We got up together, and walked to the floor, and we took hold of each other to join the other couples waltzing around the room, and as I held my pretty, eighteen-year-old stepdaughter in my arms, in her pretty purple dress, with her sweet, stylish perfume, I felt to my embarrassment, that my cock suddenly went rock hard. I shifted my stance slightly, so my erection wouldn't press against her, and after a minute or two of awkward dancing, Karla said, "I'm not made of crystal, you know."
Preoccupied as I was by what was happening in my pants, I didn't understand her properly, and I thought she had said something about her sister, Krystal. I looked over at our table, to where Krystal had been sitting, but she was now on the floor, slow-dancing with Dale. "What are you talking about?" I asked.
"You're holding me like you think I'm gonna break in half," Karla said, speaking low so no-one else would hear, "What's wrong?"
She adjusted her own stance and pulled me in closer to herself, but within only two beats of the music, my hard tool bumped her lower belly through our clothing. "Oh," she said, looking down. I felt hot with shame, and all I could say was, "Sorry. I'm really sorry."
"Now I know why you didn't want to get too close," she smiled, leaning closer, so she could speak quietly.
"Look," I started, "I'm really sorry about that. Do you want to sit down?"
"No!" Karla said, as though sitting down was a totally ridiculous idea, "It's all right. Your body doesn't know who I am," she said, as she calmly adjusted her own pelvis and her own stance, so my horn wasn't touching her.
"But you're my stepdaughter," I said, looking down, still burning with shame.
"So what?" Karla said, breezily, still smiling, still dancing, "It's not like we haven't been properly introduced." Then, she leaned in so our faces were close, as we danced, and added, "Although, I gotta say, I'm a little surprised Mum left you if you had that to bring to the table."
We both giggled explosively, and quite a few people looked around at us. After we had regained our composure, Karla kept eye contact me with me, as though she didn't want to look at anyone else, and said, "I can't believe I said that." At least the laughter and conversation made my erection subside, and we had one more slow dance, before the deejay put on a rap song, and Karla said, "Not your style, is it?" We left the floor to rejoin Krystal and her boyfriend.
"What was so funny out there?" Krystal asked.
"I stepped on Allan's toe," Karla answered, to my relief.
"Heels," I added, to help out.
"I guess you had to be there," Krystal said, looking at us like we were two very odd people.
Later in the evening, I stood with my brother, Frank, and his daughter, Jenna, the radiant new bride, as we watched the couples on the dance floor. There was another slow song playing, and there were only about half a dozen couples dancing to it, including Karla and Krystal, who were slow dancing with each other, doing exaggerated dips and turns, laughing, giggling and generally having a ball together.
"You've done a great job with those two," Frank said, as my two girls paraded across the floor in a parody of the tango, "especially the Little One, all by yourself, since Lyndall fucked off." Frank was a man who didn't mince words, hence his use of the words, "fucked off," and The Little One had been his nickname, and term of endearment, for Karla, ever since he met her, when she was four years old, and so much smaller than her big sister. He still referred to her by that name, even though The Little One was now only a few inches shorter than he was, and Karla herself, who loved him dearly, would still send him birthday cards, signed, "Your loving niece, Karla, a.k.a. The Little One."
"Those two girls love you more than anything, Uncle Allan," Jenna added, but somehow, after what had happened earlier on the dance floor, all this praise for my standing as a stepfather made me feel like some sort of fraud. "I was just lucky," I guess," I answered, as modestly as I could.
In time, the reception ended, and everybody left. There was a feeling of happiness, and hope for the future in the air, as we watched Jenna and Damien leaving the centre in a hired limo, with everyone smiling, hugging each other, promising to keep in touch, and Karla and I were among the last to leave. On the way home, as Karla drove, and I sat in the passenger seat, she said, "Well, Jenna's all married up, now. I guess she and Damien'll be making sweet music together before long." She chuckled, and added, "I guess that's what weddings are all about, you know, romance, love, yada yada yada," and then she added, like it was an afterthought, "making love." She turned to smile at me, like she was waiting for a reply, and then looked back at the road, but I didn't answer. I didn't think I had much to offer on the subject of marriage.
