Author's Note: This is a two part story. The second part is finished and will post next week. There's an initial tease here, but this first installment is mostly build-up.
This story is my version of an "I want to be Daddy's whore" story, done in a different way than usual. Though it is entirely fictional, it was inspired by real events.
All characters are over the age of 18.
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Allison received the text just as she walked from the subway to her apartment on Lexington and 53rd. It was a Thursday night, one of those cold rainy evenings when all you wanted to do was get inside, put on a pair of sweats and curl up on the couch happy that the week was almost over.
Seeing his words on the phone, she smiled with excitement and sped up to get home, now enjoying the walk, the city, and the rush of people all heading to places unknown.
The text she'd received was from her father, the Honorable Representative Paul Austin. It said: "Four Seasons, Room 1710, 11:00."
She knew he was in town. She'd seen him on TV that morning at a press conference with the mayor, looking distinguished and serious as they fielded questions about the upcoming elections. He was here on one of his press tours to support the local slate of candidates and urge people to get out and vote. A plug from Paul Austin, one of the city's most well-known Congressmen, always gave a huge bump in the polls. His experience, reputation for honesty, and his warm demeanor made him the perfect man for this kind of job.
Of course, Allison knew the real reason he'd accepted this little chore, and why he was really in New York.
He'd left her a short voicemail that morning, in his calm, deep voice: "Hi sweetheart. I'll be tied up all day at the mayor's office. . . .
I need to see you
. . . Will text hotel, room and time and leave key at front office. Let yourself in."
So she'd watched him on TV that morning with that message in mind, knowing she'd be seeing him later.
He stood on a dais looking handsome in an immaculate gray suit, crisp white shirt and blue striped tie. Onscreen, her father had the startling beauty and charisma of a natural born actor, like all great politicians. He had just turned 50. He was tall and very fit, with a lean runner's body. He had classic All American looks, like he just stepped out of a Brooks Brothers ad—turquoise blue eyes, a dazzling smile and a perfect nose, and a strong jaw with just a hint of a cleft in his chin. His black hair was now entirely salt and pepper and tiny wrinkles were visible around his eyes and mouth. He was the very picture of a distinguished, powerful man.
The mayor introduced him to a loud spattering of applause—everyone loved Representative Austin, even those in the opposing party—and the minute he began to speak, there was silence. He spoke without notes, in a deep voice that was intimate and seductive, that appealed to both body and mind. He was smooth and polished, and gave off an air of authority and complete confidence. Allison loved hearing him speak. As handsome as he was, his intelligence was the most attractive thing about him. Her father was simply the smartest man she'd ever met.
She watched him for a long time, getting more and more aroused. Seeing him on TV, in his element, drinking in his polished public persona, was the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world. Not because he was famous, and not just because he was her father, but because she loved thinking about their little secret at the same time. All of these people adored and worshipped him! He looked so honest, so professional, so utterly reliable and good! It made their relationship so much hotter, so much more forbidden and taboo. She knew he reveled in the secret and that he loved their dirty sex as much as she, in defiance of everything he represented to the world.
Allison was so worked up and aroused when she got home, she rushed inside, tore off her clothes and quickly got in the shower. She was standing naked in her bedroom deciding what to wear when her phone buzzed. She glanced at it: it was her fiancé, Peter.
"Hi honey."
"Allison, how are you?"
"Just getting in now. Long day."
"I know. So I see your father's in town. You didn't mention it."
"I know, I'm sorry. I just found out this morning."
"So does that mean tonight is off?"
"Yes, honey, I'm sorry. I haven't seen him for months, and he only has a few hours." Not exactly true.
"Well I'm tied up here anyway. Send him my best."
"I will, of course."
"Talk to you tomorrow?"
"Yes, bye hon."
That done, she opened her top drawer and ran her hand through all the silky, lacy lingerie. She loved getting dressed for these meetings. In the end she chose a black lace bra and a tiny thong, and sheer black thigh highs. She had to squeeze her full breasts into the half-bra, which hooked in the front. Not being quite big enough for a D, her breasts always slightly overflowed a C-cup, and so her dark red nipples were completely exposed. She chose a simple light blue silk blouse that buttoned up the front, loving how her nipples poked through. She rubbed them slightly to make them even harder. She tucked this into a very tight, black silk skirt and slid her legs into black suede pumps.
