The Politician's Daughter

Author's Note. All characters are over 18.

+++

Paul fled to DC that afternoon, without even saying goodbye. The next time Allison saw him wasn't even in person, but when he appeared on one of the Sunday morning talk shows. She was watching him in the den with her mother, who made a point of taping all Paul's media appearances. Iris had a large table in front of her and was happily going over the seating chart for the wedding at the same time.

"Allison, help me out here."

"Yes?"

"Look at this. I have Anderson Cooper sitting between your father and Senator Welles. I can't do that."

"Why not?" Allison asked, trying to hide her smirk.

"You know! It will seem like I'm trying to say something. About his being . . . "

"Gay, Mom? I think it's ok. You can seat him next to two men."

"Oh, shh, your father's on," Iris said, turning up the volume.

Allison stared at her, noting the glowing adoration on her face. God did her mother love this. She absolutely loved being the wife of a famous man. That's all that mattered to her. Allison continued to stare at her, pondering her, thinking about Jeremy and remembering their sometimes wild sex. Had her mother ever felt that? Had Iris ever screamed in pleasure and begged Paul to fuck her? Did she have any clue? Allison doubted it. Distaste for her mother rose in her throat. She was such an elitist, such a Stepford wife. She'd never had the slightest thing in common with her.

But Allison was riveted to the TV, too, and the perversity of the situation was not lost on her. She had kissed her father. She had seen his cock harden with lust for her. She had lain awake in bed contemplating having an affair with the man Iris slept next to every night, wanting to be one of his lovers. And yet she felt no guilt. All she felt was revulsion for her shallowness, and a little pity.

They both watched as Paul was introduced.

"Thank you for joining us today, Congressman."

He looked wonderful on TV. He wore an expensive dark suit with a baby blue tie that made his eyes sparkle. As she watched him, Allison forgot about her mother as she felt her attraction to Paul suddenly intensify until she was shifting in her seat, right next to Iris, squeezing her legs tightly together.

"Thank you for having me, Jon. Always a pleasure."

As she listened to him, Allison was recalling the feel of his lips and the brief excitement of having his tongue in her mouth, and the sight of the hard-on he was unable to hide. The more he talked, the more she let her mind open up to more explicit fantasies, until it wandered to thoughts of taking his cock in her mouth.

"Now, about the President's economic plan. Can you tell us, Congressman, how the votes are lining up in the House?"

"Well, first, Jon, let me just say that my colleagues and I have been working very hard on this, and . . ."

Allison couldn't take any more. She said "Excuse me," and fled up to her room and locked the door. She tore off her shorts and panties and got down on the bed, her hips high in the air and her face burrowed into the bedspread. Oh God, she was soaking wet.

She barely had to touch herself before she came incredibly hard, her head thrust into the bed, gasping and shuddering over and over. She kept touching herself as she pictured pulling down Paul's jogging shorts and freeing the massive erection she had seen the other day. She held her hips wide, spread her legs, and imagined him kneeling between them and fucking her hard, just like Jeremy used to. She rocked herself to another quick, easy climax until she collapsed, shaken and overwhelmed. She couldn't catch her breath. She could only think how badly she wanted another orgasm, and how badly she wanted Paul, not Jeremy, to give it to her.

Allison lay panting on her stomach, trying to calm down, stunned by the intensity of her feelings. She bit the pillow and rocked back and forth. She had NEVER come that fast in her life. Jesus, what was going on?

She could only think it was seeing him on TV. Seeing him so intelligent and completely controlled, while knowing what she knew.

She trembled remembering his angry words. This CANNOT happen.

Dad . . .

she whispered to him into her pillow with her eyes shut tight.

What do you know that I don't?

She felt sure Paul had more experience; that he knew better than she what they could possibly be starting with each other. Why else would he resist it so strenuously?

The words she had heard long ago echoed in her head. They were engraved into her mind, and seemed to erupt in flaming script across her body.

Daddy needs to see you.

You miss me, baby girl?

God! She moaned into her childhood bed, with her mother downstairs, thinking of her father, just as she had when she was 16. She wanted him, she wanted him. Where the fuck was he?

+++

Paul stayed away the entire two weeks before the big wedding. He was slated to arrive the day of, in the morning.