After a moment, Karla went on with, "Come on, Al, I'm trying to get a conversation going over here, but you're not helping much. I'm getting sore gums from flapping them." She only ever called me Al when she was fooling around with me like that, because she knew I preferred being called Allan.
"After my experience with marriage, I don't think I've got much to say about that subject," I said, keeping my tone light, and ending with a smile, so I didn't sound like I was whining.
Karla took one hand off the wheel, and gave my arm a gentle squeeze, and said, "Your marriage gave you two charming, charismatic young stepdaughters, oozing with panache, who love you to pieces. So it wasn't all bad, was it?"
I reached over and gave Karla's arm a squeeze back, and I said, "When you put it that way, I did have pretty successful marriage, didn't I?"
Karla and I arrived home, and we went inside to the family room, where I wasted no time in taking off my tie and jacket. As I stood there, Karla casually put a hand on my shoulder to steady herself while she took off one high heel shoe, then the other, and placed them together beside the couch. I looked around the room, thinking it was too early to go to bed, and Karla said, "Would you like some coffee?"
"Yeah, sounds good," I said, and Karla flicked on the TV with the remote, and she added, "Let's watch the late movie. I'll find a foreign one with subtitles, so we can laugh at it, even if it's not a comedy. I'm not tired, are you?" I shook my head and sat on the end of the three-seater couch, near the right arm.
A few minutes later, Karla came back in from the kitchen, with two mugs of coffee, and set them down on the coffee table. I saw that she had taken off her stockings, but was still wearing that pretty purple dress, along with her earrings and necklace. She really looked beautiful.
Karla and I were very close, and it was not unusual for her to sit right next to me, or to lean against me, even when there was plenty of room on the couch. It was a habit she started as a small child, and had never really grown out of. She sat next to me on the couch, on my left side, and as she so often did, she sat right up against me. I felt the warmth from her girlish, young body through that thin material of her dress for a moment, and then I remembered what had happened on the dance floor, so I shrank back slightly.
Karla responded by shuffling her bottom a little, to get closer to me, still looking at the TV screen, and once more, I shrank back a little, as I thought about how ashamed I felt when I got hard at the touch of her body, while we waltzed. Karla turned, smiling at me, smiling, and said, "What?"
"What do you mean?" I said, looking at her.
"You keep shuffling away," Karla said, "like I've got the plague or something."
"No, I'm not," I lied.
Then, a look of realisation came over Karla's face, and she said, "Oh, I know what it is. On the dance floor tonight. You're worried it might happen again."
I looked down, avoiding her gaze. "I don't know what was going on," I mumbled.
"Allan," Karla said, waiting till I looked up, "That's just natural. You were holding onto a girl, and, you know, things just happened." Then, she added, "When it stops happening, that's when you can start worrying." Her smile was a mixture of sweetness and irony.
"Let's not talk about it, okay," I said, trying to get away from the subject. Karla shuffled towards me, smiling mischievously, but I wa
s now up against the right arm of the couch, with nowhere to go. I shrank back as far as I could, but she turned on her bottom as she sat next to me, put her feet up on the other end, and lay down on my lap, so her head was now resting on the right arm of the couch. "See?" she said, smiling up at me, "You can't get away."
"Come on," I said, "Now, you're being silly."
"You're the one being silly," Karla said, still lying across my lap, "carrying on over nothing. So what, you got a horn. Big deal. Guys get 'em all the time." She reached up with her right hand, and touched the left side of my chin, and said, "Actually, it's a bit of a compliment."
"Hey!" I said, gently placing her hand back on her belly with my left hand, "Let's not go there."
"Tell me honestly," Karla said, her voice softer but more serious now, "Have you ever looked at me or Krystal, and thought about it."
"No," I said, seriously.
"We're not related, really," Karla persisted.
"You're my stepdaughters," I said.
"Okay," Karla went on, "But if you forget all about the stepdaughter thing for a moment, and just look at me. Tell me honestly, do you find me attractive?"
"Of course, you're attractive," I answered.
