I consider myself to have a pretty open mind. When I was younger, I had gotten access to a few books by this female author named Nancy Friday. Both of the books I had read contained a plethora of women's fantasies, anything from rape, threesomes, orgies, teachers, preachers, animals, etc. A lot of them turned me on, and I had masturbated a lot as a teen while reading these fantasies. It was so strange having read them, and I never heard a girl utter any type of fantasy as bizarre as those in the books. And I knew a lot of girls, especially in high school.
So, as I sat on a couch in a small house that Rosa shared with a roommate, listening intently as Rosa explained her fantasy to me, I wondered not if I could do something like that, but only how I could best fulfill this amazing girl's wishes. She was anxious, sitting there, a movie playing now unnoticed on her television, and I waited for her to tell me what it was that she desired.
She took a breath to screw up the courage, and explained, "When I was a girl, I lived with my papa. My mama died having me. My older sister, Azalea, was moving out, and it became just me and my papa."
She saw my look when she had said her sister's name, "I know, my papa gave me my name because of my sister's name. Roses and Azaleas were my mama's favorite flowers, so it seemed only right.
"Anyway, my papa was lonely. He tried to find another woman to be with, but he loved my mama so much that no other woman could compare. So he stopped looking, and focused his attentions on me. He'd spend all his free time sitting with me, listening to my problems in school, or he'd have me cook food with him, and he just loved having me around. When Azalea moved out, I was twelve. I think I probably made things worse for him when I had my first period, and began developing. I'm sure I was a bitch as I tried to get used to all of that.
"But I did get used to it, and became my papa's little angel again. Then I began to notice that as I developed and became a young lady, my father would be spending time with me, and then suddenly go to the bathroom and spend ten or fifteen minutes in there. I figured it was no big deal, but then he would seem to stare at me when he thought I wouldn't notice, you know, weird stares."
Rosa stopped, and looked at me, so sure that I would think that she was a bad person. As for me, I thought I knew where this story was headed, but at that point, I had no idea what kind of fantasy would spring from it.
"It's okay," I took her hand, intertwining her long, slender fingers in mine, taking note of her recently chewed fingernails, "You don't have to worry, I don't think there's a thing wrong with you."
Her pained smile seemed to signify that she thought otherwise, "After weeks, months of these weird looks, and his frequent trips to the bathroom, he finally broke down and told me, such shame in his words. He confessed that as I...developed, he began noticing me as a young woman, as mama had been when they first met. He said he saw my mother in me, and his urges were unbearable, so whenever he got them, he had to hide in the bathroom and do stuff until the urges passed. He told me he was ashamed of himself for feeling such urges for his own daughter, but he was so damned lonely without mama. So..."
I blinked several times. I had been imagining her as a young girl, hearing such talk from her father, and the feelings as he tells her this. It was definitely different, considering all the perverts out there that don't bother trying to explain themselves as they rape their own daughters and, sometimes, sons. It took a second to realize that she had stopped again, and there were tears in her eyes as she recalled her past.
"It's okay," I assured her, "I think I can get the point. If you need to talk about it, you can, but it might not even be necessary."
She shook her head, "I have to, because he never... he never went all the way. He did other things, but it's not like he was some animal. He was still my papa, and he was always kind and gentle. And after he was done, he would always hold me in his arms as he had when I was younger."
"So you said he never went all the way," I backtracked, "Was he planning on it?"
She shrugged, "Maybe, I don't know. He never told me. I think the things he did, or let me do, they all got to him. He...h-hung himself...In his bedroom, he t-t-tied a sheet to the rafter..."
"You found him like that?"
"No. I was at school. The police told me that he died peacefully in his sleep. It wasn't until everyone else found out the truth that I did. The kids at school all gossiped about it, told each other all the details, and I overheard it all, even though they'd stop talking when they saw me."
I sighed, "Kids can be like that, I guess. Still, it's not as bad as seeing it firsthand. It's bad, but not that bad."
She nodded, and the tears that had been standing in her eyes made small, wet tracks on her mocha-hued skin. She hugged herself, shivering as it all came back.
"The thing is, my papa died before he ever... and I've never had anybody be so gentle with me, so kind, until with you. That's why I'm telling you all this, things I never told my closest friends. You were so gentle with me, just like my papa. So," she wiped the tears off her cheeks, "My fantasy is to let my papa have me...but since he's gone, I was hoping that you...could be him. Just for today. You could pretend to be him, to be my papa, and we could finish what he was so ashamed to finish himself."
Yes, at that point, my mind was blown! I had no idea if I could do something like that. I mean, to pretend to be her father and do things that no father should ever do to his own flesh and blood, would that be right? But she waited for me to answer her, and the anxiety was intensifying in her eyes as she wondered whether, in spite of my assurances, if I would think something was terribly messed up about her.
"Is this what you want from me?" I searched her eyes, almost hoping this was some test, "I mean, is this...a kind of closure you need?"
She nodded slowly, now not even daring to look me in the eyes. She was already preparing for rejection, scorn, and worse, and it about broke my heart to see her so vulnerable.
"Can I have a couple minutes to think about this?" I said carefully, not wanting it to sound as if I was getting ready to make a break for the door. She winced, but shrugged, "You don't have to, if you don't want. I know it sounds so wrong, and it maybe makes me twisted for wanting it to happen again, but it wasn't like he forced me to do anything, or to let him do anything. He was just so...depressed about mama, that I just wanted him to be happy, and I would do whatever it took to help him. Even if it meant losing my virginity to him, I would do it. But he died before that could happen, and I think it would've made him happy if he could just forget I was his daughter."
I had never been asked a question like this before, but this was Rosa, a girl who had had such an effect on me that no other girl could have ever brought out in me. All I had to do was pretend that I was her father, and complete something that she'd been waiting for since she'd been a teenager. Of course, she was now grown-up, and not a young girl only recently coping with 'monthly visitors.' Actually, I came to realize that I was more shocked that she would ask such a thing from me than with the fact that I would have to pretend to be her father.
