where can we find a restaurant?"

"How about Jack Astor's in Don Mills?"

"Is it good?"

"Better than your dinner," Addison informed him, pleased with his laugh.

At the restaurant, Dad told the server, "Table for six, please."

Seated at a large table, while Dad studied the menu, she asked, "What's wrong with a table for two?"

"We need space."

Before she could ask why, the waitress arrived and Dad surprised her.

"We'll have a Coke." Turning to her, he asked, "Do I like beer? Never mind. I'll have a Canadian beer - whatever you recommend. And we want the calamari rings, the . . ."

Addison sat in shock as Dad listed off almost every dish on the menu! The waitress was just as shocked, asking him if he was sure. He assured her he was.

"Have you gone crazy?" Addison asked when the waitress left, still dazed by the order.

"No. I want to taste all of the dishes. Think of it as condensed research."

"But . . . Do you have any idea how much it's gonna cost?"

Dad smiled. "Don't worry. One of the things I learned in the meeting with Richard is, we don't hurt for money. In fact, I have quite a lot of it."

To Addison, it was another example of how much Dad had changed. Before, he was very careful with money. That's why she attended a public school instead of a private school like most of the kids in the neighborhood did.

Dinner turned out to be the most fun she'd ever had. Between them, they took single bites of almost thirty dishes, Dad adding commentary on what he liked or didn't - all strange - and expressing almost childish delight at some, saying, "You've gotta try this!"

They fed forkfuls of food into each other's mouth and discussed each dish while other patrons looked on with increasing amazement, the flow of new dishes constant.

It was late when they got home and they were both stuffed. But, Dad kissed her cheek and gave her a fierce hug before retiring.

In bed, she let the day unfold in her mind, smiling to herself. This time, the stir of arousal was welcomed. This time, she let her imagination run free, let herself dream of sexy activities with Dad, exploring, discovering, being touched and kissed, cuddling together in bed. This time, as she caressed her pussy, as she got hornier, her dreams became steamy, then raunchy, and her climax exploded, ripping breath from her, a small cry of pleasure escaping.

Hot, perspiring, her heart beating, she relaxed, her legs sliding down flat on the bed. This time her orgasm had been more intense and even with it passed, she felt the pull of desire for Dad.

She thought about it. She knew all about sex. It was impossible not to the way it's plastered everywhere. From fashion to the Internet, sex was pervasive. Even amongst her girlfriends, sex was one of the most discussed subjects.

Addison didn't think she was particularly shy about sex. She'd never found the moment or a guy that turned her on enough. She'd never had a boyfriend. Kissing Justin wasn't sex. And he wasn't her boyfriend, anyway.

She knew about sex after discovering her clit a couple of years ago. That first time had opened her eyes and she'd enjoyed masturbating ever since. That's when she'd started seeking information about sex. Her hairbrush was her first. Curious about what it would feel like, the rounded handle had been the perfect tool; not too long, not too thick, smooth. It took a few tries, a twinge of pain, and she'd understood what it felt like to be penetrated; not that bad at all. Rather nice, actually.

Her favorite was still playing with her clit, feeling the slippery warmth develop, the waves of soft tingles intensifying, tingles turning into pleasure, pleasure cresting with wonderful climaxes.

Lying quietly, she wondered if Dad had any feelings for her. What did he do for sex? Even before the amnesia, she'd never seen him with a woman, never seen him go on a date. Maybe that's why he was so late getting home before.

It was clear he liked being with her. Of that, she was sure. But, what if he was attracted to her? Wouldn't that be exciting!

She frowned. He might have forgotten his past, but he knew how wrong incest was.

Even she'd found incest to be a revolting concept. But that was before. That was when Dad was Old Dad, not New Dad.

The sound of heavy rain was calming. She stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Events over the last four weeks played out in her mind making her smile.

She wished there was a way for her and Dad to be intimate together.


Chapter Five

WITH A ROAR OF indignation, I jumped up and chased Addison and her water gun around the pool. That squirt of icy water was shocking on my sun-baked skin.

Addison squealed and ran, laughing at me. I liked the sound of her. In fact, I liked her a lot. There was a charming dichotomy to her; one minute she was mature, the next zany. She had a foot in both worlds, adult and childhood, and it was enchanting.

"Too slow!" she exclaimed from across the pool, smiling with success and shooting another stream of water at me.

I took a running leap and cannonballed into the pool, a huge wave splashing up and over her. She was laughing when I surfaced, her smoky eyes twinkling with delight. She was soaked. Her white bikini was stuck to her like a second skin and, almost in passing, I noticed how translucent it had become. Very slight mounds on her chest were more noticeable, with the dark shadows of her areolae showing. Below, her bottoms formed to her and I noticed the dark hint of pubic hair.

It caught me by surprise. Addison was such a diminutive girl, still well under five feet tall, and so rakishly slender, I hadn't considered that she was going through puberty. She looked far too young. Yet, with her long jet black hair pulled back in a high ponytail and her exotic Asian looks, she was a very pretty girl.

That thought brought on more. Did she have a boyfriend? Was I keeping her away from him while she kept me company? In fact, why wasn't she socializing with her friends? Surely she had some. Or did she?

I realized I knew so little about her, and decided it was time to change it. I'd been too self-absorbed.

Another stream of cold water hit me as I floated.

"Watch out! You're playing with fire," I warned her, swimming towards the edge of the pool.

Addison laughed and ran. I had to grin. She was so bright and alive, a joy to watch.

Eventually, pleasantly tired, we sat under the sun umbrella. Addison propped her feet up on a separate chair and sipped Coke.

"Do you have many friends at school?" I asked.

"Yeah, several. Why?"

"I haven't noticed you spending time with them."

Addison sipped her Coke again and put it on the glass-topped patio table. "I see them when you go to work. We go out together."

"Doing what?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes we go to Starbucks. Sometimes we go to the mall."

"Don't you have them over here? Would you like me to host a barbecue for them?"

Her response was dry. "Not the way you cook." Then she laughed. "Just kidding. Sure. I'll invite them for a swim and barbecue. What will you cook? Hotdogs?"

"I'll cook ribs."

"Don't," she cut in.

"How about hamburgers?"

"Store bought?"

"Homemade."

"Don't," she repeated. "I don't want to poison them. They're my friends, not my enemies."

With a laugh, genuinely amused by her, I told her I would read recipes and practice beforehand to perfect my burger-making skills. Then I steered the conversation around to her interests. Fashion, music, and movies. Like a lot: books, Instagram. Dislike a lot: chores, studying.

I'd seen her end of school report. Addison was a perfect C student, neither excelling nor failing at any subject. It didn't matter to me. It was her last year of middle school, so who cares?

What I enjoyed was her chatting. She was articulate, free and easy with expressing herself. Those qualities were far more important in my mind. And as I watched her talk, I liked her even more. I liked the shape of her face, her flawless skin, her pretty smoky eyes, and the way her mouth moved, her lips evenly matched and quite lush.

I wondered if I had an attraction to Asian women. Probably, given my wife had been of Asian descent. However, I understood how important Addison was to me. She was my world, and I experienced a new feeling - love. I quite adored her; quirky, zany, and trying to be mature. Listening to her with half an ear, I felt a rush of pride, an ache inside. I wondered why I'd been so gifted to have a daughter like her. She was everything.

Without thinking, I stood, moved to her side, bent and kissed her cheek. "You're amazing. I adore you. Thank you for being you."

Addison surprised me. She blushed. I left her and headed to the kitchen. There was a new blonde lager beer I wanted to sample.

ADDISON SAT FROZEN IN the chair. Her heart raced. She was disconnected. Dad adored her! It was so clear in his expression. Warm love flushed through her, a feeling of pure pleasure blossoming.

She couldn't remember being so happy. She so wanted . . .

Suddenly, she had a blinding flash of inspiration. Dad didn't remember anything! He wouldn't remember something he didn't do! How would he know?

Excitement made her shiver. How? How should she handle it? Her mind spun with plans, options, each thrilling her.

She hardly heard Dad talking through the evening. Sleep wouldn't come. Her mind wouldn't stop, ideas coming, dismissed, more arriving. She knew she'd have to be subtle, careful, but imagine if . . .




Addison watched Phillip take a huge jump off the diving board and cannonball into the pool. She liked Phillip. He was a bit chunky and the kindest, most considerate guy in school, never a nasty word about anybody.

Her pool party was going really well. Music blaring, with her friends yelling and having fun, it made the back garden busy.

"Here ya go," Julia said, passing her a plastic cup of Coke on ice.

"Thanks." Julia was her best friend, her partner in crime, and the best-informed gossip.

Addison noticed Keith standing back across the pool, quiet and watchful, slender and dark-haired. His neon orange bathing suit stood out - so contrary to his character.

Julia spoke. "What's with you?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"You're happier than I've ever seen you. How come? I thought, with your dad losing his mind, you'd be, like, down."

Addison laughed. "Dad hasn't lost his mind. He's forgotten."

"Same thing," Julia insisted.

"No it isn't. Losing your mind is, like, going nuts. Dad's not nuts . . . Well, maybe, but not in that way."

"What's he like now? Is he different?"

Addison glanced to her right, to the far side of the patio. Dad, barefoot and wearing old, soft and ratty shorts and a faded T-shirt that draped on him, was tending the barbecue, smoke billowing. He looked really good. Yesterday, she'd forced him to buy a beard trimmer and made him sit while she tidied his unshaven face, giving form and neatness to his beard, trimming it very close, almost stubble. With his firm jaw, it made him look much younger and, in her eyes, a seriously gorgeous hunk.

He was chatting with Nick, probably about cars. Nick was car crazy.

Julia nudged her. "Is he strange? Does your dad get lost when he's out?"

Addison laughed. "No. He doesn't get lost. He's not strange, either. But . . ."

Julia lowered her voice. "But, what?" She waited, then nudged Addison again. "C'mon. Tell."

"He's totally different, as in utterly different."

"Details, girl! Don't leave me hanging!" Julia exclaimed.

Addison sipped her soda while considering how to answer. "It's hard to explain. You remember how he used to be; always busy, preoccupied with work, sort of intense, distant and inflexible?"

"Yeah. I thought you liked it that way. He left you alone."

Addison nodded. "I did. But, look at him."

Julia studied her father at the barbecue.

Addison asked, "Have you ever seen my dad in sweat-shorts and an old Tee? Or with a beard? Or barefoot?"

"Now that you mention it, nope, never."

"He's so relaxed now. He laughs. In some ways, he's a kid. He likes the dumbest things. The other night, he ordered everything on the menu at Jack Astor's, and I mean EVERYTHING!"

"No way! Why?"

Addison laughed. "He wanted to try foods. He couldn't remember what things tasted like. You should have seen the other people eating there. They stared at us like we were crazy and I had the best time ever! That's what I mean by him being different. Dad talks to me all the time. He's funny and a bit goofy. But, he likes spending time with me. I mean, he really, really likes to."

"So that's why we've seen so little of you this summer?"

"Yeah. The thing is, I love spending time with him, too."

"Lucky you. I love my dad and like spending time with him, but spend all the time with him? No thank you."

Addison watched Dad. She smiled. "Yeah, lucky me," she said.




I THOUGHT IT WAS somewhat intimidating having eight girls and six boys run rampant through the house, swimming, laughing, joking, with music blaring. Yet, I liked the cacophony, the disorder, the energy. Addison's friends were an eclectic group. Girls of all shapes and sizes, some well past puberty, others midway through, some skinny, some cuddly, all enjoyed each other.

The boys were funny as they tried to be cool then succumbed to silly antics in the pool, a no-rules water polo-type game currently underway. It was obvious these kids were friends. There was no gender separation, all of them mingling.

I coughed at a cloud of smoke hitting me, waved it away and added cheese slices to half the burgers. They looked a bit charred.

"Addison!" I yelled, looking for her. I spotted her on the far side of the pool chatting with Julia. "ADDIE!" I yelled even louder.

Addison looked at me like a doe caught in a spotlight. I waved for her to come over. She finally moved. I enjoyed looking at her. In her teal bikini and hair pulled into a ponytail, she looked cute. She had an odd expression.

"What's wrong?" I asked when she arrived, her eyes still big.

"You called me Addie."

"Yeah. So? You don't like it," I observed. "Sorry. I won't do it again."

"No! It's not that. It's . . . You never called me Addie. Only Mom did."

"Sorry."

"No! I like it!" A broad, beautiful smile burst on her face. "I really like it! What did you want?"

"Burgers are ready," I said, nodding towards the barbecue.

She looked at the grill. "No kidding! Jeez, Dad! They look burnt!"

"Char grilled," I insisted.

She laughed and yelled, "Guys! Food's served! Eat at your own risk!"

Suddenly, I was swarmed with kids, serving burgers as fast as I could. The wave passed quickly, her friends taking their paper plates back to the pool.

Turning the barbecue grill off, I served myself and joined them. They were an easy group to talk to, open and friendly. Then, after eating, Addison passed by me and shoved. I toppled into the pool with a yell, her friends laughing. Addison grinned at me, her eyes twinkling. She shrieked when I climbed out and lunged at her and suddenly everyone was being chased, kids grabbed and tossed with screams of excitement. Havoc reigned.


Chapter Six

By eight o'clock, I was exhausted when the pool party was finally over. The back garden was a mess. Addison started collecting.

"Leave it for tomorrow," I suggested. "I'm going to shower."

"Okay. Me, too."

She looked as tired as I was. In the shower, while I washed, I decided I was pleased with the pool party. Everyone had fun, no one left out. I liked the distraction of chaos and noise and energy.

"Thanks for the party," Addison said from outside the shower.

I turned the water off and stepped out, reaching for a bath towel. Addison was leaning back against the sink counter wearing a white nightshirt with Pepe Le Pew printed on the front, his arms open, below him a saying printed: Take Me As I Am.

"I had a lot of fun," Addison said, studying me. "My friends really liked you."

"Good. I enjoyed myself, too." I toweled myself dry, wrapped it around my waist and, shoving her aside gently, started brushing my teeth.

Addison smiled. "I could tell you had fun. It's early. Want to watch a movie or are you too tired?"

"A movie sounds good."

"Kay. I'll go find one."

I followed her out of the en suite bathroom. She left the bedroom. I admired her again. In her oversized T-shirt, her hair still damp from her shower and once again pulled back, this time gathered at the nape of her neck in a ponytail, she looked fresh and sweet.

At the dresser, I debated what to wear. The air-conditioned temperature was chilly. I settled on sweatpants and a pale grey Tee; comfort above looks.

Addison was on the couch flipping through the menu on the TV. "How about Thor?"

"Sure. Want a drink?" I asked, passing through the living room towards the kitchen.

"Yes please. Coke."

In the kitchen, I got her a Coke with a large glass and ice, then turned to make myself a drink. I'd discovered I liked single malt scotch on the rocks with a touch of water. The smoky, smooth, and peaty flavor was quite addictive.

Drinks in hand, I settled on the couch. Addison moved into my side, curling her bare feet up. I rested my arm over her shoulders, sipped scotch, and sighed. Physically, I felt my body relax. For no reason whatsoever, I kissed Addison's hair. She smelled of flowers - what type, I had no idea.

She glanced up at me, her eyes so expressive. I wondered how, based on what she'd told me, I could have been such an aloof father. Who wouldn't want to spend time with her?

Addison turned back to the movie. As if reading my mind, she said, "I wasn't really fair before. You were a good father. You just worked too hard. But, you're a much better Dad now . . . as in really, really better. I like being with you."

"Good to know."

Half an hour passed. I got up to refresh my drink and Addison cuddled when I returned.

"I haven't told you everything," Addison said, muting the TV. "I haven't told you our secret."

"And what secret is that?" I asked, somewhat intrigued that we had a secret, and a bit amused.

"We did things together. You and me. Intimate things."

The silence thundered. "Intimate?"

Not looking at me, she nodded.

"How intimate?"

"Very."

"You and me?" I asked, reeling.

"You and me."

Afraid to ask, yet driven to know what I'd done, I asked anyway. "Like what?"

"We kissed."

Relief poured through me. It was short-lived.

"And had sex," she added. She finally glanced up at me. "I guess you're shocked."

"Ya think?!" I exclaimed, still reeling. I removed my arm from her shoulders.

"It's my fault. I started it," she said. "I really liked it, too. I miss it."

"Addie!"

"What?" she asked, looking back up at me.

"Jesus! I molested you?"

"No. I told you. It was my idea. No molesting."

I swigged a large gulp of scotch. Jesus Christ! I molested my own daughter? What sort of father was I? Stunned was an understatement for how I felt.

While my brain just about exploded trying to grapple with the news, Addison rose and straddled my lap. She smiled, leaned forward, her hands on my shoulders, and kissed me. Her lips were soft and warm, her pressure gentle, and then her eyes winked out, she tilted her head, and pressed her lips harder, and just like that I was kissing my fourteen-year-old daughter.

The almost empty glass of scotch slipped from my fingers.

I made the mistake of trying to pry her off by holding the sides of her slender body and my thumbs discovered her developing breasts - very gentle mounds as yet not fully formed.

Then Addison murmured. The tip of her tongue touched my lips and I lost time. I lost my way. I kissed her back.

While I couldn't remember kissing anyone, her kiss was wonderful, so good an erection formed and I seemed powerless to stop.

After what felt like hours, the kiss ended. Addison straightened. Her eyes twinkled, a smile forming. "Good kiss, Dad."

I searched for restraint, for disapproval, for discipline, and all I had was how damned sweet her kiss was. I tried to rationalize and all I had was how sweet she was, how pretty. I attempted to chastise myself and instead, drew her into another kiss, wrapping my arms around her very slender body, my erection firming up.

Addison murmured her pleasure into my mouth and all I could think is, how wonderful this was, how exciting this was, how kissing my little girl excited me. If this is what I felt before the amnesia, no wonder we had an intimate relationship!

When this kiss ended, Addison rested her cheek on my shoulder. "You kiss much better now," she observed, then shook with silent laughter.

I had no words. Arms still wrapped around her, I held her gently, my partial erection gently throbbing. Her flowery scent filled my nose.

The reality of how petite she really was hit me and I loved it. Was that another reason I'd been attracted to her mother? Did I have a preference for petite females?

Regardless, this was too much to process. I needed time to think rationally. My world had suddenly phased into a new one, a strange and unsettling one . . . a rather exciting one, I admitted.

"Really good kiss," Addison murmured, nestling her face into my neck. She inhaled deeply. "You smell different, too."

It was small movements. I turned my face slightly to talk to her and Addison kissed my neck, then my jaw line, then my unshaven cheek, and our lips found each other's, the kiss hotter, more passionate, our tongues meeting. My erection was complete and she felt it, wiggling her bottom on me. For what seemed like forever, I lost myself in kissing her and when it ended, it seemed she'd sucked every last bit of resistance out of me.

Addison must have sensed my confusion. She surely sensed my lack of resistance. She eased off my lap and stood, smiled and blushed sweetly. "I'm really tired. I'm going to bed. Night, Dad."

"Night, Addie," I whispered, watching her leave the living room.




Sitting at the kitchen island counter cradling a mug of coffee, I watched dawn arrive, the sky briefly red before turning into egg yolk yellow. I'd hardly slept. I didn't know how or why, but I was sure I hadn't had an intimate relationship with Addison before, which made her kiss all the more confusing. I liked it. The kiss wasn't the problem.

Addison meandered into the kitchen a half hour later, her hair mussed, still wearing her Pepe Le Pew nightshirt. She smiled a greeting and rose dusted her cheeks. She poured herself a glass of orange juice.

"Addie, you lied to me," I said gently.

She leaned against the kitchen counter, sipped her orange juice while studying me. Then she nodded.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I wanted to kiss you." I could see doubt rise in her dark grey eyes.

"It was the best kiss ever," I said without changing expression.

Addison registered shock, then delight, a smile forming, her enchanting eyes twinkling. Her body relaxed. She sipped her orange juice.

"So, you're not angry?" she finally asked.

"Oh, I'm angry," I assured her, her face falling. "You lied to me. You're the only person in my world and you lied to me."

"I thought you liked the kiss."

"I loved the kiss, honey. And if you promise never to lie to me again, I'll gladly give you as many as you want. But I need to be able to trust someone and that someone is you. I need to know that when I need help, you'll be honest with me."

Addison dropped her eyes. "I've lied a lot, Dad. I told you you like vacuuming the house when you never did. I told you you didn't like Brussels sprouts when you do. I told you my allowance is thirty-five dollars when it's only twenty-five."

She looked genuinely chagrined. I tamped down a smile at her confessions - all minor. "Those were fibs. Last night was a lie. Promise me you'll tell the truth from now on."

She cautiously made eye contact. "Okay. I'll never lie to you again. Only the truth."

I nodded and smiled. "Good. What would you like to do today after we clean up the party mess outside?"

"Kiss!" She laughed brightly. "What? It's the truth!"




ADDISON MADE A FINAL visual sweep of the back garden to make sure she'd collected all the trash. Satisfied, she tied up the clear plastic garbage bag and hefted it.

She felt like she was walking on air; weightless with too much energy. The guilt she felt was not because she'd lied to Dad, but because he'd caught her in the lie. Kissing him last night had been so utterly amazing! So much better than she could ever have imagined. Her lips had tingled!

When she'd gone to bed, she'd been seriously turned on. She'd felt Dad's erection under her and that excited her even more. She'd turned him on!

At the side of the house, she lifted the recycle bin lid and dumped the party trash in, letting the lid thump down.

This morning, she'd almost had a heart attack when Dad told her he knew she'd lied. But then, jeez, he'd said her kiss was the best ever!!

Almost dancing, she headed in, then stopped. Hey! He had no memory! Of course he'd think her kiss was the best!

"Dad? DAD!" she yelled inside the door.

"In the study!"

She strode down the hall and into his study. Before she could say anything, Dad spoke.

"Does this study look gloomy to you? All this dark oak paneling and dark leather furniture makes the space so small and it's not! This is a big room. Did you say I designed this . . ."

"Dad!" Addison interrupted.

"What?"

"You said my kiss was the best ever. How could you know? You can't remember any kiss!"

"Fair point," he said. His light grey eyes twinkled with mischief. "Come here."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Smiling at her, he easily lifted her under her arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her arms around his neck, smiling back at him.

"You're too short," he said.

"You're too tall," she countered.

His eyes studied her mouth. And then he kissed her. Addison's heart tripped, then raced. His lips pressed against hers so gently, almost lovingly. His scent surrounded her. She got lightheaded and drowned in the kiss.

When it ended, she had a sigh in her chest that couldn't get out.

Dad grinned. "Now I can assure you last night's kiss was the best I've ever had."

Addison laughed and let herself down. "This one was pretty good, too."

"Yes it was," he agreed. "Now the yard is clean and I've been kissed, we should head out. We have things to do."

"What things?"

"I want new furniture for this office. It's depressing."

"There are a couple of interesting furniture stores at Don Mills. Or, we could do Ikea."

"What's Ikea?"

"A Swedish furniture store."

"Is it at Don Mills, too?"

Addison shook her head. "It's on Sheppard."

"Where's that?"

"You'll see," Addison told him, heading out of the study. Then she screeched in surprise and jumped when Dad lightly pinched her butt. "Daaaad!"

He laughed and she experienced a flush of love for him.

A couple of hours later, she studied herself in the small countertop mirror, admiring the small, white gold, star-shaped earrings in her lobes. They sparkled. So pretty.

Dad had snookered her. He'd gotten bored with furniture shopping ten minutes after entering the store, grabbed her hand and led her here, telling her he was getting her earrings. She hadn't complained.

After he paid, she gave him a fierce hug. Life had taken such a wonderful turn since his amnesia. Life was too good. She was too lucky. Something bad was going to happen. She just knew it.

Strolling through the Shops at Don Mills centre square, she suggested they go home for a swim.

"You can't swim for twenty-four hours. You have to keep your ears clean."

"Then, let's go to Starbucks for an iced latte," Addison suggested.

As they entered Starbucks, Addison pointed. "There's Julia and Kimber. I want to show them my earrings!"

"Go ahead. I'll get your coffee."

"Iced latte, Dad. Skim milk and extra caramel, please."

Addison left Dad and wended her way around the tables. Julia spotted her, waved and smiled.

Before Addison could get a word out, Julia exclaimed, "You got your ears pierced! Let me see!"

Addison proudly showed them off. She was happy that she now, like Julia, had pierced ears. They chatted so much, she didn't notice Dad arrive and sit.

Julia smiled suddenly. "Hi, Mr. Roth!"

"Hello, Julia." He turned to Kimber. "It's Kimber, isn't it?" he asked, placing an iced latte in front of Addison. "I have a terrible memory for names."

Addison, Julia, and Kimber laughed. An animated conversation started, Julia leading the way by asking Dad about eating at Jack Astor's. Like at the pool party, Addison had to adjust to how easy Dad was with her friends. He was open, smiling, joking, inquisitive, and never talked down to them. It seemed he genuinely enjoyed their conversation.

Her excitement about her pierced ears distracted her all day and evening. It wasn't until she was in bed that she realized she hadn't given Dad a thank you kiss. She hadn't even kissed him goodnight!