The longer he stayed away, the more Allison knew it was because he was avoiding her. He couldn't have been more obvious about it. He didn't trust himself to be in the same house with her. But he'd have to see her now, and she was looking forward to it. She was going to look spectacular.

The only little snag was that Jeremy couldn't make it. He called her a few days before he was supposed to arrive, saying something "suddenly came up" and he couldn't make his flight. Allison was annoyed. She wanted a date. And she wanted to flirt and dance with her boyfriend right in front of Paul.

"Well, if you can't, you can't. I understand," she said on her cell.

"I'm sorry, hon, I just can't do anything about it."

Allison was angry, but she was also feeling guilty. As she talked to him, she didn't have the heart to tell him her feelings were changing. That really, she only wanted him there so she could use him to drive her father crazy. That someone else was occupying her thoughts, instead of him.

"Allison?" Jeremy asked over the phone. "What's going on with you?"

God, he was no dummy. He could always read her so well.

"Nothing. What do you mean?"

"Yeah. You know, perhaps it's a good thing I'm not coming back."

"Why do you say that?"

"You know! Stop lying! You're in love with your father, aren't you?"

"I don't know," Allison said, her voice breaking.

"'You don't know.' OK, listen. I think you have some things to deal with. I'm going to let you deal with them. Call me when they're resolved. If they get resolved."

"Jeremy," Allison said, "I'm sorry, I didn't expect . . ."

"No, you didn't. But I did. So listen, call me when you've made up your mind. I have to go."

"All right," she said, hanging up. One of the pitfalls of dating an older man. He saw right through her.

+++

The day of the wedding arrived, with all its craziness. Media trucks camped out on the street at dawn hoping to get pics of Paul Austin's oldest son and his gorgeous socialite bride; a huge canopy strung with lights and flowers covered the back lawn; friends, relatives, children, make-up and hair people, caterers and musicians overran the estate. From the minute she got up Allison was accosted by people looking for help and directions. She didn't have a clue if Paul had arrived or not.

Allison spent the afternoon holed up in her room with Sarah, getting ready. Of course she had invited her friend. She didn't think she could make it through this kind of event without her.

Sarah looked so gorgeous, in a low cut pink dress with lots of flounces and ruffles and lace. Just the kind of feminine thing that suited her petite body and coloring. Allison, in contrast, wanted to go for dark and dramatic. She chose a midnight blue satin slip dress with spaghetti straps. The cut was very simple, but very sexy. The silky, shimmery material clung to her fit body and showed off her fantastic shoulders. She had Sarah pile her hair on top of her head and leave soft loose tendrils trailing down her neck.

She sat at her dressing table applying make-up while Sarah chatted away, although she was a little uncomfortable with her choice of conversation.

"Maybe I can sneak in a dance with your father tonight."

"Oh?" Allison glanced at her. "You'd like that?"

"God yes. Your Dad is so sexy. And, well . . ."

"What?"

"You know. I know you know. I mean, everyone knows that he and Iris don't exactly get along."

Allison rolled her eyes as she put on lipstick. "You mean Stepford wife?"

"Would it bother you? I'm not saying I want an affair with him or anything! I just want to dance with Paul Austin."

"How much do people know?" Allison asked.

"Well I don't think it's a secret he's been seeing this woman in DC. A news producer, something like that."

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"Hanging out at bars. People talk."

Allison furiously tossed her mascara on the table. She wasn't mad at her friend, but at the idea of being one of "Paul Austin's" groupies—one of his eager little sluts. She was angry that he hadn't said hello to her today, and had completely ignored her for two weeks. The last thing she wanted was to be some weepy, clingy girl waiting around for him to notice her. And he had SAID he did not have a lover at the moment. So he'd lied. He'd probably been seeing her—fucking her—these past two weeks. He'd probably gone straight from kissing her to his mistress!

"Come on, I'm ready," she said to Sarah. "Let's go get a drink. I need one."

Allison was pleasantly buzzed by the time the actual ceremony finally came around. In the few hours she'd spent with Sarah she hadn't seen Paul once, not until the moment he walked Iris to her seat right in front of her. By that time she was fuming. There they were, one of Washington's most beautiful and glamourous couples, the proud parents. Her mother had never looked so stunning, and Paul as well in a glorious tux. He merely glanced in her direction when he sat down.

