I had just returned from my morning walk, wiping the sweat from my brow and looking forward to a cool bevvy. "Wendy, what the fuck are you doing?" She, my daughter, was seated on a kitchen chair as her male companion was applying the finishing touches to his art work.
"I'm not fucking for starters. Billy here is decorating my body, it's great, isn't it?"
I looked at the almost completed work in progress. It consisted of what looked like a pair of pantyhose that had been cut up the inside leg and stitched together so that her legs were locked together. There was a sort of tail covering her feet and the rest had been painted with what appeared to be fish scales. These scales continued to just above her waist and Billy was just finishing painting a 'strap' supporting the painted scallop shell that supported her otherwise naked tit. "That's disgusting! I hope that you're not going to be parading that filth in public."
"Where else would I be showing it? It's not just for you I'll have you know."
"Why are you doing this, what will your mother say when she finds out?"
"She's not going to find out. You will have forgotten by the time she gets home from her business trip to London." The emphasis that she placed on 'business' suggested that she thought there was more than business involved.
Stella was on one of her regular overseas trips with her boss.
"I feel that it's my duty to tell her. We have not raised you to be a slut like this."
"I'm not, as you so eloquently put it, a slut. What you see here is just me having some art work done for a contemporary art exhibition that's happening today. There's a whole section for body art."
"Don't tell me that you won't be wearing clothes."
"Alright, I won't, if that's what you want to hear. Billy, you can piss off now, you've finished, don't get me wrong your work is great, it's just that the old fart here won't let me have fun." She turned her attention back to me. "That's the point of this art, to blur the lines between the real and the imaginary, between both clothed and unclothed at the same time. The art becomes the clothing. If you look closely, to preserve a semblance of decency, I'm clothed from the waist down, even though you'd have to look hard to see it. I suppose that even that would offend your sense of decency."
"That's right, it's all my fault."
"You just can't handle the fact that you're turned on by this."
"No! That's not true."
"Then why is your dick hard?"
I hastily covered the tent in my pants.
"I tell you what, if you promise not to tell Mum, I'll let you wash this off when I come home after the show, come on, you know you want to do it."
"No' I can't, I won't, it's not right."
"That hasn't stopped you perving on me when you think I'm not looking."
Okay, that was true. In my defence, it would take a stronger person than me to not notice her prancing around with very little on.
"A wise man once said; 'looking is a married man's privilege, it's when he touches he gets into trouble.'. So I look, you of all people can't blame me for that. I think you do it on purpose."
"You have to admit that it's fun."
"For you maybe, but it's no fun for me."
"Are you sure?"
"I won't answer that. Let's change the subject. Tell me more about this art exhibition."
"It's part of my Psychology degree. We are analysing reactions to the different techniques and different situations created by art. This exhibition contains a variety of art forms like tromp l'oeil where a blank wall is painted to look like a door or window looking out on a landscape. Body art is another. With this art form the body becomes the canvas. Where the difference lies is that it allows the canvas to move and create a totally different, living, scenario. This morning a another student painted one of my friends in the form of a koala. She will have to sit in the fork of a large tree for a couple of hours while I'll have to sit on a large Styrofoam 'rock' with my feet in a wading pool."
"How are you going to get to this exhibition?"
"You're going to drive me."
Funny, I don't recall her having asked me to drive her. "Dream on. There is no way that I'll be seen dead anywhere, with you looking like this."
"I could always catch a bus."
Like she had any intention of doing that. "Okay, you win, I'll drive you."
"Thank you Daddy, I knew you would." She hugged me, and kissed me, in a very non-platonic way that disturbed me. She was behaving so much like her mother when I first met her and it scared me.
I have to admit that Wendy looked spectacular, drawing much more attention than other body art displays. She surprised me by producing a wig made to look like it was made of kelp. If she didn't move too much her dignity was preserved, but Wendy, being Wendy, moved just enough to expose her painted breasts. Again I have to admit, the exposure was not too provocative, but then I could be a little biased in my observation.
Billy, the artist won first prize for his efforts and Wendy won first prize for her display.
She couldn't stop telling me how great it was, how great she was, and how great I was, for not only allowing her to take part, but for taking her to and from the venue.
I was well into my reward of cleaning the paint from her body, thankfully a water based paint that was easily removed, when she resumed her flirtation. "See if I've got any paint inside my pussy." She said.
"I'm sure there's none." I said hopefully.
She pulled her flaps open. "Please look, I don't want any paint inside me, who knows what that would do."
I looked, there was none and told her so.
"I was a little worried when Billy was painting my tits. Whenever his brush went over a nipple it really stood out. I was worried that the kelp wig would have the same effect,"
It took the best part of half an hour the remove all the paint, most of which was wiping her body to remove imagined remaining paint. "I'm off to the shower and then to bed." She announced, standing close to me, very close
How was I to know that she intended it to be my bed.
I showered in the en-suite attached to the master bedroom and crawled into bed. What a day, and what do I make of Wendy's attitude towards me.
I was almost asleep when I felt her climb into the bed with me. "Shove over, you don't need all the bed."
"What are you doing, get out!"
"Short answer, no." She snuggled against me, "this feels nice."
I mentally agreed with her but I wasn't going to admit it. "If you say so, although I can't agree with you."
"So does this." She had hold of my traitorous dick.
"Leave me, and it, alone. We can't be doing this."
"Why not?"
"What would your mother think?"
"She's not one to talk."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"We'll discuss this later, go to sleep." She let him go. I wondered why she had given up so quickly.
How was I supposed to sleep? I admit that she, holding my dick felt good, but it wasn't right, not even legal. Also going through my mind was that it had been some time since Stella had touched my like this. I moved as far from her as I could, it didn't help.
