Chapter 24

Mitch

 

The drapes were drawn back from the windows when Connie came downstairs, the morning light casting a wedge of warmth across the kitchen table. I had coffee and mugs waiting. I motioned her to sit and she did so wordlessly.

I sat across from her and we stared at each other like two people about to conduct some kind of top-level negotiation… except I was dressed in just a t-shirt and shorts, and she was wrapped in the dressing gown she had worn last night.

Connie reached out for a cup and the simple movement of her arm created the same kind of wardrobe malfunction that had occurred last evening – the lapels of the gown gaped open so that I had a clear view of one of her breasts. Her nipple was hard.

I sat back to remove the distraction. Connie seemed oblivious. She poured herself coffee and slid the cup across the table towards her.

“So…” she said in a small quiet voice. “Where do we begin?”

“We follow a standard meeting procedure,” I said. “We review what has happened, and then we look forward.”

She looked bemused. “Okay.”

Connie wasn’t making this easy. The conversation between us was stilted and awkward. I sensed she was apprehensive, and I guess I was too. I had no idea how this was going to unfold…

“Do you have any regrets about last night?” I asked gently.

Connie shook her head emphatically. “Oh, no,” the smile on her face was genuine. It reached all the way to her eyes. “Mitch, it was wonderful, and I enjoyed every minute. I really did.”

“Good.” I was relieved.

“What about you?” Connie shot me a sideways glance and her voice became hushed, as if she feared the answer. “Do you regret what we did?”

“No.” Every assurance she needed seemed to be in the way I said the word. I saw the edges of her expression soften with her own relief. “I really enjoyed the experience. You were a wonderful surprise.”

With the instinct of a woman, Connie saw the opportunity for flattery and her feminine vanity made it impossible for her to resist.

“What do you mean?” she dangled the baited question and waited for me to tell her what she secretly and desperately wanted to hear.

“You were so willing – so insatiable,” I shook my head with wonder. I wasn’t lying. “That was the biggest turn-on for me; the fact that you wanted more. It could have been a simple ‘transaction’. Afterwards, you could have left with your conscience freed from guilt… but you wanted to stay, and you wanted more sex. I tell you, Connie, for a guy my age, to have a gorgeous young woman like you want to spend the night… you’re every man’s dream come true.”

Connie glowed with inner joy, though her features struggled to remain mild and unmoved. “Mitch, I’m attracted to you,” she leaned forward across the table to implore me to believe her. The gown gaped open again and this time I simply could not resist. My eyes drifted down to the beauty of her breasts like I was hypnotized. Connie must have seen the direction of my gaze but she kept talking and made no move to pull back. “You’re exactly the kind of man who turns me on. You’ve got a wisdom and an intelligence that boys my age don’t have… and… and I have a deep desire to live out my daddy-daughter fantasy.”

Her voice changed as she spoke the last words, softening again with a kind of embarrassment. When I dragged my attention back to her face I saw her cheeks were flushed bright red and her eyes looked startled.

“Why?” I asked.

Connie shrugged and finally sat back in her chair. Her hands were on the tabletop and she was wringing them, suddenly nervous.

“I don’t know,” she seemed lost for the words to explain her fetish. “It might be connected to the course of my life, I guess,” she shrugged her shoulders. “My parents passed away when I was young. Maybe a shrink would tell me that my obsession is some kind of sexual manifestation of a deep need for a father-figure. Or some such mumbo-jumbo.” The words drifted away and she lapsed into awkward silence. I had the sense that what I said next would go a long way to determining both our futures.

Connie was gazing out through the window, still with me in the corner of her view. She seemed far away, her thoughts secret and reflective.

I straightened in the chair and her gaze flashed back to me.

“Well…” I said like a judge about to pronounce a verdict. “I think the whole idea of the daddy-daughter scenario is a real turn-on. I saw how aroused you were last night, and I heard the passion in your voice when you called me your daddy. That was very, very fucking sexy.”

