Author's Note: This is a standalone story in chapters. It combines my incest and smoking fetishes. If you enjoy dad-daughter incest, and at least don't mind smoking, I hope you enjoy this. If you detest smoking, please do not read this and then lambaste me about it. You've been warned.
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Charlie slipped the key card into the door and hauled one heavy suitcase and an overnight bag through it as his daughter followed, carrying several shopping bags. The pair made it just to the king-sized bed before plopping everything onto the carpet. They smiled at each other as they caught their breath.
Abby was slated to get married the next weekend. To make her wedding day extra special, she had wanted to spend the week in a hotel room, with no contact with her fiancé, other than by phone. Her father had, of course, insisted upon putting her up in a nice, if modest, hotel. He had also just treated her to a day of shopping for both the wedding and the honeymoon. They had stopped off at a grocery store to pick up some supplies for her stay, although he had told her she could order room service whenever she felt like.
"Phew! Sweetie, did you LITERALLY pack the kitchen sink?" he complained as he leaned on the faux-mahogany dresser.
"Shut up!" Abby yelped. She stepped over and lightly punched him in the arm before grabbing a shopping bag and stepping over to the kitchenette counter. "I'm going to be here all week, remember? You think I could just bring a pair of sweats?"
"Right. Like you own a pair of sweats," he grumbled with a wry grin.
"Fine. Yoga pants and a t-shirt. Whatever. Now, let's have a drink, shall we? Shopping is thirsty work!" The strawberry-blonde 19-year-old pulled a handle of Jack Daniels and a two-liter bottle of Diet Coke out of the bag. She found two hotel-branded coffee mugs next to the four-cup coffee maker on the counter.
As his daughter grabbed a tray of ice out of the smallish refrigerator/freezer, Charlie surveyed the room. Bland, yellowish-beige walls "decorated" with various decent watercolor landscapes, a two-person dining table next to the window, two chrome and black plastic chairs, an extra in the corner, the faux-cherry dresser he was leaning on, and a king-size bed with a thick-striped, multicolored comforter. In total, the room walked a tightrope between cheap and tawdry, and luxurious.
The room temperature was slightly chilly, so the man strode over to the sliding window and pulled it open. The early June breeze began seeping into the room. Then the man noticed an ashtray over on the two-drawer nightstand next to the bed, along with a small lamp and alarm clock.
He grabbed the ashtray and placed it on the small dining table, then pulled his pack of Marlboro Lights and Bic out before plopping down into a chair. His daughter had picked up his habit as a freshman in college. Another reason he had chosen this particular hotel was that it was in a small county just outside of town that still allowed smoking in bars, restaurants, and hotels, if the owners chose.
As he was lighting up a much-needed cigarette, Abby brought over two mugs of Jack and Coke strong enough to strip the dingy neutral paint off of the walls. "Here you go, Oscar," she chided, using her pet name for him when he was getting grouchy.
The still-handsome 44-year-old father took him up with a begrudging smile. "Thanks, honey." He raised the dark blue coffee cup up in toast.
"To my little girl's last week as a free woman," Charlie announced in a terrible British accent.
"Here here," his daughter nodded, smiling brightly.
The pair each took a couple gulps before setting their mugs back down. The man took a pull on his cigarette, inhaling the pungent smoke gratefully. Abby reached over and plucked the smoldering cylinder from between his fingers to take a drag of her own. As he watched his beautiful girl-next-door looking daughter sucking on the filter, he shook his head at how mature and elegant she looked. Sexy, even. It seemed like just last week that they had been building pillow and blanket forts together...
