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The Scent of Jasmine

By: TimInTorment



A whole month. That was how long he had been away. Not that it had been a bad trip, Dubai was pleasant in early autumn, the food was good, the hotel decadent as only oil money can do. Even his daily gym visits were accompanied by a personal trainer.

Oh yeah, and business had been very good to him.

His wife was away herself, meaning that the house would probably be empty. Not a problem. He could catch up with his family later. After a long flight, it might be good to have the house to himself. A quick shower, a beer, maybe a dip in the pool.

The taxi made its way through familiar streets, and as it turned the final bend he could see his house between the trees. There it was, the corner window. His bedroom. It reminded him how long it had been since he had been laid.

There was the opportunity in Dubai, of course. Rumours had it that the chambermaids were more than happy to offer sex on the side. Mostly Filipino girls: cute, but lacking the sass he liked in a woman.

He tipped the driver and took his bag from the back seat. He opened the front door, noticing the alarm system was not on. He called out to his wife, then Jasmine, his daughter. No answer. Just forgetful, he supposed.

He dumped his suitcase on the bed, he could worry about it later. A shower first.

It felt good to get the hours washed off his body. As he relaxed, he noticed himself getting hard. He started to stroke himself, recalling some of the girls he had seen on holiday. But his wife would be back in a few days, best save it all for her. God, he'd explode, he laughed to himself.

House to himself, he headed downstairs in his towel. His swimming trunks would be in the laundry room where they had been kept all summer. In the kitchen he took a beer, gulped half of it quickly. He looked out the window, a good late summer sky. Still warm enough for a dip. He found his trunks, put them on. As he approached the door, a glance through the window revealed he wasn't alone after all.

In the pool was Jasmine, lying on a float. His heart warmed. She was home after all. He started to think of ways of surprising her, perhaps dive bombing next to her. Or creeping in and splashing her. As he looked closer, he noticed she was naked.

He smiled, this would be so embarrassing for her! Maybe he should announce himself to spare her. Or maybe he could...

He was stalling. Maybe it was the pent up energy, or the jet lag, but he found his eyes flowing over her body, flawless in the bright sun. She had the half-Indian colouring from her mother. Her legs were long, flowing into curvaceous hips. Her waist and narrow back, and now, as the float slowly turned, the rest of her came into view. God, how was it possible for her to have grown into such a woman? Without thinking his hand strayed to his crotch, trying to adjust himself. A protest came from some higher part of his mind... this is your daughter, Tim, for chrissakes! Maybe it was the jet lag ... or the pent up energy ... feeding a more primitive part of his mind. Just allow yourself a moment, Tim. Just one look. He imagined his hands moving over that smooth skin, feeling the hips give way to her waist... the smooth rise of her breasts... kissing her stomach... wondering what her pussy would taste like...

Wow. Yeah, better stop there. Go back upstairs and work one off.

The float continued to turn in the breeze, and with it Jasmine came to face the house. He continued to stare, almost feeling her warmth on him. As she opened her eyes, he suddenly froze, realising what he had been doing. A moment later she saw him.

She let out a little yelp as she tried to cover itself. As she did, she lost her balance and Tim heard a muffled splash as she capsized into the pool. She came up laughing as he walked into the back garden.

"Dad! What are you doing back?" she said hiding on the far side of the float.

"Where else am I going to go, hun? Turned my study into a disco already?"

She laughed again and pointed to her black bikini on the side of the pool. He smiled and threw it to her, just short of the float.

"Turn around dad!" She said.

He walked down the pool steps. "Bit late for that, hun."

He sat on a step, sipping his beer. As he did, Jasmine lay on the edge of the float and kicked her way to her bikini. Half suspended by the float, her buttocks rose above the water level. Beautiful smooth brown orbs pulsating with each kick as she moved, glistening with the water.  Yeah, just allow yourself another moment, Tim.

She turned her back to put her bikini back on. "Mum's back early as well. This evening. Sounded stressed."

"She say why?"

"No. Not really. She's been out late a lot recently."

"Must be a work thing."

They sat resting in the pool, soaking in the last of the days heat. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes just lay there relaxing. And it was in these quiet moments that Tim fought to keep his mind as empty as possible

**********

Dressed and alone in his study, he checked his emails. Too many. Too boring. He switched to his Chrome browser and put it into Incognito mode. He knew this was wrong, but maybe he just needed to relieve some tension. A few clicks later and he found just the right one. A young, slim Indian girl... not as busty as Jasmine, but beautiful nonetheless. He watched her play with her pussy... he skipped to the part where she began to take some guys cock into her mouth. God, she was going for it. He tried to concentrate on the girl, pushing anyone else out his mind. Yeah, its OK Tim, you're just horny. Jasmine's figure just hit some evolutionary buttons in your brain. Nothing to feel guilty about. It's why girls look like that!

The Indian girl was on all fours now... moaning through his headphones...

As his cock hardened, his mind began to lose its focus. As much as he tried he couldn't keep Jasmine out of his thoughts. He began to imagine her in his study... on all fours on the floor...

The girl in the video now had the guy's cock gently placed against her arse... He saw himself behind Jasmine. Hands on her slender waist ... slowly allowing himself to ...

The doorbell broke his reverie. He shut down the browser, and headed downstairs, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. He felt flushed, guilty.

He put on a brave face as Jasmine opened the door. Now in a summer dress that played gently over her ... fuck's sake! Stop it, Tim!

His wife entered. Beautiful, but tired. Maybe more than tired.

She forced a smile at his greeting, and he offered her a drink.

In the kitchen, she fended off his and Jasmine's questions with half answers. Tim couldn't gauge what was wrong with her. This was more than just work stress.

"Jasmine, darling. Can your dad and I have a moment alone".

"Aren't we going out to dinner?" she asked.

"Hun, just a moment please."

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Don't be long. I'm starving." And headed through the door.

Tim poured them both some more wine. "So what is it, hun?"

She drank heavily from her glass. "Tim. We need to talk."

*********

Tony Brennan considered himself a shrewd operator. As did many others. For nine of the last ten years his department had come top in terms of profitability, and he continuously had the lowest staff turnover rate in the company. He rarely had to deal with his IT department, since he only hired the best, but this time he wanted to gently sneak behind HR's back. He looked at the report. Just what he suspected. 96 hours a week average, not including the six days out of the last four weekends. Going back over the last six months, it was a similar pattern.

"Thanks Martin, that'll be all."

Martin gave a curt smile and headed back to IT on the fourth floor.

Tony put the report in his draw and gathered his thoughts. Tim was a friend, but an asset first. A damn fine one at that. This needed addressing.

"Tim. Something's come up." Tony dropped an envelope on Tim's desk, walking in unannounced.

"Sure, anything you've got." He replied, without looking up from his screen.

"Involves travel. And you'll have to be on it this weekend."

Tim stopped and let out a sigh. "What's in the envelope?"

"Open it. It's a hotel in Barcelona."

"Why are we interested?" Tim asked, pulling out a brochure and more papers.

"Why? Well, I have a problem. You see, this asset I have has been very ... productive recently. But it's turning him into a fucking head case and he looks like shit."

Tim smiled. "Ah, I see."

"And as I can't do anything about it officially, I went and bought this fucking nutcase a weekend break in Barcelona. Long one. Leaving Thursday, not back until Tuesday."

"Tony, I can't take this. Yeah I've been putting in the hours but ..."

"You bloody can take it. I paid for this out of my own pocket. It's been six months Tim. Get over it. You're half way through the paper work to being a free man again. Yeah, sounds harsh, but you're still young."

"What am I going to do in Barcelona?"

"Have a fucking break, Tim. Why not take your daughter with you? Haven't seen her for ages. How is she?"

"She's good. I guess."

"Not seen much of her recently?"

Tim shook his head. "Not as much as I'd like to since we separated."

"Then take her. Or go by yourself and fuck the brains out of some hot Spanish hooker. Trust me, I've been." Tony swiped imaginary sweat from his forehead.

Tim started laughing as Tony continued. "Or get two at the same time. It's a double suite. Got a balcony. Good view as you bend 'em over."

Tim's eyes looked over the brochure. He suspected half of it was photography tricks, but it did look beautiful.

"Got any cash for the hookers?" Tim said. "Don't want that sort of thing showing up on my credit card during a divorce..."

*********

Tim waited at the bar past migration, sitting by himself with an over-priced beer. Each sip of it seemed to place the ordeal of the last months behind him. His eyes followed the tourists and travellers as they passed, subconsciously rating them from one to ten, and wondering what kink each girl secretly harboured, and how often it was ever revealed. It was good to have that feeling again, of possibilities, or chances yet taken. So why had he brought his daughter? No, it would be good after all this time to spend time with her. He briefly thought about that day at the pool, and smiled at himself. A moments folly. That was all. Brought on by tiredness and the loneliness of working abroad. If it was enough to ruin his marriage it was enough to mess with his mind, if only for a moment. He took his glasses off to rub his eyes. Yeah. It would be good to take a break. He was feeling the need intently now.

"Dad! Made it!" Jasmine greeted him with a huge smile and made her way into the bar. She gave him a hug, long enough for him to smell her perfumed hair. "See, told you I'd get here easy enough. Can I get you a drink?"

He almost told her she was too young, but the sting of missing her 18th birthday reminded him. "Sure," Tim said. "I'll have another Amstel."

"Look after my bags, dad." She headed over to the bar, with Tim watching her every move.

If, he said to himself, if I do get laid in Barcelona, she better half hips at least as half as good as hers. He reflected for a moment. No, that was ok. Objectively Jasmine has a great figure. The sort I'd want on a woman for passionate night in Barcelona. Another woman.

The flight was only a few hours, but he managed a deep sleep. When he awoke, he realised he was erect again. He tried to adjust his pants to hide the problem. He tried to remember what he was dreaming about, but it was already gone except for the faintest trace of ...

He looked to his right. Jasmine was by the window seat, also resting. Her head was against his shoulder, her right hand resting on his thigh. He adjusted himself and reached over to her, patting her thigh gently.

"Hun, we're nearly there."

She slowly woke, sitting up straight and stretching her hands above her head. Inadvertently pushing her full, high breasts forward as she yawned.

This other woman would have to be to the complete package.

********

The hotel exceeded the brochure. The room was as luxurious as promised. The balcony looked south over the city and the sea. The bathroom was resplendent. A deep bath with whirlpool outlets, next to it a shower enclosed by clear walls. Hmm that might be a problem, he thought. The bed was on a slightly elevated section, separate from the lounge area.

"Dad, there's only one bed." Jasmine pointed out.

Tim hadn't noticed. "Oh, yeah. Well you know Tony at work booked it." He clicked on the TV, looking for the international news channel. "Guess he wasn't thinking. He's not really a family man. Is it going to be a problem?"

"Well its big enough, it'll be ok. You don't snore do you?"

"Ha! The cheek. I've heard you after a cocktail or two..."

But she was ignoring him, running out onto the balcony.

"Wow, dad, have you seen? There's a hot tub out here!"

Tim followed her out. There was a hot tub, a small one, with a view of the sea but positioned with a thought to privacy as well. On the other side, hidden by the wall, were three sun loungers. Three? He thought to himself. Maybe Tony had been here with two hookers.

"So, room service, or head out?"

Jasmine wanted to go exploring.

*********

She had chosen his clothes for the evening, tan linen trousers, a white linen shirt, and made him put his contact lenses in so he could wear the Persol sunglasses she made him buy at the airport.

He couldn't have chosen a better outfit for her if he tried. A simple black dress and heels. They walked out of the hotel arm in arm, glad for the time together after so long.

They sauntered down the winding alleys of Barcelona, stopping for the odd drink and tapas before deciding that this was how they wanted to spend the evening. Strolling from tapas bar to tapas bar, a couple of dishes, a drink, and then to the next. They avoided all talk of the last few months, preferring to dwell in the present, soaking in the atmosphere. Tim saw the locals, and the tourists for that matter, looking at the beauty by his side, as well as Jasmine pretending not to notice. On the odd occasion that Tim caught someone's eye, he noticed Jasmine putting her arm around him, marking her territory.

Twice, people came to offer them roses, mistaking them for a couple. Tim joked that he should be so lucky, but Jasmine, perhaps politely, played up to it. Sitting at a street side café, watching the world go by, she excused herself, and Tim's eyes followed her. The dress was not tight, she was too classy for that, but it was fitted enough to show she couldn't be wearing anything more than a thong under that.

Eventually, the evening drew to a natural close. They made plans for the next day, and headed back to the hotel.

Jasmine took his laptop onto the balcony, updating the world, no doubt. It had been a good day. He'd have to get Tony a bottle of scotch on the way back.