Was he still up?

She got out of bed and crossed the hall to the bathroom. With the light on, she brushed her hair, letting it fall free. Just to be safe, she brushed her teeth again, checked her nightshirt, inspected her face, then turned the light out and left.

Down the hall, the living room was dark. Dad had gone to bed. She turned and headed to the other end of the hall; light escaped from his bedroom. The door was open. She stood in the doorway and looked at him.

Dad was sitting up, leaning back against the headboard. He flipped a page of a photo album. Addison recognized the cover. It was his and Mom's wedding album. Immediately worried, she searched his eyes for pain or fear or confusion. She found something else. The corners of Dad's eyes were crinkled. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Addison felt a bit guilty watching him, as if she was invading his privacy. His behavior was weird. Every so often he touched a photograph with the pad of his finger, almost a caress, almost wistful. Was Dad remembering?!

"Dad?" she spoke quietly so as not to startle him.

He glanced up. His smile broadened. "You're up late."

"Is everything okay? Are you remembering?" Addison asked.

Dad patted the bed next to him. "Come and sit."

She entered the bedroom, crawled up the bed, and sat next to him.

"I think I understand why I'm so attracted to you," he said, pointing to a photo. "You're a prettier version of your mother." After a moment's pause, he observed, "She looks so happy. Was she? Do you think she had a good life?"

Addison leaned against him. "What I remember, she was happy."

"I wish I knew. When I look at pictures of her, I worry I was as poor a husband to her as I've been a father to you."

"You're NOT a poor father!" Addison exclaimed. "You're the best Dad ever!"

Dad smiled slightly. "Maybe now, but for fourteen years it sounds like I wasn't."

He turned a page and studied a photo. "I've got bad news for you."

"What?" Addison asked with a burst of worry.

"Judging by this photo of your mother, I'm sorry to tell you you're destined to be short and flat-chested all your life."

Addison laughed with relief. "Mom was five-one. I've six inches to go. And I can always get a boob job."

Dad looked at her, looked down at her chest, and back into her eyes. "I'd rather you didn't."

Addison smoothed down her nightshirt. Her small, gentle mounds hardly made an impression. "They'll grow eventually. I'm not worried. You like small boobs."

"And how would you know that?"

"You liked Mom's boobs."

"I think I'm an ass man," he observed.

"How would you know?"

"I've seen you in a bikini."

Addison laughed. "That reminds me. I came to thank you for the earrings."

He put his arm over her shoulders. "Not necessary. You've thanked me a million times with every smile since getting them."

Her heart thumped. "In that case, you don't need the kiss I was going to give you," she said cheekily.

"Ah," he intoned, closing and putting the album aside. He removed his arm from her shoulder, slipped down, turned onto his side to face her, and propped his head up. "Forget the smiles. I'd prefer a kiss."

She lifted her body, pulled the covers out from under her, and slipped into bed, turning on her side to face him. His eyes softened, very sexy. She studied his mouth, then looked at him, smiling. He draped his arm over her waist and slowly pulled her closer, his smile growing.

"A kiss for each ear pierced," he suggested softly. He brought his face close and paused. She could smell him. His warm breath brushed against her face. His eyes crinkled with his smile. Her heart thumped.

Dad kissed her gently. She felt giddy. His lips pressed, warm and soft, and she closed her eyes, losing herself. He pulled back. She opened her eyes.

"One ear," he murmured with a smile, then kissed her again.

This time, he kissed her harder. His hand caressed her back, pulling her against him. His tongue touched her lips and in her head she heard her moan of pleasure. Blood rushed to her extremities, her heart beating faster, and she cautiously met his tongue with her own and the kiss became passionate, tongues caressing. She opened her mouth to him. Her nipples tingled. Heat blossomed in her pussy. She was a bit woozy when he sucked her lip and ended the kiss.

The light went out before she opened her eyes. Dad rolled onto his back and pulled her tight to his side, his hand caressing her lower back.

Addison was afraid to speak. Was Dad going to let her sleep in bed with him? Eventually, working up her courage, she spoke. "You told me to tell you the truth. Kissing you really turns me on, Dad."

"You have no concept, honey" he whispered.




I WASN'T PREPARED FOR the overpowering reaction I had to Addison. Is this what other people feel? Had I felt this way with her mother?

It was disconcerting. I knew I was in my mid-thirties, yet I had no memories to anchor me to time. I didn't have a life of schooling, work, growing up, getting married, having a child; all of which orient you in life. I could be a teen or a middle-aged man and it would feel the same, untethered.

Had my brain been damaged more severely than just amnesia? I wondered because I felt no guilt with Addison - none! Quite the opposite. Addison was intensely attractive to me. I liked her as a person and, with her sweetness and vivacity and youth, she aroused me. Even now, as she slept quietly at my side, I experienced desire.

I adored how petite she was. Her emerging pubescence was an aphrodisiac. I cared deeply for her but, more than anything, I loved her. I was in love with her. She drew my eyes whenever she was around to the exclusion of all else, and recently, I'd suffered an empty feeling in my chest when she wasn't around, a strange need for her to be with me.

Sleep eluded me, my mind too busy. It meandered into the realm of intimacy. I wondered what intimacy with her would be like and how fast or slow to take it. I was absolutely convinced that we'd be lovers eventually. I wanted her too much for it not to happen.

I lacked mature perspective. However, I was enjoying her emergence from the chrysalis of youth into the awareness of adulthood. I didn't want to cut it short. Selfishly, I wanted to experience every single minute of her journey. If it was anywhere close to the teasing promise so far, I was in for a piece of heaven on earth.


Chapter Seven

Her movement in bed woke me up. She was lying on her front, her face towards me, hair spread all over. First, her eyes came alive, peeking through her hair. The tiniest smile ticked at the corners of her lips.

"I slept in your bed," she said so very softly. "I slept with you."

Rolling to face her, I brushed her glossy black, messy hair away. I cupped her face and rubbed her cheek with my thumb. Leaning in, I kissed her cheek.

"Yes, you did. Thank you."

Addison's smile erupted, bright, spectacular. "I slept in bed with you!" she exclaimed with enthusiasm. Then she blushed and rolled away. "Gotta go to the bathroom."

I watched her dash to the en suite and waited, wondering what she'd do when she'd finished. The toilet flushed. The sink ran for a while. Then she emerged and, light on her feet, rushed out of the bedroom, saying, "I'll be right back!"

What was she doing?

Addison eventually returned. I lazed in bed. She'd brushed her hair and tied it back at the nape of her neck, sweet and fresh.

"I had to brush my teeth," she explained, slipping into bed and moving to my side.

I rolled to meet her, gathered her in my arms and, with far too much enjoyment, I kissed her. She tasted of mint. Her lips were so soft and warm. Jesus, she felt so good!

Addison's hand rested on my hip and, as our kiss developed with the tease of a tongue, her hand cautiously moved behind me, rising to my back, and her knee edged between my legs until our bodies were pressed tightly together.

Arousal rushing at me, I reached down and caressed her bottom over her nightshirt. Addison had a spectacular ass; rounded buttocks, small, firm yet yielding, the exciting tease of her butt crack felt under my fingers.

As an erection formed, I broke the kiss, ending it by sucking her ripe lower lip. She was smiling when I eased back, her smoky eyes twinkling with delight. She made my chest ache. She made me desire. She made me feel so alive.




Blossoming intimacy is a wonderful experience. It's exciting, making your body almost vibrate. Anticipation zings through you. The sight of your potential lover makes your heart thump and arousal stir.

Beneath it all is desire. It bubbles inside, constantly in the background, and comes forth with a simple kiss as a wave of warmth and longing.

Addison filled my day with bright smiles. She looked like she was dancing on her feet. I fed her spirit by expressing my love of her; no hardship at all.

She had energy to burn and used it to restore order to the house. I tried concentrating on education - relearning what was going on in the world. Everything I watched or read was fascinating, often confusing, and frequently puzzling.

Addison was my low-dose opiate. Like the planets, our orbits would get close and the gravitational pull of need would take hold. I'd stop her and draw her in for a kiss. She was so petite, the top of her head no higher than mid chest, she had to rise up on tiptoes and turn her face up, and I had to bend for our lips to touch.

Despite the kisses being soft and gentle - lips pressing together in affection - they were powerful. Her sweetness, the way she responded with utter pleasure, and the twinkle of delight in her eyes made each chaste kiss exciting, the well of desire stirring every time. Without having a full erection, I found my pants dampening.

Inside our home, we were isolated from the rest of the world, living in our own universe. And when the day came to an end, unspoken, we both headed to bed.

Something amazing happened that night.

Addison must have rushed because, by the time I was down to boxers and brushing my teeth, she appeared in the bathroom doorway wearing loose light cotton pajama shorts and a snug sleeveless cotton camisole. She watched me rinse, smiled, and followed me to bed.

"We should go downtown tomorrow and explore," she suggested, slipping into bed. "There's so much you have to see."

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed, drawing her into a hug. "But, you should spend time with your friends, too. Maybe they could come with us. I like them."

"Okay. That would be fun." She smiled slightly, waiting, her hand on my side. She edged her knee between my legs.

The first kiss was no more than lips brushing. I caressed her back, then slipped my hand under her camisole. It was exciting to touch her bare back. I'd touched her in the pool while playing around yet, feeling her under her clothes was erotic.

Our kiss evolved. Teasing lips turned into a quick flit of a tongue, a smile in her eyes. Our tongues teased until, with an audible moan, the kiss became passionate, tongues caressing, mouths opening, heads tilting to find the best position.

Addison moved, her body responding, her thigh pressing against my groin. I was erect, hard, and her undulations aroused me so damned much.

Kisses ended. I nuzzled her neck inhaling her scent and she undulated gently rubbing herself against me, so unbelievably sexy. We were both short of breath when we slowed. Her eyes were heated, her arousal plain to see.

And still aroused, we settled. I rolled onto my back to turn the bedside lamp off. Addison cuddled to my side, her leg hooked over one of mine.

She whispered in the dark, "I love you, Dad."

Sleep arrived astonishingly quickly. It had to be the comfort she gave me, having her with me. But several hours later, Addison woke me up.

At first disoriented, I felt her moving against me. She was still pressed tightly to my side, her leg hooked over mine tightly. It took a minute to register. Addison, in her sleep, must have been dreaming. She was rubbing her pussy against my side. The silence of the night was not silent at all. Addison's breathing was faster. Almost unheard moans sounded occasionally. She humped my side slowly, very gently, her arm across my body holding me tightly.

Her breathing pattern changed; deep, then holding her breath, then deep again. She pressed her pussy against me harder, the slightest shivers shaking her and then she climaxed. Breath held, she trembled, moaned with pleasure, and slowed, her body relaxing, limp, and still asleep.

It was an intensely arousing experience.

I was rock hard. I waited for her breathing to settle. Assured she wouldn't wake up, I eased away from her, went into the dark bathroom, and stroked myself to a strong climax, pleasure washing through me.

Cleaned up, I eased myself into bed. Addison had rolled, facing away from me. I cuddled up. In her sleep, she snuggled back against me. Then it occurred to me: That was the first orgasm I could remember having! In fact, every new intimacy with Addison was my first.


Chapter Eight

Both Julia and Addison burst into laughter when I informed them, after just one taste, that I did not like mint chocolate chip ice cream. I threw the cone into a trash bin and went back into Baskin Robbins to try another flavor.

The two of them chatted away outside. We'd come downtown to explore. From what I'd seen, I really liked Toronto. I'd enjoyed the CN tower and the girls somewhat nervous giggles standing on the glass floor a thousand feet up. People were everywhere, polite, with ready smiles. Were all Canadians so polite? Is that how we are?

Queen Street West was an interesting eclectic mix of stores; clothing, body and bath, interesting restaurants, and some high fashion stores. Midweek, the sidewalks were busy. July temperature was blisteringly hot.

Addison stopped chatting when I emerged from the ice cream shop, looked at my ice cream cone and grinned. "Strawberry? How girly!"

"Strawberry isn't a girly flavor," I insisted. I liked it.

"You tell him, Julia."

Julia, a lovely pure, pale blonde with matching eyebrows and light brown freckles, and about five inches taller than Addison, smiled and nodded. "Definitely girly. Real guys don't eat strawberry."

"I don't like either of you!"

"C'mon. There's a store we want to see," Addison announced.

Loud music greeted me when the girls opened the front door, a rather pleasant thumping bass that reverberated through my soles. About to follow them in, Addison pushed me back.

"You can't bring ice cream into the store."

With a shrug, I moved to the window and watched. The two of them wended their way through aisles and racks in no perceptible pattern, pausing, checking, then moving on. They were chatting away.

Ice cream finished, I headed in. Girls' fashions were fascinating. While everything seemed to clash, and some of the items looked rather cheesy, they admired, discussed possible outfits, and referenced items of clothes they'd seen in other stores.

After half an hour, I was bored. Luckily, they'd completed their detailed survey and memorized and categorized all the possibilities, so we headed out into the hot sun.

"You've spilled your ice cream!" Addison chastised, pointing to my front.

Looking down at the stain on my Tee, I wiped it. It spread. Maybe not a good idea.

Addison huffed as if offended by my action. The two of them looked at each other, communicated telepathically, studied the street, and Julia pointed. "There."

"C'mon, Dad."

I followed behind. A light breeze coupled with their fast pace made their hair fluff, silky and long, one salt, the other pepper, their hair the same length. Rather nice.

So were their butts. In cotton shorts, their asses had a rather nice shape. So did their thighs. Nice gap.

The shop they led me into was a touristy T-shirt and trinkets place. Ten minutes later we left. Addison had picked a Tee for me that had World's Weirdest Father printed on the front. Julia, with a laugh, had picked a Tee - the one I was currently wearing - with It's All My Fault on the front.

It amused me a lot. They had fun picking the T-shirts out and I had more fun watching them have fun. I even liked the Tee's colours! But, I wasn't as happy when eagle-eyed Addison spotted a furniture shop and steered us to it.

"No!" I objected. Shopping for someone else was fun. Shopping for myself was a struggle. I couldn't decide what I liked or didn't.

"You said you want to change the furniture in your study," Addison reminded me. "They might have nice things in here."

Both Addison and Julia pointed out possibilities. I found something wrong with every choice; too uncomfortable, too dark, too staid.

My daughter appeared undisturbed at my truculence. She paused, studied me and asked, "Do you really want to change your study furniture?"

"I do. It's just . . ." I shrugged.

"Okay. Maybe later."

Just like that, she dropped it.

By three, after spending all day downtown, we headed home. The girls had bought nothing despite my offers and seemed completely satisfied with their outing. Strange creatures.

It was still stinking hot when we dropped Julia off. I suggested a swim as a way to relax and cool off. Addison agreed.

She wore the sexy white bikini, thrilling me. It became translucent in the water. To the sight of shadowed areolae on very gentle mounds, the sight of her butt crack through the bikini, and the intensely sexy shadow of newly forming black pubes on her small but succulent mound, I got horny.

We swam slowly, relaxed more than playful, and when we left the pool, Addison stretched out on her chair, her butt close to the front edge, leaning back to catch the sun and dry, her eyes closed, legs straight, feet slightly pigeon-toed.

I brought us drinks and sat. Try as I might, I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She definitely had breasts. The bikini top molded to her. They weren't buds. The form of her breasts were much wider than buds, yet they hardly rose off her chest. Stretched out, her body was very slender, her hips prominent. And I loved the sight of her bikini bottom. The waist formed a suspension bridge from hip to hip, a small gap teasing me.

From the way she was stretched out, her modest bikini bottom hugged her so tightly the swell of her small mons was stark; a sensual rise, tapering to where it plunged to her crotch. The bikini wasn't completely dry. I could still discern the alluring shadow of dark pubic hair in the centre and the hint of her cleft.

She turned me on a lot. With her sweet, still immature face and sexy blossoming body, she exuded an innocent, sylphic sexuality that appealed to me. Unfortunately, sun and heat dried her bikini, the hints of her body underneath vanishing.

"I've been thinking about it. I think you should clean out your study, go through everything, then remove all the furniture and that dark wood paneling. Once you see the empty room, you'll know what sort of furniture you'd like." Addison opened her eyes and squinted at me. "I'll help."

"Maybe next week. Will you make dinner?"

"Nope. You need practice. Jeez, it's hot! Wanna swim some more?"

Still turned on, I quickly agreed. She stood and walked towards the pool and, for a moment, I watched her ass. It undulated, each buttock moving in counterpoint, sexy cheeks forming a gorgeous rear end, pert and petite - an upside down heart shape.

She paused at the lip of the pool. Her arms rose and she dove in with surprising skill, hardly making a splash. I followed, my dive far less graceful.

The sudden temperature change was shocking. It did nothing to douse my desire. Underwater, I watched Addison treading water as I approached, her feet kicking gently, legs spreading, her translucent bikini tight to her small pussy, even more showing through; so damned sexy! Surfacing in front of her, I grabbed her, pulling her against me.

Her eyes sparkled, her smile almost knowing. She didn't resist when I kissed her. On the contrary. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, tilted her head slightly, and she smooched me; a full-on, sexy, intense kiss that had me hard and dumb in an instant.

We started sinking.

Treading water, I edged us to the shallower end to the point where I could stand. Then I wrapped my arms around her and concentrated on the kiss.

Our tongues caressed and probed. I sucked her tongue and the little minx copied me. My heart was thumping when I ended the kiss by sucking her lush lower lip, an act I adored. I felt like I was being pulled into a vortex, horniness inflamed by my desire for her, irrational, illicit, and so damned powerful.

Addison opened her eyes, looked at me with a smile, then laughed. "I've been wanting to kiss you like that all day!"

Dropping one hand down, I held her ass. "I've been wanting to cop a feel all day." I confirmed it with a gentle squeeze.

An amazing transformation took place in her eyes. Already smoky grey, they went from twinkling amusement to smoldering. Still smiling at me, she asked, "Want to fool around? Skinny dip?"

"Here? In the pool?"

Addison rolled her eyes with exasperation. "Where else? The kitchen?"

"What if someone comes?"

"No one ever drops by. People in this neighborhood don't drop by. It's gauche."

"Gauche? What's gauche?"

Addison laughed. "You really don't know? It's lacking grace, unsophisticated. People here live in fear of being called gauche. So . . . skinny dip?"

"Uh . . . I've got an . . . I should warn you I'm . . ."

Addison grinned at me. "You're horny, too? Good! I'm not the only one."

"You're . . ."

A little mischief appeared. "Yeah. You've been ogling me. I like being ogled by you. It turns me on."

Releasing me, Addison swam to a shallower spot. I followed.

She stood and turned her back to me. Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, "Will you unhook me?"

It was very exciting! The simple act of undoing her bikini top was erotic. And as I did, a truth occurred to me. This was my daughter and I was undressing her! The surge of excitement I felt made my partial erection swell even more. Intimacy with my daughter! Holy Hell it was exciting!

Addison removed the top and tossed it out of the pool. Without facing me, she asked, "Do you want to remove the rest?"

"Um, yeah." My voice sounded a bit hoarse to me.

Glancing back, she said, "Only if you let me take your swimming suit off."

"Deal!"

Facing away from me, she wiggled her little ass. "Go ahead. Take it off."

I appreciated the crystal clear pool water when, with only slightly trembling hands, I held each side of the bikini waist and slowly tugged it down. Her butt crack appeared, then the swell of her buttocks, then her whole butt. Sweet Jesus! So sexy! Small, perfectly perky, sensual.

I pushed the bikini down. She lifted her leg out, used her other ankle to bring it up, and tossed it out of the pool.

"Turn around," she instructed.

"Huh?"

"Turn around, Dad. It's my turn."

I faced away from her. My erection was now obvious, a tent in front. Addison didn't grab my swimming suit. First, she ran her hands down my sides, almost caressing me. Slowly, she slipped her fingers inside the elastic waist at the sides, then edged them down. I felt every inch of their journey. My cock sprang up, released, and when the waist reached my knees, I mimicked Addison, using my feet to remove it, gather it, then toss it out of the pool.

The moment arrived and I was unsettled. It was time to turn. I'd see my daughter naked. She'd see my erection. Was I a bit nervous? Yup.

Addison's hands rested on my back. "You can turn now," she said, her voice softer.

Taking a breath, I did. In hindsight, it was probably funny. At the time, it was shocking. Frozen to the spot, I studied what had to be the sexiest girl in the world!

Neck high in water, her breasts looked slightly larger than I'd thought; very gentle slopes, still developing, her areolae - smaller than a quarter - dark pink, almost brown, with very small but distinct nipples.

It was lower that took my breath away. Addison had a small pubic bush, an untrimmed, natural band emerging from her crotch to her sexy mons. Her pubes hadn't spread, the sides of her plump mound still bare. Her pubes were jet black and almost as straight as the hair on her head, sparse on the edges, slightly denser in the centre, and those sexy pubes waved gently underwater, surprisingly long.

My erection ached it was so hard. Lust blossomed at the sight of her; my slender, petite, maturing daughter naked, on display, her puberty simply stunning! While I had no memory to compare it to, I was convinced she was the sexiest female ever.

Suddenly, I realized Addison had been talking. "What?"

"I said, I've never done this before - been naked with a boy. I'm scared and excited at the same time. No, not scared. More like nervous and excited, you being Dad and all, but New Dad which is so much better. I didn't think it would be so big and, well . . . so thick. Can I touch it?"

"What?"

"Can I touch your thing?" she asked, staring into the pool.

"My what?"

"Your penis. Erection. Can I touch it?"

I had no idea why, but I started laughing. Addison looked up from my erection and grinned. Then she laughed. I grabbed her and hugged her.

"Jesus, Addie! You're something else!"

Addison wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. She grinned at me and deliberately wiggled herself against my erection pressed firmly between us.

I kissed her quickly, a light kiss.

She grinned at me. "This is fun. Naked in the pool is so much better than wearing a bikini. I like it!"

"Me, too."

"Have you ever done this bef . . . Never mind. Stupid question. Can I touch it?"

Before I could answer, she extracted herself from me. Standing, she looked down and reached hesitantly. Lord knows why, but I noticed her fingernails were painted red.

And then she touched my erection. Her small hand slowly closed around my shaft, her fingers and thumb not meeting. I looked huge in her hand! For several moments, she held it. Then she squeezed very gently, testing the firmness, and I reacted, my erection straining.

Addison giggled. "It's alive!" Still staring at it, she said, "It's so big." And then she stroked it once, a slow up and down journey. "Is this how you do it?" she asked.

It was hard for me to grasp how turned on I was. Excitement thrummed though me. My cock strained, feeling tight. The power of my desire, the need to cart her off to bed and have sex with her, was shocking in its strength. It took a lot of willpower to reach down and pry her hand off.

"What's the matter?" she asked, finally looking at me.

"This is too fast. I'm about to do something stupid."

"So?" She studied me for a moment. "I'm the one who wore the white bikini knowing how everything shows through. I know what I'm doing, Dad. I'm the one that started this!"

"I know, sweetheart. At this moment, I can't think of anything I want more. It's just, maybe we should take our time."

"Take our time? If I wanted slow I wouldn't be naked in the pool with you!"

"There's that," I acknowledged.

She glanced down at my erection and back up. "You're as turned on as I am."

"There's that, too."

"Then, what?" she demanded.

"Not here. Not in the pool."

"Okay."

Just like that, she dropped it, a trait of hers I'd noticed before. I grabbed her wrist. "I have conditions."

Addison's eyes narrowed, now sneaky. "Like what?"

"We need to agree on guidelines."

"Like what?"

"What we will and will not do. That way there'll be no confusion."

I drew her closer and closer. Addison smiled slightly, wrapped her arms around my neck and legs around my waist. She pressed her young body against me, her naked pussy pressing against my erection.

"Okay," she said in a softer, rather sultry voice. "What can we do?"

"Uh, hug, kiss, cuddle," I suggested, slipping into horny desire again.

"And touch?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Play around?"

"Okay."

"Explore each other?"

"Um, okay."

"Maybe more if we want to?"

"Okay," I mindlessly agreed, fondling her sweet naked ass.

"Then, what's left? What can't we do?" Addison kissed me lightly before I could answer, then she nuzzled my neck. "You smell really good, Dad." She kissed my neck softly.

I desperately tried to remember the conversation. Addison rubbed herself against my erection. Jesus! She so befuddled me!

With a mental shake, I said, "We can't go all the way."

Addison started a light humping motion that felt far too good. "How come?"

"Because . . . Because . . . Because I don't have protection," I said, grasping at straws. I didn't know if there were condoms in the house or not.

"In that case, you've nothing to worry about. I'm on the pill."

"What?" I asked sharply.

She finally stopped nuzzling my neck and leaned back to look at me, her beautiful eyes twinkling. "I started taking the pill six months ago."

"Why? I thought you're a . . ."

"Virgin? I am. I started on the pill because Julia said it would make my breasts bigger." She glanced down at her chest. "It sorta did, but not by much."

"Who gave you the pill?"

"Our G.P., Dr. Colson." She grinned at me. "So, protection isn't a problem! Sex! Finally! Yay!"