The blouse set off her blue eyes, which she got from Paul, to perfection. Allison got most of her looks from her father—her height (5' 8), dark brown hair, which she wore in loose, highlighted waves down to her shoulders, and sexy lips and beautiful smile. Like him, she also ran daily and kept very fit.
Lastly, she put on pearls and make-up—foundation, shadow, blush, mascara, and a rich application of sheer light plink gloss. Very nicely done. She wanted to slut it up but not look like a cheap hooker. She looked exactly like the kind of expensive call girl who serviced the needs of her father's class; it was all part of their game. Allison loved her father, and she knew he loved her, but their trysts were for sex, not for romance. She knew what turned him on and, at times, loved playing up the part of a whore.
By the time she was ready it was 10:00; she called for a car and waited wet and aching and knowing that her father was feeling the same thing across town, wherever he was. It was what they both wanted and needed, and they knew they could neither resist it nor stop it. The reluctance and hesitation they'd gotten over with; there was nothing to do but embrace their inexplicable thirst for each other. Allison was in fact very happy with Peter and looking forward to getting married. But she simply had to be with her father from time to time, there was no way around it.
In the car driving uptown, she got another text from him. "Will be there around 11:30. Looking forward." This made her so hot she had to reach up her skirt, her legs slightly spread, push aside her satin panties and furtively touch herself. She hoped the driver couldn't hear her gasp. She was so wet, her mind full of the images that morning of her Dad on TV, thinking of that delirious moment when she would get to feel him warm and naked in her arms.
The Four Seasons. She knew her father had chosen this as a little sign to her. It was their favorite place. So beautiful and rich and luxurious, it spoke of pleasure and enjoyment and was the perfect place for a whore to fuck her delighted client. This was one of their favorite role plays.
As she walked to the front desk, she got a thrill out of the various men noticing her. Rich men, powerful men, handsome men. She unbuttoned her coat and let it fall open a bit, so that her barely contained breasts could bounce and jiggle as she walked, and her hard nipples could be plainly seen through her silk blouse. She got to the front desk and said, "Paul Austin, please." The clerk immediately handed her a key and said, "Here you go, Miss Austin." Dad had set it all up.
As she waited for the elevator, she sensed before she saw a man come up to her. He was gorgeous. Tall, silvery hair, well-dressed, obviously wealthy. She picked him for a lawyer. He stood too close, and was obviously staring. But Allison felt bold and held his sexy gaze. It was electric. She felt so slutty. He thought she was a call girl—escort, to be more accurate. She let her eyes say to him, "Too bad it's not you I'm going to see."
He got in the elevator and blatantly stared at her for the entire ride, looking her up and down with the most direct and lascivious gaze. She gave him just the tiniest flirtatious smile. He had seen her push her floor and when it got close, he moved over and stood next to her. He leaned down right before she got off and said, "Is there some way to contact you? Who should I ask for?" Allison just smiled, thrilled that her apparent disguise was working so well, and slipped away.
Outside the suite stood a man. Daddy was not important enough to get Secret Service protection, of course, but he did employ a bodyguard when he traveled. John had been working for Paul for six years and he was completely professional and discrete. He knew Allison, and he knew of the long hours and sometimes nights she spent with her father in hotel rooms. But he had never betrayed a single flicker of acknowledgement of their relationship. He had to be stoic and close-mouthed; her father was on the Ethics Committee in the House, after all. Dad had searched for a long time to find someone so trustworthy. She smiled as she came up to him. He made the briefest nod, saying "Miss Austin," and quietly let her in.
It was a gorgeous room, with plush carpets and furnishings, but with that classic, simplified style that suited her father so well. The interior lighting was dim; most of the illumination came instead from the city outside the window. Manhattan, lit up at night, surrounding her on three sides. It was sexy and beautiful.
She took off her coat and walked to the window. There was nothing to do now but wait, her body getting more aroused and excited by the minute. She could feel moisture creeping down her thighs, and a heavy ache settle in her belly. She was on fire with need. Her nipples were like a mother's calling for her baby—aching, hard, and demanding to be sucked!
Finally she heard the latch turn and the door open, and caught her breath. All the sensations in her body shot up in intensity. She gasped, burning up with excitement, but didn't turn around. She heard Paul close the door quietly, and then toss his coat on the bed and his keys on the table. She kept completely still.
He walked over to her. She could see him reflected in the windows, looking a little tired, still wearing a suit, and could smell his subtle spicy cologne. Daddy's scent. It shot through her like a bullet.