Tim ran a bath and sunk into it.

He allowed himself to reflect. All those guys checking out his daughter, most probably thinking she was with him. Well, she was, but not in that way.

With her half-Indian looks she could have passed for a sun-kissed local. When he could kick her off his laptop, maybe he would find his own dark haired, sultry Iberian beauty, to know for an evening, while Jasmine was ushered off to a night club. He closed his eyes, relaxing in the bath. A girl with smooth tanned skin, perfect curves and deep dark eyes. Just like Jasmine...

Dreams of warmth. Closeness. Passion.

He was awoken by singing. Bad singing. Still lost in a half sleep, he realised it was Jasmine. He grinned as he realised there was one thing he hadn't missed since leaving home.

The water was starting to cool and he remembered where he was. He opened his eyes to see that his daughter was in the shower.

The shower was at the foot to the bath, four walls of clear glass. Jasmine had thrown a towel over the top in a bid to secure some privacy. However, it only hung as low as her ribcage, and from where he lay he could see soap suds slide down her back, down, down. Highlighting the slight bony protuberance of her hip bone. Caressing the outline of her firm arse. As she turned he saw the foam mingle with her dark pubic hair.

His cock was sticking through the water. The camouflage of bubbles long since gone. He wondered how long it had been like that, if she had seen it.

Tim knew it was becoming a problem. As beautiful as she was could he really imagine making love to this girl he had raised for the last 18 years? Of betraying that bond, abusing that trust? And on deciding to not think about it the first place his mind took him was to it. Jasmine lying on her back, beneath him... her smooth legs open in a warm embrace, her hand on his cheek...'Daddy...'

Tim startled himself and sat up, water splashing around him. The noise made Jasmine yelp and the towel swiftly came down from the glass partition and wrapped around her. The water was still running, soaking her towel before she could turn it off.  

Tim grabbed his from the floor and covered himself.

"Sorry hun. Let me get you a dry one." Tim stumbled over the floor, nearly slipping. He took a dry towel and walked backwards with an outreached hand.

For some reason, Jasmine was laughing. And it felt good to hear. It was just his little girl, whom he had loved all her life, laughing at the little quirks that come with being a family. Tim felt safe again. From himself.

Tim readied himself for bed, pyjama trousers and a T-shirt, and took his glass of wine to the balcony. This was the second time he had accidentally seen Jasmine naked. Accidentally? The word played in his mind. She must have known he was coming back that day he saw her in the pool. And just now, in the shower. No, that's crazy talk, Tim. It's just you thinking like this, with this problem. She's not teasing you.

He heard a yawn, and turned to see his daughter heading towards the bed. A black tank top and pink, cotton shorts with "PINK" emblazoned in white on the back. He watched her stroll slowly over to the bed, eyes on her hips. He allowed himself to enjoy the sway they made as she crossed the room, allowed himself to watch her get into bed. Their bed.

As he walked over, she knelt on the bed, arranging her pillows. He climbed into bed carefully, staying near to the edge on his side. Jasmine slipped under the covers and shuffled towards him.

"Hold me." She said.

His arms draped over her form and she took his hand in hers. Her body resting against his. His heart raced as the scent of her hair filled him. His lips so close to her delicate neck.

"I love you dad. Goodnight."

"Goodnight gorgeous. Love you." Tim answered, meaning every word of it.

**********

A gentle rattling noise woke him the next day. How many times had he fallen asleep so easily and so deeply in the last months?

He lifted his head to find the source of the noise. Jasmine was standing in the lounge area, using the remote to open the curtains.

He stopped himself from looking at her a moment longer than he needed to by closing his eyes against the glare of the sun.

"Morning dad."

"Morning, hun. What time is it?"

"Ten o'clock lazy bones."

Ten? That would be nearly 9 hours sleep. When was the last time that happened? Wouldn't be the booze. He had been hitting the whisky pretty hard recently.

The bed bounced and Jasmine was atop of him. He let out a little groan and leaned back on his elbows.

"OK, so I know we had plans, but can we get an hour on the beach first?"

"You mean you want to do anything other than that?"

Jasmine laughed and grabbed a pillow, holding it over her shoulder, ready to strike. "I remember spas, massages, shopping and expensive restaurants being on the list today!"


The Scent of Jasmine: Electra Rises



Jasmine flicked of the radio, silencing the relentless, ancient Christmas pop songs. She rolled back into bed and closed her eyes. God, she thought, those songs must have been dated when Tim was her age. 

Her age. She'd seen photos of Tim when he was younger. Handsome, slim, dark hair. Still, she preferred how he looked now. Still in good shape, broader in the shoulders, the grey flecks in his temple adding to his authoritative demeanour. 

Thinking about him, she found herself outlining her breasts with her fingertips. Her mind recalled the first time, four months ago, when they had shared a bed in Barcelona. Close together, his breath on her neck, strong body behind her. The next day, his rough hands smoothing cream into her back. Their first dance ... her hand now tracing the gentle curve of her stomach... their first kiss... that pained, slow first kiss. Oh god, that kiss... and where it lead ... the slow build up of that weekend... now building up again in a cold English winter, like the heat of Barcelona itself.

Her eyes closed. Her feet slowly pulled the sheets down, expensive cotton dragging over her breasts, tripping over hardening nipples, reminding her of the first time he took them in his mouth, gently pulling on them. She gasped as the memory flooded her. One hand, almost independent of thought, gently stroked her breasts, fingertips slowly, gently rolling her nipples. Her other hand deliberately smoothing over her mound, the inside of her thighs. Her hips rose as she removed her thong. She moved a finger up her lips and let her fingernail trace back down again, revelling in the electric tingle. 

As it rose again, it fell between her lips, accompanied by another finger, gently slipping around her clitoris. Her other hand moved to her mouth, stroking those lips, sucking on a finger as she did that night with Tim. Her lower hand squeezed gently ... the slight, delicious pain ... him entering her for the first time...

Then footsteps. Harsh footsteps, outside.

Jasmine pulled the sheet up and rolled to her side as the door knob turned. Shoma, her mother, entered and started talking. 

"Jasmine, up. I heard your alarm go off twenty minutes ago."

Jasmine rolled back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling in silence. Blocking it all out.

"I have things to do. And, and you left your washing in the machine again last night. It's in a bag on the side. I need to do washing as well you know."

Back to reality.

"Well, when it's finished make sure you sort my stuff out before yours. I have a lunch date. I'll be back after that. And you're back tomorrow at twelve, yes?"

"Yes, mum." Jasmine winced at the childish tone of her answer.

"Well, make sure it's twelve. No later." Her harshness towards her father hurt more than the condescending tone.

"Yes. Mum".

"I'm just surprised Tim can find the time for you." With that she walked out, pulling the door just hard enough to avoid slamming it.

Since starting university, holidays had become a chore.

Jasmine rolled her delicate neck, stretching the stress away. More relaxed now, she felt the faint traces of the earlier ecstasy that had throbbed through her body.

It was true. Tim, her father, was coming over soon.

She threw back the covers and planted her feet. The last few months had been wonderful. She could feel his touch and love even when he wasn't there. It had been easy to keep the secret. No one suspected anything. But, she felt the strain was showing on her father. At first, the time he took off work was just to be with her, after lectures, on quiet days. But recently, he hadn't been at work or home. 

She would have to do something special to remind him of who he was. Who he was meant to be. But what? 

She strolled over to her chair and pulled on her dressing gown. She opened the door and headed to the shower. 

She had to do something. She was a smart girl. She would come up with some way to re-invigorate her father. She just needed to tap into the generic male fantasy... a fantasy even he would share with those stupid boys and young men her mother was seeing. A mother oblivious to the way they looked at her.

She walked to the bathroom, pulled the cord and waited for the shower to heat up. A practiced, cautious part of her mind sparked up. She knew what she was doing was, on many levels, seen by many people, wrong. But she saw through that. Actually, circumstances saw to that. Circumstances beyond her control.

She had read about Egyptians, about the Bible. About Lot and his daughters. If God had condoned it...well.

No, that was the Catholic guilt talking. That nonsensical, contradictory theory of what was right, what was wrong. Some big ghost in the sky. Some Heavenly ... Father ...

She stepped into the shower cubicle, young body accepting the warm watery embrace with pleasure.

The shower... Barcelona ... still sore after that night, tied to the bed ...

The warm water seemed to flow through her, feeding the faint, lingering traces of desire.

His large body behind her. His erection, the proof of his love and desire for her pressing against her back.

She allowed herself to finish.

*********

Tony Brennan stared at the computer screen. The last four months had been difficult, and it had been down to one man. Tim. His shining star, the man he had moulded to take over in a few years when he retired. The man around whom he'd created his entire team.

What was it? Death, divorce and moving? Well, Tim was going through the last two of those, but he looked like he was approaching the first as well.

HR had informed him that Tim was dangerously close to hearing from them in an official capacity, and Tony had told them to go fuck themselves. Literally. He told the CEO the same, figuratively. Fortunately the CEO saw matters the same way as Tony. For now.

Ten past nine. Tony looked at the phone. Any moment now. Any moment Tim would ring. Tony wondered how much longer he could cover for him.

*********

Jasmine looked around her bedroom. She needed something special today. There were things she'd promised Tim that hadn't happened yet. And God, she wanted them to. But, he had insisted on being careful.

She walked to the master bedroom. The room where, until four months ago, Tim slept with the bitch. The room where any number of leering men had slept since. How could her mother not see how they looked at her. How many of them thought of her while in her bed, fucking the tired old whore. She sat on the bed, and pushed those thoughts from her mind. She was going to take this part of the house back, for her and her father.

She imagined him sitting there, watching her enter. She wondered what he would see, what would re-invigorate him. Give him back the power he should have. Then power her father deserved over his girl...

An idea came to her. She smiled.

*********

The gravel drive crunched out its announcement. She looked out the window of the master bedroom and saw Tim's second-hand BMW 3 series pull up. He had downgraded since the divorce. Another legacy of the bitch.

She pulled her dressing gown over her clothes and went to the door. A cold winter breeze blowing in.

She opened it before he had even exited the car, beaming at him.

"Hi hun!" He shut the car door and ran over to her. They hugged, happily, innocently.

"You're not dressed? I thought we were heading out to lunch?"

She moved back, smiling with a practiced coyness. "I have something for you."

Tim's eyes flicked up to his old bedroom.

"Hey, if it's about that, you know how I feel."

"There's a letter for you up there."

Tim knew he was being played. She was getting good at that. Not that he had any complaints. Maybe he should give her what she wanted.

"Hurry up, dad!" She said, running up the stair way to her room.

He headed up the stairs. Why did she go to her room? Should he follow? 

No. She had said there was a letter in the master. So, he went there.

It felt strange walking back into his old room. Subtle changes, all evidence of him removed. New bed spread. He stroked the covers, expensive. His old bed. 

A whisky waited on the bedside table.

*********

Jasmine removed her dressing gown, pulled on her high white socks and fastened her shoes. She looked at herself in the mirror and straightened her tie.

*********

The letter was on the bedside table, resting next to a tumbler of scotch. He took a sip and sat on the bed. He opened the letter.

"Dear Sir

Jasmine has been naughty in school ... "

His heart pounded. He noticed the printed letter had a familiar crest on it, but a poor copy, as if copied from a website. He struggled to read it entirely, his eyes skipping over words

"...showing her knickers to boys, and girls ... has been caught kissing boys and girls ... behind school ... dressing inappropriately at school ...

We have sent her home for you to deal with her, however you see fit...

We think a spanking is in order ..."

The door opened. Jasmine walked in, head down, hands held in front.

Tim was breathless. His eyes drank her in. The shiny patent shoes, the long, white socks, stopping just above the knee, giving way to smooth brown legs showing beneath that little pleated skirt.

Her white shirt was tied at her midriff, revealing her smooth stomach. Sleek dark hair held back by a pale blue Alice band. She looked up at him with her big, dark eyes..

"Hi, daddy?"

Tim let out a big breath... calming himself. No thoughts of caution now.

"Come here, Jasmine." He watched her hips sway as she approached.

"What is it, daddy?"

"I think you know what." He stood up and let the letter fall to the floor.

"Oh, that." She said.

He turned and another sip of whisky. "Is it all true, Jasmine?"

He heard her voice behind him, "I'm afraid so. I can't help myself. I just like being naughty."

"Jasmine. Put your hands on the bed."

"Yes, daddy."

His adjusted his trousers, no longer accommodating the sudden growth. He turned to look at her. Legs apart, her short skirt barely covering her backside, showing more of her firm, youthful thighs.

Jasmine looked over her shoulders at him.

"I'm ready, daddy."

