That day at work, Paul supposed he had made some kind of progress, or at least had started to recognize reality. There was no attempt to convince himself that he'd end things with Anna. No certainty that he would resist fucking his brains out with his only daughter the second he saw her again.
It was an effort, really, not to tackle the girl when she showed up at his office unexpectedly. She was dressed relatively demurely, in a long summer dress that flattered her hourglass figure but didn't expose much of it. Watching her talk to his coworkers as she made her way to him, Paul had some time to enjoy the intelligent, friendly, capable young woman his daughter had become.
It was only when she was right in front of him that he went back to thinking about how much he wanted her again. It was an effort not to kiss her, grope her, throw her on his desk and hike the dress up in front of all his coworkers, and part of his mind gave him credit for still having that much control. Anna played the good daughter, kissing him lightly on the cheek and handing him a brown bag.
"Just stopped by because I saw you forgot your lunch while I was cleaning the house, Dad. Love you, gotta go."
Of course, he hadn't brown bagged it since his wife had left, but he wasn't going to argue. Still, the bag felt light, and he followed his instincts to open it up only once he'd closed his door. Inside, instead of a lunch, there was a DVD.
Once his wife had left, he'd spent quite a bit of money on developing a huge porn collection. After about three months, it had ceased to do much for him and with Anna in he house he'd felt nervous about her discovering it, so most had gone in the trash. All except the one sitting in front of him. It was a cheap compilation tape, a bunch of women getting screwed with no story, bland sex, and poor production values. But it was all built around a theme of the women wearing nurses uniforms, and something about that had stuck with him. Once or twice a month, he would take it out at night long after Anna was in bed, and jerk off to it to burn off some tension.
It seemed the hiding place he had found for it in his closet wasn't exactly of CIA quality. The guilt that came over him was odd, although predictable under the circumstances. He felt like he'd been caught cheating by a lover, he felt horribly embarrassed. There was no doubt his daughter was upset to find this, though she had certainly been able to stay polite in his workplace, he had no doubt she would be more clear in her anger when he got home. He thought of the screaming fight he had once had with the ex over a couple of dirty magazines, and prepared for the worst.
The concept of equating his daughter and his wife would not hit him in full force until later, and that was for the best. At the moment, that wave of guilt added to everything else would have done irrevocable damage.
There was no small amount of fear when he opened the door, and it multiplied when he didn't see her standing there. His mind made a morbid jokes about a sneak attack, though he bit his lip before the laughter came. Her voice came to him from the basement, and he couldn't make out the tone.
"Did you bring the movie?"
"I threw it out."
A sigh, and now he could make out some exasperation, if not anger.
"You shouldn't have done that, Mr. Jackson. Videos can be a helpful teaching tool. Ah, well, I guess we'd better go ahead as best we can."
Anna came out of the darkness, and Paul felt his stomach roiling as the picture became clearer. Cartoon-like, his mouth hung open as he saw his daughter was wearing a nurses outfit that would have been perfectly in keeping with his favorite porno. The skirt was high enough that he could see her white stocking tops, the blouse tight enough against her chest that he could see her nipples. She even wore a hat with a red cross on it, and makeup thicker then he had ever seen on the girl before. The white pumps clicked across the hardwood floor as she walked over to him and kissed him lightly once on the lips. The sly grin on her face may well have matched the one he felt forming on his own.
"Now then, Mr. Jackson, if you'll just come with me we can verify if you would be an acceptable sperm donor."
Damn, he thought to himself, even dialogue straight out of the movies. She took his has and walked him down the stairs. Another porn film played on the big screen TV, one he'd never seen, and she seated him in front of the couch directly in front of it. Smiling even wider, she bent over to kiss him again, then knelt before him. On screen, a red headed nurse lifted her skirt and bounced up and down on a black man with a dick whose size roughly matched Paul's arm.
She sounded like she was going to quote his movie again, and he interrupted. Stuttering, with no idea how to proceed in what could only be called a situation that don't prepare you for in any of the parenting books, he tried the best he could.
"Baby....you don't have to do this. You don't have to....do things that are strange or uncomfortable for you. You're not my personal blowup doll."
She was all self confidence and strength in her replies.
"I know, Daddy. I know if I said I wanted you to give up this X-rated stuff, or I wanted to stop doing things with me altogether, you'd be fine with it, you'd still care just as much about me and I'd still be your girl. That's part of why I can do this and enjoy it.