Laughing, I said, "I give up."

"Good! Man, you're hard to convince!" Her grin broadened, damned gorgeous. She rubbed herself against me. "And hard, too!"

I pulled her into a kiss, she was still smiling when our lips met. Then she tilted her head, closed her eyes and smooched me enthusiastically, her kiss hot, tongue active, lips silky, her kiss forceful, commanding; very exciting!


Chapter Nine

At first, I was a tad embarrassed being naked with a hard on. But it quickly passed. Having a fourteen-year-old apparently unconcerned with her nakedness distracted me from my own self consciousness with ruthless efficiency.

Swimming after our discussion relieved some of the urgent sexual tension. Sunbathing to dry, conversation slipped back into non sexual comments. My erection partially softened.

But then, the sun dried her and my erection returned. It was her pubes' fault. As they dried, they became glossy black. Almost straight, they formed the sexiest Mohawk down the centre of her small pussy, standing up, silken, young and fresh, the sides of her mons and labia still hairless. From my viewpoint, I could see everything. I could see her tightly closed cleft with just a peek of her clitoris showing. I could see how plump and sensual her vulva was, and how the bottom of her buttocks swelled where they pressed to the chair.

She shifted in her chair, her legs parting just a bit, and nothing was left to my imagination. Nothing! My erection returned in full force, rigid, upright, aching again.

"Fascinating," she observed, startling me out of my ogling.

She was smiling when I looked at her face. "Since I promised to tell the truth," she said, "I really like turning you on, Dad. It's . . . like, powerful."

"That's a good word for it," I assured her, my cock flexing slightly earning a bright laugh.

"This going slow is fun," she commented. "I like teasing you."

"Is that what you're doing? Teasing me?"

"Uh-huh. How do ya like it so far?"

I laughed. "I love it. But be careful. You're playing with fire."

Addison's smoky eyes twinkled when she smiled slyly. "I know. Daaaangerous."

I went back to admiring her spectacular pussy. So damned sexy! Maybe I wasn't an ass lover. Maybe I was a pussy lover.

"I'm getting a drink. Want one?" she asked, standing.

"A beer would be nice."

"Kay. Can I have one?"

"Sure."

"Really?" she asked in surprise.

"Absolutely. Have you ever tried beer?"

"Nope. I'm going to now!"

Studying her as she walked away, I ogled her cute ass, enjoyed the gap at the top of her legs and, at the sight of sparse pubes partially visible, I decided I was an ass man through and through.

Tonight! Tonight I was going to . . .

"Dad!" Addison said urgently, running out, "Julia's here! She's at the front door! Get dressed! Quickly."

Addison ran to her discarded bikini and started putting it on.

Shit! I looked down at my erection, glanced at my swimming trunks, and ran inside to dress properly. It took a while before I was presentable and emerged from the bedroom.

Addison and Julia were chatting away in the kitchen.

Julia spotted me and smiled. "Hi, Mr. Roth!"

I returned her smile. "Hi. Nice to see you after so long."

Julia laughed. "Mom had to grocery shop. I didn't want to go. She dropped me off until she's finished. It's okay, isn't it?"

"Absolutely. Always nice to have you here." Turning to my daughter, I asked, "Where's that beer?"

"Oh! Forgot. Hold on." As she went to the fridge, she told Julia, "I'm having a beer, too."

"You're allowed to drink?" Julia asked, eyes wide.

"Yeah. Dad said I could." Addison pulled two bottles from the fridge and handed me one. "Here ya go."

"Thanks." I twisted the cap off. Addison tried to do the same to hers and grimaced. Handing mine to her, I took hers and opened it, taking a long pull of crisp, cold hops. Steam Whistle Lager was very nice. Glancing at my watch, I said, "I'll let you two chat. I want to watch the evening news."

From behind me, I heard Julia asking Addison for a sip. "No beer, Julia. Your mother will kill me!" I called back.

The furious whispering that ensued told me she was trying it anyway.

Julia didn't stay long. Addison said goodbye, then, "I'm hungry. Can we eat? I'm going to take a quick shower," as she passed through the living room.

I had two frozen Dr. Oetker pizzas in the oven and another beer, watching the last of the news when Addison emerged.

She hadn't bothered dressing and I didn't mind in the least. She wore a tight, sleeveless pastel pink cotton top and cotton panties; pastel pink with pale green elastic at the waist and legs.

I admired how the cotton hugged her body and appreciated how her pussy seemed to strain at its confinement, such a sensual delta, the pale green leg elastic disappearing where it pressed deep into the sides of her vulva. Addison's panties combined sweet innocence with sexy.

She passed through the living room without comment, still trying to put her hair into a hair band. From the kitchen, she yelled, "Dinner's ready!"

"Bring it!" I yelled back.

We ate, Addison sitting crossed-legged next to me, and watched TV. I wondered how steel and aluminum could be considered a national security issue. Metal? Had the world always been so Kafkaesque? Had common sense been lost?

With the news over, we watched a sitcom. I finished one and one third of the pizzas, finding them very tasty. Stretching my legs out, slouching to give my stomach some room, I casually dropped my hand onto Addison's bare leg and rubbed. Her skin was silky smooth, her thigh firm.

Addison nibbled pizza, occasionally laughing at the sitcom. When she finished, she leaned forward and put her plate down. With it no longer covering her lap, still sitting crossed-legged, I was treated to the sight of her pussy straining at pink cotton, ripe and pouting.

Addison laid her hand over mine. She didn't stop my caress. She didn't even look at me.

It was a fascinating experience. I tried for subtle, taking my time to move my hand to the inside of her thigh. That alone sparked arousal, excitement following on its heels. Then I caressed. Every slow, soft caress brought my pinky closer to her panty-covered pussy.

I might have been looking at the television, but I wasn't seeing it. My awareness was concentrated on Addison's bare thigh and silken skin. My pulse rate ticked up. An erection formed. The teasing promise was intoxicating.

Did all guys feel this? The thrill of almost touching a girl's most intimate part? It was intense!

Soft cotton touched the side of my pinkie, gone in fleeting moment, only to return with the next caress, the touch light; the brush of butterfly wings. Each caress of her inner thigh lingered longer, then pressed a bit more. Addison watched TV, her hand over mine. Was she as excited as I was? Did she feel the thrill of intimacy?

My erection strained, flexing. The edge of my finger nestled deeper between her vulva and leg.

Then Addison moved my hand, bringing it over her pussy and I was cupping her, her pussy small yet surprisingly lush, soft, so pouty.

My daughter's panties were warm. I did no more than cover her pussy and that was enough. It was more than enough. But Addison encouraged more with soft pressure on the back of my hand. A bomb could have gone off on the patio and I wouldn't have heard it. Blood was rushing, so loud in my ears. And I tentatively squeezed her pussy; soft and yielding, such a sensual shape. My erection strained. Precum leaked, dampening my boxers.

Afraid I might cum from the intensity of my excitement, I eased my hand away and caressed her beautiful thigh. It was calming, the precipice receding.

Addison finally looked at me when she tried to guide my hand back and I resisted, her eyes questioning my reluctance. Giving her a soft smile, I was honest, saying, "I need a break. I'm too excited."

A marvelous play of emotions flitted across her face; surprise, pleasure, and charming mischief emerging. She let my hand go and put hers on my thigh. She mimicked me, caressing the top, edging closer, rubbing my sweatpants, then sliding it to the inside of my thigh. I put my hand over hers but let her lead. With a slight smile, she touched the outline of my erection, then felt it. It jerked under her palm making her smile broaden. She closed her hand, gently gripping me, a sensual squeeze.

"Did I mention I'm way too turned on?" I asked, removing her hand.

"Me, too," she whispered, her eyes searching mine.


Chapter Ten

Addison held my hand as I led her to the bedroom. She'd smiled slightly when I turned the television off, watched me while I turned the lights off, and accepted my hand when I reached for it, letting me pull her up from the couch.

I was completely aware of what I was doing. I was fully aware of my intentions. Searching myself, I found no hesitation, no questions; for once amnesia was my friend. If Addison let me, I was going to make love to her.

Addison was silent when we stepped into the bedroom. The bed loomed large. The silence was pregnant. Oddly, I felt a bit awkward - as if this was the first time I'd had a girl in my bedroom.

"I've been thinking," she said. "With your memory and all, you're as much a virgin as I am."

I looked down at her. She grinned and spoke. "I know how it's done. I can explain it to you, if you like."

I couldn't stop my laugh. She was amazing. So surprising. I loved her.

"Okay. I don't want to embarrass myself. What should I do?"

Addison's grin softened into a flirtatious smile. "First, you remove your sweats and Tee."

I did, my erection rather obvious.

Addison noticed it, her pleased expression cute. "Next, you kiss me."

I drew her against me, smiling at her. She rose up on her toes, face turned up, and I bent and brushed my lips against hers. Addison pressed herself against my erection. Our lips lingered in a sweet kiss.

"Next, we get in bed," she said, stepping back.

"I'm glad you know about this stuff," I said. "I'd be lost."

Addison laughed and slipped under the covers.

"What now?" I asked, joining her and moving close, rolling onto my side to face her.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. She rubbed the sparse hair on my chest, her hand warm. "Now you romance me."

"And how do I do that?"

"You kiss and cuddle me. You have to turn me on."

I grinned, pulling her close. "I thought you're already turned on," I said, bringing her tight to my body, face to face.

"You have to woo me," she said with a grin.

"Woo?"

Addison laughed lightly. "Woo. As in kiss, cuddle, and seduce."

Reaching behind her, I caressed her panties, enjoying the shape of her butt. We kissed gently, small kisses, lips playing, and Addison let out a soft sigh of pleasure and pressed her mouth to mine. Her kiss became passionate very quickly, her lips parting, her tongue meeting mine in a sexy caress.

Kissing her, I eased my hand inside her panties and explored her ass, her skin warm and silky, her shape so sensual, buttocks mounded, petite yet perfect.

Our deep kiss ended suddenly when I inhaled sharply. Addison fondled my erection over my boxers making me swell, pleasure suffusing me. She smiled shyly. When I extracted my hand from her panties and stroked up, under her top, she eased back to give me space and I touched her breast.

It was so small in my palm, rising slightly from her chest, yet sexy as heck. For a few silent moments we touched each other, her hand fondling my erection, me caressing her nipple.

The move was mutual, both of us moving, our kiss again gentle, sweet. When it ended, I asked, "What next?"

Addison smiled. Her hand let my erection go and pushed at the waist of my boxers. "We get undressed," she said, rolling away.

"If you insist." I shoved boxers down and kicked them off.

Addison laughed, tugging her top off over her head, then reaching under the covers, wiggling a bit.

Skin against skin is a beautiful experience. Being naked together was sensational; intimacy at its best. I liked how my erection pressed against her. I felt slippery precum leak on her.

Addison smiled and wiggled her body against my cock then, moving up, kissed me. I fondled her bare ass. Our kiss became passionate, active, tongues wrestling. On our sides, facing each other, was such a comfortable position.

Below, it registered how petite she was when the tip of my erection pressed against her mons. With a slight hip turn, the tip slipped down and pressed against her pussy. Addison murmured into the kiss and hooked her leg over my thigh, opening herself.

Holding her bottom, I rubbed the tip of my erection along her pussy. Addison joined in, undulating her hips. Precum made her pussy very slippery, her vulva caressing my tip. My erection ached, stiff, thick, and the dizzying impact of intense arousal settled over me, desire burning strong.

We kissed and moved together for a while, in no rush, just enjoying the intimate contact, loving each other, passion rising.

Then Addison sighed and ended the kiss. "This feels so good, Dad," she murmured, moving her pussy back and forth, now very slippery.

It did. Too good. My body twitched and the tip of my cock pressed in, finding warmth, her cleft gently cradling me. We stopped moving.

Addison looked deep into my eyes. I kissed her lightly. She smiled. An unspoken decision had been made by both of us and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world when she slowly rolled onto her back, me following, lifting myself over her and between her legs. Addison bent her knees giving me room. I leaned on an elbow, partially over her, her thigh under my waist, and reached down between us to grip my shaft. The bed sheet covered us.

She was staring into my eyes when I guided the tip of my erection to her pussy, touching it, pressing, her labia parting, caressing me. Excitement thrummed through me, the prospect of sex with her so damned thrilling.

First kissing her gently, I murmured, "Ready?"

She nodded, still staring into my eyes, no longer smiling. I pressed, holding my shaft tightly, and made no progress. I tried again. Her pussy refused to yield. I was so damned hard, so turned on. I tried steady pressure, building, building, and Addison winced.

"Ouch! Wait! It hurt."

Easing back, her grimace faded. She smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Try again. I wasn't ready."

"Are you sure? We can try later," I offered, hoping she wouldn't want to wait.

Addison nodded. Gripping my erection, I tried again, cautiously, pressing very gently, and this time something amazing happened. This time I felt her stretching, my tip slipping deeper. Addison inhaled through gritted teeth. I stopped. She relaxed. And I pressed again.

Slowly, so very slowly, I penetrated her. First my crown oozing in, then an inch more, my erection gripped in the tightest silken vise, throbbing, exquisite.

With less than a third inside her pussy, I stopped and let the shaft go. Through touch, I explored her stretched cleft, felt her soft, downy pubes, and found her clitoris, caressing it gently. My cock swelled making her feel even tighter; impossibly tight.

Addison smiled softly. "Are you all the way in?" She explored with a clench that almost hurt me.

"No. Just a bit," I told her, still caressing her clit.

"A bit?" she asked in surprise. "Just a bit? Seriously?"

Clearly her pain had faded. I smiled. "More than enough," I assured her. It was. Not even a third of me inside her and I was in heaven. Still resting on one elbow, slightly off her, I caressed her sexy mons, higher to her stomach, up higher to her breast that was barely discernible with her on her back. I rubbed her nipple, then bent to kiss her gently.

Addison was the first to move, pressing her pussy at me. It made no difference. I tried to withdraw and made no progress.

"I think we're stuck," I said in jest.

Addison burst into giggles, each felt through my cock. "What will they say when we call the ambulance? How do we explain this?" She carefully pushed her pussy at me with a curl of her pelvis.

"We could claim it happened in our sleep." I grinned and tried to penetrate her deeper. Nothing.

Addison giggled again. "Sleep sex? Sorta like sleepwalking?"

"Works for me. I have no memory. What's your excuse?"

This time she laughed. This time, when I tried to pull back, my cock pulsing with need, I felt the tiniest movement at the tip. So did Addison. Her laughter passed. We both moved and slowly, very slowly, my cock eased back until the crown oozed out of her. I reversed and penetrated her carefully, Addison wincing, and managed to sink into her tight pussy no further than last time, but easier.

So very cautiously I started fucking her, never penetrating her deeper. I didn't need to. This was far, far too exciting. Pleasure washed through me with each gentle stroke, fucking my young lover. My erection felt impossibly hard, her pussy almost painfully tight. For some reason, not being able to penetrate her deeper added to my excitement; Addie too young, too petite to take me.

As arousal reached a fevered pitch, I gently settled onto her. Addie wrapped her arms around me taking my weight. The top of her head touched my chin. I reached down and cupped her ass, and fucked her gently, withdrawing, stroking in, withdrawing, stroking into heaven. There was no rush, no plan, just utter pleasure, my cock swelling, an ache in my balls emerging. And it hit suddenly. With a painful throb, my orgasm erupted uncontrollably, semen pulsing up and into her. Before I could say anything, a massive surge hit, cum racing up my shaft and exploding into her tight pussy. The dam burst. With small thrusts, I came hard, spurting hot cum, bliss slamming into me with every painful eruption. It seemed endless, thrust, cum, ecstasy, thrust, spurt, utter bliss, my cock swelling with each contraction. It continued, nothing left, dry pulses bringing pleasure, then an ache, and with a final heave, almost pain.

I hadn't realized I'd closed my eyes. Easing off her and to the side, my erection slipping from her, Addison was looking at me.

A slow smile emerged. "I felt you cum, Dad. I felt every throb."

I caressed her breast. "You didn't cum, did you? I'm sorry, honey. I lost control."

Addison smiled. "I don't mind. I'm not a virgin anymore! Next time it'll be my turn."

I settled, my head on the pillow, my body drained, strength gone. "I'm so glad there'll be a next time."

Addison laughed lightly.




Addison moving woke me up. Morning sun lit the bedroom. She was pressed to my side, naked, an angel. I had an erection. Moving gently, I rolled to face her, taking her in my arms.

She smelled wonderful. She felt wonderful. I adored how petite she was; my little lover. My erection pressed against her.

Addison murmured and moved again, her body gently rubbing my cock. Eyes closed, she shifted again. Then a small smile curled the corners of her mouth. Eyes still closed, she reached down between us and found my erection. Holding it, she stroked it slowly. I let her. Seeing her little smile was cute beyond belief.

She moved again, this time pressing my erection down, the tip finding the gap at the top of her thighs. She edged close to me, my cock slipping along her pussy until it was comfortably held by her thighs. Then she squeezed, humped slowly, and squeezed.

Horniness, like a smooth scotch, washed through me, heating me. I didn't move. Addison humped my erection, rubbing her pussy back and forth in an almost languid pace and I got harder. It felt so good.

Wrapping my arms around her, hugging her tightly, I rolled onto my back bringing her on top.

Her little smile broadened. She didn't open her eyes. She kept her legs together, trapping my cock. With her face nestled to my neck, she wormed her arms under my shoulders, got comfortable, and held me.

Once again I enjoyed her petite stature, how light she was, and I indulged myself, first caressing her bare back, the sheet pushed down as I caressed lower. I caressed her sides, her hips, the side of her thighs, then the back of her thighs, my touch rising, and I fondled her exquisite bare ass, the tip of my erection poking up.

Addison's expression didn't change; so sweet with her enigmatic smile. I used my knees to press her legs together and she responded, humping her pussy along my erection. For minutes, she undulated slowly, rubbing herself on me.

Addison's bottom flexed, tightening and relaxing. She murmured something and edged just a bit lower, her pussy pressed hard to my erection nestled between her thighs. Her breath picked up. Her humping picked up, her bottom rising and falling. And then she shuddered lightly, calmed, and stopped moving.

Had she just come?

She kissed my my neck, murmured, lifted her head, smiled at me and said, "Good morning."

"Did you cum?" I asked.

"Uh-huh. It was nice."

"Amazing! Man that turns me on!"

She squeezed her legs. "I can tell." Her smoky eyes twinkled. "I'm still horny."

She proved it by humping my cock once.

"I want you," I told her.

Her whisper, "Kay," was almost a sigh, and she started humping my erection again, undulating her hips.

I let her, enjoying the pleasure of our intimacy, her easy acceptance and comfort with me. I loved her silky skin on me, her weight, the movement of her body. I loved her scent, a hint of flowers and sweet sleepiness blended together. I loved her slender hips and her small sighs. I loved Addison to distraction.

And I was horny, very horny.

"Sit up," I suggested.

Addison propped her face up on her hands, elbows digging into my chest. She smiled. Very pretty.

"Sit up," I suggested again.

She edged up to kiss me lightly, then levered herself upright, her knees slipping to my sides, my erection pressed to her butt crack.

"Lift," I instructed.

She did, my erection slapping down onto my stomach. I hardly noticed. I was too taken with the sight of her pussy. I adored how her straight pubes were denser in the center, the Mohawk shape so intensely sexy, the rest of her mons and sides of her vulva bare.

Succumbing to the urge, I touched her glossy, silken pubes, so fine. Addison watched me. The slight smile had returned, her eyes alive, her pleasure obvious.

First, I played with her pubes. Then I touched her lower, finding her small clit, rubbing softly before tracing her cleft under her. I shook when I discovered slippery moisture and my erection strained, rising off my stomach. God, I was horny!

"You do it," I said. "You're in control, honey."

Addison's hand curled around my shaft, her fingers not meeting. She rose higher and lifted my erection. The tickle of her pubes on my tip excited me. The warmth of her cleft teased me. Seeing Addison position me at her pussy ratcheted up my arousal.

Addison showed her inexperience and it was agony. She rubbed my tip around trying to position me at her entrance, her face showing concentration. I had a brief moment to appreciate how cute she was before she said, "There."

She glanced at me and smiled. Holding my shaft, she pressed down cautiously. Like last night, despite her being aroused, nothing happened, just pressure.

Easing up, she tried again, this time with more force, determined, and I felt her entrance reluctantly yield, her labia slowly edge over my flared head, the entrance squeeze me far too tightly.

"Ow," she exclaimed softly just as my crown oozed into her.

Lodged inside her, gripped painfully tight, Addison let me go and looked at me. She gave me a smile. "It didn't hurt as much this time."

About to comment, she continued, "Let's see how much I can get in."

I looked down and shuddered, my erection swelling. How? How could she possibly take my thick cock? I was as wide as her vulva, far too big and almost filling her cleft, her labia bulging around my shaft.

Reaching out, I took her hips. Addison rose slightly and settled, my cock edging into her. She rose again and settled, my cock slipping deeper into her exquisite tightness. She did it again and I was as deep as last night, most of my erection still out.

Addison paused. She leaned forward and looked down. "Really? Is that all?" Glancing at me, she added, "I'm stuffed and don't even have half of you inside!"

"It's more than enough," I assured her. I just wanted her to fuck me, my horniness so extreme.

"No it isn't," she disagreed, easing up and pressing down, taking a third of me inside.

I couldn't take much more. If she continued at this slow pace, I was going to cum. Then she made me laugh.

"Why do you have to be so big?"

Laughing at her indignation, I countered, "Why do you have to be so small?"

"Hey! I'm not small. I'm petite!" She frowned at me, then laughed. "You're a pain, Dad. And I mean that literally!"

I laughed harder. This was too strange. Addison giggled. Reaching for her, I drew her down onto me and kissed her head. For a few moments neither of us moved. Laughter and giggles faded. We calmed.

I held her sexy ass and partially withdrew from her snug pussy, then reversed, gently stroking into her, not penetrating her deeper, just fucking her gently. Addison sighed loudly.

It was beautiful and sensual. It felt amazing, Addison's velvet pussy gripping me. And as we relaxed and enjoyed ourselves, Addison joined in, arching her butt up, curling it down, fucking me, each pleasurable stoke edging deeper into her. The pure joy of sex seemed to go on forever, gentle and loving.

I wasn't prepared for her. She caught me by surprise with a sudden snort, inhaling sharply, followed by the cutest grunt of pleasure, and she climaxed, her vagina painfully contracting with each wave of her sexy orgasm. I fucked her slowly, loving how she trembled lightly, her panting, her bliss. And when she calmed, I was still fucking her, now much deeper in her, not quite fully, but close, my hips thrusting up at her, holding her sweet ass. I let myself go and came, the first pulse weak, excitement blossoming, and then the full force of my orgasm hit with a strong, strong surge, semen exploding deep inside her. Pleasure cascaded through me and I thrust and spurted, cumming hard, sweet bliss, pulsing, cumming, utter ecstasy.

Minutes of silence followed. Addison was limp on top of me. With her cheek resting on me, she sighed. "How come no one talks about how great sex is?"


Chapter Eleven

I enjoyed watching Addison as she made herself breakfast. I liked the way she expressed her happiness. She danced, light on her feet, her ponytail swishing.

Every time I studied her face I found myself drawn to her. I adored her Asian features - oval face, cute button nose, and her million watt smile, with her Caucasian eyes so mysterious and smoky.

And I particularly appreciated her outfit. Today, she treated me to white-trimmed baby-blue cotton shorts that were so short the bottom swell of her buttocks showed, and had matched it with a baby-blue tank top, her feet bare.

I admired the creases where her buttocks met her slender thighs and the sexy gap at her crotch. That naturally brought to mind what her shorts hid from view; her sexy pussy, ripe and pouty, so small, and her incredible pubes.

Sipping coffee, a partial erection formed. Sex this morning had been unbelievably good. Too good. I wanted her again. I welcomed the flood of warm desire and tickle of excitement.

"Are you horny, too?" I asked when she sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal.

Addison's eyes opened wide. "Again? We just did it this morning!"

"That was practice. Like an appetizer."

Addison laughed, perhaps thinking I was kidding. I wasn't.

"A quickie?" I suggested, sipping coffee.

"I'm eating breakfast."

Not deterred in the slightest, grinning at her, I chatted away: "I like your shorts. They show your ass off beautifully and you have an exquisite bottom. What I'd like to do is bend you over the kitchen table and fondle that little ass for a while, then slowly pull those shorts down to expose your panties. Maybe I'll fondle your panties for a bit before slipping them down and caressing your bare buttocks.

"With you bent over the table, I'd be able to play with your pussy and make you as horny as I am, make you wet, and make you desperately want a quickie."

Addison shifted on the chair. "Jeez, Dad! Stop!!"

"And then, just when you'd want me to drop my pants and take you from behind, just when you're so horny you're frantic, I'd stop and let you suffer the way I am at the moment."

"That's NOT fair!! Now I'm all hot and stuff!"

"Job done," I said with a grin, standing.

I put the coffee mug in the sink and headed out of the kitchen, laughing quietly when Addison complained, "I hate you! You're MEAN!"