"No," Karla answered, emphatically, "you're not answering the question. Do you find me attractive?"
"Karla, you're my child," I said, and I could hear the exasperation in my own voice.
"I was your child," Karla said, "and you've given me a great life and I'm really happy, but I'm not a child any more. I'm eighteen. That makes me an adult." Her tone changed a little, and she added, "We're both adults. So, I'm just asking you a question. Do you find me attractive?"
"You have to stop this," I said, keeping it serious, "it's not right."
"I'm just asking," Karla went on, undeterred, "Say you never knew me. Say you saw me walking down the street. I'm an eighteen year old girl, and you've never seen me before. You never had a stepdaughter, and you've never seen me before, okay."
I looked at Karla, and I could see this seemed to be important to her, so I said, "Hop up." She looked at me, questioningly, and I said, "Hop up, and stand in front of me. So I can look at you." Karla stood up, a little hesitantly, as though she thought I was trying to trick her, and she stood in front of me. She smiled, as she realised what I was doing. "If I saw you," I started, looking her up and down, "and I didn't know you, had never seen you before, and you were just a random eighteen year old girl, I'd think, 'Yeah, I like that. That's real nice. I like the look of that." I tried to sound like a guy reducing a girl to a sex object.
"Would you sleep with me, though?" Karla asked, getting straight to the point.
"Come on, that's not fair," I smiled up at her.
"Okay," Karla went on, "You're a guy and I'm a random, eighteen year old girl, and you see me in the street. What is it about me that you like the look of?"
I realised that I was beginning to enjoy this little game, and I got off the couch, and said, "I'll stand up, so I get a better perspective." I took a couple of paces back, and I said, "Okay, am I still forty-one?"
Karla was standing there, for my appraisal, smirking at me, and she said, "Yeah, you're a forty-one year old guy, and you've never seen me before, and I'm a random eighteen year old girl. Tell me what it is about me that you like the look of." Then, she added, "As a man. Tell me what thoughts go through your head."
I looked at Karla again, standing there, in that purple dress, dolled up from the reception, but without any shoes, and I tried to think of her as a random girl I didn't know. "Okay," I started, "I'd think, 'She's tall, I like that. Pretty face, and those deep brown eyes don't hurt one bit. Cute mouth, too. Just a hint of a pout. I think I'd like to kiss that mouth." Karla smiled at me, and tilted her head, as though she wanted me to continue.
I had a look at Karla's shape, and went on with, "Nice curves, not exactly hourglass figure, but you can tell she's a girl all right. No problems there at all." I pursed my lips, having a better look, and said, "I've seen bigger boobs in my time," and Karla looked down at hers, and I continued with, "but they are perky, gotta give 'em that." She smiled up at me. "Turn around," I said, motioning with my hand, and Karla turned for me, and I said, "Hmmm, nice arse, I like that arse. And those legs, they'll do me anytime. Pret-ty impressive little package, I'd say."
Karla turned to face me, and said, "So, Allan, after all that, if I was a random girl, and you didn't know me," and she paused, stepping closer, "would you want to have sex with me?"
"I don't have sex with random girls," I said, grinning at her.
"You know what I mean," Karla said, giving her head a shake.
"Why is this so important to you?' I asked.
"Because tonight, your body said something that you won't say yourself," Karla said, and I was surprised at how serious she sounded.
"Karla, that was hormones. You know that," I said, trying to keep it gentle. I loved this girl, this woman, this person who had been part of my life for fourteen years. "Hormones don't have morals," I went on, "and hormones don't drive six year old girls to school one day, and then watch them grow up to be beautiful young women the next. They don't know anything about right and wrong, they just do what they do."
"Okay," I get it, Karla smiled, "I'm a teenager. I know all about hormones. But, just one last thing." She seemed to pause for effect, and said, "I want you to kiss me."
"I've kissed you forty-seven thousand times, Karla," I said, but inside, I knew what she meant. I wasn't stupid.
"One kiss," she said, "One kiss, like a man kisses a woman, just so I can see what it's like with you."