Allison watched the back of his head through the whole ceremony, noting the way his salt and pepper hair curled at the nape of his neck in the heat. She fought back a desire to just lean over and whisper something in his ear as rage quickly started to simmer within her. He made her sick, they both did. Why the hell had she come home? She saw now she'd been a complete idiot. She should have done what Jeremy wanted and gone with him to France. But no, she had come back here and run after her father. And now she'd fucked things up with Jeremy. She decided she'd call him the minute she could, maybe even try to get a flight to France. This had all been a big mistake.

Her anger continued to grow through all the family picture-taking. Her smile was frozen in place trying to pretend to be part of the happy Austin clan, when she couldn't wait to just get away. She tensed up when Paul placed his hand around her waist in the group shots. He still hadn't said a word to her.

Pretty soon the reception was swinging. She sat with Sarah downing one glass of wine after the other. It was too bad she was in such a foul mood, because it was a beautiful, perfect night. The ocean in the distance reflected the moon, twinkling lights and stars, and the canopied tent was decorated with roses and gardenias giving off a lush, musky scent. Everyone looked gorgeous. Iris really had gone all out.

She was just downing yet another glass of wine when she felt a hand on her back. A man's big, warm, strong hand on her lower back, low enough where he could feel the crack of her ass.

Despite herself, Allison smiled. She felt her resolve instantly flying out the window and her whole being alight with pleasure. She turned quickly around with a huge smile on her face. But then she stopped abruptly and said, "Oh!"

It was Senator Welles.

"Allison. I was hoping I'd see you tonight."

Allison instantly glanced around and saw that Paul was watching them. He was standing with some of his cronies, accepting their congratulations, but she could tell his eyes were on her.

She flashed Archer a huge smile, touched his arm, and gazed directly into his eyes.

"Nice to see you, Senator."

"Alone tonight? I thought I heard you had a boyfriend."

"We broke up," Allison said, flatly.

"Oh. Too bad. Can I get you a drink?"

"Yes," she beamed at him. "Something strong."

"Coming up," Archer said, delighted at the way she was looking at him.

As soon as he left to get their drinks, Paul came right over.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

It was the first thing he'd said to her in two weeks. Allison felt nothing but rage at him.

"What does it look like? Having a good time."

"With

Archer

Welles?"

"Yeah, so? I'm not fucking him."

"Shh! Keep your voice down!"

"How was DC, Dad? Did you have a good time?"

"Allison . . ." he warned.

"Were you alone? Or were you with your whore—she's a news producer, right?"

He scoffed, and looked at her. "You're drunk. And you've been talking to your mother, haven't you?"

"Nice dodge."

"I can't talk to you now."

"Oh so you were planning on talking to me. How nice of you."

"Yes, I was, but this is neither the time nor the place."

"You're right about that. Well you don't have to worry, because I'm leaving. I should never have come back."

"Leaving? Where?"

"I'm going to Paris to be with Jeremy. As soon as I can. Oooh, there's Mom! Better go get your photo op!"

Allison brushed past him and made her way back to Archer. "Thank you! Perfect! You want to dance?"

Allison took a tiny sip of her drink and immediately dragged Archer onto the dance floor. In full view of Paul, she draped herself tightly against the handsome blond Senator and put her arms around his neck, gazing at him seductively. A slow song was playing, and she made the most of the opportunity to have him hold her. She felt his hands move down lower until they were practically cupping her ass. Her breasts were mashed against his chest. She could see Paul, sitting down, watching them with open hostility on his face. Good.

When the song was over, she led Archer by the hand to a secluded little spot right near Paul. She knew he was in earshot.

Archer was simply enchanted with her dark beauty. He wound his fingers around one of the long brown tendrils of her hair, and played with her earrings as he leaned far forward towards her, his arm around the back of her chair.

"I like your earrings. They're very . . . sparkly," he said, making her laugh.

"Oh, thank you. They were a gift from my father."

"Oh? Well he has nice taste."

"Yes, he does," Allison said pointedly and loudly.

"And you smell so good . . . what is that scent?"

"Oh just something my boyfriend gave me."

"Mmmm. . . it's extremely enticing."

"So Senator, do you own a house in DC, or just rent an apartment when you're down there?"