I was. I was horny as heck and I wanted Addison to be frantic with need. I wanted fast and hard sex, selfish sex, exhausting sex. I wanted to experience her exquisitely tight pussy again.

"I have to find a landscaping service," I yelled back to her.

Who would break first?

Forty-five minutes later, I caught her sitting on the couch watching TV and messaging on her Smartphone. I leaned over from behind and fondled her small breasts. She glanced up at me and smirked. When I tried to slip one hand inside the neck of her tank top to play with her bare breast, she let out a screech and jumped up, turning to me with a frown.

"No way, buster!"

I smiled and shrugged and continued to the kitchen for an ice cold bottle of water.

All morning I teased her; groping her bottom in passing, sneaking up from behind and wrapping my arms around her until she felt my hand heading to her pussy. Then she danced away, laughing, denying me. Yet, her eyes spoke of her pleasure, of being desired. Sooner or later - sooner, I hoped - she'd succumb.

Oddly, it was a kiss that did it. When she tried to dart away from a friendly fatherly grope of her sweet ass, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, drawing her against me. As I bent to kiss her, smiling, she rose up on her toes and let me.

I wasted no time, striking like a viper, the kiss hot and passionate, and finally caressing her gorgeous behind.

She sighed when it ended, leaning into me. "You're SO unfair," she complained. "Now I'm horny."

"Finally! Come to the kitchen." I grabbed her hand and pulled her with me.

Addison laughed. "I thought you were kidding about the kitchen table."

"I'm very serious. Blame it on your shorts and too-sexy ass. Wiggling that thing at me all day!"

Addison let out a peal of laughter. "All day? It's not even noon!" She didn't resist me, letting me lead her.

I tamped down my grin when we reached the kitchen. Addison was so much fun. Faking a serious face, I let her hand go and pointed at the table.

"Bend over it."

She laughed. "This could be fun." Then she giggled, so charming, her eyes sparkling. She moved slowly, sashaying her way to the table and, still grinning, bent over it, her toes brushing the floor.

"Like this?" she asked, wiggling her butt.

The shape of her ass rounded delightfully. An erection returned. Moving in, I explored the contours of her buttocks; sweet and petite. "Lovely. Absolutely gorgeous," I observed. "You have a fine rump. Rumpalicious!"

She laughed.

Enjoying the titillation, I drew her shorts down slowly, her plain white cotton panties revealed, stretched over her bum.

Leaning over her, I smiled, then kissed her cheek while fondling sexy, chaste cotton. Then I felt it. I felt the slight bulk of her feminine pad. Damn!

"You've got your period?" I asked, severely disappointed.

"No." Addison blushed. "I had to use it because I was leaking your . . ."

I laughed. "My semen?"

Her blush intensified and she frowned. "Yeah."

"Man! That really turns me on!"

"It does?"

"Heck yes!"

Addison laughed. "You're weird."

I gave her a quick kiss and straightened, admired her ass, then slowly drew the waist of her panties down, her butt crack appearing, her sweet buttocks next, and as I pushed her panties down to her thighs, I saw cum staining her pad. My cock strained, demanding release. I shoved my sweats down, my cock leaping up, while admiring how her pussy was perfectly framed by her thighs - such a sexy sight!

I touched her lightly dusted cleft. She was slippery with cum just inside. Horny since breakfast, I gripped my shaft and moved closer, my tip touching her, excitement building, need driving me. I wasted no time. This was sex for the pure fun of it. Pressing at her, her labia bulged and spread. Her entrance resisted. I pressed harder, felt her stretch, excitement pounding me. I pressed again, harder.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry. Should I stop?"

"No. Don't. Just go slow. You're too big."

Suddenly, my crown breached her entrance and slipped in, gripped so damned tightly. The sight was out of this world; her small buttocks framing my thick cock penetrating her. I groaned at the sight, then shuddered when I looked at her petite, young body on the table. Jesus!

Holding her hips, I fucked her gently, each stroke penetrating deeper and deeper - so good. My shaft glistened when it emerged, her pussy almost inverting it held me so snuggly. Cock swelling, I forced myself deeper, her buttocks enticingly close to my groin; an inch or so and I'd be buried in her!

"Unbelievable," I sighed.

"What?" she asked, glancing back at me.

"I've never seen such a sexy sight," I told her, fucking her slowly.

"I can't see. Wait! My phone's in my pocket. Take a video so I can see."

"Absolutely not!"

I stroked into her, pressing, pressing, and her buttocks touched my groin. Addison let out a grunt when my tip hit her end. I stopped moving, my erection gently throbbing inside her.

Buried in heaven, I lifted her hips and pulled her back off the kitchen table far enough for me to reach under her, touch her silky pubes, follow her cleft, and touch her clit. When I caressed it, Addison physically relaxed.

Rubbing her clit, I started fucking her - long, slow withdrawals, enjoying the hugely erotic sight of my thick erection emerging from her small pussy, then slowly stroking back into her tight, velvet sheath, my groin pressing against her buttocks.

As turned on as I was, as horny as I was, the memory of Addison climaxing on my cock last night was an experience I wanted to repeat; her painfully tight contractions with each wave of her pleasure. I fucked her slowly, diddling her clit, and gradually her almost silent communication started; the most beautiful symphony.

Quiet murmurs evolved into quiet, "Mmmms," followed by deeper breaths. I fucked her with long strokes, almost emerging, then reversing, filling her, stretching her, my tip actually sensing her cervix.

Addison added a cute moan, then, "This feels so good."

"Pure heaven," I agreed, fucking her slowly.

Her breathing changed, now shorter breaths, quiet panting, and her body reacted, humping slightly against my strokes. Rubbing her slippery clit, I fucked her faster, my cock aching, weight emerging in my groin - the promise of utter bliss so close.

Unlike last night when she'd climaxed quietly, Addison groaned, almost complaining, "Oh Gaaawd!" Without a pause, she grunted, her pussy clamped down on me, so fucking tight, and her body shook, her climax slamming into her.

I fucked her faster, harder, firm thrusts, cock swelling, her pussy milking me and, as she peaked, I came, the first pulse painful, the second ravaging me, a huge spurt exploding, cum flooding her, ecstasy making me dizzy. In short, hard thrusts, I emptied myself into her, each spurt bringing glorious bliss, sweet pleasure, my erection swelling, pulsing, cum exploding, until, with a final aching spurt, my orgasm peaked and passed, throbs weakening then stopping, my body drained.

When I pulled out of her, a gush of thick cum, like a river, ran out of her pussy and onto the pad in her panties. It was such an erotic sight, I knew I'd never forget it.




"I'm sore," Addison complained at lunch, shifting to find a comfortable way to sit on the chair.

"Three times was probably too much."

"No kidding!" she responded with a grin.

"We should have a swim," I suggested. "It'll help."

Addison finished the final bite of her sandwich, chewed and swallowed. She sipped her Coke, then spoke: "Is it weird that I'm sore and still want to do it again?"

"Weird? I don't think so. I want to, too. I can't seem to get enough of you."

"That's good, right?"

I grinned. "It sure as hell is good for me!"

Addison laughed, her eyes bright. "We should try other stuff."

"Like baking?" I deadpanned.

"No, you doofus!" she said with a laugh. "Sex!"

Chuckling, I observed, "Honey, you have no idea how happy that makes me. You're a wet dream!"

Addison grinned. "Wet is right!" Then her expression softened, her voice quieter. "I really like sex with you, Dad. I know it's horrible to say it, but I'm glad you have amnesia. I've never been so happy."

"Yeah. Me too, honey." Weight settled in my chest; a subtle ache of adoration. I genuinely loved my daughter, soft and sweet, adventurous and sexy, a beautiful free spirit. Had I appreciated her before? Had I showered her in the love she deserved? Had I let her know how important she is to me?

Shaking myself mentally, I said, "How about a swim? Skinny dip?"

"No way! I told you, I'm sore. Besides, what if Julia drops by?"

"At least wear the white bikini," I begged, grinning.

"Nope. It's too dangerous."

"That it is," I agreed.

Not much later, we swam in the cool pool. Humidity had joined the burning summer sun in a clear sky to make it oppressive. Addison was in her teal bikini. The swim was lazy, slow, chatting to each other. Sex didn't arise. Addison talked about her friends, who was seeing whom, the fights, breakups, dating.

"And you don't have a boyfriend?" I asked.

"I almost had one. It didn't work out."

"How come?"

"He liked Lucy more than me," Addison said. "Dating in school is a pain."

"How so?" I asked as Addison floated to me and held herself up in the water with her hands on my shoulders.

"Some of the guys want you to do things with them, like they expect it."

"Such as?"

"Well, kissing, which I like . . ."

"So that's why you kiss so well," I said, cutting in.

Addison smiled. "Uh-huh." She kissed me lightly, then continued, "But, some of them want to feel us up and it's, like, if we don't let them, we can't date. Then they tell their friends we're frigid."

"Did you let them?"

"A couple of times. Only over my clothes. Lucy let's them feel her up under her clothes. That's why she's so popular. Then, there are other guys that want you to give them a hand job 'cuz you're their girlfriend and that's what you're supposed to do. I never did."

She looked at me. "I'd like to try it, though. Would you let me?"

I smiled at her. "You can try anything and everything with me. Remember, it's all new to me."

She laughed lightly. "Right. I forgot. I'd like to try everything with you, Dad. I'm safe with you. You're not gonna tell everyone in school."

She let me go and swam slowly. The breaststroke made her legs open and close. Through the crystal clear water, I watched how her bikini bottoms formed tightly to her vulva, shaping it, a slight camel toe adding to the beautiful sight. Having had sex four times since last night must have drained me as my reaction was one of pure enjoyment, being able to appreciate her for what she was - a sweet, slender, blossoming young lady of exceptional beauty.

I was completely comfortable with her. There was not one iota of guilt in me, not a trace of shame. I adored her. I loved how the young girl in her mixed with emerging maturity, often at odds and charming none the less.

When her cell phone warbled, she climbed out, unstuck her bikini bottom, fixing where it creased into her butt, and strolled over to the patio table to answer.

I floated around, completely relaxed, happy.

"That was Julia. She asked if she and Kimber could come over for a swim," Addison said.

I nodded. "Sure. No problem."

Addison smiled. "Good. They're almost here. Lucky we didn't skinny dip."

And at that moment, the two rounded the side of the house. They must have called from the drive. They smiled, waved at me, and said in unison, "Hi, Mr. Roth," before greeting Addison with hugs and excited chatter.

I waved and watched as both Julia and Kimber tugged off T-shirts, kicked off sneakers, and wiggled out of shorts to reveal bikinis, all the while chatting. The two of them brought home how delicate my daughter was. Julia was an inch over five feet, Kimber four inches taller. Both had small but well-formed busts. Yet, both were as equally slender as Addison, almost coltish, the sensual curves of womanhood there but still a work in progress.

I liked Julia's pale blonde hair and freckles. And now I could study Kimber, I recognized what a true beauty she was. Her dark mahogany-brown hair cut to below her shoulders was full of waves, thick and healthy. Her features were almost model-perfect. But her eyes. My God! Emerald green and stunning.

It was an interesting afternoon that extended into early evening, barbecue included.

Julia was comfortable with me. She chatted away, bright, full of smiles that crinkled her nose and made her freckles dance. Kimber was reserved. She watched me, smiled, but remained cool. Slowly, over several hours, she loosened up. Her voice became more animated, her smiles more authentic, and as late afternoon sun eased the temperature, she was just as active in trying to drown me; a younger girl had emerged.

The back garden was filled with yells, screams, and giggles, all of us physical, energy expended. I was exhausted when Addison decided it was dinner time.

That, too, was an experience. It started rather innocuously. I rummaged around in the fridge and freezer for food, discovered some baby back ribs, checked for a barbecue sauce recipe and followed the instructions to the millimeter while three girls taunted me and my skills. I proved them wrong by mixing a fine sauce. Then things fell apart. Without warning, the barbecue burst into raging flames and intensified as fat rendered.

Addison was the quickest, turning the gas barbecue off. By the time flames diminished, we had three racks of coal-black ribs.

"It wasn't my fault," I announced, to much laughter.

Julia pointed at me. "Look at your T-shirt!"

Expecting it to be smeared in sauce and dirty from smoke, I did. Clean.

"What does it say?" she asked.

Addison and Kimber burst into laughter again. Printed on the front was It's All My Fault. I grinned.

The girls, still in bikinis, took charge of dinner, refusing my offer of assistance and banishing me to the kitchen island counter with a beer.

Talking and laughing at my expense, the three of them created a hearty salad with julienned cold cuts, hard boiled eggs, veggies, and a sesame-based dressing. Put-out by their mirth, I refused to tell them the salad was delicious.

Just past seven, I was hugged and thanked by both Julia and Kimber, now very at ease with me.

I didn't realize how tired I was until Addison and I sat on the couch to watch TV. I was utterly exhausted.

"You know, Kimber is extremely beautiful," I mentioned.

"I know!" Addison agreed. "She's a model. Can you believe it?"

"No. I can't. She's too young to be a model."

Addison grabbed her Smartphone and got busy. "Here. Check this out."

She turned the phone towards me.

"Holy Christ! Is that really her?" I had difficulty matching the sensual, gorgeous female in a high-hip one piece black bathing suit with a plunging neckline and skin exposed everywhere.

"And look at this one," Addison suggested with a flick of a finger.

Jesus! Platform sandals, endless legs, long flowing and loose pants, a risqué top, her hair wild, eyes luminous, her body held just so.

"And this one," Addison said with a flick of her finger.

The girl I was looking at, the girl in the other two pictures, wasn't fourteen. She was at least eighteen, mature, holding a pose only experience could make possible, her expression cool, remote, as if we mortal men were beneath her, unworthy.

I recognized that remote coolness. It was what I'd seen early this afternoon; the sense of distance. This girl-model was completely different from the young girl that left us at the end of the day. I mentioned it to Addison.

"Yeah. She's like that. When she's modeling, she gets hit on by older guys all the time. She's really careful around them so they don't get the wrong message. She likes you a lot. She even liked your flirting. You could tell she was relaxed."

"I didn't flirt with her," I informed her, somewhat affronted. "I don't know how to flirt."

Addison laughed. "You're a master at it, Dad!"

"No I'm not!"

Addison laughed again, really amused. "You have sexy grey eyes, a sexy stubble beard, and a really handsome face. Your hair ain't bad either. And since you've started working out, yum!"

"That's not flirting. That's just me."

"Nah. It's how you use it all to flirt."

Fascinated, I asked, "And how do I use it all?"

Addison looked at me with a grin. "You look at my girlfriends when you talk to them like you're really interested in what they have to say. You don't look at other girls when you're talking to them. It's, like, they're your entire universe. You make them feel important and appreciated and interesting. And then you do that smile thing and your eyes twinkle. Flirting. Like I said."

"That's not flirting! That's being polite."

"Nope. That's flirting of the worst kind. Guys at school flirt by telling us we're hot or have great hair or sexy bodies. They don't look at us, they ogle us. You don't. You're more deadly."

She let out a long yawn, stretching her arms up. "I'm tired. Can we go to bed?"

When Addison joined me in bed, wearing panties and a camisole top, she cuddled. We kissed a few times, soft and loving kisses.

"Thanks for today, Dad."

She rolled. I cuddled up from behind and hugged her. While she slept, I tried to understand what she'd told me. If just being myself was flirting, how should I behave?




Addison woke me when she stirred. She lit up my day with a sweet smile, her eyes sparkling.

"Morning," she murmured, then kissed me, soft and chaste. "I need to shower. I was too tired last night."

"Me, too. Shower with me," I suggested as desire unfurled.

Addison's smile broadened. "Okay!"

Our easy intimacy showed. In the bathroom, I turned the shower on to warm up. Addison went to the toilet, raised the cover, pushed her panties down and off, then sat, her knees together.

I removed my boxers and watched her. At her crotch, the top of her tufted pubic hair showed, so jet black against pale, untanned skin. She chatted about plans for today and peed, the sound louder than the shower, and pulled a long piece of toilet paper from the holder.

As she peed, instead of crumpling up the toilet paper, she carefully folded it several times making a neat square. Finished, she spread her legs exposing her very sexy pussy and wiped.

My penis thickened at the sight. Man, I loved the shape of her pubes, the sides of her vulva perfectly hairless.

Addison glanced at me, then down. Her eyes opened wider. "This turns you on? Me peeing turns you on?"

I shrugged and grinned. "Yeah. Sorry. I guess I'm kinky." My cock extended and started to rise.

"My turn," she informed me, standing and flushing the toilet. "Let me see you pee."

"Too late. I can't pee when I'm erect."

"Not fair," she said, moving past me and stepping into the shower.

The shower was large with glass walls on three sides, one of them the door. Despite its roominess, my erection kept poking or brushing against Addison while we washed. Part of the problem was my fault. Watching her caress her body, her bath sponge running over subtle female curves, only made my condition worse. Did all girls wash so slowly and sensually instead of scrubbing like I did? A rainfall shower head provided a constant soothing sound. I enjoyed watching her. She showed no self consciousness and didn't miss a spot; not one inch of skin. Then she inspected the bottle of shampoo and decided not to use it.

As she rinsed off, she looked at my erection, now bobbing and proudly hard. With a small satisfied smile, she wrapped her fist around it and stroked me gently. I grew even harder.

"I wondered what all the fuss is about," she said conversationally. "Girls talk about giving their boyfriends hand jobs and blow jobs and I never understood the attraction. Now I do!"

Out of the blue, she flashed a grin at me, bent, and took the head of my cock into her mouth. The sight was shocking! Either she had a small mouth or my erection was thick. The sight! Jesus! Addison's still sweetly young face with an adult erection in her mouth was a deeply arousing contrast. Before I could say a word, she slipped her mouth down further taking an inch of my shaft in.

Speechless, too horny by far, I said nothing while she stroked my shaft. I felt her tongue caressing my crown and swelled alarmingly. As if she'd done it before, she started fucking me with her mouth, gripping my shaft with her fist. Pulses of pleasure roared through me. I had to resist the urge to thrust. My cock swelled.

The thought that I should stop her flitted through my mind and evaporated when she added stroking my shaft to her mouth movements, her tongue running around my crown, her lips tightly sealed. A wave of pleasure hit, my erection straining.

"Addison," I warned rather breathlessly.

She ignored me and, to the sight of her blowing me, I came, a groan escaping as my cock swelled, pulsed, and cum spurted into her mouth. Addison froze, her lips sealed around the head, and stroked me. I saw my shaft swell as another huge burst of pleasure hit me, semen exploding into her mouth. The dam broke. I came with rapid-fire spurts, bliss slamming into me, cock swelling, spurting hard again and again, my heart racing, pressure building until, with a final aching gasp, my orgasm peaked and waned, pulses weakening, my knees weak. She stroked me until I was drained and, lips tight, eased her mouth off without spilling a drop of cum. Friggin' amazing!

Addison straightened and grinned. "How was it? It's my first time. Did I do it right?"

"Jesus, Addie!"


Chapter Twelve

ADDISON LAUGHED. "NO. REALLY. He had no concept!" she informed Kimber as they sat in Starbucks sipping ice cold lattes. Dad was at work. Julia couldn't join them. She was tied up with her mother.

"So it wasn't deliberate?" Kimber asked.

"Nope. He was clueless."

"Gaaawd. Your dad's dangerous."

Starbucks was loud and noisy, busy. After studying Kimber, Addison said, "It's okay."

"What's okay?"

"To like him. I do! It's hard not to."

Kimber looked out through the window. "I've never met . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"Never met what?" Addison prompted.

"Nothing."

"C'mon, Kimber. Talk!"

Kimber wagged her hand dismissively. "It's really nothing."

Addison gawped, then grinned. "You have a crush on Dad!"

"No I DON'T!"

Addison laughed. "It's okay. I don't blame you. He's exactly the same guy but since the amnesia he looks totally different. I don't know why, but he does! I think it's his personality, or maybe he doesn't care about work so much, or maybe he isn't worried about stuff. Either way, Dad's . . ."

"Yeah," Kimber agreed when Addison didn't finish the thought. "Want another latte?"

"Sure."

On Kimber's return with two new drinks, she set them down and said, "Your dad could be a model. I know some people who'd snap him up."

Addison laughed loudly. "Dad a model? What a riot!"

"I'm serious!"

Chuckling, Addison nodded. "Okay. I don't disagree. It's just, can you picture him posing at a photo shoot? He'd be soooo embarrassed!"

"It's not that hard," Kimber insisted.

"And Dad walking down the catwalk? Too funny for words!"

Kimber laughed. "Yeah. But still. He's got the looks." Changing the subject, she said, "Julia's pissed she had to be with her mom today."

"I know. She messaged me. What's your mom doing?"

"Who cares? Hey, do you think we could spend another day by the pool? Maybe with a barbecue?"

Addison laughed. "It's summer. Come around anytime. Just message me before."

Addison spotted Brian from school walking by Starbucks. "There's Brian. He dated Lucy for, like, one week."

Kimber turned to look. "Yeah. Lucy goes through guys like she does clothes. She's a nymphomaniac."

"So everyone says. Does she really put out with every guy?"

"That's the rumor. It's probably not true."

"Have you done it? Had sex?"

Kimber waited a beat before nodding. "Don't ask who, though. I don't kiss and tell like some girls."

"Me neither."

Kimber's eyes opened wider. "You've done it, too? Was it good?"

"The first time was okay. But after that, Gaaawd! Amazing!"

"You're blushing!" Kimber exclaimed.

Both laughed. Addison asked, "How was it for you?"

Kimber shrugged. "Not much fun." Her eyes lost focus. "Not much fun at all. I'd rather not talk about it."




Addison picked up her pace walking home from the bus stop when her bladder complained about the two iced lattes. She smiled to herself. Unlike Julia who lived life in the moment, full of energy and gregarious, Kimber was more restrained. She was more mature. It had to be the experience of modeling.

Her mom was protective and went to every shoot or fashion show no matter where it was; here in Toronto, or New York, and even Paris. Kimber complained that she was being smothered, which is why she liked spending time at the pool at Addison's house.

It was obvious Kimber liked modeling, and she was so perfect for it. Addison wished she could travel. Dad had never taken her on a foreign vacation; too busy before. Maybe now? Would he want to travel?

Excited, she decided to ask him. Where would they go? New York? Rome?

His Ranger Rover was in the drive when she arrived, almost running now, her bladder about to burst.

Shoving her way through the front door and slamming it behind her, the first thing that hit her was the pungent smell of burnt food. Then she heard, "God damn it!" echo from the kitchen followed by, "Holy shit!"

She ran to the kitchen to find Dad dropping a flaming frying pan into the sink with a loud clatter. Flames licked high, then diminished. Smoke, like smog, hovered below the ceiling.

"What's going on?" she exclaimed.

Dad turned and flashed a rueful grin. "It's the bacon's fault. It burst into flames. I guess we're eating out tonight." He glanced at the frying pan. "Unless you want BLTs without the B."

Addison laughed. "How can you be so hopeless when you used to be a gourmet cook?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Give me a kiss. I've been traumatized."

With another laugh, she went to him, rising on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Then her bladder reminded her it needed attention rather badly, pain emerging.

She headed for the kitchen door and Dad grabbed her wrist.

"That's not a kiss. That's a cop out. Give me a real kiss."

"I can't. I've gotta go. I'm desperate." Addison crossed her legs and tugged her arm, the urge now severe.

"Kiss, or I'll cook more bacon," he threatened with a grin. "Next time, I might burn my eyebrows off and have to draw them in with an eyeliner pencil. How would that look? And what would your friends say?"

Addison giggled, then froze when she felt herself pee a bit. "Dad! Let me GO!" Another trickle wetted her panties. "Damn it Dad! Now I've peed myself!"

His expression changed in an instant, one she recognized; arousal, heat. With a hard yank, she pulled her wrist free, turned and ran to the bathroom, the sound of his laughter chasing her. Honestly!!

WELL, THERE WE ARE, I thought. Another sexual kink revealed. How interesting. Addison peeing her panties was such an erotic thought. How much did she pee? What did her panties look like wet? Maybe she'd let me see.

At the bathroom door, I tried to open it. Locked. "Addison?"

"What?"

"Can I see?"

"Go away!"

"But, Addie, honey," I pleaded, grinning at the sound of her laughter.

"Go away, Dad. You're a pervert!"

"I am! Let me see. Just a peek?"

More laugher echoed out. "GO AWAY! I'm still peeing!"

Oh well. I headed back to clean up the mess I'd made, still grinning.

Addison finally returned, changed from her jeans into extraordinarily tight yoga pants and a loose T-shirt. She was blushing slightly.

"It turned you on, didn't it?" I asked, putting the washed frying pan in the drainer.

"No!"

"Yes it did. I can tell."

"No you can't. And it didn't!"

"Let's go to Joey's for dinner. Don't change. Those yoga pants are a modern marvel."




My daughter smelled clean and fresh. She cuddled to me. The television was on some romantic comedy, volume on low. The TV provided the only light in the bedroom.

