Part One of a two-part story.
I can see now that Patti had planned it out much more than I realized at the time.
Yeah, I can see it, now. Somewhere around her 18th birthday she started flirting with me. Nothing terribly obvious, nothing you'd call shameless, by any stretch of the imagination. Just little things, like standing too close, telling me somewhat off-color jokes, licking her lips just oh-so-slightly slower than normal.
She had it down; she struck that delicate balance. It was behavior that might encourage a boyfriend, but it was subtle enough that I would have felt presumptuous telling her to tone it down.
The thing is, that's all she needed. She had a long-term plan. It was enough just to get the idea in my head, even if just for a moment, even if I'm doubtful about her intentions. Then let the cumulative effect of hundreds of moments build up.
I mean, I can't say I thought nothing about it when she started that stuff. Hmmm... what would it be like to, uh... you know, with her... I saw no need to feel guilty, no reason to feel like a disgusting pervert because, after all, the male brain is hard-wired to think that way at
any
suggestion of sex, no matter who's involved, right? I couldn't help it. But I didn't see a problem as long as I put the thought out of my head quickly. I didn't intend to do anything like that. It didn't occur to me that she might have intentions of her own.
It was shortly after she got her own place that she called to ask me to take some pictures of her. She said her friend Tammy was sending some pictures to a modeling agency and had talked her into sending some, too.
"I really don't think I have a chance," Patti said, "but Tammy just keeps going on about it. So I thought, okay, I'll do it to shut her up. Besides, it might be fun just to take some pictures, even if it goes nowhere."
Yeah, she knew which button to push. Dad's quite the amateur photographer.
We went to the park the following Saturday. It was warm, bright and sunny, a perfect day for taking pictures. Patti brought several outfits. We took several shots of her in each outfit -- a yellow sun dress, jeans and t-shirt, sweats, shorts and tube top. She changed in the public restroom.
The photos we took were the posed kind that are supposed to look candid, the kind you often see in magazines. Walking through the park, looking at flowers, playing frisbee. Patti has always photographed well, and in the park she looked very natural and relaxed in front of the camera. She was playful and energetic.
And a bit more flirty than usual.
Still, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. It didn't occur to me not to. That's the kind of attitude you want for photos like this. Right? Playful, exuberant. That's what you want.
We left the film at a one-hour photo service and went back to her place. Patti got a couple Cokes out of the fridge, and we sat down to relax.
"I need some more shots," she said.
"What do you need?"
"They want some sexy pictures." She paused, apparently waiting for me to say something. When I didn't, she went on. "What do you think? Are you up for it?"
"How sexy are we talking about?"
"Well, tasteful. I'm talking about sexy, not pornographic."
Somehow it didn't seem quite appropriate. Not over the line, necessarily, but just maybe getting a little closer to the line than I should allow.
"If you get uncomfortable," she said, "just say so and we'll stop."
"Okay," I said. "We can try it and see how it goes."
"Great!" she jumped up and went into her bedroom. The phrase "against my better judgment" ran through my mind. Several times. It had always been hard for me to say no to Patti, and this was very different from anything that had ever happened before.
I turned on the TV and watched part of a Steve Martin movie on cable. Patti finally came out in a sheer black, full-length negligee with lace trim. She had black panties and bra on underneath. Her long, auburn hair flowed around her shoulders. "How do I look?" she asked.
She was beautiful. But how do you tell you daughter that when she's dressed that way?
I managed to choke out the word "Good."
"Is that all? 'Good' isn't good enough," she said.
"Patti, there's no room for improvement."
She smiled. "I was thinking about posing on the sofa," she said. "What do you think about that?"
"Yeah, that's good." I clicked the TV off, picked up my camera, and moved around in front of the sofa, getting as far back as I could to frame the shot.
Patti sat down. "Lemme think..." she said. "I know." She got up and went into the kitchen. I heard glasses clinking, and a moment later she came back out with two long-stemmed glasses of red wine. She held one out.
"Mine's a prop," she said. "Yours... I think you could use a little help to relax. I think this has you tense."
"Maybe a bit," I said. I took the glass and sipped. "Nice," I said.
"Thanks." Patti sat on the sofa and crossed her legs. She swirled her wine around and tasted it. "Shoot at will," she said.
I raised the camera and began shooting. Patti posed, very natural -- and seductive. Provocative but not slutty. Youthful as she was, this was a woman brimming with self-confidence, who knows what she wants and how to get it.
After a few minutes, Patti stood, unfastened her bra, and shrugged it to the floor. "Does this bother you?" she asked.
Somehow -- I wasn't aware of this at the time, but only figured it out later -- she had taken me completely out of the father-daughter mindset and almost into the discovery of a new lover mindset. Through the fabric of the negligee, I could see that her breasts, about a C cup, were very nicely rounded and firm. For a moment, I found myself wanting to touch them.
I felt my face flush, and I realized that I hadn't taken a breath for, probably, a whole minute. "We might as well go on," I said.
Again, the phrase "against my better judgment" came to mind. But another though replaced it: This was indeed over the line. This was inappropriate, no doubt about it.
And that's what made it exciting. I was going to ride this out. I was going to let Patti take this as far as she wanted.
We shot some more pictures, then Patti slipped out of her panties and kicked them toward me. I picked them up and put them on the coffee table, for no other reason than to handle them.
I was becoming aroused. I wasn't fully hard, but I was getting there.
She continued posing, but maddeningly, managed not to give me a view of her bush. By now, I was conscious of wanting to see her nude. My daughter. I wanted to see her fully naked, and I wasn't a bit bothered that I was thinking about it. The excitement overwhelmed anything else.
Patti sat on the arm of the sofa and gave me a pouty look. She smiled salaciously. She gave me a sultry stare. She had the entire repertoire down. Snap, snap, snap. I moved around trying to get the view of her bush that I wanted so badly, but she kept turning her hips away, crossing her legs, twisting around. Anything to protect that secret.
Both of us knew what was going on. We didn't say anything about it, but it was clear that the game was in full swing.
I stopped to reload. "Do you want to do some nudes?" Patti asked.
"Like you said, if it gets to the point where I feel uncomfortable, I'll let you know."
"You're okay, then?"
"I'm not letting you know, am I?"
I'd never have dreamed of a conversation like this, even as recently as an hour earlier.
Patti dropped the negligee to the floor, giving me an unobstructed view of her body. Smooth, soft skin, muscular legs, shapely hips. And when she turned around to face me -- shaven pussy.
I found myself sighing audibly.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