"I have an apartment. When you get down there I'd be happy to show you around—the city, I mean," he laughed. "DC can be pretty daunting at first. I know all the best places."

She gave him her best sexy smile. "I'd love that."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Paul get up and walk angrily back into the house.

"Hmmm, so would I," Archer said, his mouth so close to hers. God he would love to fuck Paul Austin's sexy daughter. His gaze traveled down her perfect body, noticing her full breasts and smooth tanned skin.

But Allison had lost her interest in the horny Senator. "Oh! I see my friend. Would you excuse me?"

She got up and fled across the dance floor to find Sarah, who was standing alone.

"Hey! How's it going?"

"There you are! What happened to you?"

"Oh, just talking to people. You having fun?"

"Yes. But I'm tired from dancing. You want to sit down?"

They sat and drank and chatted for a little while, until it came time for the official dances. Allison watched Paul dance with his new daughter-in-law, then Iris, as people clapped and oohed and aahed. But then her mother came right over and pulled her up from her seat, insisting she dance with her father. That was the last thing Allison wanted. Would this night never be over?

It was incredibly awkward as the music came on and Paul drew her by the waist towards him. They were the only people on the dance floor and she felt like they were under a spotlight. As he drew her close, she suddenly felt weak, and a surge of that old pain. She couldn't deny how good it felt to be in his arms. She felt deeply, more than she ever had, how much she had missed him in the past four years. What a mess. What an absolute mess. She fought off tears as she wondered, was she to be forever deprived of her love for him? It was the most powerful, dominant force of her life. It felt so good to give in to it, but it was mixed with so much pain. Part of her wanted to turn back time and pretend nothing in the past five years had happened, and just go back to how it used to be when he was the unquestioned center of her existence. But there was no going back, for her. Her love was inseparable from her attraction to him and where they were now.

"Are you really thinking of leaving?" he said in a low voice.

"Yes," Allison tried to say, but her voice was getting muffled by the tears welling in her throat and eyes.

"Hey," Paul said, noticing her distress.

"I think I have to," Allison said, praying that no one else could see the tears threatening to spill out all over her face.

She was really about to have a little fit. She felt uncontrollable sobs welling up in her chest. Was she being selfish? Was she so vindictive that she was willing to cut her love for him out of her heart simply because she couldn't have him? And yet the alternative was just as bad—to want him and know that he was rejecting her. Meanwhile, she had totally screwed up with a wonderful man who did love her. And yet she knew, now, she could not honestly give her whole heart to Jeremy. Could she ever truly give herself to another man with her father in her life, or was she just totally fucked?

And what if she was simply wrong—what if she was nothing but a pathetic, hysterical little girl with a crush on Dad?

It was too much. Thank god the song was almost over. The second it ended she pushed Paul away from her, taking the picture of his stricken face with her as she ran out of the reception tent and towards the beach. She had to get away from him!

She lifted up her dress, kicked off her shoes, and ran as fast as she could, through the woods and down to the beach. Waves were crashing on the shore. As soon as she stopped she gave in to the violent sobs tearing out of her chest and throat. She was bent over, crying and shaking, when she heard Paul calling for her.

"Allison!"

Oh, no. He was running towards her. She did not want to see him. She keep running, but he was too fast for her, even in his ridiculous tux.

"Allison, please! Stop!"

He finally got to her. She knew her make-up was all smudged and she tried to clean off her face, but she could not stop crying. She hiccoughed, and could not catch her breath at the same time. A cold wind was blowing off the ocean flattening her thin silk dress against her body and she started shivering. Paul took his coat off and wrapped it around her and then she just collapsed in his arms, nestling into his warm chest as he tried to soothe her.

"Shh, shh" he said, as she wrapped her arms around his chest. She kept making ridiculous squeaks as he held her, stroking her hair, and she wet his beautiful white dress shirt with her tears. She sobbed into his clothes, which smelled of him—the most delicious, comforting smell in the world, evoking the most painful and powerful memories in her body. She cried and inhaled him at the same time.

He smelled so good.

He smelled . . . like sex.

She unconsciously turned her face towards his as he stroked her hair and wiped her cheeks, turning towards him as naturally as a fragile plant seeking the hot, life-giving sun.