Tim stepped over to her. Ever since that night in Barcelona, their last night in that hotel, when he'd had tied her hands to the bed, she had found new ways to play. What had she said? "Do something dirty to me, daddy ..."

His hands traced up her thighs, lifting her skirt, resting it over her back. His hands smoothed over her plain, white underwear, over her taut buttocks. He gently squeezed, hearing her gently moan.

He pulled his hand back slowly. Fingers lingering over that perfect backside.

He slapped her.

Jasmine gave a small yelp. Her body shivering as the stinging gave way to a surge of stimulation through her pelvis, echoing in her belly. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide with a reckless fire, mouth open in breathless pout. Her body writhed, then she settled, head down again.

He brought his hand to her twice more, in rapid succession. The first was met with a gasp, the second with a longer, louder, undulating moan. Her left heel rose like a release valve.

Both of his hands massaged her thighs, thumbs under her white knickers.

"I think it is time we went bare..."

His voice alone elicited another moan from her.

"Yes, daddy."

A flash of guilt spiked in him. As if she knew, she turned to look at him again, gazing at him, biting her lower lip. The look in her eyes hushed his nagging inner voice and she arched her back, presenting those smooth brown orbs to him.

His thumbs reached under the thin white material, pinching her panties and gently pulling them down, watching the material slide down. A theatre curtain, revealing the main show. Every time was like the first time. A never ending, novel and thrilling spectacle.

He knelt down and moved his hands as slowly as lust would allow, resisting the urge to bite her.

Down they came, now past the crease of her arse, revealing her mound.

Jasmine felt the cool air on her warmed buttocks, a fresh tingling feeling. She felt his hands drag her underwear down further. She could hear his breathing, coarse, almost aggressive.

They slipped down past the tops of her socks. She could feel his breath on her, gently flowing over her pussy. She pushed her face into the pillow, enjoying her exposure, feeling the strength flowing back in her father. Strength that would soon be flowing into her.

She stepped out of her panties as they reached the floor, sensed him standing up again behind her.

"This is for kissing girls." Tim said, sensing an authority in his voice he thought he had lost.

His hand landed three times, and each time her body quivered and Jasmine produced the most exquisite sounds. Tim stroked his daughters arse, as he wondered what to say. His hand drifted up her inner thigh until his forefinger rested under her lips. They were moist and he slowly rubbed his hand back and forth.

"Oh, you liked that did you? You're wet already."

Jasmine gently rocked her hips on his hand, her heart shaped behind hypnotising him.

"What you going to do, daddy?"

Tim reached forward and grabbed her hair. He pulled her up and held her close to him, Jasmine giving a breathy laugh as he did.

He bought his face to hers, running his free hand over her blouse to her stomach, noticing her lack of bra. "I think I need to check ... make sure you are looking after yourself."

His hand found its way under her. He cupped her pussy in his hand, his middle fingers caressing between the lips.

She reached back, grabbing her father's trousers, grinding herself against his erection as he expertly masturbated her, just like she'd shown him.

"Have you ... have you been keeping yourself fresh?" Tim said.

She weakened at the timbre of his voice. He was back, the master of the house. The master of her life. Her father.

"Yes, daddy. Always."

He withdrew his hand. "Are you sure?"

She nodded as best she could against the grip he had of her hair.

"Show me." He said.

Tim brought his hands to her face, his fingers to her lips. Her tongue flickered, accepting his digits into her mouth. Tasting the sweet, musky juices he had brought forth from her.

"Good girl." He said. "But maybe I should check for myself."

Tim let go of Jasmine's hair and slid his fingers from her mouth, lingering for a moment on her lips before undoing her tie. Her hands obediently went behind her back, and Tim bound them together.

Tim pulled her against him, hands on her those perfect, pert breasts. He turned her around. Her hair fell over one eye and a devilish smile lit up her face as she looked up at him.

He moved her backwards and pushed her to the bed. She squealed as she fell, laughing as she landed.

Tim knelt before her. He grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed, her skirt riding up as he did.

For a moment, his mind searched for the last time he saw her in her school uniform. He banished the answer as soon as it came. An uneasy feeling lingered. These games were getting too much.

But just, just this once ...

He has felt the patterned fabric of her socks... the sweetness and innocence of them gave life back to the lustful animal in him. He gripped her knees, parting her thighs slowly, exposing the smooth shaved mound and those dark, dewy lips.

"Time for me to check." His mouth drew to her pussy, as his mind raced. He had nearly said 'time for daddy to check' but found he couldn't. Bury it down, Tim. Not now.

He drowned the voices in his head with her fragrance. He closed his eyes, leaning forward to kiss her. Her response drew him in. His hands cupped her backside, drawing her closer, absorbing her beauty. His tongue working into her warm tight cavern.

"Yes, daddy," she purred. "Have I been good?"

He ignored her, his tongue circling her clitoris.

"Oh, daddy ..." a dark, submissive tone in her voice

She needed to stop saying that. This was wrong, he knew it. He needed to silence her.

He stood up. He wanted to stop, but her allure was too much. Tied, presented as an innocent, there for him, for his pleasure.

"So..." he stumbled for words. "So, kissing girls, huh?"

She smiled. "Only sometimes, daddy."

"Well, I am going to have to do something about that. Show you what you should be doing"

He grabbed her by the arm and her hair, controlling her, moving her to the floor.

"Yes, daddy," kneeling, staring up at him. "Whatever you say, daddy."

He undid his trousers, knowing how to silence her for a while.

She started to speak again, but he drew her mouth onto him, deep on to him. Her tongue pressed against him. He couldn't shake the fact that this was his daughter from his mind. But, this time it invigorated him. He started to move her head back and forth, riveted by both thought and act of his own daughter accepting him into her mouth. He looked down, watching her give herself to him, and moved her harder.

Jasmine tried to look up at him, enjoying being the object of such intense desire. The slight choking pain confirming his love as his cock inundated her. He was a man, a real man. He took what he wanted, and he wanted her.

Breathless, and tears on her face, she gasped for air as he stopped.

"You're going to be a little whore? Are you?"

She couldn't answer, and he didn't wait.

"Then you can be a little whore for daddy." He picked her up and threw her on the bed.

Jasmine landed on her back, a feral look on her face. Tim stripped, breaking a button off from his shirt as he did. He clambered between her open thighs. He stroked himself, looking down at her. Her petite frame, the glowing beauty of her mocha skin. The perfect proportions of her hips. Her willingness to make him happy.

He undid her blouse. Spreading it open and releasing her breasts.

Jasmine felt his hands over her ribs, taking her breasts. Feeling his strength as he kneaded them, gasping in that precious periphery between pleasure and pain as he pulled on her nipples.

"You want it, Jasmine?" Tim growled. "You want to be a whore for daddy?"

"Yeah. For you daddy... fuck me, daddy."

Tim lifted her hips, pulling the lips of her pussy to his dick, enjoying that warm embrace. He braced his back and drew her forcefully onto him.

Jasmine's head turned to the side, eyes screwed shut, a curt gasp as he did. Tim looked at her, savouring the gift of her surrender, of her body. He waited a moment, letting it fill him.

Jasmine relaxed, started breathing again. Luxuriating in the way he filled her. She could feel him throbbing in her. She could feel his tight grip as she lay helpless underneath his broad shoulders.

He began, slowly, as if compensating for his brusque entrance. Jasmine closed her eyes as her father's cock swelled in her. Waves of pleasure flowed through her with each thrust. As each wave subsided, the next met it, growing and building upon the last. She watched him fuck her. His face tense with concentration. With desire. Desire for her.

Of all the reasons they shouldn't be doing this, they had overcome them. She had him. She had her father fucking her, in her mother's bed. No, in his bed.

These thoughts fed into her, whipping the waves into a storm that engulfed her. Pulsing, all-consuming ecstasy.

He dropped her to the bed. She was incandescent after an orgasm. A moaning, writhing sliver of bliss. He started moving again, pleasant little aftershocks shuddering through her.

"Daddy? Daddy, did you come?" She murmured.

"Not yet, baby... not yet."

"Don't daddy, don't come in me..."

Tim stopped, momentarily perplexed. What was she wanting?

"I don't want to get pregnant, daddy."

"You forgot your ...?"

Jasmine rolled onto her front her skirt still high.




The Scent of Jasmine: Electra Rises



"No daddy. You just can't come in my pussy." She closed her dark almond eyes on him, and when they opened they were staring at the other bedside table.

Tim followed her gaze. A bottle of lubricant.

He knew she liked to have her anus fingered, gently parted as he went down on her. Hell, she asked him for it, in that hot tub in Barcelona. But this was new.

He looked at her. A smile fighting to form on his lips against the carnality in her. His eyes passed down her back, over her womanly hips, to that perfect rear.

Tim reached for the lubricant. Jasmine chuckled to herself.

"But daddy needs to come, baby."

She looked over her shoulder at him, glistening with sweat. "What you going to do, daddy?"

She loved his lascivious smile. She closed her eyes again... and felt the cool drops landing just above her anus. She shivered in the heat. She felt his hands spread her buttocks, could almost feel his eyes penetrating her already.

A breathy gasp greeted the first touch of his lubricated finger as it moved over her arse.

She felt herself flinch involuntary as he slipped into her, tightly holding his finger. She quivered as another finger entered, bringing more lube. She exhaled deeply, trying to relax, but each movement sent tingles radiating through her, causing her to clench against him.

He was going to do it, she thought. Finally, after all the teasing, the promise, the time was here...

She could hear Tim smooth the lube over his cock. The anticipation was beating in her as loud as her heart.

A hand landed in front of her face. Thudded against the mattress. She held her breath... expecting, waiting.

She felt the bed move as he lowered himself. His knees pushed against her legs, spreading them wider. She felt her cheeks part as Tim slid forward. Her own moan excited her further. She felt him pause.

"What you doing, daddy?" She said.

The pause worried her. The bed moved as he leaned forward.

"Daddy?"

So close, his breath on her face. "I'm going to take your arse, baby. OK?"

She smiled, and locked into his gaze.

"Please don't, daddy..."

A growl reverberated from Tim's entire body. She felt her father lower himself, the head of his penis stretching her. It felt as though her entire body was opening to him. Spasms of pleasure dwarfed the pain as he encroached. She felt the slight 'pop' as the crown of his cock slipped into her... a new sensation reverberating through her.

"Uh, uh...please daddy ... please..."

Tim didn't know if she was begging for more, or feigning resistance. Nor did he care.

She was so tight. Gripping him even firmer than her pussy. He couldn't take his eyes from her arse as he finally slid into it. So tight, he was unsure if she could take it.

Gently, deliberately, further into her. One hand bracing himself, the other pulling her buttocks apart, fascinated as he watched his cock disappear into the tight dark orifice between the curved domes of his daughter's arse.

Jasmine felt consumed as never before. Possessed. Each advance dominating her. The feeling throbbing through her arse and reverberating through her pussy. Tim's breath becoming harsh grunts...

"Ahh, ahh, daddy... no..."

Tim let go of her arse and grabbed her hands, still leashed by her tie. He lifted them, dragged them to him, arching her back as he immersed himself deeper into her. Her cries became harsher, almost desperate.

Jasmine was enraptured. Her entirety absorbed into the experience. She felt him quicken, jags of pain completing her surrender.

A warm gush inside her. Her father's dark moans.

She had all of him now. Nearly.

*********

Tim lay back, still breathing heavily. He wiped a bead of sweat from his eye.

Jasmine jumped to her feet, aware of the timing.

"Dad, mum's back in half an hour."

Tim rose onto his elbows - he had forgotten where he was. He looked around the room as Jasmine headed to the door, taking another sip of the whisky.

"Shower in here if you like, I'll use the other room."

The shower. Now it was his turn to think of that time in the shower in Barcelona. Jasmine too sore, but a wonderful time nonetheless.

Wonderful? He knew this had been the greatest sex of his life.

So, she finally did it. She finally got her way with him. "...in your bedroom ... put it where you want..."

He smiled. But not for the first time, he wondered who was in control. She had evaded questions about Barcelona like a downtown lawyer. But nothing like that happened to him in this room before. Well, to him.

God, certainly the wildest thing that had ever happened in here. He was sure of that. She had been getting more adventurous of late. Rapidly. He remembered when dared slip a moistened finger into her arse as he went down on her, thinking that a risk. And now, just now, he had fucked his own daughter's arse. God. What was he doing?

Time to get moving. As he dried and dressed himself a thought came to him: well, at least this wasn't the bed Jasmine was conceived in.

He laughed at himself. Yeah, that's the weird part, Tim. Always got your eye on the big picture!

He showered, quickly, his mind only briefly fluttering over the idea of showering with her. He dressed, quickly looking around for the button missing from his shirt.