"Come on," I said, "we can't do this." Inside, I realised that if I kissed her, I'd like it, and I'd probably be talked into going further. I knew it.
Karla turned to the coffee table, where there was a pile of small change in an ashtray. She picked up a twenty-cent coin, and said, "I'll toss you for it. Heads, you kiss me, properly. Tails, I'll forget about it." Then, she smiled, and said, "But either way, I'm gonna go to bed tonight, and fantasise that we had sex. That's one thing you can't control."
"And I'll go to bed and fantasise that we tried and I couldn't get it up," I said, grinning at her, "So there."
"Too bad we both know that's a bullshit fantasy," Karla answered back, grinning mischievously, "because I could have squashed a cockroach on that thing you wheeled out on the dance floor." We both laughed.
"Toss the coin," I said, in defeat, after we finished laughing. Maybe it was wrong of me, but I have to admit, in those deep recesses of my mind, I was kind of hoping for a "Heads" result. Maybe putting it in the hands of Fate, in the form of a silver coin with a platypus on it, was my way of absolving myself of responsibility.
Karla flipped the coin and it went up in air, spinning over and over, then down, to hit the carpet, rolling along on its edge, stopping, and falling flat. I felt butterflies, as I stepped forward to see it, lying heads up. Karla looked at me, tilting her head, as if she was wondering if I'd back out now. I looked at the window, and it occurred to me that, outside my house, there was a whole world full of people who would condemn me for what I was about to do. I felt a wave of excitement as I realised that, yes, I was going to kiss Karla, the way a man kisses a woman.
"One kiss," Karla said, "A proper kiss, so I know what it would be like with you."
I swallowed, and I stepped closer, and I took Karla in my arms, holding her warm, pretty, girlish, stylishly dressed, sweet-smelling body close to me, with my arms around her shoulders, and I moistened my lips a little, and I kissed her on the mouth. I kissed her soft, sweet mouth gently, lovingly, holding the kiss, feeling the excitement, as she kissed me back, just slightly open-mouthed, but without any tongue. This was too early for tongue. It was a sweet, sexy and warm kiss, and I held it for as long as I thought proper, and then we broke it mutually. I held her gaze, with our faces close, for a moment, and Karla whispered, "At least I know now." We let go of each other, and Karla said, "Part
of me wishes I was a random girl, and we could take that further, but most of me is glad we're the people we are. I'm glad you showed me, anyway, Allan."
"I think it's time for bed," I sighed. Karla nodded, and she said, "Allan, I love you in all kinds of ways." She kissed me again, this time on the cheek, as she had done so many times before, and we went to our own bedrooms. I stripped off, put on my pyjamas, and got into my queen-sized bed, where I lay in the dark, thinking over what had just gone on. I realised I had been tempted, but I hadn't given in, I told myself. After a while, I heard Karla's footsteps on the carpet in the hall outside my room, and although the door was open, she knocked, as she usually did. "What's up?" I asked into the dark.
Karla walked in, and I flicked on my bedside light. She was wearing a pale pink, satin nightdress, that was fairly short, and she came over and lay on the other side of my bed, on top of the covers. This was something she'd done a hundred times over the years, coming in, lying there for a talk, before retiring to her own bedroom, and if not for what had happened earlier, it wouldn't have been significant at all. "I just wanted to talk," she said.
"What about?" I asked, although I had a pretty good idea.
"About tonight," she said, quietly.
"I think we said just about everything," I answered, also speaking quietly.
"I thought about trying to seduce you tonight, Allan," she said, looking up at the ceiling, then at me.
"And I thought about letting you, if it makes you feel any better," I said, "but I'd be taking advantage of you if I did. I can't do that."
"What if we were taking advantage of each other?" she asked.
"I'm not sure if that's possible," I said. It was the best answer I could come up with.
"Allan," Karla asked, getting my attention, making me look at her, "Do you want to make love to me?" She swallowed.
"I've tried to give you honest answers all your life," I said, "and I owe you an honest answer now." I sighed, and said, "Yes, I do. Any man would, but that doesn't mean we can. If we do that, nothing will be the same again."
Dirty Forbidden Collection Page 10
