Darling Nikki Ch. 07

"Sure thing," she called as she gently lifted Bryce in her arms. As she straightened up Bryce stirred.

She opened her eyes, looked at Denise and said, "You're sexy, by the way. And strong. Mmmm." Then she fell asleep again.

Denise chuckled softly again and followed me into the house and up the stairs. As I turned to go into the old junk room I pointed to Bryce's room with my foot. "She goes in that one." I set Dana gently on my old bed and hurried back downstairs. In the kitchen, I got out my wallet and fished around, finding a hundred dollar bill; I palmed it and waited for Denise to come back down.

Back at the car I said, "I've got this last one. Nikki. And again, I really appreciate you taking such good care of all of us for such a long damned evening." I extended my hand again and she took it, her eyes narrowing a little as she felt the bill.

"Sir, that's not necessary. I was happy to help."

"And I don't often need to accept the help of gallant ladies at the end of the evening. You've seriously been wonderful and I'd appreciate if you'd accept that as a token of my gratitude. It's really the least I can do."

She squeezed my hand, slid hers out of my grasp -- taking the C Note with her -- and put her hand in her pocket. "You guys were a lot of fun to watch and listen to. Most clients roll up the privacy window and just ignore me completely. You folks were a nice change of pace. I was happy to help out." She offered me a card. "If you ever have need of a limo service again, give me a call."

"Absolutely. Can't imagine when I'd splurge on a limo, but you'll be the only person I call, for sure." I looked at the card, noting that it had an office number and her cell number. "Excellent. I'll call your company in the morning to let them know how awesome you are, and that you deserve a raise."

She laughed. "I appreciate it. They won't give me one, but that's always nice to hear. Have a good evening, Jesse. It's been a pleasure."

"Likewise, Denise. Drive safe."

I waved as she pulled away and went to go check on my trio of drunken reprobates.

I went to the guest bedroom first and, as gently and quietly as I could, sat on the bed. Trying desperately not to wake Dana, I took off one of her boots, then the other. I carefully lifted her legs and pulled the sheet out, then draped it over her. As I turned off the light, leaving the room in darkness but for the light from the hall, she mumbled, stirred, then softly asked, "Jesse?"

"Yeah, Dana?"

"Wh'r 'm I?"

"Our guest bedroom. Get some rest. I'll wake you up early and get you home so you can change for work."

"No. Gave ev'r'one th' day off t'morrow. Paid. Wanted t' party w'th you. Bl'w off steam." She sat up, swaying in place as she looked over at me. She was a little twisted up in the sheet and started trying to tug it off her.

I sat down on the bed again and moved her hands. I untangled her from the sheet and started to stand. She grabbed my shirt and I stopped. "Yes?"

"Nice dr'ss. Can' sleep init. Fuck it up. Take off for me?"

"Dana, I-"

"Pl's." Her grip on my shirt tightened. "Don' ask you f'r much. Pleeze."

"Ok." I put my hands on either side of her waist, carefully pinched the fabric, and tried to tug it upwards. It didn't budge. I pulled a bit harder. Nothing. "Umm, Dana? Can you shift around a little so I can get the dress up? You're sitting on it and I can't move it."

"I w'll try." She leaned to the side and fell all the way over. I chuckled softly and tugged that side up to her waist.

"Ok, sweetie. Roll to your other side." I helped her do just that and got her dress completely up to her waist. I helped her sit again, steadying her with one hand on her waist, below her dress, while I reached around behind her and slowly unzipped it. Her bare, soft, smooth skin under my hand was radiating heat. I was much more conscious of the feel of her skin than I wanted to be. I shook that aside, finished unzipping her dress and asked her to raise her arms.

She managed that without falling over and quietly said, "Yaaay. Look a' me not fallin' over." I laughed a little harder that time, and pulled the dress over her head, being incredibly careful not to touch her anywhere else.

I went and hung the dress in the closet, closed the door, and moved to leave the room.

"Jesse?"

"Yes, Dana?"

Still swaying slightly, she patted the bed next to her. "C'mere. Sit for a sec."

A little wary but not completely sure why, I gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around me, giving me a drunken, yet firm, hug. She sat back up, one hand on my waist, the other holding onto the front of my shirt, idly playing with a button. She smiled at me and moved her hand unsteadily from my chest to my cheek. She stroked it softly.

"You're a good man, Jesse. You took such good care of Meg. Always. She loved you ver', ver' much." I nodded, my eyes tearing up a little. "You're such a good man. Y'all did a great job with Nikki. She's a pistol, and an amazing girl."

She swayed and nearly fell over, grabbing my waist tighter to keep her balance. "I knew her better'n anyone. Better even than you did. So pl'se b'lieve me when I say she's h'ppy th't yer c'min' back t' life. She doesn' wan' you t' mourn her f'rever. So good for you f'r findin' somebody to m'ke y'happy."