Jasmine walked in, transformed. She wore a peach coloured skirt, and a plunging, white ruffled blouse. Her hair up, the faintest touch of makeup expertly applied.

"I better tidy up in her. Have to leave soon." She said.

Tim drank her in. She was a vision.

"Dad?"

"OK hun. I'll wait in the car."

Jasmine waited until he had left the room. She picked up the bottle of lubricant and the glass of scotch. As she walked back past the bed, she kicked the letter she had fabricated just under the bed.

*********

Tim had the engine running already. Feeling sated from the experience with Jasmine, he felt good. It had been a long time since he had felt that good. He explored his notions of guilt, but they were sulking quietly, unable to disturb him.

Tim heard the front door close to his house, his ex-house, at the same time his wife's Range Rover pulled off the road into the drive.

He grimaced. Snarled. He looked back to see Jasmine's dismissive stare fastening on her mother's car.

She pulled up, not ten feet from the aging BMW, and the window rolled down.

"I thought you were out. For lunch." She said.

Jasmine replied. "We got take-away and ate here. Don't worry. We're going now."

His wife contorted her face in unnecessary rage. "Feeding her junk. Thanks."

Tim considered arguing, but a brief trip through his memory was enough to sate him. He smiled at her, knowing she would never understand how he had trumped her.

"Twelve tomorrow. Remember." his wife snapped.

Jasmine got into the car without any further words being exchanged. Tim pulled out, foot heavy on the accelerator.

*********

The thrill of her lunch date had faded on seeing Tim. A younger man, a much younger man, who saw her age as a passport to experience and unfettered, wild sex. So she thought. She slammed the door behind her.

The house would probably stink of grease now. She would have to air the house. Fuck, the cleaner would not be back until Monday. Would she ever catch a break?

She entered the kitchen, her Marc Jacobs bag dropping to the kitchen table. She inhaled sharply, twice. No smell. She checked the bin, no take away boxes. Good. But it was full anyway, so she removed the bag and walked out the back door. There was nothing in the bin outside either. She didn't understand, or care.

Her lunch date would be back this evening. She was making most of Jasmine's absence and her increasingly annoying presence. She had to prepare.

*********

Tim drove through the early afternoon traffic. Feeling calm now, sated.

He afforded himself the occasional glance to the beauty by his side. So what if she was his daughter.

No, that wouldn't ride. He knew there was more. He knew he had to find more to justify it. Maybe a new start, a new country.

He stopped at the traffic lights. Jasmine gently snoozing by his side. God, she was a clever one. He had doubted that she was ready for what they had just done. Shoma, his wife, her mother, had given her arse once, and hated it. Less than fifteen seconds if memory served him right.

And yet here was Jasmine. Impossibly beautiful, her very fibre striving to please him. Her love more encompassing than anything he had ever known. So innocent, so ... gorgeous. So his.

And yet, yet she had manipulated him into sodomising her.

Madonna and the Whore. Typical of the Catholics to take something they meant to discourage and wrap it up as the most perfectly enticing combination.

A car horn sounded behind him.

*********

Shoma headed upstairs. She had the rest of the afternoon booked for her lunch meeting, and could indulge herself. She stripped briskly in her bedroom. She dropped her clothes on her bed and walked to the en suite.

She winced as she trod on something. She lifted her foot, a button embedded to the sole of her foot. She pulled it off. Not one of hers. She left it on the bedside table, where she noticed a ring of condensation.

Tim had been here. Why? He had packed most of his belongings. Fucking prick.

The shower. The bastard had been here too.

*********

The BMW purred off the motorway, heading towards the hotel. Not a bad little engine, he thought to himself.

The car slowed, the deceleration awakening Jasmine.

"Perfect timing, hun."

She smiled. Everything was right in the world.

Jasmine took in the facade of the hotel. Elegant, regal even. Fitting. The man by her side had regained something. An inner confidence. She delighted in knowing her role in his rebirth. She just hoped it would last.

The porter took the bags from the car, another aide parked it.

Jasmine took her father's arm as they entered the well appointed foyer, tastefully decorated for Christmas.

Tim confirmed the reservation.

When Jasmine heard the words 'honeymoon suite' she took his arm and beamed at him. Tim's face showed how much he enjoyed her delight, in the power of his credit card.

The bell boy took their bags to the lift with them.

She snuggled up to him, wrinkling her nose in the most irresistibly cute manner. Tim smiled at her, happy he could still impress her.

She balanced on her toes and kissed him, letting it linger just longer enough to mean something. Tim glanced over to the bellhop, just quick enough to see him avert his gaze and smile.

The lift stopped, the bellhop ushered them out. Tim let Jasmine go first, partly from manners, partly to stop the bell boy ogling her backside.

The room was splendid. A four poster bed. Dark, perhaps ebony, furniture, off-set by cream walls. Jasmine rushed to the bathroom - a wide double bath. A curved, clear screen at one end with a delicate network of pipes providing a full body shower.

She headed back to the main room and kissed Tim as the bellhop placed the cases onto the stand.

As he finished, Tim and Jasmine were still locked in their embrace. He stood to attention and gave a brief cough.

Jasmine looked at him. "I think someone is waiting for something, daddy."

The look on the bellhop's face was priceless, she thought. Half-doubting his ears, half remembering the first rule of hotel work - You don't see, or hear, anything.

Tim gave him some cash, and turned to Jasmine just as she jumped backwards onto the bed.

"Did you see his face?" she giggled.

"Hun, we agreed..."

Jasmine rolled over and pouted at him. "Just having a little fun. It's why we're here, no?"

Tim was still annoyed, but she was right. This wasn't the time to argue, even if she was playing increasingly dangerous games. He just smiled and sat next to her on the bed, shaking his head.

He patted her bum. "How's the ... er ... how you feeling?"

"You mean ... Oh, I'm fine. I've been practicing for you."

"Oh, who with?"

She slapped him playfully on the thigh. "No, silly." She leant forward and kissed his arm. "You are all I need."

He stood up and started to unpack. "Hmm, I'd like to have seen that."

"We can do that." She replied. "Tonight's the night, no?"

"You sure, hun? I mean it's fun, but we don't have to."

Jasmine rolled onto her back again, and gripped the headboard with her hands overlapping.

"Are you sure, daddy?" She said, gently writhing as if her hands were bound.

"Well, for now," Tim said. "Let's get some champagne and have a bath before dinner."

Jasmine leapt to the bathroom as Tim called room service.

********

She teased, played with him, he indulged himself. But not much. Jasmine wanted to make sure he was ready for this evening.

********

"What do you think these people would say if they knew what we were doing?"

Tim paused, a fork full of food hovering mid air.

"Having dinner?" He said, buying time.

Jasmine toyed with the stem of her wine glass. "Not exactly."

He put the fork down.

It was something he thought about...worried about. Taboo was a word bandied about but seemed so inadequate for this situation. Sometimes his stomach turned at the thought of what had happened since Barcelona. The sheer wrongness of it all, the abuse of trust, love, his position. The rightful disgust his friends and family would feel if they knew.

And then...

She had started it. He was certain of that now. That night, dancing in the hotel room. Her subtle, slow advances. The way she planted though soft, slow kisses on his cheek, then his lips. But what did this mean of her mental state? Was she overly attached? Was she ... unbalanced? Overcompensating for the divorce and the love she had for her father?

And then ...

And then again what they had was incredible. And all that was wrong with it did nothing but add to the frisson. The sex had been incredible. She had clearly gone out of her way to deepen her sexual experience. He would have been happy with it just the way it had been, but in the last for months ... yes. She was certainly enjoying herself. Safe to explore with the one man she knew would always, unconditionally love her. Her father. Perhaps this is what had accelerated her sexual adventurism. Building up to today - first, the incredible experience in his old home, and now, when they would bring together all the little experiments, all the little games, they had been playing.

And here she was now ... dressed in an incredible, strapless gold dress. A heart-shaped cut caressing her cleavage, tailored perfectly over her narrow back and delicate waist, clinging to her hips and backside. Short on the thigh, revealing those sheer stockings, their dark hem drawing his eyes up and down her legs endlessly.

He looked into her eyes, once again totally seduced.. The swan like neck, delicate cheekbones, the deep, dark almond eyes. Love and lust for his own daughter had triumphed over social convention.

"I think," he said, as coolly as he could muster. "I think they would all say they were ... shocked. But they would all be wishing they were me."

He could see her roll her tongue around her mouth, exhaling, her lips slightly parted. All traces of doubt gone. His daughter was beautiful, and she wanted to fuck him. Who was he to say no?

"I want someone to know ..." she said.

He knew it would be impossible, or at least extremely dangerous. But he could not bring himself to break the mood.

"That would be so ... dangerous..." he whispered

"No-one we know ... "she said, still twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers.

"Like a bit of danger, do you?"

Jasmine brought the wine to her mouth, allowing a small sip to fall over her lips.

"I'd like to do everything with you."

That nagging thought again. That he was being played, a pawn to some larger objective she harboured, rose. It didn't last long. Under the table he felt her delicate foot on his groin.

"Mmmm. So that was what this afternoon was about?"

Jasmine smiled. "Tell me something..."

Tim nodded, "Certainly."

"Before Barcelona, that night, had you ever thought of fucking me?"

His heart seemed to expand to fill his whole chest. Once he had regained himself, he replied "No. I always knew you were beautiful. But, no...not until that holiday."

"When exactly?"

"Well, to be honest ..." he started to fumble, feeling like a teenager again.

"Go on." she said, her voice full of assurance mature for someone of her age.

"When I got back from Dubai and saw you in that swimming pool."

"I thought so."

"What about you?"

She took another sip of wine. "That would be telling."

Tim digested his words, took another mouthful of steak, despite his appetite having been suppressed by other, deeper, urges.

"So tell me." He almost begged. 

"Maybe." She said, slowly moving her toes around his crotch.

Tim let it go. She was toying with him, and he didn't mind. Christ, just hours ago she had dressed as a schoolgirl and almost forced him to take her anally. Almost? No, she had engineered the whole situation.

"So, what about that letter I got this afternoon. From your 'headmaster'?"

"What about it?" She sat back, wine still in hand. Jasmine had hardly touched her meal, too excited about the evening ahead.

"Well, have you ever, well, you know ...?"

She withdrew her foot, allowing herself to lean forward. She placed her elbows close together, just in front of her plate, squeezing her cleavage as moved closer, enjoying her father's gaze as it travelled down.

She knew what he was referring to. It had been part of her plan, part of her analysis of what would fire his psyche and help him overcome any reservations that he may have harboured.

"Oh, have I ever kissed a girl?"

Tim nodded.

"Well, maybe just once." She teased.

Tim cleared his voice slightly. "Do go on."

Jasmine let her mind wander back to her first term at university. Amira, the Eyptian girl. Both starting psychology.

********

Both in the same residence hall. A welcoming party provided by the building staff that ended at 10 o'clock.

They went to a nearby pub, just a few of them. A lot of wine, and laughs. The sort of laughs you share with people that you don't really know. A quiet moment. Amira asking her what she would do if she kissed Jasmine.

Jasmine freezing. Unsure. The others coming back with the drink, the conversation apparently forgotten. Weeks later, on the same psychology classes. A visit to the university bar. Discussing if there were real differences between men and women. The open-mindedness of students, psychology students, exploring their minds. Amira saying she had inappropriate fantasies. Her step-father. Sometimes wishing he was her real father.

Jasmine's mind reeling. The alcohol helping, as did Amira's openness. The sudden idea of something impossible. The thrill of it filling her.

Amira asking her what she was thinking. Jasmine declining.

A few weeks later. A house party. Amira's older sister's place in south London. Amira was to move into the house next year, her family thinking it best she mingle in her first year, make new friends.

An aggressively drunk second year student, Law, groping Jasmine, upsetting her. Jasmine wanted to leave. Amira comforts her, asks her to stay.

The go to Amira's sister's room. Jasmine crying on the bed. She tells Amira that she thinks her mother is cheating on her father. Amira understands. Jasmine unloads her fears and insecurities.

Amira asks about Jasmine's father. The account is glowing. Amira tells Jasmine that he sounds delicious.

Jasmine laughs inwardly at her brazenness. She feels close to her new friend. She shows Amira a picture of her father on her phone.

Amira senses Jasmine relaxing. She teases the exhausted girl more. 'Hmm, if he was my dad...'




The Scent of Jasmine: Electra Rises



Jasmine playfully slaps at her.

Amira asks Jasmine to close her eyes. She obeys.

