Tennis player Marguerite is in her dad's research program. He discovers more about her than he planned. Hope you enjoy the story! XO DG
This story contains an extramarital affair, so if you find that bothersome, do not read. If you do though, don't complain to me about the adultery. :D
The Doctor's Daughter
Chapter 01
Mags, you're going to ace the tournament," Bunny said, tossing me a towel. Besides my dad, she was my bestie and number one supporter.
"You know I'm finally feeling pretty good about my game. More in control of all my movements," I said, wiping the sweat from my face. We began to walk the path back to the dorm. "I have a therapy meeting with my dad tomorrow before practice, so I'll have to come here directly from his office."
"Lucky you! I wish Doctor Hunk would need me," Bunny said, tossing her flame-red hair back dramatically. I laughed at her comical hots for my dad. "Yeah, well I know you don't see it..." she said, giving me a sidelong
oh sure
glance.
In fact, I have long been acutely aware of how handsome my dad is. He and I had an unusual father-daughter relationship. He was a well-known orthopedic doctor surgeon that specialized in hip and knee replacement and research therapy. His study of developing muscles to protect hips and knees before they became damaged made him a worldwide name. He was considered a god amongst the sports crowd. He had a waiting list for those that want to take muscle therapy to help prevent injuries, and very few made the cut to get in the program.
I always knew my dad loved me, but we never had a close relationship. When I was young, he had an orthopedic practice he was attempting to build. Then as I reached my teen years, he began to travel the world training and lecturing. I always understood why and never felt deprived. Somehow, even when young, I knew he was doing important work.
The one link we always had was tennis He was a world-class tennis player and started me playing at four. An age my mother found too young. Now she is too wrapped up in her social stature in the community to notice what I'm doing.
Della Mae Chittenden was born into the crème of society. She was groomed to be a social maven her whole life. Although her family was disappointed in her choice of a college student that only wanted to become a doctor, she didn't let that sway her. Her father was once mayor of the small town we live in expected big things from her- marrying into wealth, not the possibility of future wealth by the upcoming Doctor Jackson Honoré. I know what you're thinking. Small town. This town had the oldest and most stately homes around and housed old money that they shared with the university. Especially when one could have a building with your name after the right amount of those old dollars.
It also had the best orthopedic medical school, which is also where I go to college, and where dad was a full professor. But much to my dad's disappointment, I was there to major in marketing. Medicine was just never my interest. I was sad when I discovered that about myself. I knew he would like me to become a doctor, although he never said as much.
We never really discussed it though. By the time I was ready to think about my future, he was in the thick of his research and traveling the world to teach and lecture. During my most formative years, we passed each other as we breezed in and out. Mother now took no notice of either one of us, having a career of climbing the social ladder.
I got back to my dorm room and looked in the nearly empty refrigerator. I spent half my time here and half my time at home so didn't keep much here. I called for pizza, grabbed an against-training-policy beer, and waited, while I considered my schedule for tomorrow.
I had classes, then a short break before the therapy appointment with dad. Well, tomorrow wasn't therapy, it was the test to see how the therapy was doing. He did that every so often. He never admitted it, but I always believed I was the Guinea pig for the incoming Guinea pigs that signed up for his program. It was all research, so didn't cost us anything.
*****
My father's office was on the top floor of one of the oldest buildings on campus. A giant sandstone behemoth with peaks and spires that could be taken for a church. The view of the majestic oaks that shaded the lush green lawn was gorgeous as the leaves were just beginning to change to oranges and yellows.
I breezed by the biddy that sat at the desk outside the professor's offices with a flip of my fingers. Her pursed lips weren't lost on me when she noticed my multi colored blonde hair and tennis skirt showing an indecent length of leg. Lucky for her I wore a pullover sweater because the air was cooling outside.
I closed the door behind me, pulled the sweater off and carefully folded it, and placed it over my racket.
Being in his office always brought a smile. The old building hadn't been modernized and was appointed with wide oak woodwork, floor-to-ceiling paned windows, an oak-beamed ceiling, and a worn wooden floor. Turn around and you'd see the patient's high-low chrome medical table with a plethora of contraptions hanging from the ceiling above.
I chuckled thinking how it could be construed as a playset for sex, then laughed aloud thinking that this was my dad's office.
I hopped up on the table and tugged my top higher. With forty D breasts, anything with a slight scoop neck became a dangerous nipple-baring peepshow. They were too large for a sports bra but did find a bra that would hold me tight, albeit pushing my tits tight together.
They still sat high on my chest, and I didn't need the support, but I did need to have them managed to keep from bouncing while I played. I was never allowed to show that much of myself at home, so this would be a shock to my dad. If he even noticed.
Punctually at two o'clock, the door opened, and he strode in, nearly at a run.
"Marguerite, it's wonderful to see you," he said, dropping his case on his desk and flipping through the mail.
I studied him while he opened what appeared to be an important piece of mail. He was tall, six feet, and in perfect shape from playing tennis. His dark tan complimented the silvering of his black hair. Thick black eyebrows and long black lashes highlighted denim blue eyes. I stifled a laugh at Bunny's perfect name for him... Doctor Hunk.
He tossed the mail on his desk and turned.
"So how have you been doing?"
I knew he wasn't inquiring about me, but about how the therapy was affecting me. I looked up to see his glance at my cleavage. Not surprised because I knew it was the first he'd seen mine. I ran down the list that he wanted to hear. He nodded as I went through each point.
When I completed that, I turned and stretched out on the well-padded table. I put my feet flat, knees raised, forgetting that I wore the short tennis skirt with the white panties underneath. Another first for father, I thought, smiling to myself and feeling more than a bit naughty. I always assumed he had a side chick, or chicks because my mother was somewhat of a cold fish.
"Okay, we will," he stopped to clear his throat, "start with your strength." I raised my feet, and he hooked my ankles into the stirrups that hung from the ceiling.
My legs were spread as he raised the stirrups higher. I was to raise my lower body while he noted the muscle use and, hopefully, increasing strength.
Where normally I wore pants, his hands were now on skin. His touch was nervously light, then as I began the exercise, became firmer. His knowledgeable fingers tracked which muscles were used more, and which needed another position.
His hand felt hot on my firm ass and, then ran up the back of my leg to my knee. I repeated and his hand slid down my inner thigh until the side of his hand pressed on my heating pussy. The effect of his hands on my bare skin was much different and my body was responding. I was sure he could feel the steamy heat that built between my legs.
My chest heaved and my nipples poked lewdly through the white bra and top.
His voice snapped me out of the daydream when he said in a low gravel voice that I'd not heard before, "I'm happy with what you've achieved so far. I think we are missing some muscles and need to work on them. I'm going to spread your feet and see if that has any effect on those muscles." I looked at him and nodded. He spread my feet and adjusted my legs, so they were spread wide. "I don't want to put any stress on your joints."