Today at work, I'd found myself missing Addison's company. Work itself was fun. The twelve employees seemed to find my ignorance hilarious and took far too much pleasure in misleading me. However, it was clear they were having fun, laughing and joking. Richard, in a moment when we were alone, had mentioned how much happier everyone was, observed how I wasn't a tight-ass anymore, and how productivity had soared even if I was contributing nothing of substance.

He thought my being a cheerleader was better for the finances of the company than my previous role; strategy and sales. It was his way of easing me into a recommendation we hire a new sales head and he conveniently had one in mind.

I hadn't told him about my immediate relief at his suggestion. Not having to stress over learning our software systems, which seemed far too complex, or pressure myself to contribute when I felt incapable, eased my worries. We'd see how things go, not force anything.

Addison turned the TV off. She'd claimed she was tired when we came to bed, but now, she pulled at me. I rolled to face her, her knee rising between my legs.

Addison kissed me, soft and loving. We kissed gently letting arousal build, no words spoken. I caressed her wonderful behind, enjoying the shape of her small buttocks. Communication was unspoken. Her kisses gradually became more passionate. Then she reached down and shuffled her body. I felt her removing her panties, and I was now holding a bare bum, a delectable bum.

When she pushed at the waist of my boxers, I removed them, my erection pressing against her. Still kissing, Addison guided my erection to her crotch and closed her legs, her thighs holding me in place.

For minutes, we kissed. I fondled her petite breast. Then she moved, turning her hips just a bit and reversing, my tip rubbing along her pussy. More minutes passed. Our kisses grew more passionate, tongues gently wrestling. Precum released making her pussy slippery and the sensation changed; long, sensual gliding, caressed by her cleft.

She moaned almost silently, rubbing her pussy against the tip, stimulating her clit and, as slickness grew, my tip pressed deeper into her cleft. Desire welled, need growing.

Addison hooked her leg over my thigh, reached down between us, took my shaft, and guided me, the tip lodged at her entrance. Holding me in place, she curled her pussy at me, eased back, and curled again. Slowly, a warm, moist sensation surrounded my crown, tightness, pressure, then the incredible sensation of penetrating her. The kiss ended with Addison groaning, my crown gripped inside a velvet heaven.

We moved slowly, almost languidly, small movements stimulating my tip, barely penetrating her; the most sensual tease. Movements grew longer, Addison gradually taking me deeper and deeper, sexy undulations, exquisite pleasure.

It took forever, but finally I was buried inside her as deep as the position would allow. We stopped. Inside her tight grip my erection throbbed. Addison clenched me gently. It was perfect, intimate, no urgency, just loving each other.

Wrapping my arms around her, holding her, I rolled onto my back bringing her with me. Addison pressed down, eased up, and pressed down, fucking herself on my cock. She changed her motion, curling her hips, her clit rubbing on my shaft, my cock hardly moving inside her. More minutes passed, pleasure washing over me, my daughter fucking me.

Sounds changed. Addison's breath lost its quiet rhythm, sometimes holding her breath, sometimes sighing, occasionally moaning almost silently. Her hip movements briefly lost rhythm. She stopped moving. I caressed her naked ass. Then she started again, fucking me slightly, pussy pressing hard against my shaft, easing off, pressing hard. And in the silence of our dark bedroom, Addison climaxed gently, whispering, "Dad," her body shuddering lightly, pussy clenching rhythmically with each wave of her ecstasy. My cock swelled, thick and aching, and as she slowed and relaxed, I rolled us over. Her knees rose to cradle my hips. I held her sexy buttocks and fucked her, finally stroking into her, filling her, withdrawing, filling her, my orgasm awakening. I fucked my lover slowly, completely, long strokes, her tight pussy caressing me. Addison wrapped her arms around my neck and fucked back at me, her pelvis curling up to meet my thrusts, taking me so deep, and I came. My cock swelled, pressure released, cum spurting. With slow, long strokes, I fucked her, ecstasy felt with every aching spurt, cum pulsing, her pussy slick, slippery. I came forever, an endless series of sweet spurts emptying myself into her until my orgasm peaked, my stokes slowing, slowing, and finally I stopped, drained, sated.

ADDISON LAY QUIETLY LISTENING to Dad sleep, his breaths soft. She held his arms around her and snuggled back against his large body. She wrestled with guilt. Every night she fell asleep worried he'd wake up and his memory would return. She knew it would be good for him, and she hated it. She hated that she prayed he wouldn't recover. She hated herself for loving New Dad so much more.

And she was scared she'd lose him, that he'd return to the distant, workaholic father he used to be. Right now, right here, she was happier than she'd ever been. She loved him so much.

She felt guilty. Happiness seemed to never last. How long did she have?


Chapter Thirteen

FOR ME, THE NEXT three weeks were hectic, in a good way. Addison, often with Julia in tow, took me on a grand sightseeing tour of Toronto. Almost daily we covered some part of the city. She took me to The Taste of The Danforth - a street festival celebrating Greek food in Greektown, we explored Chinatown and the St. Lawrence Food Market. I saw a Blue Jays game, visited Niagara Falls, explored Little Italy, and experimented with ethnic and Canadian cuisines over lunches.

Addison and Julia enthusiastically planned outings. They made the experiences a hundred times better with their laughter, their running commentary, their occasional silliness and jokes (mostly at my expense); two young girls having unrestrained fun.

Our back garden became the go-to place for Addison's friends and I became a moderately good cook on the barbecue through trial and error.

August whipped by. Our days were so full and active, Addison was exhausted by bedtime, but never too tired to make love. However, it took its toll. Addison slept in later in the mornings and I used that time to hit the gym.

My favorite days were those spent with her alone. Sometimes we'd laze around. With summer in full swing, the temperatures were suffocatingly hot. The pool was our refuge. In fact, the pool took on a whole different meaning for us.

It started one Friday afternoon. Back from grocery shopping, both hot, we changed and hit the pool. Addison had set up her Smartphone to broadcast through wireless waterproof speakers, music playing constantly in the background. Cold drinks waited and dripped condensation onto the glass-topped patio table, the sun umbrella open. Towels draped over the back of chairs, warming in the sunshine. A book and magazines were haphazardly dropped on the table.

The landscape service had visited that morning so the air was scented with fresh cut grass, a smell I rather liked.

The first dive into the pool chilled me, then I adjusted, the temperature perfect. Addison swam out of reach. Inevitably, as I watched her ass move in her bikini bottom, then saw the lush delta of her pussy pressing against it while she tread water and the swell of her vulva between her legs, lust arrived. She was utterly addictive, totally irresistible.

She had my number. She took one look at me and laughed. "No!"

"No what?" I asked innocently.

"You're looking at me that way."

"What way?"

Addison laughed again and moved further away. "I know that look. It has nothing to do with swimming!"

"But, honey, it's been so long . . ."

"Last night!" she interrupted.

". . . since we've fooled around in the pool."

"Tuesday. Three days ago, Dad!"

"That was flirting," I insisted, drifting towards her like a silent shark. "We only touched each other. I have an idea."

Addison laughed and edged away, keeping her distance, her beautiful eyes twinkling with amusement. "I don't want to hear it."

"Can I show you?" I asked, grinning.

"No!"

"Aaw. C'mon. Have a heart. I'm horny."

"No!"

"I'll do all the work," I offered.

Addison giggled and kept her distance. I tried to corral her in the deep end.

"You can lie back and enjoy," I suggested, still grinning.

She hooted with laugher. "I'm not horny."

"Yes you are. Or you're gonna be. I promise."

"No!"

She made a sudden dash for the stairs. I grabbed her ankle and, to the sound of her laughter, reeled her in. She struggled briefly, then gave in, turning, smiling, and floating into me, her arms hooking around my neck.

I grinned and slipped one hand inside the back of her bikini bottom to hold a lovely cheek.

"You're impossible," she claimed in a softer voice.

"You're irresistible," I countered.

Her eyes softened, love emerging, and tilting her head, she kissed me. Her mouth was soft, small, the pressure just so. And as we kissed, I delved deeper into her bikini, following her butt crack until the tip of my finger touched her pussy. The kiss became more passionate, tongues teasing. Her arms tightened. She pressed her petite body against me.

I edged us towards the side of the pool. Addison murmured into the kiss and she did nothing to stop me when I eased her bikini bottom down and off. Now at the side of the pool, I took her under her arms and lifted, sitting her on the side, her butt on the edge.

She smiled and started to get up.

I stopped her, holding her knees, her feet dangling in the water. When I moved close, spreading her legs, she froze.

I inhaled slowly and looked at her pussy, an erection forming. Her exposed pussy was at the perfect height. This close, I could appreciate what a truly erotic sight it was. Her jet back tufted pubes were denser along her cleft, sparse to the sides, the edge of her labia still hairless. Her beautiful pubes covered part of her sexy mons. Her cleft was closed, her clit barely peeking out like a precious jewel, and the bottom of her buttocks swelled where they pressed to the flagstone.

Hands on her thighs, I said, "I love your pussy. It's so damned gorgeous."

Addison didn't try to cover herself or close her legs. She smiled. "I can tell."

Moving between her thighs, I looked up at her, smiled, and kissed her pussy. She jerked lightly at the first touch.

Closing my eyes, focusing, I kissed her pussy again. Even wet, her pubes were silky soft. I tasted chlorine. "Lean back."

She did, supporting herself on straight arms, her attention on me.

I grinned at her. "I'm going to have an afternoon snack."

She laughed.

Kissing her cleft, with her pubes tickling my nose, I probed with my tongue, her labia soft and pliable. When I touched her nestled clit, Addison inhaled audibly.

Eating her pussy was amazing. My erection gradually stiffened, hard and aching from the barrage of sensations. First was the contrast of her soft pubes to her bare skin. Then the glossiness inside her cleft and the small bead of her clit. From hints of chlorinated water, her flavor changed when I explored lower, deeper, finding her entrance, tasting her; sweet, clean, with a subtle trace of more.

Addison's thigh muscles trembled slightly. She moaned when I concentrated on her clit, and slowly lowered herself down onto her elbows.

"How does it feel?" I asked, prying her cleft apart.

"Really good," she said almost in a whisper, her eyes closed, face turned up to the sun.

Inside her slit, her skin was glassy and warm. Her inner labia were thin, hidden, and below her clit, I saw the dark entrance to her vagina, the edges slightly ragged, and marveled that she'd been able to take me in. Her entrance was so damned small!

I kissed her clit, caressed it with my tongue, then sealed my lips around the little bud and sucked.

Addison inhaled sharply.

Sucking her clit, pressing my lips tightly around it, I eased a finger into her, her vagina tight. A small tremble shook her thighs. For the next few minutes I ate her and fucked her gently with my finger. Her taste changed, chlorine now gone, just the pure ambrosia of her arousal. Small moans accompanied the sounds of my sucking. When I started strumming her clit with my tongue, Addison lay down completely and her hands settled on my head. Her body finally responded, curling up and relaxing, curling up and relaxing, stomach muscles straining and, with the cutest little cry of pleasure, my daughter climaxed, her body jerking, pussy humping. She gasped and cried out quietly in an intense orgasm, building to a peak that strained her body and passed suddenly, her body falling limp. Her pussy was wonderfully wet.

Addison sighed. "You can do that anytime, Dad. It's fantastic." She struggled up onto straight arms and smiled. "How come you haven't done it before?"

"Too selfish," I admitted.

She eased herself back into the pool and, after looking around, dove for her bikini bottom. By the time we emerged from the pool, my hard on had partially flagged. Still, she noticed it and offered to help.

"Tonight, my sweet," I said. "I intend to screw you blind."

Her laugh was lovely. "If I let you. I'm tired and all relaxed now. I'm not horny."

"Just wait. You will be."




Addison complained, "I'm tired," when I cuddled to her in bed. She complained when I kissed her, complained when I caressed her, and complained, "It's not fair," when I fondled her pussy over her panties.

"I don't want to be horny," she objected.

I ignored her and traced the camel toe of her cleft.

"Daaaad!"

"Okay. Sorry." Removing my hand, I hugged her gently.

A minute of silence followed, the bedroom dark and quiet.

"Why did you stop?" she asked.

"Because you told me to."

"When?"

"When you said, "Daaaad.""

"I didn't mean stop."

"Honey, you're the most confusing person in the world."

"No I'm not."

I sighed. "Let's cuddle."

She whispered, "Kay."

I fell asleep horny.

I woke up horny, the morning sun streaming in, Addison missing, the bed empty. Damn! Peeing was difficult. I was horny when I entered the kitchen to find Addison dressed and eating cereal.

"Morning!" she said brightly. "Julia, Kimber, and me are going shopping this morning."

"And "I"," I corrected. At least she'd made me coffee.

"You aren't invited."

"Julia, Kimber and I are going," I clarified.

"No. I'm going. Not you."

I shook my head, sat at the kitchen table, sipped coffee, and waited for caffeine to hit my blood stream and clear the fog in my brain.

Addison finished her cereal. She checked her Smartphone and dashed off a note in her diary before closing it. "Since you refuse to redecorate your study, can I do it for you?"

"No thanks."

"I'm going to redecorate your study. I'm not asking anymore. You're avoiding it. I've been looking at different designs on Pinterest. I think modern-classic."

"I'm horny."

Addison, staring down at her Smartphone, gathered her jet black hair into a rope and wound a hair elastic around it, then tugged and positioned it at the nape of her neck. "Pale cream leather and exotic woods."

"I'm horny."

"Scandinavian simplicity, elegant," she decided, flicking her finger on the Smartphone.

"You're not listening to me," I complained.

"Yes I am. You're grumpy. Drink more coffee." She checked her watch. "Julia's mom's picking me up in ten minutes."

"I'm not grumpy, honey. I'm horny."

She stood, grabbed her empty bowl, and took it to the sink. "I have to brush my teeth."

Five minutes later, she yelled from the front door, "I'm off, Dad! See you later."

"I'm horny!"

The door closed. At least she laughed.

ADDISON GRINNED, CLOSING THE front door. She ran to the car and joined Julia.

"You're happy," Julia observed.

"Yeah. Dad's being goofy. It's pretty funny. Hi, Mrs. Crowley. Thanks for driving us."

"My pleasure. What are you girls shopping for today?"

"New furniture for Dad's study. Where's Kimber?" Addison asked Julia.

"She had to cancel. A sudden photo shoot. How's your dad goofy?"

Addison shrugged and grinned. "He just is."

Mrs. Crowley dropped them off at Yonge Street and they started browsing furniture shops, then got distracted by clothes stores, Starbucks, and more clothes stores. By early afternoon, when they stepped off the bus and parted ways, Addison hadn't seen any furniture similar to those she'd picked out on Pinterest.

She found Dad on the living room couch.

"What 'cha reading?"

"Atlas Shrugged," he muttered.

"Is it good?"

"Damned good."

"I'm changing. Wanna swim?"

"No thanks."

Addison smiled broadly, walked over, pushed the book away and sat astride him. "What's the matter? Still horny?"

"So you DID hear me this morning before deserting me!"

She laughed. "Of course I heard you. There wasn't time. You slept in too late."

"Haven't you heard of a quickie?"

Still smiling, she said, "Aw. Are you all grumpy?"

Dad frowned, looking really cute.

"All I wanted to do was to show my daughter how much I love her and appreciate her."

Addison laughed. "No you didn't. You wanted sex!"

"Same thing," he muttered. "Anyway, I'm not horny anymore."

She kissed him and wiggled her butt in his lap. "Okay. I guess I'll swim on my own."

She got off him and started unbuttoning her jeans, turned and headed to her bedroom, smiling to herself. She liked being wanted so much. From behind, she heard Dad get up, and her smile broadened. In her bedroom, without looking behind, she made an exaggerated hip movement while pushing her jeans down and bent at the waist to push them to her ankles. Then, as she kicked them off, she pulled her Tee up and off leaving her in panties and plain blue bra.

Reaching behind, she unhooked the bra, shrugged, and dropped it to the floor before taking the waist of her panties and ever so slowly pushing them down, again bending at the waist.

Addison burst into giggles when Dad grabbed her from behind, growled, lifted her, and tossed her face first onto her bed. She rolled onto her back to see him furiously shucking his clothes, hopping from foot to foot to kick his jeans off. She noticed his erection inside his boxers and reacted, horniness blossoming. God, she loved turning him on! Her nipples tingled. Heat rushed through her. Anticipation zinged through her veins.

Finally naked, his erection jutted up, thick, so sexy. He stood at the side of the bed. Addison grinned and slowly spread her legs.

For a moment, she was scared when he toppled towards her. She held her breath and closed her eyes waiting for the impact. The bed bounced underneath her, no impact. Opening her eyes, she saw him hovering over her on straight arms, not actually touching her. He grinned, bent, and sucked her nipple sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

Reaching down, she closed her fingers around his erection, so thick, alive, so soft yet hard. Jeez she loved it! Giving it a squeeze, she let it go and stretched languidly. "I thought you said you're not horny anymore."

"I lied."

He kissed her other nipple.

"You lie a lot."

"Mmmm-hmmm," he responded, sucking harder.

Pleasure warmed her. Her pussy throbbed. He stopped. A twinkle appeared in his light grey eyes and she inhaled when the tip of his erection just touched her pussy. Light pressure. He stopped, didn't move, hovering. Damn she was horny!

Staring into her eyes, he moved. The tip of his erection slipped down her cleft, then back up, a light touch, teasing her. She ached. Not fair! He did it again, and again, little shivers of anticipation hitting her. Her clit tingled. She felt herself get wet and yearning blossom.

"Stop teasing me," she complained.

"Oh, no, honey! I'm going to tease you until you beg me. Revenge is a bitch." He grinned.

"I never beg."

"You will."

He continued to rub the tip of his erection up and down her slit, a soft touch, hands free, driving her nuts for more pressure, anything, something!

His face neared. He smiled, kissed her, and whispered, "How does it feel?"

Addison frowned at him. He laughed and kissed her nipple, then sucked gently making her moan. He sucked her other nipple. Waves of horniness hit her, need intensifying.

When she reached down to grab his erection and guide it, he grinned and removed her hand.

"No, no, my sweet." He took both her wrists and pinned them over her head against the bed so she couldn't touch him.

Fine! I'll show you! But she didn't. Slight pressure against her pussy, right at her clit, made her moan again, pleasure radiating up.

"Daaaad!"

His smile morphed into a sneaky grin. Jeez, she loved it! Then she moaned quietly, her eyes closing, as his erection pressed into her slit, stretching her, and groaned with frustration when he eased back.

Arousal turned to fire, a desperate need to have him inside and ease the ache.

"Please," she whispered.

He kissed her softly, holding her arms up, and pressed again, her clit rubbing against him. Pressure built. She felt herself stretch slowly and, just as a twinge of pain hit her, he penetrated her and stopped.

Opening her eyes, she saw his smile.

"You begged," he said softly.

"Not. I asked politely."

"You begged."

"I didn't," she assured him. But when he withdrew, she laughed. "Okay. Okay. I begged!"

This time, his erection slipped in deeper, stretching her, then deeper, filling her slowly until she was stuffed, wonderfully full.

Dad smiled, saying, "You're so sexy, Addie!"

He moved, withdrawing, empty, stroking in, full, so good. He fucked her slowly with long strokes, then stopped and rubbed his groin against her pussy, his erection so deep, pleasure radiating up from her clit, her heart beating faster. He changed again, fucking her slowly, still holding himself off her, then withdrew from her completely.

"Roll onto your hands and knees," he suggested.

Rolling, Addison rose. The bed dipped when Dad knelt behind her. His erection touched her. His hands held her hips. And then he thrust, buried suddenly, the force making her gasp, pleasure erupting. He fucked her, holding her, thrusting, her body jerking from the force.

Addison let him control, enjoying the experience. But, when he reached under and rubbed her clit, a bomb went off, her climax erupting, ecstasy slamming into her so powerfully she couldn't breathe. Bliss built. She gasped, suddenly panting, Dad fucking her harder. Her climax intensified. Arms weak, she dropped to her elbows, drowning and, as her orgasm reached its peak and crested, her clit became sensitive. She reached under her, pulling Dad's hand away and at that moment, she felt his erection swell and pulse.

"God Almighty!" he gasped, thrusting, cumming, wetness filling her, her pussy slippery. And with a final, deep stroke, she felt him shudder.

Slowly, he collapsed on top of her, pressing her down flat to the bed. He nuzzled her, his weight nice. Peace and lassitude arriving. Man did she feel good!




I WATCHED ADDISON SWIM languidly, sipped a crisp Steam Whistle beer, and let the late afternoon sun dry me. Legs stretched out, slouching in the chair, I enjoyed the warmth.

Finally, I was relaxed and not from the sex earlier. I was relaxed because Addison was with me. I loved watching her. I adored her presence. She was my world.

Addison walked up the pool stairs, water streaming off her, her white bikini offering tantalizing glimpses of her puberty. She bent and wrung water out from her jet-black hair, straightened, and came toward me.

Her dark grey eyes sparkled. A small, naughty smile curled the corners of her mouth making my heart beat a bit faster. Simply gorgeous!

Addison brazenly walked up to me and straddled my lap.

"I like you watching me," she said with a little wiggle of her butt. "You make me feel beautiful."

"You are. You don't need my help for that."

My swimming suit had dried before she sat on me. Her wet bikini dampened it with cool pool water. Drops of water from her hair on my sun-heated bare skin made me shiver.

She leaned forward and kissed me lightly, a mystical smile returning as she sat up. Dampness spread, suddenly warm. Addison's enchanting eyes twinkled. Then it registered. Addison was peeing astride me!

When she saw the shock in my eyes, her smile broadened into a grin. "Surprise!"

"Dear God!" I exclaimed, instantly aroused. Warm wetness spread in my groin. My cock immediately inflated. And as my daughter peed on me, I became rock hard and stupid. How? How did her peeing turn me on so damned much?

Addison laughed. She felt my reaction. "Guess what?"

"What?" I asked rather heatedly, reaching for her bikini top.

"It turns me on too!"

I groaned and unhooked her top, removing it, exposing her gentle swells, her skin so white on her breasts.

About to fondle them, Addison got up. "Let's rinse in the pool."

With that, while I sat immobile with a raging hard on, she strolled towards the pool, pushing her bikini bottom down exposing white butt cheeks, a sexy butt crack, and a glimpse of her vulva in the gap between her thighs.

Casual, languid, her sweet ass undulating, she slowly walked down the steps, holding her bikini bottom up between her fingers, then dropping it into the pool as she submerged to her chest.

"Coming, Dad?"

My entrance was significantly less elegant. I shoved the swimming suit down as I walked quickly, hopping from foot to foot trying to dislodge it from my ankles, and splashed my way into the water.

By the time I made it down the broad, semicircular stairs, Addison was laughing at me. "I can't believe how turned on you get from me peeing! How come?"

"I don't know," I answered, reaching for her. She looked so sexy naked in the pool; my little water nymph.

If I wasn't horny to start with, I sure as heck was when she pushed me back towards the stairs.

"Sit," she instructed.

I did, cooling water up to my chest.

Addison straddled me, my erection pressed between us. She smiled, her eyes bright as she tilted her head to study me.

Then she shocked me.

"Last time you screwed me. This time I want to screw you."

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

She eased back, reached down, and grasped my cock. "Don't move."

Guiding me, she moved her butt, my tip slipping back and forth. However, it was the way she bit the side of her lower lip in concentration that I adored; so utterly cute!

"There," she announced, lodging my tip at the entrance to her pussy.

With small movements, light pressure, she moved up and down holding me in place at first, her pussy refused to yield. Then I felt the exquisite moment when it did; a tight band working over my crown. Addison groaned just as the head squeezed into her, and she released me.

Hands on my shoulders, her smile returning, she asked, "Ready?"

"Hell yes!"

She giggled, her pussy tightening as she did. Then she moved. In tiny increments, slight up and down motions, she started to take me in.

The tease was exquisite. I felt every millimeter of progress and it made me harder. She took her time. I held her slender hips, not guiding her, not moving her, just for the joy of feeling her movements, of feeling my daughter slowly impale herself on me.

Even more exciting was the final inch. Addison had to work harder to get it in, moving her pelvis from side to side, up slightly, down again, around in a circle, pushing harder until, with a sweet sigh of satisfaction, she said, "I've got all of you, Dad."

"No kidding," I groaned, my cock throbbing.

I waited. I waited some more. I waited longer. Addison's smile broadened, her eyes twinkling.

"Bet 'cha want me to move," she said.

"Um. Yeah!"

She laughed lightly. "Tough. It's my turn to have fun and I like this; being so full. I love feeling you inside me almost as much as cumming."

"You're in charge," I admitted, "but, don't wait too long or I'll lose my erection."

"No you won't."

"Julia might interrupt us again."

Addison laughed. "No she won't. She has a family dinner thing."

"Kimber might drop by."

"Nope. She's at a shoot. You can't make me rush, Dad, no matter what you say." She lowered her voice. "It's my turn to screw you and I'm doing it how I want."

With that, she clenched her vagina. I almost moaned. My cock swelled. Addison smiled with success.

"At least kiss me," I suggested.