'What would you do if he kissed you?' Amira asks

Jasmine shakes her head. Amira leans forward. Jasmine confused, new sensations awakening in her. She feels Amira's soft, plush lips against hers. Her tired mind, vulnerable to suggestion, imagining her father.

The slight trace of her tongue against her lips. A maddening, intoxicating ardor fills her. She kisses back.

Amira withdraws. Jasmine opens her eyes as Amira stands up, walks to the bedroom door and locks it.

********

Tim received a much truncated version of the story, but his mind was already flooded with distracting hormones and deviant hopes.

Jasmine felt herself moisten. Her groin tingles. She question herself briefly over what excited her more, her recounting of that one time, or the look on her father's face. It was, of course, both.

She had wanted to tell him earlier. But she knew that the path they had taken would be difficult. She knew she had to save something for him. To inspire him.

"What are you thinking about? Daddy?" She knew how to judge his moods now. She knew he liked being called that when his temperament was just right, when it would fire him. And now she knew when it made him feel guilty. She felt herself convulse with pleasure. She had managed to seduce her own father, make him feel what she felt.

"You and Amira..." his voice cracking.

"Anything in particular?"

"Never mind that." He replied. "Dessert?"

Despite not having finished the main course, Tim summoned the waiter and signed the meal to his room.

Part of the plan ... they went to the bar.

He ordered an Old-fashioned and a Lychee Martini for her. They linked arms and drank, hands on each other thighs. She had wanted him to surprise her. To plan something.

He suggested they move to a quiet table, in the corner. They slipped into a quiet booth, a leather bound couch. He tilted himself, allowing them to kiss. Just as he tasted her tongue he pulled back, and whispered into her ear.

He looked at her - Jasmine's eyes alight, flickering with nervous passion at his suggestion.

She took the object from his hands. Trembling. He did get it. He knew what to do.

She took the toy from his hands and excused herself.

The ladies restroom was empty apart from one stall. Good enough. She moved into the farthest clear stall and lifted the hem of her dress.

Her lacy knickers lay over her stockings and were easy to remove over her heels. As he had asked, she put them in her small clutch bag and looked at the love-eggs her father had given her.

She crouched a little, spreading her legs, one arm against the stall door. She knew she was moist enough already. She manoeuvred the toy in her hand, and pressed the first ball against her lips.

She felt her labia part, felt herself opening for the gift. Slowly feeling herself spreading as the first orb entered her, parting her. A satisfying pleasure as it slipped into her, closing around it. She heard herself give a small whimper, knowing more was to come. The second one entering... thinking of him...

********

Tim watched her walk back those short twenty yards. The natural sway of her hips ... occasionally interrupted by some sort of brief spasm. To onlookers it might have looked as if she was about to sneeze. 

She sat next to him on that dark booth. Looking straight ahead, trying to compose herself. For the first time in a while, evens since that afternoon in his bedroom, his old bedroom, he felt in control. In control of his own daughter, in a way he have never imagined.

She turned to face him, her face flush with a mixture of pleasure and ... embarrassment? Submission? Some aspect of female sexuality he would never know?

Tim placed a hand on her thigh, just below the skirt hem. Feeling the warmth of her thigh. Feeling her rising sensuality as his own.

With the other hand, he picked up his drink and finished it. It moved to his pocket and removed his wallet.

He pulled out a twenty pound note.

"Jasmine, honey. Would you like another drink?"

Her Martini disappeared down her throat in a swift gulp. She looked at her father, almost unable to speak, and nodded.

"Good girl." He moved the banknote towards her. "I'll have the same. An Old Fashioned."

Tim enjoyed the brief look of disbelief that fluttered across her face. A fresh glimpse of an innocence lost. Innocence surrendered, given.

Jasmine took the cash from her father. He could see her recompose herself before she rose.

She closed her eyes as she turned towards the bar. She set off slowly.

Tim noticed her hips move as she walked, her head down. Halfway to the bar she stopped and held onto the back of the chair of a stranger.

The stranger turned to ask her if she was ok, but she simply sauntered onwards to the bar.

She arrived, standing still. Waiting...

It was not long, perhaps too soon, Tim thought, that the bartender asked for her order.

Maybe he could play games just as well, he thought.

Picking up the drinks, leaving all the change, she turned. It was a new experience, one of many she had brought him, seeing her squirm as she moved.

Each step she took massaged the love eggs within her. Her eyes closing involuntarily, then advancing. A tremor of her body. People looking at her. Almost believing he could see her blush beneath that perfect, flawless mocha skin.

She sat down. Breathless.

Tim knew what he was doing."Jasmine, show me."

Breathless, she opened her bag by her side.

Tim saw the black panties inside. He turned them over, a faint stain of juices evident.

"Good girl." He whispered into her ear. "Now lift your skirt."

Jasmine's eyes flashed at him. What did he mean?

He nodded again, repeating the instruction. "Do what daddy says."

Jasmine looked around. No-one was watching. Her hands reached down and lifted the back of her dress. She was conscious that it might show and made sure it still covered her thighs. Yet still she felt the cool leather of the upholstery against her backside. A new thrill.

Tim took a sip of his drink. Looking to his side he saw Jasmine almost frozen into place with pleasure. He reached over and turned his face to his.

"Cross your legs, hun."

She did as she was told. Tim placed his hand on her upper thigh, gently rocking it. For the first time, in public, he kissed her.

She breathed heavily over his lips as the love-eggs rolled within her, savouring his command...

He reached between her thighs ... she parted them.

A single finger coiled over the small loop resting outside the edge of her lips. A knuckle massage her clitoris.

"Jasmine, have you been a good girl?"

"Yes, daddy..."

Tim gripped the loop. "Then show daddy you've been keeping your pussy tight for him."

Jasmine dropped her head into her father's shoulder. Shuddering as he dragged the love eggs through her. She looked around the room half hoping someone was watching, but her eyes were clouded, rendered blind by ecstasy. The second part of the toy slipped out of her ... she convulsed, a gentle, broken moan escaping from her.

Her father told her to put them back in.

********

They took an elevator back upstairs with another, older couple. Jasmine toyed with the idea of outing them to these strangers, but held back. Slowly, she thought to herself. Slowly.

Tim was leaning against the back wall, so she moved in front of him and leaned against him.

The old man looked at her. She dropped her eyes, raised her head into her father's chest and gently, subtly moved her backside against his groin.

She felt him stiffen, his back as well, and slowed her play.

The old man in the elevator could not help but leer, until he saw his wife notice. Jasmine burned with the desire to tell him who her lover was. She wondered who his daughter was, and if he had ever desired her over the sour woman next to him.

Her father's hand clenched over her bare shoulder. Strong and firm. She shuddered at the thought of what was to come. What they had agreed to.

********

Tim opened the door, letting Jasmine through first. He was sure she exaggerated the movement of her hips as she did and enjoyed every second of it, maybe to increase the pleasure of the love-eggs within her.

She sat on the end of the bed and closed her eyes, hands by her sides, gripping the covers.

He needed to be sure. "Jasmine, you know I love you?"

Eyes still closed, she nodded.

"We can, you know, we can just enjoy ourselves normally. We don't have to ..." He couldn't finish.

Jasmine opened her eyes and looked at him. Into him. "It's what I want. I know the safe word."

Tim moved towards his suitcase. There was a leather holdall inside that he removed. He looked at Jasmine. For a moment he hesitated. It had been a long time since he had done anything like this, despite the increasing games the two of them had played. Did he want to do this to Jasmine? To his own ...

She opened her eyes, the effect as powerful as ever on him.

"I'm yours, daddy."

********

Jasmine knelt on the foot of the bed. Her arms high, tied to the top of the posts that cornered the bottom of the bed. Her dress on the floor by Tim's feet.

Tim contemplated the beauty in front of him. The chestnut smoothness of her flawless skin exposed to her. Her hair down now, just reaching her shoulders.

Standing behind her, he took hold of the loop of the love eggs, placing the slightest tension on them.

"You have to do better this time, baby."

"Yes, daddy."

This time it provoked no doubts in his mind. He started to pull again, knowing she would fail.

His girl trembled as she struggled, gripped them as well as she could. He could feel the resistance as he moved them through her. He felt his own desire grow further as he watched her body react to their removal. First one, then the next. A shiver with each sphere.

He gripped her hair. The timorous nature that affected him earlier completely gone.

"Not good enough, baby."

Jasmine whimpered, her extended body quivering in front of him. He removed his shirt, finding it damp with perspiration already.

He went to the bag, and pulled out a gentle leather flog.

The handle felt almost insubstantial in his hands. He let the straps run through his hands. He heard her whimper.

He took in her sublime body, concentrating on her arse.

He pulled the flog back, and let a long stroke drag across her backside.

Jasmine felt the flog pierce her senses. A sting followed by a flame through her groin, all highlighted by her vulnerability.

A second, a third. The pain amplifying her yielding to him...

The fourth impact nearly made her come. 

Jasmine dropped her head, almost disappearing, losing herself.

She felt him drag his fingernails from the crease of her knees, over her behind, along her back. Each inch of his touch electrifying her, a sharp contrast to the flog.

A rough hand grabbed her left breast, pulling tightly on her nipple. Hearing him saying something. Not understanding anything but surrender.

A needling pleasure between her legs as the flog landed there. She heard herself scream, as if it were someone else, the sensation being so intense.

Something she did not expect - the flog fell across her back. No sensual pleasure there, but a feeling of total subjugation. An new, unique sensation of existing for no other reason than being a source of pleasure for someone else.

Again, the flog against her back. Again, and again.

Tim stopped to hear his daughter's cries. He knew she felt the bite of pain, but it didn't matter. Not now. The depth of her breathing, the tremble of her body. All of it excited him.

"This is One." Tim said, bringing the tool up rapidly between her legs. Indulging himself in her cries.

"This is Two." He swiped the flog across his daughters backside.

Her head flew back, her hair a swarm of dark temptation.

He steadied himself, relishing the beauty tied out in front of him.

"This is three." The leather tails came across her back.

He was almost disturbed by the noise she made. Almost.

He ran his hand up her neck, taking a tight grip of her hair, pulling her back sharply. "You've been a bad little slut, and daddy needs to correct you."

"I understand ... daddy ..." she gasped.

"Tell me. Which number should it be?"

Jasmine looked over her shoulder. Her hair now dripping with sweat.

"One." She said.

She said it ten times.

He took her hands from the bed posts, and told her to lie spread eagle on the bed.

Jasmine obliged.

First, he fastened her hands with the white leather straps to the top of the bed. As he took her right leg, he began to falter...

What are you doing? What are you doing to her...your daughter?

He pulled her hand straps loose and sat on the edge of the bed, his mind a mass of confusion.

He closed his eyes against the world, hiding himself from what he had done. What he was doing.

He tried to repress it..

Jasmine sensed his unease. She knew she had to be careful. She knew not to call him 'daddy'. Not now.

She shifted over to him, wrapping an arm over his shoulder.

"I love you, Tim." She said.

Her father started to cry. A small sob at first, trying to hold the rest back. And succeeding. There was strength still here.

"Tim? Tim? Lie back."

She held him close, whispering into his ear - "Do you love me?"

He nodded.

Jasmine stroked his cheek. Part of her understood. It was a risk, asking her father to subject her to bondage. But she loved him, desired him. Desired him as the man she knew, before the divorce.

"Tim? Are you listening to me?"

He was calm now. He nodded again.

"I loved every second of that, truly." Her hand trailed down his chest. She noticed he was still hard.

"You think we are doing something bad, Tim?"

He was still now. She needed to be careful.

"I know you think, sometimes, I am too young ... but you have to know, this is more than just a thrill to me. More than just acting out a ..." she struggled for an adjective, decided it was not necessary ..." a fantasy."

She felt him throb in her hand. She massaged him. He exhaled deeply. She took it as a good sign.

She slipped off the bed, and tenderly removed his trousers. She watched carefully. He was still hard, he had not moved.

She moved herself over her father's thighs, wondering if this was the end.

His hard cock nestled in front of her pelvis. She gently rocked over him ... a hand over his chest, the other holding his cock close to her. She needed him, needed to keep him. Needed to remind him that he needed her.

She gambled.

"I love you. Do you still love me, daddy?"

His eyes opened, a hand immediately moving to her waist. A look close to despair. His eyes shut again.

"Yes, always, Jasmine. Always."

She took her father hands and encouraged him to sit up.

As he did, eyes, still closed, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, kissing him deeply. She felt his hands on her hips, drawing her close.

Careful now, she thought to herself. Careful.

She stooped forward, gently taking his earlobe into her mouth. She hummed a little laugh.

"Did I worry you?"

"I just, just worry sometimes about..." her father mumbled.

"Daddy?" All or nothing, she told herself.

"Yes?"