“Really?” It was a question and an exclamation of relief all wrapped up into one word. Connie’s eyes shone.

“Really. I liked it. Maybe a shrink would tell me I like the ‘daddy’ role because my wife and I never had children of our own and that I’m seeking to fill some mumbo-jumbo void in my life,” I smiled wryly. “Either way, who gives a fuck what anyone else thinks? I certainly haven’t built my career on caring about the impressions of others. Connie, I blaze my own path, and I live comfortably with my decisions.”

The smile of relief and unrestrained joy on her face made me smile too, and in that moment any lingering awkwardness from the sex we shared dissolved like the last tendrils of morning mist.

Now, there was just the future to decide. Did we have one together? Did Connie want this situation to continue? Was it possible for us to build a relationship based on the daddy-daughter fetish and our attraction to each other?

“So what do we do now?” Connie asked at last.

“That’s up to you to decide,” I said.

Connie looked confused. “I don’t even know what my options are, Mitch. Not until I know what you want.”

I smiled despite myself. Connie would have been handy at the negotiating table with the Russians.

“Okay. Let me lay them out for you.” I held up a finger. “Option one is to take all the money you now have and use it to support your grandmother’s bookstore and yourself. You can walk out that door and we never need to see each other again. Your grandmother’s store will be saved, and you will have enough money left over to live independently and go forward with your life.”

Connie didn’t look enthused. I held up a second finger. “Option two is for you to use the money you now have to support your grandmother’s bookstore and to take up the job with Congressman Turnbull at his Washington office. We can see each other if you would like to date, and you will have your independence to come and go as you please. A free woman.”

Connie nodded, then licked her lips before she spoke again. “Is there a third option?”

“Yes.” I held up another finger. “Option three is for you to use the money you have to support your grandmother. At the same time, you will move out of your apartment and come to live here with me. You will be under my roof and living under my rules, young lady. That means you will not go back to work. Instead you will begin full-time studies. When you came to work for me, I read your file. It said you wanted to study political science and that you had your heart set on a future teaching career. So that’s what you would do; you would study full-time, and you would live here. With me as your daddy.”

Connie made a great theatrical play of considering her choices. Her brow was frowned and she gazed up at the ceiling – but I saw the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and the charade could not last for long. She leaped from the chair and came and wiggled onto my lap. Her arms went around my neck and I was intoxicated by the feminine musk scent of her.

“Option three!” she giggled and buried her face against my neck. “Definitely option three.”

One of my arms wrapped instinctively around Connie’s waist. Her legs had fallen open and the tails of the dressing gown had parted so that I could see a long silken patch of her inner thigh. With my free hand, I slid my fingers up towards where her pussy was still concealed. Connie drew in a deep breath, her arousal triggered by her mood and my touch. I heard her groan throatily to encourage me.

The higher along her thigh my fingers rose, the more she moved herself on my lap to spread her legs wider and give me easy access. At last my touch brushed against the pouting lips of her pussy and she inhaled a sharp hiss. Her back arched. The movements of her body spilled one of her breasts free. The nipple was hard, the surrounding soft flesh goose-bumped. Connie shuddered. I dipped one finger inside her pussy and rested it there while her inner muscles clenched and spasmed.

She seemed on the very edge of being swept away by her desire once more. Then she stiffened and I saw her eyes blink open, suddenly solemn and shadowed. She looked fearful.

“Mitch, this might be very bad for your career,” Connie fretted. “Imagine the outcry if people found out that I was living with you. Imagine the scandalous headlines. They would point to the age difference and crucify you. You know what Washington is like, and you know how depraved the politics is.”

“I don’t care.”

“But you have to care,” Connie was shaking her head. Her sexual desire cooled as she became stricken. “You are a close personal friend of the President… the whole Russian negotiations… your office in the White House. If the media found out that we were sleeping together and that I was living with you, it could ruin you politically.”

“I don’t care,” I said again.