She did, a brief touch of her lips to mine. Then she sucked my lower lip and murmured, "Mmmm."

To encourage her into action, I fondled her petite breasts, teasing her nipples, and noticed how her eyes softened, sort of lost focus. Then they regained focus and she grinned.

"It's not going to work."

"What isn't?" I asked, trying for innocence.

"Playing with my boobs." Addison moved her hips back and forth slightly, my tip caressed deep inside her. Then she stopped. "This afternoon you were mean. You made me beg. Now it's your turn to beg."

"Please? Pretty please?"

She laughed. "Okay, making you beg isn't gonna work."

She leaned back slightly and looked down at our groins. "You're this deep. All the way up to here," she said, her finger pointing.

Jesus, I was turned on! My cock throbbed.

Addison giggled. "This is fun."

Below her hand, her sparse pubes waved in the water. She reached down and rubbed her clit, sighing with pleasure. Her voice softened. "What I want to do is cum like this, with you inside me. Then, I want to make you cum. I want to feel you cum, Dad. I love it when you do."

Her finger rubbed. She sighed again. Her eyes closed. She breathed gently through her nose, her nostrils flaring. Though my erection, I felt her tighten and relax, a gentle and erotic massage. Her self-pleasure was wonderful to see and wonderful to experience; a rare treat.

Somewhere in the neighborhood a lawn mower started. Water gurgled in the skimmers. Addison rubbed her clit, her breathing deepening. Minutes passed. I couldn't believe how sexy this was; watching my daughter masturbate while impaled on my cock.

Her finger moved faster. Her lips parted. She started breathing through her mouth. Slowly, she started moving, turning her hips back and forth just a little, her pubic bone pressing against the base of my cock.

A cute frown of concentration emerged. She diddled her clit faster. Her face turned up to the sun. Almost silent mewls of pleasure escaped. Breathing evolved into small pants, then breath held, and back to pants. Her hips moved back and forth more aggressively, and despite being almost painfully horny, I was gifted to watch my daughter climax.

Through my erection I felt her clenches of pleasure. She cried out quietly, pain flashing across her face, her finger scrubbing her clit. She jerked her hips, jerked again, she let out an "Oh Gaaawd!" her head dropping, body jerking, pussy gripping me. And then she melted. In slow motion, she leaned into me and I welcomed her, wrapping my arms around her. Her breath was hot on my skin. Her body stilled, then jerked, then stilled, and I felt her pussy relax, the tightness easing slightly.

I was rock hard.

For a couple of minutes neither of us moved. Addison's breathing calmed. Then she murmured. She moved, pressing back at my erection. Her arms circled my neck.

"That was gooood," she murmured into my neck.

Before I could speak, she started fucking me. It began with a back and forth movement that evolved into a slight up and down motion, perhaps an inch emerging before she reversed. She combined the two, hunching back, rising slightly, curling forward, then taking me in again; a circular motion that let me feel everything.

Reaching down, I cupped her ass and felt her buttocks flex. Addison lengthened her strokes, more of my erection emerging, fucking down, taking me in deep, curl, lift, and fuck me. My cock ached, so rigid, her vagina a snug velvet caress. Her strokes lengthened, half my cock emerging, taking me in deep, fucking me. Water sloshed between us.

Then she changed. Addison started rising and falling, straight fucking, impaling herself on me, long strokes, longer strokes, my cock thumping into her. She panted into my neck and fucked me faster, her bottom rising and falling. Unbelievably, Addison let out a little cry of pleasure; she was cumming again!

It was too much for me. Pressing her sweet ass down, buried as deep as I could possibly go, I came. The first pulse was almost painful, the second huge, pleasure hammering me. Buried inside her, my cock swelled and spurted. I came in rapid-fire pulses, bliss washing through me.


Chapter Fourteen

I WAITED NERVOUSLY FOR Addison to emerge from school. Today, I'd been lonely. It was the first time I'd been alone and the house seemed empty and too large without her there, her presence missed.

Warmth filled me at the sight of her lugging her backpack. She spotted me and waved, giving me a bright smile.

The back door opened. A backpack was flung in, the door slammed, and Addison climbed into the passenger seat.

"How was the first day of high school?" I asked, starting the Range Rover.

"Tiring but good. There are so many people! It's a madhouse! At least Julia's with me." Addison closed her seatbelt and asked, "How was your day?"

"Wonderful. Productive."

"Liar."

"Yeah. It was lonely and boring. I worked out and . . . That's about it."

"You promised you were going to get rid of the furniture in the study!"

"I forgot," I claimed.

"No you didn't. You've been promising to do it all summer so I can order new stuff."

"Maybe tomorrow."

Addison snorted. "Yeah, right!" She changed the subject. "Can you believe they gave us homework on the first day? High school sucks!"

Our new weekday routine started; Addison doing her homework while messaging Julia; me watching the evening news, then preparing dinner. Together, we'd learned how to cook over the summer. I actually enjoyed it now I wasn't completely incompetent.

Some nights we had sex, some we made love, others we just cuddled. Addison was very active during the day and frequently exhausted at night. Adapting to high school seemed to take the wind out of her.

The Indian summer made a brief visit in late September and fall colours made their spectacular appearance in early October - a captivating quilt work of reds, oranges, and bright yellows. Autumn rain arrived bringing cooler temperatures.

And Addison caught a cold.

She had sniffles. Her runny nose drove her nuts. Two days later, she had a sore throat and she bitched about it. To her, the cold was an affront. It dragged on for a couple more days, aggravating her.

What amused me was how she wasn't angry at anyone. She even named the cold! Bert. Then she had conversations with Bert out loud, telling him how inconsiderate he was, what a pain, and enough already!

I was charmed. I laughed. Addison didn't find it funny.

Instead of passing, Addison developed a low grade fever and our assessment changed. She'd caught the flu, not a cold. Her throat still hurt. Her nose still ran. And I medicated her. The syrup gave her four hours of respite but inevitably the symptoms returned. To add to her discomfort, her body ached all over.

By the seventh day, her fever jumped. I had kept her out of school and, not knowing what to do, took her to our family doctor. He hummed and hawed and inspected her throat and eyes and ears. He listened to her chest and after a pause to think, announced Addison had the flu. I wasn't impressed. Had he been our doctor for a long time?

Addison confirmed he'd been our doctor, like, forever. I filled the prescription for antiviral drugs and took my daughter home.

Two days later, I called the doctor to find out how long the drugs took to work. Addison was now going through hot spells and chills, her body aching even more.

"Give it a week, Mr. Roth," he advised. "If there's no improvement by then, bring her back in to see me."

Addison suffered. She lay on the couch shivering and covered in blankets, then threw them off when she was burning up. We watched movies and sitcoms and documentaries. I fed her water. She wasn't hungry and when I told her she had to eat, she asked if I'd get her what her mother always gave her when she was sick.

"Chicken noodle soup?" I asked.

"No. Macaroni and cheese. And not pre-made. It has to be Kraft."

That's what she ate. Nothing else.

It was with no small measure of relief when she improved. Two weeks after it started, she was back in school. However, seeing Addison sick bothered me. I didn't like it at all.

Addison wasn't impressed when I tried to force her to wear a thick sweater and a heavy winter coat to school. She took one look at the bulky jacket I'd bought.

"No way! That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen!"

"It's warm, honey. You'll never catch a cold with this. They even recommend it for Mount Everest! See? There's a picture of Everest on the label."

"No! I'll be the laughing stock at school. No way, Dad!" she exclaimed as I followed her holding the knee-length coat.

She grabbed her usual jacket from the hall closet.

"Honey."

"No, Dad!"

"At least let me drive you to school. It's chilly outside."

"I'm meeting Julia at the bus stop."

"I'll drive both of you," I offered.

"I'll be fine! Stop fussing!"

Four days later, I said, "I told you so," when Addison came down with a sore throat again.

This time, the fever struck her faster, knocking her for six. This time, it exhausted her. This time I was worried. Flu twice? When did that happen?

Our doctor seemed equally concerned. He hummed and hawed, prescribed antiviral drugs, and added a full spectrum blood test.

Addison was back on the couch. Even Mac and Cheese didn't interest her. Small to begin with, she didn't have reserves of energy to fight.

The second day after seeing the doctor, I got a call from his receptionist. He wanted to see us both immediately.




I cuddled Addison to me in bed. She'd finally fallen asleep, medicated to her eyeballs. The bedroom was dark. I inhaled the scent of her hair.

Is there any way to get bad news and not have it hurt? Does age, experience and wisdom make it easier? I had a few months of age, zero experience and no wisdom, and it hurt. God how it hurt.

Genetics, the doctor had said.

I hugged Addison tighter. She was still hot, but quiet.

"T-cell prolymphocitic leukemia," the doctor had said softly. "I've booked an appointment tomorrow at Sick Kids for Addison to be seen by a specialist."

Shell-shocked. That's how I felt. Tomorrow we'd find out what treatment Addison would go through.




Dr. Margret Davis, a middle-aged, neat, well presented woman in her white coat, sat behind her desk and didn't smile.

"I'm sorry. It's very rare and very aggressive," she said. "There are experimental drugs, however, results have been disappointing. The best we can do is manage the pain and make you comfortable."

Addison was silent.

Finally, I worked up the courage and asked, "How long?"

"Months. I'm so sorry. I wish I had better news."




Sitting at the side of Addison's hospital bed, winter dusk falling, I wondered what other, normal people had done for Christmas four weeks ago. No amount of Christmas decorations in her room had helped me. Addison, on the other hand, had loved them.

I held her hand and thought back to late summer. It's never easy to take the blame. Addison's increasing tiredness at the end of every day was obvious now, in hindsight. Her bedtime complaints that she ached all over were warning signs I hadn't understood. Then, with her batteries recharged overnight, the next morning she'd be energetic again. How could I have not known? Even if I hadn't been so involved with her, so smitten, or loved her so much, how could I have not noticed?

I hated myself for not knowing. I hated myself for being too self absorbed. I hated myself for being so selfish.

"Dad?" Addison whispered, painfully weakly.

I stood quickly and leaned over her, the room dark. "I'm right here."

Addison's beautiful grey eyes welled. "Don't leave me, Dad. I'm so scared. I don't want to go."

My eyes welled, too. Nothing in the world could be so hard, so agonizing. With infinite care, I moved onto her bed, lay down beside her, rolled and hugged her; my little girl wasting away.

"I'll never leave you," I whispered, fighting back tears. "Don't be scared, honey. I'm here."

Hell arrived at three-thirty-three in the morning. In my arms, I felt her passing, her breathing stop, her pain finally gone, and my pain began, a tsunami of unimaginable agony. I wept for her, for what she'd lost; a lifetime cut short, a glorious soul lost. My body cramped with pain, my heart shattered, and a part of me died with her in my arms.



Part II - Four Years Later


Chapter One

Hell is not a place. Hell is a state of mind.

In Hell, it's hard to breathe, as if a shroud is wrapped around your body so tightly your chest can't expand. In Hell, everything is difficult. Simply getting out of bed or choosing clothes is a Herculean task.

In Hell, food has no taste, appetite is suppressed by pain.

In Hell, there are ghosts everywhere; Addison sitting at the kitchen island counter chatting away, Addison laughing, Addison at my side watching TV and eating ice cream out of the tub, Addison cuddling in bed, Addison loving me. . . Addison everywhere.

In Hell, the world is pale, filtered through pain so colours are wan, sounds dull, life around you detached, apart, alien.

In Hell, there is no joy or laughter, no highs, just endless lows. In Hell, you're an emotional cripple.

Hell is a state of mind and no one could help me. No one could save me. I was trapped by memories, the only memories I had - six months of Addison four years ago. I had no other memories to distract me.

In this Hell, I adapted. I'd learned to lie. I'd learned to fake social skills, pretend interest; I'd learned how to survive, not live. I worked out daily hoping the endorphins would assuage my soul. They didn't - gone before I left the gym. I kept up appearances, maintained the same very short beard Addison had so liked.

I'd discovered McEwan's, a gourmet food shop in Don Mills and, like now, I browsed for premade meals, not that interested, not that hungry. Food was fuel, nothing more.

Since her passing four years ago, I'd hired a house cleaning service to do that which I found impossible - to care. The house, garden, and pool were in fine shape, tended by others. Like a veneer, it showed the world I was fine. I wasn't. I'd never be fine again.

A pleasant server at McEwan's looked at me and smiled. "Can I get you anything?"

I pointed at the barbecued salmon. "That, and some rice, please."

From behind me, a voice: "Mr. Roth?"

When I turned, I saw a tall, elegant woman, her dark mahogany hair brushed and glossy, thick and falling to her shoulder blades in waves. Underdressed in tight jeans, flat shoes, and a colourful silk blouse tucked in, she exuded class. I saw her eyes; stunning emerald green. She seemed familiar.

"Hello," I said, wracking my brain. It's not as if I had a lifetime of memories to search through.

She laughed, her smile stunning, and extended her fine-boned hand. "Kimber McBride. We met at your pool years ago. I was . . ." Her smile faded. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to . . . Addison was one of my best friends in middle school."

"Kimber? That Kimber? I remember you." My mind did a quick calculation. She should be, what, eighteen or nineteen now? "How are you?"

Her smile returned. "I'm fine." She looked me up and down. "You look like you're doing well, too."

"Looks can deceive." From behind me, the counter server got my attention, passing me the precooked meal to take home.

Kimber moved closer and studied the gourmet foods displayed perfectly. "Would you like to get a coffee?" she asked.

Not really. Socializing was a chore for me. She smiled again, her intense green eyes quite captivating. "Sure," I found myself saying.

We strolled towards Starbucks. Late spring weather was perfect, warm in the sun, cool in the shade.

"What are you doing now?" I asked. "Didn't you model back then?"

She laughed lightly. "I still do, although less now."

In Starbucks, we ordered. I paid. Once served, we found a small table. Kimber set her things down next to her, crossed one knee over the other, and leaned forward. Her eyes were remarkable; deep green, so sharp they glowed.

"I haven't seen you around," I observed.

She smiled. "I've just returned. I'm starting at the University of Toronto in the fall."

"Returned from where?"

She sipped her coffee carefully, then set it down. "For the last four years I've been living in Europe and modeling. It's tiring work, especially when I had to study at the same time. I missed Toronto."

"So you're, what? Studying and modeling?"

"That's the plan."

"Good for you. A career and education. I'm impressed."

Kimber leaned back. She brazenly studied me - head to toe - taking all of me in. "You look fit and healthy, just like I remember." She studied my eyes. "But, you're not, are you?"

It was uncomfortable. I thought my carefully constructed mask was perfect.

"I'm okay. Are you living at home with your parents?"

Kimber laughed. "Nice dodge. No. I've rented a condo here in Don Mills. Dad hasn't been in my life in, I don't know, seven years?"

"Is your mother still living here?"

Kimber nodded. "We're estranged. So, what do you do for a living?"

I shrugged. "Not much. I work one or two days a week. A software company."

"That's right! I remember Addison said something about you owning the business. It must be successful for you to live in the Bridal Path. Are you still living there?"

"Yes. No reason to move."

"I loved using your pool back then. Those afternoons were some of the best times." She fell silent. In a softer voice, she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it still hurts so much."

"It doesn't. I'm fine." I forced a smile.

"No. You're really not." She stood suddenly. "Let's stroll. The weather's perfect. I want to browse and window shop."

Not finding a polite excuse and, oddly, enjoying her company, I agreed.

Early afternoon turned into late afternoon, and then early evening. Somehow, we ended up eating dinner at Joey's. Kimber was remarkably articulate, inordinately mature and knowledgeable, and she carried herself with such elegance and confidence I wasn't the only person to notice. Both men and women noticed her.

Perhaps six inches shorter than my six-one, she was slender, her bust small, hips narrow, legs long; the perfect ideal of a model. What fascinated me was her face. There was character, not blank model features. She was expressive, her smile genuine, her lips not overly lush yet sensual, her jaw line firm. And her eyes, they were the masterpiece, absolutely captivating.

When we parted company, Kimber surprised me by giving me a hug, giving me her phone number, and asking if we could do this again.




KIMBER CLOSED THE DOOR and leaned back against it. She sighed, then kicked off her flat shoes and went to the balcony doors, opening them wide to let fresh air in.

In the open-plan kitchen, she poured herself a glass of ice cold Pouilly-Fuissé and took it out onto the balcony. Leaning on the railing, she sipped the delectable white and looked at the Shops at Don Mills below her. Even now, as dusk fell, people were out walking.

Jim was exactly as she remembered him years ago. He was still drop dead gorgeous. He seemed oblivious to it, and that only made him more attractive.

Her reaction at seeing him hadn't changed. In the blink of an eye, she was transported back four years. With a smile, she realized she still had a crush on him. He was utterly different, unique.

Over the years she'd met men who were as deep as a layer of nail polish, men who were manipulative, men who were mean. She'd experienced men who were sexually aggressive, gay men she adored, deceitful designers, prima donna photographers, and men who were self-absorbed. Good guys were as rare as a Hermés Birkin handbag.

Jim was a force. Like years ago, he still gave his entire attention to her when chatting. He made her feel as if she was the only person in his world. She'd seen the pain in his eyes even though he tried to hide it and despite it, he made her feel fascinating - far more interesting than she really was.

She wondered if he'd call her. How old was he now? She did a mental calculation. Around forty. He looked much younger, lean and fit.

With a sigh, she realized he probably wouldn't call her. She didn't deserve men like him. She deserved what she'd had; a one night stand, an abusive liaison, and meaningless sex. She was a model. People had preconceptions of models; too often right.

Kimber sipped her wine and returned to the living room. She admired the space. It was a small condo but it was her space. She'd sacrificed years for it: an overbearing, controlling mother; endless, exhausting hours at work; restrictive diet; sharing rooms with other self-centered girls; verbal abuse on shoots and catwalks; no friends, and so much more.

Now it was her time. Now she could decide what engagements to accept. She liked being in demand, and being away from the all-consuming fashion world; working less was adding to her value. She had more money than she needed. Now, she was her own master. She could do what she wanted, free at last, liberated.

Sipping wine, determination blossomed. If Jim didn't call, she'd take the bull by the horn! It was her time to have fun!


Chapter Two

I WATCHED THE POOL guy vacuum the pool in the early morning light, forcing myself not to look away. The pool held so many cherished memories. Now, at least I could watch. Now I could swim without sinking into despair. But the ache was ever-present.

The day passed, time flowing. I worked out in the morning, read a book, read the news, watched TV without really following it. I found myself browsing the Internet on an iPad in the evening and, without really thinking about it, I searched for Kimber McBride.

She was all over the place. Thousands of photos; fashion shoots, Paris, Milan, and London fashion shows, and magazine covers. According to some articles, Kimber had attained supermodel status, now referred to by her first name alone, and it was easy to see why.

The camera adored her. Everything she wore, and some of the outfits seemed ridiculous to me, looked fabulous on her. She was a chameleon, her face showing distain, sweetness, cool elegance, goofiness, all with mesmerizing emerald green eyes so powerful they almost overwhelmed the clothes. And yet, here she was back in Toronto to further her education. Clearly she was determined and confident. She couldn't be this successful on looks alone. She had a head on her shoulders, a brain behind those looks. My respect for her went up a couple of notches.

I thought back to yesterday afternoon I'd spent with her. While at the time I hadn't realized it, after the fact I understood how I'd enjoyed myself. The painful memories of Addison that so haunted me became softer. Kimber had deftly steered the conversation, touching memories then moving on. And a few of my smiles hadn't been forced.

If I wasn't so old . . .

Age is a state of mind. Four years ago I was a teenager. Now I'm a crippled old man. The joi de vivre had gone; a life lived in four and a half years.




Leaning against the counter, sipping coffee, I looked through the kitchen window at the back garden; a perfectly mowed lawn, spring flowers blooming, trees lush and full, the pool glittering in the morning sun. It should have pleased me. Nothing.

The doorbell rang.

Coffee mug in hand, still dressed in jeans, no shirt, and barefoot, I ambled to the front door and opened it.

"I waited. You didn't call, so here I am," Kimber said with a blinding smile. She'd gathered her dark mahogany hair up on the back of her head, some loose tresses falling to her neck. Yellow Capri pants, sockless in Keds, a sleeveless pale green top, a large handbag hooked over one shoulder - she looked as fresh as spring.

I stared.

She looked me up and down. My worn and faded jeans were no match for her fashion.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Uh, no. Come in," I said, stepping back to give her room.

Some subtle perfume touched my nose when she passed.

"Can I get you a mug of coffee?" I asked.

"Is it strong? I've grown to like strong coffee, not the Americano style."

"Yes. It's strong." I pointed. "The kitchen's this way."

"I know. I remember. I've been here before." Walking through the living room behind me, she observed, "Nothing's changed. It's exactly the same."

In the kitchen, I poured her a mug. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Black, please." She sat at the kitchen island counter.

Placing the mug in front of her, I asked, "Not that I'm complaining, but what brings you here?"

She smiled. "I told you. You didn't call."

"Was I supposed to?"

She laughed. "Why do you think a girl gives a guy her number? For prosperity?"

I smiled. "No. Out of pity. To make us saps feel good for a while."

Kimber laughed again, her face alive, eyes glowing. "For your information, there are very few people who have my phone number. I protect my privacy. I have to, otherwise I'd never get any peace. So, no pity here, buster. You're one of the privileged few."

"Then I'm honored."

"You should be." She sipped her coffee. "Mmmm. Good. So why didn't you call? I thought we had fun the other day. We had a connection. I enjoyed it."

"So did I."

Kimber studied me for a few moments, sipping her coffee. She put the mug down and said, "I need to tell you something about Addison and then I won't mention her again.

"Julia and I grew up with her from kindergarten. We were best friends, playing together, going to each other's birthday parties, hanging out together. In all the time I knew her, I'd never seen her happier than she was after you suffered from amnesia. She was seriously happy and couldn't stop talking about you. I thought you should know."

Kimber paused. In a softer tone, she said, "I'm sorry I couldn't be here at the end. I was in Europe. Mom wouldn't let me fly back."

"I understand. Thank you."

Kimber sat up straighter. She smiled. "Well, where are you taking me?"

"Huh?"

"I don't dress up for any guy. I only look this good when I'm being taken out."

"You'd look good in old, stinky sweats," I countered with a grin, thankful for the change of subject.

"You think so?" she asked, her eyes bright, a smile playing across her face. "Then, why didn't you call me?"

"That again? You're nothing but persistent."

"Yes I am. You haven't answered me."

"I thought you were being polite when you gave me your number."

She nodded. "Yeah. I can see that. You're an old fogy, me a gorgeous girl. I can see why it scares you."

"Scares me? It doesn't!"

"Sure it does. Fragile male ego and all that. Never mind. Get dressed. I'll take you out since you clearly aren't taking me out."

I sort of froze, mildly confused at the speed of the conversation.

"Go on," she encouraged. "Get dressed and I'll finish my coffee."

As I ambled out of the kitchen, still bemused, she called out, "Dress casual, Mr. Roth. Those jeans are great."

"It's Jim!" I yelled back.

She laughed. "We'll see. I haven't decided that yet."

Despite what she suggested, I changed into tan Chinos, soft loafers, and a soft buttoned shirt, sleeves rolled up. She'd finished her coffee and was waiting when I returned. I looked around.

"What are you looking for?" she asked. "By the way, nice outfit. The jeans were better."

"Car keys," I replied.

"You don't need them. I'm driving."

Kimber had a Mini Cooper. It was surprisingly spacious inside once I moved the seat back. As the seatbelt clicked, Kimber took off with a squeal of rubber throwing me back in the seat.

"I'm taking you downtown. There's an art gallery off Hazelton Lanes with an exhibit of a painter I want to see."

She tore down the wealthy residential road and came to a sharp stop. The tires burned rubber when she made a right turn.

"This'll be fun," she announced with a smile. "With you being with me I won't be hit on."

Gripping the door handle as she took a corner very fast, I asked, "Where did you learn to drive? Italy?"

"How did you know?" she asked.

"Watch the road," I suggested, nodding ahead.

Kimber laughed. "Relax. I know what I'm doing."

It took me fifteen minutes to realize she wasn't a maniac. Kimber obeyed all the rules of the road. She just drove aggressively, competently, full of energy, her car extremely zippy. Understanding it, I relaxed and enjoyed the drive down the winding Bayview extension.

"Are you hit on a lot?" I asked.

"All the time. It was fun for the first week and a pain in the butt ever since." She glanced across at me and smiled broadly. "Now I'll have some arm candy with me." Then she laughed. "Don't look so uncomfortable!"

"I'm not arm candy material."

"Yes you are! Did you know I had a crush on you when I was fourteen?"

Twenty minutes later, we walked into a small lane lined with old trees and renovated shops. Kimber slipped her arm through mine and steered me.

"Here we are."

The gallery was small and sparse, with paintings hanging on walls and dividers. There were a lot of people milling around, most holding glasses of wine, talking quietly, some actually looking at the art on the walls.

Kimber led me to one wall. "I met this artist last year. He's different. What do you think?"