Jasmine braced herself, gripping her father's hair, moving her chest into his face.

"So long now, so long you've been so good to me." She pushed him back to the bed, leant over him, doing her best to make her eyes seem innocent and adoring.

"Don't you think ... maybe ..." she whispered.

She felt him stir. It was working.

"Don't you think you deserve me?"

His hands ran quickly over her hips. She knew it was working.

"Because I loved that. What we just did."

There was a tremble in his voice as he said "Why?"

She studied his reaction carefully. Was that tremor lust or fear? She would have to gamble. He tilted her head. "Because daddy deserves everything."

She couldn't translate his sigh ...

He grabbed his daughter and spun her around to the bed. It had worked, she beamed at him, nothing but joy.

"Whatever you want, Daddy."

She felt her strong hands raise her hips. She felt his cock press against her anus. She knew she had won him.

She relaxed easily this time ... feeling him fill her. Their ownership of each other complete. She was convinced.

********

Tim's wife got out of bed. Her date hadn't stayed the night. He hadn't stayed much past dinner - not that they finished it. Maybe cooking for a younger man was a mistake. Maybe it reminded him too much of his mother.

Not that he seemed to mind at the time. Once, straight there on the dining room table. A second time in the lounge. A slight throbbing, a mild soreness between her legs reminding her of the young man's energy. She headed to the shower.

The shower that her ex-husband was in yesterday.

The final remnants of last night's pleasure faded from her. Why the hell did he take a shower?

Something else wasn't right. Jasmine had said they had a take-away. But there had been no leftovers, mess or ...

Probably just lies. Jasmine had been doing a lot of that since the divorce. No point in fighting over it. She would be back at university soon, then it would be another four months of her house to herself.

But something was nagging at her. Why was Tim in her bedroom at all?

********

12:15.

Tim was late already. Probably on purpose. She wouldn't let it get to her, but she have to remind him that this was her house now.

Shoma fumed. Jasmine, her own daughter, was becoming more difficult by the day. She made herself a coffee and headed to the TV room. She paid no attention to what was on. Her foot slapping in and out of her shoe, beating a rhythm to her increasing annoyance.

She heard the car approach. She sat, contained, waiting for the doorbell. When it sounded, she rose, slowly, smoothed her dress and marched towards the door.

Jasmine beamed, silently and walked past her mother with her luggage.

Instantly enraged, she turned to Tim. "You're late."

Tim smiled, looked at his watch. "Not much. And she's here in one piece."

She didn't trust his smile, didn't like the thought of him being happy. Or Jasmine, as well. The idea of them having secrets annoyed her further.

"That's not the point..." she started, but was interrupted by Jasmine barging past her.

She watched her daughter fling her arms around Tim, a deep hug for her father.

"The point is I might have had plans."

Jasmine kissed her father on the cheek and turned to her. "Like what?", her insolence hidden in her carefree tone.

"I need to go shopping."

Jasmine snorted, a mixture of humour and contempt.

Tim stroked Jasmine's arms. "I'm not staying for this. Take care hun."

"I don't have to let you onto this property, you know. I can get a restraining order."

Tim shook his head and walked back to his car without looking back.

Jasmine walked past her mother again, heading for the stairs.

Her mother grabbed her by the arm.

"Jasmine! I will not be ignored!"

Jasmine turned in fury, wrenching her arm from her mother's grip. "Don't you dare touch me!"

"Jasmine! What the hell is your problem?" She snarled at her daughter. "It's your father, isn't it? Turning you against me? The worthless ..."

"Don't you dare say anything about him! Don't you dare!" Jasmine said.

Shoma's 's face slowly transformed into a vile, snarl. "Oh, you are a right little daddy's girl aren't you?"

Jasmine burned at the words. The truth burned on her lips.

"You're just jealous." The words came out cooly.

"Of what? That old man? That tired, useless, bastard." There was something in her daughter's voice that unsettled her.

"It's you. You realise that, don't you?" Jasmine said.




The Scent of Jasmine



Tim fended of the pillow strike, pulled her sideways and bear-hugged her from behind, flat to the bed. "I see, trying to win friends through violence are we? When did that ever work?"

Jasmine struggled half-heartedly and Tim...

And Tim thought back to some years ago. A younger Jasmine, wrestling with her in his den, before it became a second reception room, full of oriental crap his wife liked. He can't remember how it starts. But there she is, beneath him, her legs around his waist trying to throw him off. Him above her... holding her hands above her head, his bodyweight holding her down. Her eyes glazing. She's moving herself against his body. A second lasting an age as they look into each other's eyes, moving ... He lets go and stands up. Walks out in silence.

Tim let her go. Jasmine still laughing. She doesn't have a delicate laugh, there's something slightly crazy about it, like the sort of person who laughs at slap stick. Jasmine grabbed another pillow and swung again. Tim let it hit him and faked a knock out, falling face down on the bed, immobile.

"Oh no! I have killed my father!" She said in the manner of a bad actress. "I must now rustle through his pockets and order room service on his credit card..."

"Can't sign it if I'm dead, stooopid..."

She laughed for a moment, then a heavy look filled her eyes, weighing on her face.

"I've missed you, dad."

He held her as she cried.

**********

Room service arrived promptly after ordering. They ate well. Jasmine chose melon and ice cream, and who was Tim to stop her? He chose eggs and cold Spanish meats. It may be a holiday, but he knew his nutrition and liked to stay in shape. The whiskey: well, that was another matter.

"So, who's using the bathroom first today? You know, so..." Jasmine smiled.

Tim laughed. "Ladies first, of course."

"So what were you dreaming about in the bath? Yesterday?"

He thought he hid his surprise well, maybe just giving a raised eyebrow. "I really can't remember..."

It was Jasmine's turn to raise her eyebrows. She finished her ice cream and left Tim pondering what that look meant. Must have been disdain...

They headed to the beach at the foot of the hotel, collecting drinks from the bar.

It was early season, and quiet on the beach, but there was still some eye candy decorating the place. Though none, perhaps, as vibrant as the woman whose back he was massaging sun tan lotion into.

"Don't forget under the straps, dad."

He slipped his thumb under the strap of her bikini. He found himself slowing. As his hand moved along, his fingers slipped round the edges of her ribs.

Such a beautiful, petite back.

He cleared his throat. "And on the, erm, bottoms? "

"Guess so."

He squirted a sliver of lotion above her bikini line, worked it in with his fingers, allowing them to seep just under the line of the bikini bottoms: strolling along the curves, feeling the dip between her cheeks. When had she ever let him do that before? Touch her so much ... so intimately. Maybe she was just maturing, or maybe ...

He rubbed the excess lotion into his chest and neck and re-gathered his thoughts.

Time past quietly and he closed his eyes against the sun. He felt himself falling asleep again. He rolled onto his side, eyes half open, just in time to see Jasmine strolling into the sea.

To be safe, he rolled onto his front, and closed his eyes.

*************

Even being with Jasmine couldn't relieve the boredom of shopping. Three hours later and he was in need of some relaxation.

The spa was on the 6th floor of the hotel. Recorded wind chimes played through the speakers. Staff, dressed in uniform white down to their footwear, showed them around. Jasmine went for a pedicure as Tim headed for the steam room.  

The heat enveloped him before he had stepped through the door. He noticed he was alone and chose a space on the bench at the back in the corner. He poured a ladle of water onto the coals and let the steam pour through him.

Within moments the sweat was rising through him, running through his hair, down his face and over his chest. As his perspiration increased, his mind went back to the day before. Jasmine in the shower. The water shimmering over her. The small translucent bubbles over that flawless mocha skin. The heat penetrated him. His mind began to wander. Stepping into that shower. Jasmine looking over her shoulder at him. Smiling with those large, deep brown eyes. Touching her shoulders, letting his hands slide down her back to her waist. Pulling her towards him, feeling her backside against his groin. Kissing her neck, his hands gliding over her stomach... rising upwards and cupping her breasts. His daughter's firm body against his ... happily giving herself to him. Their love moving to the next stage, beyond the normal boundaries. Their love moving to passion. Turning her around... kissing her soft lips. She parts her legs... he raises one of them...

"Senor?" A cold breeze entered the room, clearing the steam.

A member of staff stood at the door.

"What?"

"Your wife is waiting for you in the massage room."

Tim thought about correcting him, but decided against it.

***********

Jasmine was already on the table, a towel over her back. Tim had taken his time getting there, waiting for the evidence of his daydream to subside. Jasmine smiled and was talking about how wonderful her pedicure was. Even under the thick towel he could see the outline in her curves. He lay down quickly, trying to escape. He placed his face in the space in the massage board and waited for it to begin. Jasmine was still talking, but he concentrated on clearing his mind. It worked. Strong hands delved deep into his well-muscled back, verging on painful. It was good. Perhaps pain was the only thing that could distract him.

Then he heard Jasmine release a long, low moan. He looked up without thinking. Her masseuse was a bottle-dyed blonde, probably pretty once. Strong woman, too. He placed his head back down, trying to block the sounds of her moaning. Perhaps there was no escape. The massage became an ordeal. Between the long moans was the occasional short escape of breath, almost as if... as if...

After an age of torment, the masseuses worked down to the legs. Thankfully this brought an end to the moans, and Jasmine started giggling.

Normality came back to him with relief.

As the session came to an end, the lights were dimmed, and the two were told they would be left alone for a moment to recover. Tim knew what this meant. It was a chance to allow any unfortunate side effects to lessen before the man had to turn over and embarrass anyone with a tent pole under his towel.

Jasmine made small talk. Tim tried to listen.

He was disgusted at himself. That night, though, he was going to find an escort agency. And tell them exactly who to send. And what she had to do.

*********

Dressed, they made their way back to their room. Jasmine ordered room service, to while away the hours before dinner.

"We should use the hot tub." She said, looking over the balcony. "Be a shame not to."

"You go ahead, hun. Need to check some stuff on the laptop."

Jasmine shrugged, grabbed a bag and headed to the bathroom.

Tim booted up the laptop, waiting to connect to the Wi-Fi. He sat at the desk, positioning himself so that should she walk past she wouldn't be able to see the screen. It was slow, much slower than he was used to, but it worked.

Numerous agencies. Good sign. Maybe too many. Shit - he should have asked Tony for a recommendation. Most of the girls had abandoned their heritage. Dyed blonde hair, garish make up. Where was the natural beauty he had seen so freely on the streets of Barcelona? Page after page of Barbie dolls. Not a good sign. Finally, one with potential. A stunning brunette, large eyes. Flawless, though possibly photoshopped complexion. He scrolled down to an image of her on all fours ... familiar curves...

A knock on the door.

"Jasmine? Jasmine?" No response. He answered the door himself. The waiter pushed the trolley in and asked where he should set it up. Tim indicated the table and searched his pockets for change. None. As the waiter opened the bottle, he went to the wardrobe and padded his jackets and trousers, looking for a few Euros. He returned with a few coins, and was surprised at the big beaming grin the waiter had.

"Have a wonderful evening senor..."

Tim nodded, slightly bemused at his demeanour, and shut door on him.

"Jasmine?" he called out. The bathroom door was open, champagne already poured, one glass missing. "Jasmine?" Bubbling water led him to the balcony.

Jasmine was sitting in the hot tub in a black bikini and large, black sunglasses. Her arms spread along the width of the tub, a glass of champagne in one hand. The water bubbled just below the line of her bikini. Where it met the water, the material clung closer to her flesh.

"Remember this bikini, dad? I promise to keep it on this time." She laughed.

Try as he might, he could not help but read too much into her smile.

**********

Tim went back inside and shut down his laptop. Had she seen what he was looking at? At least he knew what the waiter was smiling at now, seeing Jasmine stroll pass. He changed into his swimming trunks and took is champagne. Acting automatically, trying not to think, he climbed into the hot tub and joined his daughter, staring into the distance, keeping his thoughts as far away as possible.

It didn't work. She slid along the hot tub seat, thigh to thigh, and rested her head on his chest. Her arm floated lazily on his legs.

"This has been an amazing day." She said, sipping champagne.

Was there a chance? He thought to himself. The slightest chance she harboured similar fantasies? Even if so, they were just fantasies. He was a father, he had a lifetime of responsibility towards her. Yes, she was beautiful. No, stunning. But she wouldn't think of her father like that, would she? There was a love there. But it was chaste... yes. That was the word. But even if she did have fantasies, to act on them would be destructive.

"I should be pampered like this more often."

Tim nodded. "Yup. You deserve it." He kissed her hair.

"Josh was never like this."

"Who's Josh?"

Jasmine let out a sigh. "Just some guy who dumped me."

"When was this?"

"Last month."

"And I never met him?"

