I am a woman of 61 years who lives in Victoria, Australia and a proud grandmother of three. I have lived with a secret since the day I celebrated my eighteenth birthday 43 years ago.
It was to be a big day; to be celebrated in a grandiose style at my mother’s seaside retreat, a party where family and friends were invited. My father was invited, though very much against my mother’s wish. I had a long, tiring talk with mum before that could be arranged. I only saw dad once or twice a year. Years ago, my parents had a messy divorce, blaming each other for faults and for being unfaithful. Whatever, only the lawyers benefited from the whole affair.
As dad lived in New Zealand, he arrived a couple of days earlier and was accommodated in mum’s weekend retreat at the beach. The temperature between my parents hadn’t changed – extremely cool air. Mum had her residence and business in Melbourne to take care of, so I stayed in the house with dad. It would be a futile exercise for me to try to reconcile them, just to get the best out of the day together.
I went to the airport to meet dad. When he saw me he was one big smile; he gave me a big hug, a little more than a fatherly one, I thought. He held me tight for a while and kissed me on the mouth and said how much he had missed me. I was stunned. But something in me, something I have never felt before, began to move. He was my dad, I shouldn’t feel weak-kneed because my dad wanted to hug and kiss me, but I was not a little girl any more. The boys had noticed that too, that I had grown up. Several had tried their luck with me in the lower region, but I had always made sure that
no sex
before marriage. Kissing and nipple sucking had been allowed, but that was it.
At the dinner table, dad kept talking about how good I looked and I was an attractive young woman now. I was flattered. We had just said goodnight and went to our rooms when a few minutes later there was a little knock on my door – “Diana, it’s me, dad. I’m a bit cold, is there an extra blanket somewhere?”
I opened the door and gazed on the big bulge in his boxer shorts. Apart from a blanket, it wasn’t hard to guess what else he was after, but I couldn’t refuse to let him in while I went looking for a blanket. When I came back, he was sitting on the bed, but he didn’t appear to be cold. He had always looked after his body and looked younger than his 48 years. Now, he was sitting on my bed “freezing”. I asked if that was just an excuse to come into my room. He admitted that during the year, since he last saw me, I had developed into a beautiful young woman and I was not that little girl he used to know. I didn’t know whether I should ask him to leave my room or not. Again, the same feeling I had when I met him in airport, came over me.
“Come on, sit by my side, honey”, he said.
I shook my head.
“Oh, don’t be silly, dad has missed you a lot”.
It took some courage before I decided to sit next to him.
“That wasn’t so hard, dear, was it?”