Connie slid off my lap. My finger slipped from within her. She walked to the kitchen window. “We’ll have to keep this secret,” she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and began to formulate a plan. “Maybe if we keep all the windows shuttered, or if I bought some wigs – like disguises….”

I would have laughed out loud if I hadn’t seen how seriously concerned Connie was. I got out of the chair and went to where she stood. I seized her by the arms and forced her to look into my eyes.

“I will not deny this relationship,” I said firmly. “Nor will I broadcast it. It’s no one’s business what I do with my personal life. You are going to live with me. I will not live a life of secrets. If the media finds out, then I will deal with it when the time comes. If anyone asks me directly, I will answer them honestly. That is how it has to be, because that’s the man I am. And I won’t change – for anyone.”

“Mitch! The risk is enormous. Something like this can’t stay secret for long.”

I shrugged, and then reminded her. “It’s not a secret. It’s a fact.”

Connie seemed still not to understand. She thought I was being flippant. I wasn’t. I was being me.

“But the politics?”

“Fuck the politics,” I laughed without any humor. “Connie, I do special assignments for the President when he needs someone just a little outside the normal political channels. The Russian negotiations were one example, but there have been others in the past too. If there’s an issue that needs solving beyond the boundaries or abilities of the two-party political system to handle, then the President gives me a call, and I act on his behalf, and on the behalf of the American people. Not one political party or the other. But politics isn’t my life, and it’s never been my career. I make my money on the stock markets and in real estate. I don’t have a political career, and I don’t want one. I just do occasional work for the President because he’s a friend and we trust each other.”

Connie looked only slightly mollified. There was still a frown of doubt on her brow but she lapsed into momentary silence. I seized the opportunity to introduce her to the life she could expect as Daddy’s little girl.

I spun her around and snatched the gown off her shoulders. She stood with her back to me, naked. I edged her up against the kitchen counter and folded her upper body forward. With one hand planted firmly in the middle of her back, I cupped my hand and smacked her ass. The sound was loud and fleshy in the silence of the still morning. Connie gasped with shock.

“Are you going to be a good little girl for Daddy?” I growled. In an instant my cock had hardened and strained within the confines of my shorts.

Connie’s voice was startled but earnest. “Yes, Daddy!”

I smacked her bottom again. Through the window, I could see pedestrians in their heavy designer overcoats walking on the sidewalk. Connie cringed. There was a livid red mark on the cheek of her ass. I rubbed it with the palm of my hand to soothe the fire of it.

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, Daddy!” Connie’s reply was instantaneous. My hand dipped down between the cleft of her clenched cheeks and found the glistening wet apex of her pussy.

“And you will fuck and suck Daddy whenever he wants you to, like a good little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy! Any time you want me to. I promise!”

I slapped her ass again. It certainly wasn’t a beating. It was as much an act of role-play as the whole daddy-daughter dynamic. Connie knew she was in absolutely no danger. But getting her perfect little ass smacked was turning us both on.

“I expect you to dress appropriately,” I went on. “And I expect you to act like a naughty little whore when Daddy needs your pussy.”

“Anything you want, Daddy,” Connie’s voice had become slower, more deliberate. There was a husk in her throat now that her initial shock had passed and she understood that it was a form of foreplay.

My hand was still cupping her pussy. Her arousal leaked across my palm. I reached around and offered the juices to her. She lapped her wetness from my hand with the flat of her tongue.

I stepped away from the counter and adjusted my cock within the shorts. Connie gave me a curious glance from over her shoulder. Her legs were parted so that I could see the definition of taut muscles in her calves and thighs.

I shuddered and drew a tight mental line of restraint. “That will do for now,” I said. “We’ll resume this after I take you out for breakfast and then some shopping. You need new clothes.”

“I have clothes…” Connie concealed her disappointment that I didn’t want to fuck her over the kitchen counter.

“They need to be appropriate,” I said with a finality that cut the conversation short. “And later today I will arrange to have your possessions brought from your apartment.”

“It’s Sunday.”

I shrugged. “Daddy has connections…”

 

 

 

 

One Month Later…