Jasmine looked up at her father. "Relax, dad. He was nothing."

Tim hugged her closer.

"I guess we're both losers in love." She said.

Tim kissed the top of her head again, resting his face there. As he looked down, he noticed his fingertips were lightly touching the upper line of her bikini top. He let them rest there.

***********

The mood was more subdued that evening. They tried to joke their way out of it, but it was forced and unsustainable. Jasmine started her beauty regime, and Tim searched the internet for two things. Firstly a night club that he might send Jasmine to. Secondly, that brunette girl again. He took the address of the first, and the number of the second as Jasmine walked around in her dressing gown, singing badly, preparing herself.

"Dad? You got that blue linen suit? You should wear that with your pink shirt."

"The pink shirt? You sure?"

"It works, trust me."

"You saying I'm a gay boy?" Tim joked.

"God, dad. If you were some skinny little wuss, then it would look gay. But you can get away with it."

"Well I bow to your superior knowledge, hun".

"Good!" She flashed him a smug smile, and it worked. He ran up behind her and started tickling her. She whooped and started laughing, trying to get away from him. He chased her across the room and she jumped onto the bed, arming herself with a pillow. He dove onto her, absorbing the pillow blow and shoving her to the bed. More screams. He straddled her, finding ways past her guard to tickle her ribs. She laughed too hard to speak properly, and struggled to keep her dressing gown together.

"Whose superior now, hun?" he joked. The excitement in him started to change in nature. As she struggled, still laughing, still trying to get away, he let her half escape, only to pin her down again, his right leg between hers. As he lay and rolled on top of her, her dressing gown rose up her thighs. He allowed himself to look, briefly. He quickly surrendered, not pushing it too far.

But it worked; she had only finished laughing by the time she took her clothes into the bathroom to get changed.

Tim waited on the balcony, with his second glass of champagne. It's a beautiful city, he thought to himself.

"Dad?" A voice called behind him. He turned.

She was beautiful. He told her so. She smiled. "I'm ready."

They clinked glasses, drank and left. Both wearing the broadest of smiles.

*********

They walked through the lobby. Once again, Tim noticed people staring at them. Maybe they thought he was her sugar daddy, but he didn't care. And Jasmine was enjoying the attention too.

The restaurant was on the top floor of a hotel a few moments' drive away in a taxi. Its panoramic views reached from the hills to the ocean. The food deserved all the stars the guides said they had, and Tim was impressed by the wines. Even Jasmine managed to find a red she liked, rather than the sweet whites she usually ordered. The talk was free and easy. They had spent too much time apart and had much to talk about, but both avoided the separation, the impending divorce and home. Neither wanted to sully the evening.

Over desert, Tim broached the subject of sending Jasmine to the premier night club in the area. She asked him what he would do. He shrugged his shoulders and said head back to their hotel, read a paper in the bar.

A coldness swept across her face.

"No, I don't like that." She said.

"Oh come on. You want to spend some time with the young crowd. You're in Barcelona, hun."

She shook her head. He knew that look: she wouldn't give in. "I know what I want, and it's not leaving you alone on our second night."

He could tell there was more going on. Something had upset her.

"Well, ok. What do you want to do then?" He didn't want to make an issue of it and mar the evening.

"Just stay here. It's nice enough. There's a band and DJ in the bar next door at eleven. I looked it up on your laptop."

There was a hint of mischief in her eyes as she said it. Tim took a sip of his wine to hide his smirk. His little girl had seen his laptop, and was trying to keep him away from women of ill repute.

"Sure you don't want to find yourself a cute Spanish boyfriend?"

"Well maybe if you dance with me, you'll find some nice Spanish senorita. A nice one."

"Oh yeah, how will that work? Wouldn't you scare off the competition?"

"It's psychology dad. If a girl sees you with another woman, it says two things."

"Go on."

Jasmine's glass hung from her hand, affecting an almost Audrey Hepburn-like pose as she lectured her father. "Firstly, it pre-selects you. If I think you're ok to hang out with, then other girls will think you'll be ok for them to hang out with."  

Tim nodded. "Ok. So far so good."

"Secondly, she'll get jealous, and try to win you over."

"Really?" He said, enjoying his daughter's forthrightness and basking in her intelligence.

"Haven't you noticed?"

"What?"

"Those looks you're getting when we are out together? Especially when I take your arm?"

Tim felt a slight pang. "Oh, so that's why you were doing it?"

"No." she said, exaggerating her hurt. "But I noticed it."

Tim raised his glass. "Ok, then. Here's to psychology."

*********

The bar was cast in blue light, lending a sultry feel over the easy jazz quietly coming from the small band at the back.

Jasmine led the way to the bar and, in accordance to her little ruse, Tim entered about a minute behind her. He walked over to her barstool as she studiously ignored him.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

"Not yet. You can keep it warm if you like." She said, giving her best sultry look.

She must be a handful, he thought, as he took his place beside her. "Well can I get you a drink while I keep the spare seat warm?"

"Champagne."

"Really?"

"We don't want to look cheap, do we?" He couldn't fault her logic, and got himself a large bourbon, one ice cube.

"So, are you single, senora?"

"Recently, as it happens."

She is good at this, he thought. "So who have you got your eye on?"

"Well, wait ... for you or for me?"

He decided he didn't want an answer just yet. He let it go, and just smiled at her.

They shared jokes, laughed like old times. For a moment, all was well with the world. An old Louis Armstrong standard. One of his favourites. He began strumming his fingers against his thigh.

"May I dance with you?" She said.

"My pleasure."

She smiled, took his hand, and walked him to the dance floor.

She slipped her arms around him, and he rested one hand on her soft, naked shoulder, one on her back. They moved closely together through the dark room to the gentle jazz. He twirled her once, and pulled her in, a kiss to her forehead. Her smile was radiant, her eyes hypnotised him. Was he falling in love? It felt like it. But love was ok, wasn't it? The song passed in an instant, lost in her charms.

The next song was slightly more up tempo, prompting Jasmine to move more. She turned her back to him, and danced close to him. He could feel her backside against him... she reached back with one hand around his neck, he allowed his hands to find her waist. A table of three women stared at them. He ignored them, preferring to concentrate on the young woman moving against him.

Too soon, she turned around again. She leant into him and whispered something. But he was too distracted by her closeness and scent to pay attention. Tim allowed his hands to slip down his daughter's back, and drew her in for a brief kiss. He didn't try to hold it. He felt in control now, it was ok.

He led her back to their drinks.

"Did you see the girl in the white and black dress. Back to the right?" Jasmine asked.

Tim shook his head. "I only have eyes for you .... dear." He crooned.

"Agh, don't sing, dad!"

"Well at least you know where you get it from".

She leaned forward and slapped his leg in mock punishment. Both sipped their drinks.

She told him about the woman in the monochrome dress, about how she was trying to catch his eye while giving her disdainful looks, but Tim only caught the barest details of it, captivated by the intelligent beauty in front of him.

"So, it's a plan then?" She said.

"Erm, what is?"

"Tim!"

"Tim?"

"Well I'm not going to call you dad in here and blow the game am I?" she explained.

"OK, so the plan again."

She sighed, slightly annoyed that her master plan was not getting the full attention it so clearly deserved.

"Keep an eye on her drink, when it's finished I'll go and dance, and I bet you she comes right next to you to order her drink."

"Won't her boyfriend get..."

"She's out with girls. Do you not listen, dad?"

"Tim, you mean."

They shared a smirk, and Tim noticed her hand had stayed on his thigh through her lecture. He wondered for a moment, then realised it was part of her show. Get a grip, Tim.

She turned her head. "OK, let's do it!"

She slipped off her stool and made her way to the centre of the dance floor, capturing centre stage with all the confidence of youth.

Tim watched her intently, looking at her as a stranger might, watching those curves move as she danced.

It wasn't long before a few local men, all ages, had gravitated towards her, trying to catch her eye. He wanted to swat them off, and wondered to himself if he was being protective as a father, or was just jealous.

"She's beautiful."

Tim turned towards the voice. Sure enough, the woman Jasmine had singled out had approached him.




The Scent of Jasmine



"Yes. She is."

"You're a very lucky man to have such a beautiful partner."

Tim took her in, early 30s, make-up a touch heavy. But no denying her figure. He looked back to the dance floor. A young man, mixed race, was dancing close to her. Whispering something to her.

"She's just a friend. A colleague."

The woman smiled. "Good..." She twirled her empty glass on the bar.

"Oh, let me get you a drink. What are you having?"

"Sex on the beach."

Tim nodded. Of course she was. He ordered the drinks and noticed her move closer.

"She looks high maintenance". Her hand rested on his thigh. "If you're interested, I can be a very easy woman to please..."

"Not exactly what I am looking for." He said, paying for the drinks.

"You're hoping to find love in Barcelona? I can make you feel it." She said with a practiced ease.

Jasmine was making her way over to them. A smile not concealing her determined walk.

As she reached her father she leant forward and kissed him on the lips. She held it, a long soft kiss, but Tim was too confused to enjoy it.

"Come on Tim. Take me home."

********

Jasmine was silent in the taxi, staring out through the window. He didn't press her. It could wait.

Barcelona was beautiful at night. But his eyes kept coming back to his daughter. Eventually, thankfully, she spoke.

"Sorry, dad." She lent in and rested against him.

It would do.

They strolled through the lobby with Tim wondering how the mood had managed to change so much. Moments earlier they had been as thick as thieves, playing games on an unsuspecting public.

"Senor?" The concierge called out to him. It was a message from Tony. Jasmine said she would go up to the room as he called in.

A few rings and Tony answered. "How's it going fella?"

"Yeah, ok. What the hell do you want? I thought I was on a break?"

Tony laughed at him down the phone. "It's a test, Tim, see how early you got back on a Saturday night. And it turns out -- far too early for my liking."

"Hey, don't worry. It's been good."

"Well I'm going to make sure of it. I've sent something to your room."

"Shit, Tony, you know I am here with Jasmine don't you?" he panicked.

A raucous laugh bellowed through the receiver. "Don't worry. I'll let you choose your own hooker. Go back, enjoy."

He headed back to the elevator, relieved. The last thing he needed was an unexpected guest surprising Jasmine.

He pushed the button for his floor and tried to make sense of the evening. Flashes of Jasmine dancing close to him crossed his mind. She wanted him to find someone. She set it up -- it was her idea. Just a show, a game.

Best let it go.

He used his key card and entered the room. The gift from Tony was there: a bottle of champagne, already opened. Jasmine was already on the balcony with a glass.

He poured a glass and walked over to her. He cuddled her from behind and again kissed her head.

"You OK, honey?"

She nodded silently. A gentle, plaintive sigh rocked her shoulders.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?" he said, gently rocking her.

"I'm sorry dad. I didn't mean to ruin the evening."

"What? No. As long as I am with you, it's a perfect evening".

She chuckled between small sobs. "It's just... just ... one of the guys at the bar said that girl was a prostitute."

"Yeah, I kind of got that impression."

She turned, makeup smeared with tears. "Well you don't deserve a prostitute. You deserve so much better." The tears came easily now and she hugged him, tears and mascara staining his shirt.

"Hey, beggars can't be choosers." He joked. It didn't work.

She hit him on the chest. "You're not a beggar! It's that bitch that's spoiled everything!"

"What bitch?"

"That fucking bitch at home." At least, that's what he made out through the tears.

"Hey, don't blame your mum. It's difficult for both of ..."

"It is her fault! All her fault. You think she's been moping around the house since you left? It's non-stop, every weekend."

"What is, hun?"

"The men. She's been a fucking whore."

He smoothed her hair, doing what he could to placate her. "Hey, she's still your mum. You still can't talk about her like that."

"But it's true dad." She had calmed slightly now. "You deserve better. She ruined everything. I just ... I just want you back."

"Hey, babe." He lifted her chin with a finger. "I'm right here."

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. She stood on tip toes and kissed him, holding him tight.

There was a softness to the kiss, a tenderness.

"I know it must be difficult for you. Being a man, being alone."

"It's not too bad. I get by."

"Oh, please. I saw what you were looking at on the web. I saw you in the bath. I've seen how you've been looking at me sometimes."

"Hey, it's not what ... I don't mean anything, I'm just..."

"Don't worry. I understand. We all need love, dad."

He couldn't argue.

She moved to the bathroom, picking up her make-up bag on the way. "Excuse me. Let me tidy myself up."

Tim walked back into the room. This evening had taken more of its share of strange turns and it had left him disorientated.

He finished his champagne, as if that would help, and poured some more. He distracted himself with his laptop. Some music, perhaps. Something gentle, mellow. Sinatra should be perfect.

