AN: Many thanks to Doctor Hook and twistedsickmind for their helpful advice
*
"Your daughter's here."
The secretary at the law firm of Hennessey, White & Associates sounded annoyed. She had that tone in her voice that said she didn't appreciate "personal matters" interrupting her work. "Oh, Thank Christ," John Hennessey muttered, tossing his pen on his desk. He took off his glasses and leaned back, rubbing his temples as if he had a headache. It had been a long, exhausting day, and it wasn't over yet. He had a huge stack of briefs piled on his desk that he had to finish by the end of the day. A visit from Sara was
exactly
what he needed right now.
He waited another minute before buzzing the intercom.
"Please send her in. And hold my calls, Marilyn. Thank you."
Marilyn opened the door for Sara in a disapproving kind of way, but John didn't notice. His attention was entirely focused on his 21 year old daughter.
"Hey," said Sara, walking right in and making herself at home.
"'Hey' to you, too," said John, as he leaned back a bit in his chair and watched her sit down, thinking
What a goddamned beautiful sight.
She was completely out of place in her casual clothes, but to John she was absolutely gorgeous in skin tight jeans which showed off every perfect curve, no make-up and sun-kissed blond hair.
"What's up with Helga?" said Sara, raising an eyebrow.
"What, you mean the Gatekeeper?"
"I don't think she likes me."
John got up from behind the desk to make sure the office door was locked.
"It's just this place," he said, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. "It's a prison."
"I know. I have to show about ten forms of ID just to get in."
"Really? Well I'll have to get that fixed in the future."
"Yeah? Can I get put on the secret list?"
"Hmmmm, we'll see . . ." he whispered, as he walked past her back to his desk.
John sat down in his chair, leaning back with his hands behind his head, watching with fascination as Sara slowly got up and walked towards him, her long fingernails trailing on the desk, a little smile on her face. Their eyes locked, and he had to shift in his seat to get comfortable. Her every gesture held him mesmerized.
"Mmmm . . ." he groaned when Sara slid forward, straddling him. Her long hair fell to one side as she wrapped both hands around the back of his neck, like she was about to give him a lap dance. She spread her legs wider; he could see a lace-trimmed G-string peeking out over the top of her jeans.
"You're amazing," he whispered, as he slid his hands up to her waist and drew her closer. He closed his eyes and made a sharp intake of breath when she slid onto his hardness and he could feel the heat and wetness of her through his suit.
Sara wrapped her arms tighter around his neck as she looked into his eyes.
"So what do you think Helga would say if she knew you were fucking your daughter?" Sara whispered.
"Is that what I'm doing?"
"Hmmm . . . not exactly."
"No?" he said, grasping her hips and holding them down, tighter, on top of him.
"No, not yet . . ." she said.
"Oh . . . baby . . . I can't, I can't."
"She won't hear us," Sara murmured, as she kissed his neck.
"What? Oh I don't care about her. No, I have to work. I have to, if I want to get finished by this weekend."
"What's happening this weekend?"
"This weekend," he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, "I am taking you away."
"Really?" Sara said, smiling.
"I thought we'd go to Wildwood."
"Aw . . ." Sara reached down and held his hands. "Our 'anniversary'." "Yes," he said. "I thought we might celebrate."
She leaned over and kissed him sweetly on the lips. "I would
love
that. But I'm supposed to work."
"Oh . . . " John's voice conveyed his disappointment. "Can't you get out of it? We'll be together, just the two of us . . ."
Sara's nipples stiffened outwards at the look in his eyes, and a deep, secretive knowledge seemed to pass silently between them.
"You'll come?" he said, almost pleading.
Sara nodded, and kissed him again. "Let me see what I can do."
+++
After Sara left, John stood at the window of his well-appointed executive office with his hands balled into fists in his pockets, too aroused and excited to work.
In the far distance, he could see the mountains. Wildwood was only an hour away, but, he thought, it might as well be a million miles from where he was now.
His reflection floated like a ghost on the surface of the glass. It showed him a handsome man, 48 years old, with silvery black hair and dark green eyes. He wore a $2,000 suit with an immaculate pinstriped shirt, cufflinks, a stiff collar, and a perfectly knotted silk tie. It was the image of a man with power and responsibility— confident, conservative, everything he was raised to be. He never thought he would be contemplating it one day like he would a mask, or the face of a stranger.
It didn't trouble him—it was what it was, a necessary thing, for himself and everyone who depended on him. It was only with Sara that he let the mask down, and that was enough.
A year ago . . . it was hard to fathom how much could change in the space of two weeks.
He had gone to Wildwood miserable, stressed out, and desperate to get away from it all. Instead he had found something that he never imagined would become so indispensable to his existence.
He turned around to get back to work, thinking that tomorrow could not arrive soon enough. Wildwood was out there, just as real as the ghost. He would take her there, where it all began.
+++
An hour later, Sara, clad in a bikini and sunglasses, lounged on her back on a floating raft in the pool behind her parents' house. No one else was home.
She trailed both feet and one arm in the cool water; with the other she held an ipod. Lana del Rey streamed through the earbuds as she relaxed into the music, her blonde hair spread out behind her in the water like a jellyfish.