I studied the abstract painting. It was a serene landscape of northern Ontario. A lake with water grasses in the foreground, ducks passing, the water rippling. What made it unusual was the artist had painted on brushed stainless steel using the steel as the water and, while it could have been tacky, it was remarkably beautiful and equally fascinating. It drew your eyes.

"Unusual," I commented, as we moved onto the next.

"It elicits a strange response, doesn't it? It's like, you think it's chintzy yet the more you study it the more beautiful it is, the more depth it has. The detail is incredible."

We wandered along from painting to painting, discussing each, when Kimber muttered, "Oh-oh."

"What?"

She nodded towards a young man heading our way, a plastered smile on his too perfect face, his hair coifed to look mussed, his black pants too tight, his shoes black leather with pointy tips.

"Kimber! I never expected to run into you in Toronto!"

Kimber's voice was dry. "Hello, Keith."

He reached out and grabbed her hand. I noticed he fondled it rather than shook it, then drew her forward, kissing each of her cheeks.

"What brings you to Toronto?" he asked, still holding onto her hand and ignoring me.

"I'm Canadian, Keith."

"Really? I didn't know. Don't you just adore the artist's work?"

"This is Jim," Kimber said, tugging her hand away.

Keith glanced at me, then ignored me. "I heard a rumor you're doing Givenchy's show this fall. I'm booked for Calvin Klein in New York. They absolutely had to have me. Oh! Look! Is that Laura Fielder?"

He left.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"Keith's an also-ran. He gets secondary gigs. He's a pompous ass."

We continued our tour. "Are there a lot like him in the industry?"

"Far too many. Pretty boys with empty heads. Look at this painting. He's captured the fall colours so . . ."

"Kimber McBride!" a voice from behind exclaimed.

We both turned. The guy was ordinary; jeans, nice shirt, with wire-framed glasses, a notebook in one hand.

He extended his hand. "Phillip Gross. Toronto Sun."

She shook his hand.

"Are you in Toronto for a shoot? Which magazine?" He eyed me, smiled, and extended his hand. "Hi, Phillip Gross."

"I got that."

"And you are?" he asked, pulling out a pen.

Kimber jumped in, her tone of voice suddenly ice cold. "I don't talk about boyfriends to the media. I'm in Toronto on vacation. So kindly give us our privacy."

Before he could respond, Kimber hooked her arm through mine and steered me out of the gallery.

"Boyfriend?" I asked with amusement. "That seems like a stretch."

"Are you kidding? Having an older lover is in fashion! This way," she said, heading through a small walkway. "We'll hit Bloor Street and I'll give you a tour of high fashion."

The next two hours were somewhat confusing to me. Kimber led me into Chanel explaining about their spring collection, was immediately recognized by the three young sales women, and they gushed over her, chatting excitedly and treating her like she was a rock star. Kimber introduced me. They gave me strange looks.

It happened again in Givenchy. Then she was fawned over at a Lancôme makeup boutique and expertly discussed foundation and blush and whether the eyeliners were silky enough. And in Hermès, there were posters of her wearing their scarves and showing their handbags. She showed me a handbag priced at almost a hundred thousand dollars! For a handbag?

Throughout the couple of hours, she educated me on a world I'd never been exposed to, and doubted I wanted to. Yet, I found myself smiling, laughing with her, and joking. She was a force of nature; confident, funny, elegant, and assured.

Another harrowing car race and we were eating at a small café down at the Beaches.

Over roasted red pepper, sumptuous goat cheese, spicy arugula, and honey maple ham grilled sandwiches, we chatted, at ease.

As I finished the last bite, I said, "Well, I'm done for the day."

Kimber smiled. "No you're not. We have to work this food off with a walk along the beach."

"Do you ever get tired?" I asked. "Or do you always live at this frenetic pace?"

"I can couch potato with the best of them. You needed a distraction and it worked."

Shocked, I realized she was right. I'd had fun. I hadn't forced a smile once. And even more amazing, the specter of Addison had softened, still there but muted. I was deeply impressed with Kimber.

Kimber insisted we take our shoes off as we walked in the sand along Lake Ontario. The sand was warm from the spring sun, and the way it yielded to each step was rather soothing.

Sometimes Kimber hooked her arm though mine, sometimes walked beside me, and occasionally when making a point, walked backwards in front of me, always a vibrant presence.

It felt like miles before we headed back.

"Don't get any ideas, Jim," she said. "We're not done yet."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope. I'm making you dinner tonight. I want to show you my condo."

"Why?"

She leaned against me. "Because."

"Well, that clarifies it."

Kimber laughed lightly. "Because I'm having more fun than I've had in years. Because you're you. Because you're not trying to impress me or be someone you aren't, or trying to get an introduction to some fashion house. Because I'm remembering what it was like to have a crush on you and it feels good."

"I'm not . . ."

She interrupted. "Don't say a word. This is about me, not you. Like it or not, you're along for the ride."

We strolled back toward her car. Eighteen or not, I liked her a lot. She was a breath of fresh air in my stifled life.

"I think I like it."

"Good," she replied.

The ride back to Don Mills was frenetic. Kimber used every inch of the road, took advantage of every space between commuters, and added colour commentary to the ineptitude of Toronto drivers: "Idiot!" and "Look at that!" and "C'mon Grandma, move it!" It was easy to believe she'd learned to drive in Italy. Her driving also revealed something of her personality. She didn't mosey along. Kimber was driven, assertive, and confident in her abilities. She was decisive and didn't look back. They were fascinating traits.




KIMBER LEANED ON THE balcony railing, glass of wine in one hand. Below her, Don Mills shops had closed. A couple of cafés were open. Several restaurants were still going a brisk business. Valets were parking and fetching cars. Despite the hour and darkness, people still strolled; some couples, some groups of louder friends, the occasional individual, the echo of a laugh.

All in all, she was very satisfied with her day. Jim had gamely gone along with her. He'd shown no boredom or restlessness. In fact, he'd expressed interest in almost everything, even makeup!

She smiled to herself. Jim was dryly funny, getting her sense of humor and building on it. But best of all, without seeming to, he'd lavished attention on her. He'd listened to her and made her feel unique and special. He's seriously dangerous, she decided, with a tickle of excitement in her belly.

He'd thanked her for the day and the meal, promised to actually call her, and hadn't tried to take advantage of her, simply smiling that sexy way, telling her he'd had a wonderful time, and left.

Seriously dangerous!

She caught herself humming while she cleaned the dinner dishes away.


Chapter Three

When the front door opened, Kimber flashed him a smile. "You didn't call."

Jim looked great in worn faded jeans and nothing else, his sandy hair slightly mussed. She particularly liked the downy line of hair running from his navel into the waist of his jeans.

"It's not even eight o'clock!" he pointed out, scratching his hair, and opening the door wider. "I haven't had coffee."

He turned and walked away, leaving the front door open. She entered, smiling with amusement.

"Would you have?"

"Have what?" he asked without turning around.

She followed him into the kitchen. "Called me."

"I'll tell you after I've had some coffee." Without asking, he poured two mugs, the intense aroma filling the room.

Bypassing the kitchen table, she sat on a stool at the island counter. Jim slid a mug across to her, grabbed his own, leaned back against the sink and inhaled the aroma before sipping.

His light grey eyes finally focused on her. "How can you have so much energy after yesterday's safari?"

"Safari, huh? Did you notice I didn't buy anything? It wasn't a safari. It was a scouting trip."

He chuckled and scratched his hair again.

Kimber really enjoyed him. She couldn't remember being so relaxed with anyone. In jest, she asked, "Where are you taking me today?"

"That again?"

She laughed. "Yes. That again! Yesterday was my day. Today it's your turn."

The corners of his eyes crinkled. "To the McEwans food store in Don Mills, the gym, and home to relax."

"I can handle it. Sounds like fun. Or. We could laze around and order in."

He laughed and shook his head. "I need to shower and brush my teeth."

"Go ahead. I'll be fine on my own."

I FOUND MYSELF SMILING as I brushed my teeth; a strange situation. In the shower, scrubbing my body, I marveled at how things could change unexpectedly. Kimber had walked into my life and rocked the foundations through force of personality alone. She'd shaken me out of my pity zone and given me a glimpse of what happy felt like.

Why me? Why was she focused on me? A crush four-plus years ago when she was a child didn't explain it. Was it sympathy? Or was she lonely?

I dressed in shorts and an old but favored olive green Tee, and headed back to the kitchen for more coffee. She wasn't there. Her large yellow leather handbag hung from the back of a chair.

Pouring another mug of coffee, I called out, "Kimber?"

Slightly muffled, her voice floated back to me. "What the hell happened here?"

"Where?"

"Here."

Grinning, I followed her voice down the hall. My grin faded. Kimber was standing in the doorway to the study, the door open. My good mood evaporated like a puff of smoke.

She glanced at me, questions in her eyes. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Nothing? This room's a disaster zone."

I glanced in before slowly closing the door. The room was as I'd left it four years ago. Furniture was splintered and broken, file cabinets were crushed, chairs in pieces, and the paneled walls were partially torn down. By the front window, the sledge hammer I'd used rested against the wall.

Kimber's hand touched my forearm. "What happened?" she asked in a softer voice.

"Nothing. I lost my temper."

I gave her credit for not probing. Then reconsidered it when I found myself needing to explain. Her not probing trick was a powerful weapon. I lasted through another mug of coffee before feeling the urge to explain.

"Addison was constantly after me to change the study. She knew I didn't like the old oversized dark leather chairs and paneled walls. I kept putting it off. I procrastinated for no good reason."

A momentary flash of me in that room passed through my mind; the absolute fury that drove me, the rage, the utter agony, destroying anything, everything; smashing my failures.

"After she . . . passed away - it must have been a couple of days - I went into the study and it seemed to represent everything I'd done wrong. I hadn't recognized her fatigue for what it was or her flu. Perhaps if I had . . . If I'd . . ."

I couldn't say it.

"Addison wanted to redecorate the study so I'd like it. She wanted to do it for me. Had she, it would have been like having a small part of her, a place to be with her. She never had time to give me that gift, but she would have if I'd listened to her. Knowing it, seeing the room after she'd gone, my failure hurt so much I lost my temper and demolished it."

Kimber was quiet for a while. "And the door's been closed ever since? I get it."

Her eyes searched mine. "What about her bedroom? You have that, don't you?"

I nodded.

Kimber's eyes bore into me. "You've never gone into her bedroom since she passed?"

"Actually, I have. I put the suitcase from her hospital stay back in her room."

"And since?"

My silence answered her.

Kimber surprised me. In a brisk tone, sitting up, she said, "Let's go and clear your study out. I'll help. It's time for you heal that wound. I'll even help you buy new furniture."

She stood and headed out. I got up and followed her. "I'm not clearing her bedroom out," I warned her.

"Nor should you. The study is a bad memory. Her room is a good memory. Entirely different. C'mon."

We paused work for bologna and yellow mustard sandwiches at lunch.

By three, I was exhausted, hot, dirty and, strangely, feeling better. Broken furniture was piled at the end of the drive. The study was empty, swept and clean. Kimber was covered in dust. She looked satisfied and very cute, her emerald eyes sparkling and hair falling loose from where she'd pinned it up.

"Done!" she announced, brushing her hands. "Bet you feel better now."

"If you mean tired, thirsty, and aching, then yes, I feel better."

She laughed. "We need to clean up. I'll head home for a shower."

Without thinking, I said, "There are four and a half bathrooms here. Use one of them."

Kimber's eyes sparkled. Her smile broadened. "I need to change. We can't go out dressed like this."

"Go out?"

"We're celebrating. I'll be back in an hour."

"No. I'll pick you up. Today's my day, remember?"

With a bright laugh, she headed inside to fetch her handbag, saying, "Give me two hours."

True to my word, I waited two hours later at her condo. She emerged. In cream slacks and a teal silk blouse, her wavy mahogany hair falling naturally on one side, she looked damned elegant. Her heeled, open-toed shoes made her appear ever more svelte.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, slipping into the passenger seat.

"You look great," I observed.

She studied my simple pants and button-down shirt. "You're looking pretty great, too. Where are you taking me?"

"North 44. Drinks and dinner."

"Nice. Hold on. I've got to get something."

She was gone before I could ask. Five minutes later, she returned.

"What did you forget?" I asked, driving away.

"My fake I.D. If we're going to drink I'll need it. By the way, I'm twenty-two tonight."

Her comment reminded me she was still in her teens. She acted so mature, it was easy to forget.

As it turned out, no one asked for her I.D. We had several cocktails, a stunning dinner with wine, and there wasn't a pause in the conversation. It was late when I dropped her off.




Kimber slipped her arm through mine as we meandered through the St. Lawrence Market, studying the selection of meats, incredible seafood, and tantalizing selection of cheeses from around the world. The aroma of fresh baked bread battled with the scent of Canadian peameal bacon sandwiches.

She looked very young in yoga pants and an oversized top that slipped off one shoulder, and still startlingly beautiful.

For two weeks, at some point, we'd spent every day together, occasionally connecting for coffee, often venturing out to explore the city, and once attending some society do for the "in" crowd.

As we strolled, I asked, "Why are you spending so much time with me? I'm not complaining," I added hastily.

She leaned against me, laughed softly. "We're not spending time together. We're dating."

"Dating?"

"Yes. Dating. And one of these days you're going to kiss me."

I glanced at her. Her emerald eyes twinkled. She smiled; so unbelievably beautiful. And in the middle of the market, with people walking around us, I stopped and drew her close, slipping my arms around her narrow waist. With heels, she was only three inches shorter than me. Kimber's eyes were liquid and endlessly deep.

I kissed her softly. The impact was huge.

Walking again, looking for dinner inspiration, Kimber commented, "You give new meaning to the word slow."

I chuckled. Stupid me. It hadn't crossed my mind we were in a relationship. I'd been too focused on simply feeling better. I hadn't even held her hand!

I took her hand. Kimber turned hers and our fingers intertwined. Like an adolescent, to me it held greater significance than just holding her hand. I gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled when she returned it.

We decided on blackened, seared Ahi tuna steaks with a fresh lemon linguini for dinner. She insisted on cooking, which was a smart choice given my ongoing culinary challenges. I could nail fried eggs, but seared fish?

Back at her condo, I wandered around, sipping a crisp Australian Chardonnay while she cooked. Her condo was small: one bedroom, a bathroom, closets - one with a laundry washer and dryer combo, an open living room/kitchen with a dining table for two, and a balcony. Her taste was exquisite. She'd chosen subtle neutral colours for the furniture and added bright spots of colour with throw pillows, colourful accessories, and fascinating paintings on the walls. An arrangement of exotic blooms in a simple glass vase added elegance.

I was out on the balcony when she called, "Dinner's ready."

She'd set the small table, plates laid, and added a small side salad of Boston lettuce, arugula, and radicchio.

Dinner was delectable. Conversation flowed from serious to silly. Kimber was a remarkable young lady. Her interests were far ranging, her knowledge impressive, and she was so confident it was hard to believe she was so young.

Outside, dusk arrived. After dinner, we took the last of the wine to the balcony and enjoyed the view.

There was electricity between us, an almost physical attraction. Small actions were full of meaning; the way she touched my arm when making a point, the way she moved close to me, her hip touching my side.

Turning toward her, leaning on the balcony railing, I studied her face. She had the greenest, most intense eyes I'd ever seen, mesmerizing and gorgeous. A small smile curled the corners of her mouth, a smile that told she could see right through me. There was a pregnant moment, the cusp of something either wonderful or supremely stupid.

And I gave in to the desire I felt and kissed her. Her lips were warm, soft, and tasted of wine. Her eyes winked out, her head tilting just so, and she moved into me pressing herself against me. Lips moved. A fleeting touch of her tongue on my lips seemed to cause dizziness, and then she opened her mouth to me and the kiss became passionate, intimate, fiercely arousing.

My heart was thumping when the kiss ended. Kimber's eyes twinkled. She smiled. Desire I hadn't felt in years welled inside.

"Perhaps I should go," I suggested.

"Perhaps you should stay," she countered, and kissed me again.

The kiss was fantastic, passionate, her tongue caressing mine, and extraordinarily arousing.

Maybe she saw the hesitation in my eyes. Her look grew intense and she said, "I'm an adult, Jim. I choose what I want and, right now, I choose you."

She didn't wait for my answer, kissing me again with more intensity - a wonderful kiss. When it was over, her eyes twinkled with amusement. She said, "You've been on my bucket list for a while."

With a chuckle, I observed, "That's all I am? A bucket list item? My ego is bruised. How many items are on this list?"

Her expression turned to coyness in the blink of an eye. "One, and it's been on my bucket list for a long time."

A shiver of excitement hit me. I smiled at her. "In that case, how can I say no?"

Kimber laughed. "You never had that option. It might have taken me four years, but I'm having you. You're my dessert."

Without waiting, she took my hand and led me inside, putting her half-full glass of wine on the table. I put mine down. This slender, gorgeous girl led me into her bedroom. She stopped and turned, smiling, her excitement plain to see, then pressed her body against me.

"It's been a long time. I might not . . . be very good," I warned her.

She laughed softly. "Then we'll try again and again until you get it right."

Her fingers unbuttoned my shirt. She tugged the tails out of my jeans, spread the shirt open, and traced the line of body hair below my navel.

"You have no idea how sexy this line of hair is," she said. "It's as soft as I imagined."

Her fingers moved lower, touching the waist of my jeans. She unbuttoned the waist. My pulse jumped. An erection formed. I pulled the hem of her T-shirt up. Kimber raised her arms. I tugged it off.

While she pushed the shirt off my shoulders, I admired her bust. Held in a very lacy lavender bra, her dark pink nipples and creamy skin showed through. Kimber's breasts were on the small side, yet perfectly formed. They suited her slender body.

Reverently, I cupped her breasts, the lace delicate, her breasts perfect handfuls, soft yet firm.

Kimber was watching me. I smiled. "Perfect. No wonder you're a model." Inside my jeans, my erection strained.

She smiled. "I'm not a model because of my boobs."

"You could be. You should be."

She laughed, letting me fondle her. Then I felt her hand lower the zip of my jeans. She eased her hand inside the waist of my boxers and down, still smiling at me, her eyes bright.

She touched me, then explored deeper and the play of expressions across her face was funny. Her eyes laughed at the first touch. They widened as she fished deeper. And as she slowly closed her hand around my erection, her smile faded and she exhaled, "Gaaawd."

"What?" I asked, reaching behind her to open her bra.

She blushed then laughed. "You're big!"

I didn't think I was that large - not having compared myself to others. Never the less, I had some fun. "Is that a problem?"

"Hell no!" Her blush intensified and she laughed again before kissing me hard.

Her hand squeezed me sending waves of excitement through me. I searched for the bra clasp and couldn't find it, much to my dismay.

Kimber laughed into my mouth, ended the kiss, her hand still down my boxers holding my erection, and said, "It opens in the front."

With a grin, I apologized. "I don't have much experience with bras."

She finally let me go and withdrew her hand, now pushing the waist of my jeans down. "I don't believe you," she said.

"I have just over four years of memories and I've only been in this situation once."

That surprised her. "Seriously? Only once?"

Then she became distracted when my jeans fell to my feet. My erection popped up tenting the boxers. She stepped back and slowly lowered them, exposing me.

For a moment there was silence, my cock jutting up.

Kimber's eyes sought out mine. She smiled. "I have only one word," she said, her smile broadening into an amused grin. "Yum!"

She made me laugh. She laughed, too. And as she did, she pushed her yoga pants down while kicking off her shoes, revealing a matching set of lacy panties. I toed off my shoes and kicked off the jeans and boxers, then moved to her, wrapping my arms around her and edging her back. We tumbled onto her bed and kissed, passion rising, tongues caressing, sighs sounding, bodies writhing against each other.

This time, I found the clasp of her bra and opened it. Brushing it aside, I cupped her breast. To me, it was perfect; a sensual mound rising from her chest, soft, firm, supple, her nipple felt against my palm. I caressed it, kissing her, my excitement mounting to dangerous levels.

The kiss ended when Kimber reached down and held my erection. I studied her breasts. They really were spectacular. Her dark pink areolae were slightly conical, perfect peaks topping her breasts. But her nipples! They were stunning! They stood proud and prominent, sexy as hell. I couldn't resist. Moving down slightly, I took one between my lips and sucked.

Kimber inhaled sharply.

Slightly salty, remarkably firm, her nipple was edible. I ran my tongue over it, then sucked gently, opened my mouth slightly, and sucked her areola. Fantastic!

Moving up, I kissed her and smiled. "You have incredible breasts. I love your nipples."

She combed her fingers through my hair. "They're a pain. I have to wear Band-Aids over them when I model, otherwise they show through."

"Well, I love them," I assured her.

With a twinkle of pleasure in her eyes, she kissed me. It was a soft kiss. She flirted with her tongue, then bit my lower lip rather hard murmuring, "Mmmm."

No slouch myself, I traced the plane of her flat stomach, felt her navel, a slight feminine swell below, and cupped her panties, feeling the shape of her pussy. It was exciting. The first touch. Her mons rising, tapering, her vulva full between her legs.

Kimber's tongue teased my lips. But when I traced her cleft, her tongue probed into my mouth and her hand squeezed my erection. Desire inflamed me. I eased my fingertips inside her panties and down.

Our kiss broke with my sharp inhalation. Kimber's pussy was bare, hairless, smooth as a baby's bottom, and I could just detect her clitoris where it peeked out from her cleft.

I had to see!

Easing away from her, I rose to my knees, my cock jutting up. I peeled her panties down. Kimber lifted her legs. Tossing the panties away, I held my breath at the sight.

Completely hairless. Perfectly plump. Her labia cradled her clit, inner lips hidden, and below, her buttocks swelled where they pressed to the bed.

She reached for me, pulling my wrist, and I settled half on, half off her slender body. My cock ached. I felt the cooling sensation of precum leaking.

"Perhaps we should slow down," I suggested, fearful I might cum before anything started. "Actually, we should stop. I don't have protection."

"Don't worry. I'm safe."

"Thank God!"

Kimber let out a quiet laugh. She smiled coyly, and pushed me onto my back. Rolling onto her side, she played with the sparse hair on my chest.

"You're so incredibly sexy," she said. "I'd like to own you. My personal toy."

Her hand drifted to my stomach.

I eased my hand under her neck and caressed her naked back. "Is that what you girls want? A boy toy?"

She grinned. "It's every girl's dream. Something to take advantage of and get pleasure whenever the urge strikes."

"Something?" I asked. "Now I'm an object?"

She laughed lightly. "It's how we're seen as models. So yes, my object." Her hand teased the line of hair below my navel working down slowly, my erection straining up off my stomach.

I caressed her back lower, touching her sexy ass.

"This line of hair turns me on like crazy," she said softly. "It's such a tease to see it. I can't help but think about where it leads. To this," she said, her hand gently wrapping around my cock.

She leaned in and kissed me, soft and sensual and exciting. She kissed my jaw, then my earlobe, and whispered, "I'm so turned on right now. Let's leave the foreplay to next time."

As she whispered, she hooked her leg over me. Then she moved on top of me, her eyes intense, a small smile.

Staring into my eyes, she reached down between us, took my erection, lifted her hips, and slipped my tip back through her cleft, positioning me.

Kimber was damp, slippery, and the sensation was incredible. A tight ring worked over my head. Suddenly, the crown was in. And as Kimber slowly worked me deeper, that tight ring of her entrance edged down my shaft.

Kimber sighed quietly when she took all of me. She lowered her body onto me, her face nestled to my neck. I caressed her bare back, her narrow hips, and the sensual swell of her ass. We didn't move.

"God, you feel good," she murmured.

My erection flexed inside her, and I tamped down the rush of excitement that threatened to take over. "You, too," I murmured.

She propped herself up, her elbows on my chest, and smiled. "A minute ago I was ready to screw your brains out. But this, this feels incredible. I think I'll take my time."

Her pussy clenched me gently.

"Don't," I warned.

"Don't do this?" she asked, clenching again.

Jesus it felt good! "Yeah. That."

She giggled. I felt it in her pussy and groaned.

Kimber lay down on me again, her face back at my neck. She inhaled. "You smell delicious."

"Thanks. I try."

She laughed softly. "Let's sleep like this."

"You're kidding, right?" I asked with surprise.

"No," she murmured.

"Kill me now."

She let out a laugh, her pussy so tight, then slowly, so very slowly, curled her hips, pulling her pussy up, my shaft oozing out, the ring of her entrance vise-like tight, then reversed and just as slowly took me in. It was exquisite.

I held her buttocks and she moved again, repeating the sensual caress, my cock swelling. For several minutes she fucked me the same way, teasingly slowly, a beautiful experience. No words were spoken, both of us concentrating on the pure pleasure of it. But communication was busy: her soft sighs of enjoyment, my erection swelling, my moans of pleasure, her kisses on my neck, my hands caressing her ass.

Kimber's perfume filled my nose, a light floral scent with a hint of spice. Her pussy caressed my erection with slow strokes. I explored the contours of her sexy buttocks, the sensual valley between. And gradually she moved faster, fucking me with a curl of her hips.