Jasmine came back in. She offered her empty glass and Tim refilled it. She was still beautiful, but drained. Even her subtle make-up couldn't hide it.

"I'm sorry, dad. Really. I didn't mean to ruin the evening."

"You haven't. Trust me."

"Do I look ok?"

"Electric."

She moved in to him and started dancing again.

"For a moment there, I thought you said Electra."

They gently moved to the old jazz. "Electra?" Tim asked, not really interested in the answer.

"She was from Greek mythology. Freud referred to her. Or Jung. Don't know."

"Ahh. Psychology again. And what sort of head case was she?"

"Oh, he meant it as a stage some girls go through. Where they want to kill their bitch of a mother and have their father all to themselves." She hugged him closer, as if to emphasize the point.

"I hear he did a lot of coke, that guy." He could feel her smile against his chest.

"Maybe. But he could see into our minds. We all have fantasies. We just bury them deep."

Her arms snaked around his neck, and she looked into his eyes. "I bet you have some interesting ones."

He could feel his heart beat through his chest. Surely she could feel it as well? He tried to smile it off.

"I hope you find someone special, dad."

"Me too."

She leaned up and kissed him again. A warm kiss, lingering again, his arms snaking around her waist. He noticed his groin stirring again, gently pressing against her belly.

He needed some distance so twirled her away in time with the music, holding her hand. But she simply twirled back in, close. Eyes on him.

"Someone to help fulfil your dreams too. You do have dreams, don't you dad?"

He nodded.

"Me too." She added.

His breath was becoming laboured now. She held him close.

"I love you, dad." She said, and kissed him on the cheek, slowly withdrawing, leaving moisture on his skin.

He looked down at his beautiful girl. "I love you too." Another kiss. She rose to meet him, her hand to the cheek where her lips had just parted. Their lips touched and held for a moment. They separated, for one heartbeat, to look into each other's eyes, and kissed again.

This time there was movement. Subtle, but real. She gently rolled her mouth against his. He noticed his hands drift down to the top of her backside, to the beginning of the curve. They moved further down, and gently squeezed. He heard her moan... felt it on her lips as she hardened her kiss.

He pulled away, just an inch, to take it in. To see if this was ... happening. He wanted to say something but nothing sensible would come to mind. She rocked slowly in his arms, staring intently at his eyes, his mouth, her breathing slow and laboured. Some force made him slow down. He drew her head against his neck, not risking another kiss.

He felt her mouth on his chest. As he breathed deeply the scent from her skin, her hair, filled him. An intoxicating blend of youth and perfume.

He had to hold her close. To control things. But his hands ascended her back, the left gently rising to caress the nape of her neck. He found his lips making the faintest of touches on her delicate, tanned flesh. She responded immediately: arching her neck, her head deeper into his chest. He kissed her, and as he opened his mouth, he allowed his tongue to take the faintest sample of her taste before closing his lips on her again. She replied with a gentle, slow sigh. He tried to think clearly, but to no avail. He kissed her, allowed his mouth to open and gently bit her neck.

Jasmine threw her head back. He continued kissing her throat, all the way round to the other side of her neck. He gripped her hair, and bit her again...

"Ohhh, yessss." She purred. And in hearing her voice remembered who she was. Again he pulled back.

"Jasmine ... this ..." he tried to find the words, again they failed him.

Her flushed face looked up at him. "Shhhh..." She pulled his face to her and kissed again. This time her lips parted and he felt the moist, faint touch of her tongue. He received her warmly, mingling with her.

It lasted, uninhibited.

His hands found the zip on the back of her dress and slid it down. She responded by brushing the jacket from his shoulders.

He kissed her shoulders as he moved the dress strap over them. It slid to the floor. Her naked beauty shone through him.

"I want you." He rasped.

She stepped out of her dress. "I want us to be together...just us."

They kissed fervidly. She tore his shirt open and he lifted her around his waist. Her legs locked fast around him. He turned and carried her to the bed, his shirt open, Jasmine in nothing but her thong and heels.

He kicked off his shoes and pulled off the rest of his clothes, as quickly as he could less the magic evaporate in a moment of clarity. He clambered between her open thighs. They continued to kiss, hungry for passion, desperate to connect. His hands took in her shape. The slight roundness of her stomach. The firmness of her breasts. He took them into his mouth in turn, sucking, gently pulling on her dark nipples with his lips. She moaned and arched underneath him, her groans driving his desire further. He smoothed her thighs with his hands, and kissed her stomach. Slowly, slowly down.

Her legs parted as he kissed the line of her thong. Her hips rose to his mouth, and he slipped his thumbs under her last piece of clothing. She pulled her legs together and lifted her arse, allowing him to slide it over her legs and shoes. Throwing them to the floor he gently parted his daughters thighs...sliding his hand down them as he did. She gripped the headboard and held her legs wide. He looked into her eyes ... she smiled. Nothing but love and desire in her eyes.

He leaned forward and stroked her face, kissing her just below her rib cage. He stroked her lips and she turned to take his finger into her mouth. Gently sucking. He took her nipples into his mouth again before moving down. Licking, kissing her stomach. Tracing his hand around her pubic hair and down her thighs. He kissed her lips and her body moved up to greet him. Slowly, despite the burning desire inside him, he moved his tongue over her pussy... supping her. She tasted like fresh, dark honey.

Her noises aroused him more... the animalistic bucking of her hips. His tongue slipped into her, over her clitoris. Taking her in.

"Oh, oh, yes..." her voice low and throaty. He grabbed her backside and moved his mouth to cover her pussy entirely. Her lips, his lips, moving in synchrony.

"Please ... please..." He paused to look at her. "Please ... let's be together."

He sat up, moved over her. Her body still writhing just under him.

She reached down with one hand, and he felt her fingers curl around him. Despite the heat, he felt a freshness to her touch, a vitality. He lowered himself, led by her. He felt the warm touch of her pussy. There was a tightness there, an inviting one. A promising one. He looked into her eyes, watched them open in flashes as he moved into her. Her body gently flinched, her mouth moved noiselessly. Their gaze never faltered as Tim slowly, fully, entered his daughter.

She let out a short, stifled cry. He paused for a moment. Savouring the feeling. She was breathing hard, but she was ok. He brought his knees up slightly, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. Her hands reached out to his face, bringing him forward to kiss. And as they did, they began to move. Slowly rocking back and forth over her hips, feeling her warm embrace on his cock. Her hips moved perfectly with her fathers. He raised himself on one hand to see her more clearly, her dark tones against his olive skin. Her slender thighs around his body...her whole being fusing with him.

His other arm traced the outline of her body, coming to rest on her hips. Holding her closer, watching her move under him. With him. Warm lava began to build inside him. Possessing him. He moved faster, her groans like a metronome for him, matching his pace. Faster and harder now, the feeling built... he looked into her eyes... wanting this moment between them.

The surge of heat burst through him, too intense for him to keep his eyes open, enrapturing his body. It flowed into the beauty beneath him. He forced himself to look at her, an unearthly glow to her face.

Anxious thoughts crossed his mind. It had happened. He could feel her trembling beneath him. He lay back down and kissed her. She kissed back.

They held each other close, not a word spoken between them.

*********

Tim was dreaming. In a kitchen that wasn't theirs. Jasmine was sitting at the table crying. His wife, hurling insults and blame. She produced a kitchen knife. He sensed other men in the house, one in each room, waiting for her to expel the intruder. He backed out into the garden. Now it was cold. Dark. He found himself naked. Lying on cool grass. Jasmine kneeling by him. Something was stirring. His mind resurfaced into the dark of the night.

He heard himself moan, still unsure what was happening. He awoke, his eyes adjusting to the light, his mind to a source of unknown pleasure.

He looked down. The sheets had been moved down past his thighs. Jasmine held his cock in one hand, the dark tumble of her hair moving up and down, over his groin. She sensed his waking, looked up and smiled at him. Without saying anything, she traced her tongue along his length, once; twice, then slipped it back into her mouth. Squeezing with her tongue, she worked him until he came again. He felt her throat undulate as she wallowed.

"Sorry, dad. I just wanted to do that."

**********

Tim awoke from a more pleasant dream, hard again. He looked over his shoulder, but the bed was empty.

The memories from last night came back to him. A shudder went through him. Christ. Could he put it down to the drink?

He got out of bed, grabbing a robe. The lounge area was empty. He went to the bathroom. Nothing. He began to panic, tension in his chest. He checked the wardrobe, her suitcase and clothes were still there. And her passport. Good sign. But where was she?

Hot tub? No. She was gone. He rang reception. Yes, they had seen her. She seemed fine, but no, she didn't say where she was going. Oh, and now that he was up, she had ordered room service for him.

Nothing to do but wait. Left alone with his thoughts.

He supped some warm stale champagne to calm himself. Revolting, but he needed it.

He took stock. She hadn't left. Couldn't have.

Had she just fled without thinking? What the hell was he thinking last night? How could he make her do that for him? But she had been receptive.

Hell, perhaps it was even fifty per cent her fault. No, you can't blame her. It was you, Tim. Shit, was she on birth control? Oh, fuck. What had he done? Yeah, but she was the one who woke you up in the middle of the night with a blow job. What had she said? Sorry, I wanted to do that. OK, so they were both in on it. But, what would be next? She'd probably never speak to him again.

Sorry, dad, I just wanted to do that. The words echoed in his head. I just wanted to do that. Her smile, her tongue. His cock disappearing into her mouth...

Your fucking daughter's mouth, Tim! Two lonely fucked up people playing out a Greek fucking tragedy.

Calm down, Tim. Calm down. Speak to Jasmine, get the facts. Don't make any assumptions until then.

Room service arrived. Eggs Benedict and a mimosa.

He took the drink.

**********

It was nearly midday before he dared leave the phone and take a shower. He tried to keep his thoughts clear. The mimosa didn't help. He entered the main area of the suite and had a quick look around. Still no Jasmine. He choose some clothes, got dressed. He went out to the balcony and scanned the beach below. No, still no sign of her. Their flight was Monday evening. They had one day left to sort this out. And one night.

He slapped his forehead. Stop it, Tim. Get a grip.

The phone rang. He crossed the room and lifted the receiver.

"Senor, it is a message from Jasmine."

Tim braced himself. "Great. What is it?"

"She says to meet in Taverna Can Margarit. She says you know where it is."

Tim hung up. She wanted to meet in a bar. She'd obviously needed some time to compose herself. And now she was drinking, steeling herself for a confrontation.

He stopped by the lobby bar for a quick whisky, then hailed a taxi.

He paused outside the taverna, wondering what was waiting for him: what he had done to his relationship with Jasmine.

He'd have to face it. It was another negotiation. It sickened him to think of dealing with his daughter in this way, but this was outside of his skill set.

He pushed the door and entered. It was dark inside, and normally it would have taken a while to adjust. But he couldn't miss her, waiting at the bar.

He walked over to her, stopping short of his natural impulse to kiss her. In a fatherly way of course. Well, he was her father, but ...

"Hello."

She didn't look at him. Took another sip of wine. She gestured to the beer on the bar and walked to a corner table.

They sat in silence. They both took sips of their drink, and set them down at the same time.

"Kind of like last night." She said.

"What is, hun?" he asked, noticing the desperate hope in his voice.

Still nothing. "You gave me a bit of a scare." He added.

She raised her eyes to his. "Is that all I gave you, dad?"

"Maybe, maybe don't call me dad just now."

"Sorry, Tim."

That sounded even worse to him. Distant. Cold.

"Hun, I just need to know one thing. Are we ..."

"We're fine dad ... We're fine. I know what I ... what happened."

"How do you feel, hun?"

"I'm, fine. It's just..."

"If I could take it back, I would..." he pleaded. He could feel her growing more distant.

"Why didn't you come and see me more?"

"I couldn't. Your mother and I ... it's difficult. It's a divorce, its, there are lawyers involved and ..."

She dropped her head, shoulders hunching up.

"Believe me, hun. I love your more than anything. If I could see you more. I mean, she changed the home number, went ex-directory. We only talk through lawyers..."

She stilled herself. Took a deep breath. "I know, dad. I know what she's been like."

He tried to think of something to say. She beat him to it.

"I need to do some stuff. I'll see you at six."

As she got up to go, his eyes stayed on his beer.

********

Tim wondered the streets alone, trying to distract himself with Gaudi and museums. He walked through the Museum of Contemporary Art without being able to recall a thing. His mind driven from pole to pole, beyond his control: between the incredible, passionate encounter of last night and the destruction of his relationship with Jasmine. At one point he found himself in a museum devoted to chocolate. His mind betrayed him, the tones on display reminding him of his daughter, imagining the liquid cocoa flowing over her body. He left quickly.