"God this feels good," she murmured, humping me.

The urge was too great. I joined her, stroking up into her and Kimber responded, fucking me harder, my erection slipping out, gliding in. Murmurs turned to heavier breathing and as we fucked each other I started worrying I'd cum too soon. My groin was tight, my cock ached, the promise of ecstasy awakening and gaining strength.

And then Kimber shuddered. She inhaled sharply. Her pussy clamped down on me and I lost it. Cum pulsed up and exploded into her. Kimber cried out softly and I came again, this time harder, my cock straining, a painful explosion, sweet bliss. Kimber reacted, fucking me faster, and I exploded with every stroke, cum erupting, cumming hard. My orgasm peaked with a final, desperate thrust, semen spurting, and as Kimber rode out her climax, fucking me, my spurts weakened and stopped.

I could feel her heart beating through my hand on her back. Kimber was limp. Silence was loud. All I felt was peace and pleasure. Neither of us moved. My erection softened.

Eventually, Kimber slipped off me and to my side. Her emerald eyes were strangely intense when she looked at me.

"I knew it," she said.

"Knew what?"

"You're the most dangerous guy I've ever met."

"Dangerous?" I asked.

"Yeah."

She settled her head into the crook of my shoulder, her arm over me. Comfortable silence ensued.

Eventually, she rolled away, saying, "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Should I leave?"

She walked out, a naked goddess, her ass simply exquisite.

"Don't you dare," she said without looking back.

When she returned, I admired her hairless pussy and the tapered shape of her thighs. Her breasts rode high, those nipples delectable. With no self consciousness she lifted the sheet and slipped into bed, turned to switch the bedside lamp off and, in the darkness, she returned to my side, cuddling, her head back in the crook of my shoulder.

I didn't feel the need to talk. For some reason, I was completely at ease, comfortable, relaxed.

I thought she was asleep when she spoke.

"Don't get freaked out, but I think I'm in love with you," she whispered.


Chapter Four

KIMBER WOKE UP WITH her bladder calling. Dawn was just breaking. She eased herself out of bed and hit the bathroom. Peeing, she thought about last night, about Jim.

He seemed so completely at ease with himself. She'd never met a guy like him. He wasn't trying to impress her, didn't try to dominate in bed to prove his masculinity, or even use crude language like one of her lovers had. And my God, his smell! She'd never noticed the scent of the three lovers she'd had and couldn't forget Jim's.

Even the sex had caught her off guard. He'd turned her on with a kiss! A kiss! And his erection! Long and thick, stretching her, filling her perfectly. Gaaaawd!

Kimber laughed quietly. She'd planned his seduction and anticipated some vigorous sex. She hadn't planned on the utter pleasure, or the most satisfying climax she'd ever had. She thought she knew her orgasms; short and intense or a soft wash of pleasure. Last night was new to her. Her climax started with gentle waves of pleasure and didn't stop. Each successive wave grew in intensity, one after the other, each bringing sweet ecstasy in the longest, most satisfying orgasm she'd ever had, her whole body basking in pleasure. And she hadn't foreseen how incredible it was to cuddle after sex, to fall asleep in his arms, surrounded by his scent. Before Jim, she couldn't wait for the guy to get out of her bed after sex.

She wiped herself, washed her hands, ran her fingers through her mane of disheveled hair, brushed her teeth, and smiled to herself in the mirror. She was smitten, done for, her goose cooked. She didn't have a crush. She was in love!

Kimber paused at the bedroom door and studied Jim. His sandy hair was a mess. One foot was poking out on the side. His face was relaxed, so damned handsome in a raw, pure guy way, nothing artificial about him. In the four years since she'd last seen him, he'd hardly changed despite the tragedy. Maybe his pale grey eyes were softer, more melancholic.

She debated; get back in bed with him or make coffee and breakfast. Morning sex would be fun. But, making her lover breakfast struck a chord in her.

She tiptoed around, picked out fresh panties, sweatpants, and a tank top. Then she closed the door silently.

Once dressed, she set about making breakfast, suddenly ravenous. Coffee brewed on the counter. She sliced and diced fresh fruit, put out bowls for granola cereal and, as she poured orange juice, she heard the water running in the bathroom.

Jim emerged just as she was pouring coffee into mugs. He wore his jeans, nothing else, his sandy hair still a bit mussed. His grey eyes twinkled, the corners crinkling before he smiled at her. God help me!

Coffee overflowed onto the counter making her jump. "Shit! Don't do that!"

"Morning. Do what?" He took a mug and inhaled the aroma.

She wiped the spilled coffee and laughed at herself. "Come out looking all sexy and stuff."

He laughed and moved close, kissing her. She felt it to her toes. She also smelled mint on his breath.

"Did you use my toothbrush?"

"No. My finger. What's for breakfast. I'm hungry for some reason."

He sat at the small dining table and studied her. "Did you mean it? What you said last night?"

Kimber joined him at the table and poured granola into her bowl. "About being in love with you? Yes."

Jim smiled and took a bite of fresh pineapple. "This is good. So's the coffee."

She waited.

He ate slowly, his eyes crinkled with amusement.

"Well?" she finally asked.

"Well what?"

Somewhat annoyed, she said, "When a girl tells you she loves you, silence isn't an answer!"

"You're right. My bad." He grinned and poured granola.

Kimber glared at him. Maybe she was entirely wrong about him.

He noticed and laughed. "Are you always this feisty in the morning?"

"Feisty?" she exclaimed.

He reached out and took her hand. "I'm just having fun. I feel the same way. Strangely enough, I love you too."

"Strangely? What's strange about it? Are you always this infuriating in the morning?"

He smiled. "Strange, in that I never thought I'd find love again."

"Okay. That's better," she conceded. Then warmth flushed through her. "We're in love! Amazing! Let's get a dog!"

Jim burst out laughing.




Kimber unlocked the front door and entered his house, sighing at the cool air-conditioned air. She called out, "Jim?"

"In the study," he yelled.

She headed down the hall. For six weeks she'd been happier than she could ever remember. Jim was a romantic at heart, thoughtful and considerate and game for any of her plans, even when he was uncomfortable, like the soirée for the fashion industry awards last week. He was the most amazing lover, too. He brought joy to sex. She couldn't tire him out - not that she wanted to - and he was free and easy, inventive, and had so much fun she'd burst into laughter in the middle of sex.

She entered the study. Packing boxes were littered around. New office furniture was disorganized.

"Hi," she said, giving him a quick kiss. "Let me help."

"What's new?" he asked as they moved furniture.

"The agency called. I've been asked to do a summer charity fashion show and wondered if you'd like to join me."

"Sure. When? Where?"

"The week after next. It's in Rome."

He stopped. "Rome?"

"Yeah. Rome, as in Italy."

"I don't think I have a valid passport."

"We'll get one. It'll be fun. Please?"

He smiled. "Okay. I've never been to Rome."

"You'll love the coffee," Kimber jested. "Move the chair over there."

He did. "What about the other thing?" he asked.

Kimber paused. He'd asked her to move in with him a couple of weeks ago. Despite being thrilled, she'd thought they were rushing. However, Jim had insisted it never paid to waste time. Who knew what could happen? And she'd understood. It was Addison influencing him.

"I signed the sublease. The couple will move in next week," she told him.

"Great. A busy two weeks. I cleared out drawers and closets for you in the bedroom."

By the time they'd finished, she was hot and sweaty. They both admired their effort. The room was painted in the palest green. Furniture was elegant with simple, clean lines - sort of Scandinavian. A desk, couch, coffee table and armchair didn't crowd the room and file cabinets had been hidden in a discreet closet.

Jim had talked about Addison's ideas when they went shopping for new furniture and, oddly enough, Addison's tastes matched her own.

"I like it," she said.

"Mmmm-hmmm. Very nice."

"Let's swim," she suggested.

"We should go pack your stuff," he countered.

"It can wait."

Kimber kissed his cheek and grinned. "Have you ever skinny-dipped?"

A cloud flitted through his eyes before he smiled. "Why? Are you planning on taking advantage of me?"

She laughed. "Nope. I was hoping you'd take advantage of me!"

"I can handle that," he dead-panned.

"We'll see. C'mon."

Kimber led the way. As she walked down the hall, she kicked her sandals off. At the same time, she pulled her top up over her head and dropped it on the couch. Heading to the double glass doors, she unbuttoned her shorts and eased them down.

From behind her, Jim gasped, "Lord have mercy!"

Why did thong undies excite guys? she wondered. And why did his obvious appreciation turn her on? She felt it; her heart beating faster, her body reacting, a rush of heat below, her nipples tingling in anticipation. How did he do it?

She unpinned her hair and shook it out then, reaching behind her, she unhooked her bra and shrugged it off. Feeling very, very sexy, she paused on the flagstone patio and peeled her thong down, bending at the waist.

"Holy Mother of God!"

She giggled, thrilled, then dove into the water, immediately cool, crystal clear water caressing her naked body. As she surfaced, a huge splash hit, water almost making her choke.

Jim surfaced, his sexy eyes laughing. "Bravo! From zero to horny in seconds! I'm lost in admiration!"

Kimber laughed and drifted into him, his arms welcoming her. He wasn't kidding! His erection poked her stomach then slid to the side when she pressed herself against him.

A rush of love hit her hard. She adored him. She loved everything about him. She kissed him lightly and said, "It's only fair that I warn you."

"Warn me about what? That you're the sexiest girl alive? I already know that."

"No. That . . ."

He interrupted her. "I'm the luckiest guy alive? I already know that."

"Shut up and let me finish!"

He grinned and waited. Dear God, he was so freakin' handsome! she thought.

"When I move in, that's it. I'm here to stay, Jim. You're it. No matter what happens, you're it."

For just a moment his smile faded. Then it returned along with the twinkle. "Is that your way of saying you love me?"

"No. I've already told you that. It's my way of saying this - what we have - is for life, for better or worse, in sickness and health."

This time his smile vanished. "Jesus, Kimber. Are you asking me to marry you?"

She smiled. "No. That's your job. And even if you asked, I'd say no."

"Okay. Now I'm confused. You're saying you're committed to this . . . relationship but you won't marry me? Why not?"

"You're not ready." She kissed him and flicked her tongue along his lips, tilted her head, and smooched him. Delicious!

He reached down and grabbed her naked buttocks. She felt his erection grow again and rubbed her hip against it, mentally laughing when he growled into the kiss.

Ending it, she fished down and held his cock, loving how thick and hard he was, her body already alive with the prospect of being filled, stretched, of being fucked.

Stroking it slowly, bringing her legs up to wrap around his waist, she said, "What I'd really like is for you to fuck my brains out."

"Fuck me," he groaned.

"No, fuck me!" Kimber countered with a laugh, guiding him, his tip tickling her clit, back further, spreading her cleft.

Just as she positioned him, he thrust. She gasped. A twinge of pain hit her when he penetrated her, then pleasure blossomed, his cock filling her, stretching her, his hands gripping her ass. He withdrew and thrust into her again like a raging bull, his groin slapping against her clit, more pleasure blossoming.

Water sloshed between them. She hung on for dear life, Jim fucking her so hard, long, firm strokes.

"Like this?" he asked, a smile playing across his face.

"Gaaawd yes!" she gasped.

Pleasure swamped her, her body responding to the pummeling, so good. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, her cheek on his shoulder and he fucked her hard.

The first twinge of her climax tickled her; that yearning, the spark, the teasing promise of pure ecstasy, her body tensing for the onslaught.

Suddenly she was empty. Jim manhandled her, turning her around, and from behind, he thrust into her again. Holding her breast, his arm around her waist, he fucked her from behind, hard, long thrusts, full, empty, full, dizziness making her head spin. She arched her ass back getting him deeper.

His arm pulled her tight. His other hand dropped. And when he teased her clit, fucking her faster, she exploded. Her climax erupted like fireworks, stars bursting, her body jerking. She heard her cry of pleasure and drowned in the utter bliss of a hard orgasm.

Through the haze of her climax, she heard Jim growl, "Fuck me!"

With short hard strokes, he came, thrusting, spurting, fucking her, her body jerking and she was helpless, lost in her own heaven. Her climax peaked. Jim's thrusts slowed. The storm passed leaving silence, birds chirping, her body shaking, his arms wrapped around her holding her tightly.

When his erection softened and fell out, she turned and held onto him. His eyes were soft, full of love. His kiss was tender, so different from the raging storm. And then he smiled, broad, handsome, his eyes alight; utterly adorable! For some crazy reason she didn't comprehend, she felt like crying.




I WAS UNCOMFORTABLE. There was chaos around me. People were yelling, some rushing with clothes racks. And everywhere I looked there were young models half naked, some being fussed over in front of mirrors, their hair styled or makeup being applied by an expert, some standing while their outfits were pinned and tucked and fussed over.

I was mildly embarrassed. Topless models were everywhere; beautiful girls with small busts, an interesting variety of nipples. Trying not to look was an impossible task.

Loud thumping music from the catwalk shook the floor.

I looked at Kimber, sitting in a chair, naked except for boy short panties. A makeup girl was applying eye shadow while Kimber applied round Band-Aids to her nipples. There wasn't an ounce of self consciousness about her. She saw me in the mirror and smiled.

"I should get out of here," I said.

"Don't. It's boring out front. Stay. Ogle the models. They love it."

I stood, awkward and ill at ease. Confusion ruled. Guys flounced around in increasing panic, all of them gay by the looks of them; tight pants, fancy haircuts, weird colour hair, yet friendly, smiling at me.

The pandemonium intensified and models started lining up behind the stage entrance, guys still fussing over last minute details that wouldn't be noticed by anyone but themselves.

The timbre of the music changed and the first model hit the catwalk.

I watched them strut in the distinctive gait of models, Kimber included, and tried to understand why she was different, because she was. She stood out amongst the other beautiful girls. Each model, when they returned, started a rapid, choreographed change of outfit any Formula 1 team would be proud of.

It was on the fourth change when I figured it out. All the other models were like mannequins; haughty attitude, blank faces, remote, machine-like; eye candy.

Kimber's entire aura changed. In the evening gown she was cool and composed and elegant. In the summer outfit she was playful, energetic, alive. Like a chameleon, she made subtle changes to her expression, her eyes, her walk, her movements, and each enhanced the outfit she wore, showcasing it, not simply modeling it.

It was now obvious why she was classed as a supermodel. She was unbelievable, better by a factor of ten. She outclassed everyone else and I experienced fierce pride, even though I had nothing to do with it.

With the show over, the charity after-party started and Kimber, still in her last outfit and despite being tired, held my arm and escorted me around, introducing me to everyone.

The funniest by far was the designer, Enrico Belinni, a thirty-something guy dressed exceptionally tastefully. He looked like a count, debonair, a man above the fray. Interestingly, unlike the rest of us with flutes of Champaign, his held sparkling water.

"Enrico," Kimber said.

He turned, smiled broadly, said, "Kimber, bella, you were magnificent!" and moved in to kiss her cheeks. Holding her hand, he added, "Tell me you'll do my fall show."

Kimber smiled. "This is Jim."

Enrico scanned me, his eyes studying me from top to bottom to top. "Fantastic. Where did you find him? He's perfect for the menswear line." To me, he said, "Tell me you haven't committed to Versace."

Kimber laughed. "He's my boyfriend, Enrico. He's not a model."

"Perché?" he exclaimed, and grabbed my hand. "You must model! Do my show! You're perfect; handsome, fit, distinguished, rugged and so genuine!"

Someone called his name. "Think about it," he urged and turned to Kimber. "Talk to him. Convince him. If he photographs as well as he looks, we can talk about an exclusive contract."

With that, he smiled, nodded and left.

"The twilight zone," I commented with a grin.

Kimber laughed. "I've never seen him gush like that. You should do it."

"In your dreams, honey."

"Mmmm. My dreams."

I chuckled, amused. "Your dreams. No one else's."

"Too late for that, Mr. Hunkalicious. Most of the girls have been drooling, green with envy. I love it. I own you. They don't."

"Own me?"

"Yup. Get used to it."

The charity party seemed to drag on. Everyone appeared to know everyone else; an incestuous group. Finally, when it was polite to leave, outside we were hit by a barrage of flashing cameras, paparazzi yelling to Kimber for a pose. She accommodated them with smiles and poses in her plain jeans and top that looked like haut couture on her.

In the taxi, she slumped down, exhausted. "Wait till you see the papers to tomorrow. You're gonna be famous . . . for fifteen minutes."

She moved close to me, smiled, and kissed me. "Thanks for coming. You make it a thousand times better."

Back in our hotel room, I asked about dinner. Kimber declined; too many hors d'oeuvres, too tired. I was hungry so I ordered room service.

The steak was delicious. The double order of shoestring fries were hot and crisp. The cheesecake was too sweet and dry. And I was hungry after the meal. Kimber, sitting at the small table with me, chatting away, explaining the intricacies of the fashion world, the vagaries of success, the cat-fighting between the girls, and the sexual harassment that was pervasive and not talked about, picked a fry from my plate and munched. She picked another, then another. When I offered her a bite of steak, she accepted.

Much to my amusement, Kimber ate half my dinner. When I offered her a bite of cheesecake, she declined, "No thanks. I'm not hungry."

I said nothing when she grabbed a fork and helped herself. "It's too dry," she observed. It didn't stop her from taking another bite.

I was utterly charmed. She was an amazing creature, a genuine chameleon, capable of being cool and elegant one minute, sweet and innocent the next, goofy and young, then a sylphic seductress, and all within one day. She enchanted me. I adored her.

"Marry me," I said impulsively.

Her emerald eyes sparkled. She smiled. "No."

"Why not?"

"You're not ready."

With that, she refused to discuss it further. I was surprised by how disappointed I was.

"Come shower with me," she suggested, stripping.

The shower was full of soapy hands washing intimate curves and swells, a sensual experience. Kimber preceded me to bed, rolled to face me, and we cuddled, kissed, and whispered soft words, my erection firming up.

She rolled to face away from me and when I cuddled her, she reached down between her legs and guided my erection. "Like this. Slow."

Reaching around her, I caressed her small breast, her firm nipple teasing my palm. Kimber undulated, rubbing my erection. I kissed her bare shoulder.

It was very slow. Moving my erection between her thighs, Kimber gripped me and humped slowly. She sighed when precum leaked making her pussy slippery, and reached down. With her fingertips and a curl of her hips, she positioned me and I experienced the incredible sensation of penetrating her, her entrance such a tight ring, squeezing me, then slipping in, slowly penetrating her.

We moved together, languid, making love slowly, every millimeter felt, sensual and exciting. There was no rush. My orgasm built. My cock strained, and I came with exquisite pulses of pleasure. Kimber undulated, caressing my spurting cock with her pussy, and I came again and again, each pulse bringing such pleasure.

When we slowed and stopped, I was sure she hadn't climaxed. Yet, peace permeated me. Love flourished. I fell asleep still inside her.


Chapter Five

Kimber collapsed into her front, panting. I followed her down, my heart racing, and settled on her back, her sexy ass pressed to my groin. Both perspiring, I slowly rolled off her with a groan.

"You're going to kill me one day."

She laughed quietly. "That's not possible."

Turning her head, she looked at me, her intense emerald eyes peeking out through mussed, rich mahogany hair. Damn she was gorgeous.

Two months ago she'd started at U of T. She had a fall fashion show scheduled for late October in Italy. She was busy.

I brushed her hair back. She smiled, so beautiful. "Marry me," I asked again, now for the fifth time.

"No."

"Then tell me why not. We're happy. We love each other."

"You're not ready."

Frustrated, I said, "Enough with the not ready, honey. Tell me why!"

She smiled softly, reached out and caressed my jaw. "When you can go into Addison's room, then you'll be ready."

As much as it hurt to hear it, the truth hurt even more. Kimber was right. I'd avoided Addison's bedroom, forever closed, my way of avoiding painful memories, shut away in a corner of my mind.

I was happy, yet the ghost of her hovered. While Kimber slept, I wrestled with fear. Opening her bedroom would open memories I had pushed down. I'd never faced the loss, accepted, the prospect terrifying me. I could never forgive myself.

Maybe Kimber was right. Maybe she was far, far more insightful than I gave her credit for.

I slept restlessly, tossing and turning so much Kimber complained. She was bright and energetic in the morning, giving me smiles and a kiss before heading off to class.

I moped. I wandered the house at loose ends, the closed door down the hall threatening me; something I feared. Twice I approached it and turned away.

Mid afternoon, I sipped scotch - something I never did at that hour - and tried to steel myself.

The door was an impossible barrier. I stood in front of it, hand on the handle. Taking a deep breath, I opened it.

Nothing had changed. Her flower-print bed cover was half off her bed, the sheets askew, as if she'd just gotten up this morning. A small overnight case rested on the bed. School books were spread over a messy desk. The room smelled musty. Her sneakers were lying on the floor, her closet door partially open, her clothes still hanging. A bookshelf had a haphazard collection of books on it.

My heart thumped. One step. One step and I'd be in her room. I took the step and didn't die.

Moving to her bed, I sat on the edge and spent time looking around. She was everywhere. I waited for my heart to calm.

Finally, I reached for her suitcase and opened it. Her clothes hurt me. I fingered them one by one, my memory crystal clear; the Tee she'd worn to the hospital, the jeans, her small cotton bra. And at the bottom, her diary.

I fingered it and looked away. On the bookshelf, I noticed her collection of diaries. Getting up, I took all of them - seven, and sat on the bed again.

They had a mix of floral covers with stickers, cartoon covers, and plain blue covers. I picked up the cartoon one, opened it and flipped through it. A purple pen used to scribble.

Mommy bought me a new dress. It is pink and perple and petty

I painted a yellow flower for mommy and she said it was the best flower

Closing it, I picked up another.

Best day ever. Mom took me on every ride at Wonderland. Daddy had to work and was sorry.

Julia told me she hates me. I hate her. She lied about it

Julia and me had so much fun. Kimber yelled at us she did not kiss Ricky. Even if she didnt, it was funny.

I put it aside and picked up another, flipping through pages.

Moms sick. I prayed for her but daddy looks too sad. I'm afraid Moms going to die and dad is afraid to tell me. He looks so sacred.

The next page:

Moms gone

The page after:

Moms dead. Is there a heaven?

The rest of the diary was empty. I blinked away tears obscuring my vision and picked up another.

Julia and me yelled at Trevor for touching Kimber's ass. Kimber kicked him in the nuts. We kicked him too. The principal didn't listen and gave us detention. Kimber and Julia's moms yelled at them. I don't have to worry. Dads never home. He works too hard.

Dad forgot today was my birthday. I ate ice cream.

It's three years today, Mom, and I miss you every day. Today, Dad stayed home and took me to the mall. He bought me new sneakers and some tshirts. It was a great day! I think he still misses you as much as I do.

I dropped the diary, disgusted with myself, and picked the diary from her suitcase, opening it to a random page.

I can't believe I'm writing this, but I hope Dad never gets his memory back. I know it's bad. I might go to hell. But he's so much fun now.

Best day EVER! Dad's amazing! He really listens to me and talks to me! Being with him is so much better than being with Julia and Kimber. I can't believe how happy I am. Something's going to go wrong.

Today I kissed Dad! A real kiss! He even liked it! He's not Dad. More like my best friend. He's so funny!

Today at Starbucks I found out Kimber has a crush on Dad. I dont blame her. I'm not jealous. Dads mine. He loves me.

I think I have to slow down. Going out every day with Dad is so much fun but I'm tired at night. My whole body aches. Maybe we should stay home more.

High school starts tomorrow and I'm stressed out and excited. Thank god Julia will be in my class. Kimber's mom has pulled her from school so she can do her modeling. She gets to go to Paris and Rome and London. I wish I could go. Maybe I'll ask Dad if we can take a vacation. Rome would be fun.

Flu SUCKS!

Dads asleep in the chair. I hate the hospital. The nurses are so nice but I don't want to be here. I'm scared. Dad tries to hide it but he's scared too. I don't want to die. I don't want Dad to be so scared. I hate this. I hate how much it hurts and hate being so tired. I'll write more tomorrow.

There was one last entry:

Dad if you're reading this I love you.

Sitting on her bed, I wept. Addison was a hole in my soul that would never heal. I had no idea how much time passed. My chest hurt. My mind was fogged by unbearable loss. Slowly, memories of her drifted to the fun we had and the happiness in her diary. I accepted the truth. It didn't matter when I'd recognized Addison was sick. The fight was over before the symptoms emerged, the battle never waged. And she'd been happy, if only for a while.

The bed dipped. Kimber sat next to me.

"Have you read these?" I asked, waving at the diaries on the bed next to me.

"No. Why would I? They're none of my business."

"Maybe you should so you'll know the type of man I am."

Kimber put her hand on my thigh and rubbed. "I don't need to read diaries to know who you are, Jim. I know who you are."

She stood up, moved in front of me, and turned my face up to look at her. Her emerald eyes were liquid and endlessly deep; such a beautiful young woman.

She studied me for a long, long time, then said, "Ask me again."

"Will you marry me?"

A gorgeous smile blossomed. "Yes."

 

 
     
 

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