She leaned forward and whispered -- very loudly -- in my ear. "Don' tell anyone, 'specially don' tell you, Jesse, b't I kin'a wish it w's me y'were fuckin'." She swayed back more-or-less upright. "I h'vn't been laid in too fuckin' long. S'nce b'fore I kicked Brad out. 'n' after seeing Nikki -- she's such a good girl, you should be proud! -- 'n' after seeing Nikki show off your dick t'night, damn, that looked nice. Could use me summa that." She looked suddenly very concerned. "But don't tell Jesse."

Not having the faintest clue what else to say, I responded, "Ok, Dana. I won't tell Jesse."

She blinked a few times then straightened a bit more, her face suddenly lighting up with a gigantic smile. "Hey, Jesse! Happy B'rthd'y! D'd yuh have a good time?"

"I had a great time, Dana. Thank you for taking us out tonight."

She dropped her head and started fumbling at her chest. "Gotta get this bra off. Muh girls need to breathe." She struggled with it another moment. "Help me, Jesse-wan Kenobi. Yer muh on'y hope to get this fuckin' thing off!" She giggled. Then she straightened suddenly and stopped all movement. "Oooo, I shouldna had those last two shots, maybe."

I put my hand over my face and rubbed it, suddenly very, very tired. "You need me to hold your hair while you commune with the porcelain god?"

She considered that very carefully for a moment. "Nah. I'll be ok. Jus' he'p me get this god damned bra off!"

Sighing, I carefully reached behind her and felt around her bra strap. "Ummm, it's a front clasp, I think. Are you sure you can't sleep with it on?"

"Fuck no I can't. Don' be a pussy; take off my tit-sling. Please?"

Sighing again I very, very carefully used my index fingers and thumbs to find the clasp of her bra. Try as hard as I did, I couldn't help but brush the warm skin of her breasts. She shivered and moaned softly. "H'ven' been touched in so long."

I managed to get her bra unclasped without jostling her, or jiggling her boobs, too much. I carefully pulled it off her, gently getting her hand untangled from the shoulder strap. When I had it all the way off she grabbed her tits and started kneading them. "Aaaaah! Free at last." She shifted her grip so that she was holding her breasts out, almost as some kind of offering. "Are they nice, Jesse?"

Fuck.

The light from the hall gave me more than enough illumination to get a good view. Her lightly tanned skin was in sharp contrast to the untanned pale skin on her breasts. She apparently wore a somewhat modest bikini. Her pale breasts were tipped with light pink areolae and medium sized nipples which were standing out proudly from the firm flesh of her probably C cup tits. They were, in fact, very nice breasts.

"Y-yeah, Dana. They're wonderful. Thank you for showing me. You should rest, now. I'll put a bucket on the nightstand in case you need it."

"Y'wanna feel how nice they are?"

I sighed again. "A very large portion of me, yes, wants to feel just now nice your breasts must be. But you're drunk, Dana. I can't. You're drunk. And you're...you're Dana. We're friends, right? It wouldn't be right if you were sober. And it's totally not right at the moment."

"Yes, we're friends. We're buddies. We could maybe be fuck buddies?"

Placing a hand on her cheek I kissed her other cheek very softly. "Let's talk about it later, ok?" I asked, fervently hoping she wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.

She teared up and threw her arms around me. "Am I not good enough? Is it b'cause 'm not Meg? Or 'm I too much like her?" She cried softly. "I j'st wan' to be touched again. I wan' to be r'minded 'm a woman and not a dried up old hag."

Fuck.

I held her gently, being very careful where I placed my hands. I rocked her gently and let her see-saw emotions swing her back away from crying. When she seemed to have stopped, I sat her back up, holding her by the waist and looking into her eyes.

"You're wonderful, Dana, and it has been my absolute joy spending all the time together that we have. I just don't have sex with drunk women. Ever. Even after Meg and I were married I couldn't have sex with her when she was drunk. It's just not something I can do."

"If I weren' drunk w'ld you fuck me?"

Oh, boy.

"Can we talk about it when you're not drunk?"

"M'kay." She leaned forward and kissed me, half on the cheek, half on my lips. Underneath the aroma of the whiskey I could smell her natural scent. It was...enticing. I leaned forward, laying her down gently, then moved my head and kissed her cheek.

"Good night, Dana. I'll see you in the morning."

I fished a bucket out of the utility closet downstairs and grabbed a large pot from the kitchen, then went back upstairs to the guest room and placed the bucket on the nightstand. I pulled the sheet up until it was just under Dana's chin, stroked her cheek softly and left, leaving the door cracked so she'd have some light if she needed to get up.

I stopped by Bryce's room and set the large pot on the nightstand. She was cuddled up with a body pillow, her hair spread out around her head. She looked otherworldly, and cute as a button at the same time. I kissed her cheek, too.

She smiled and mumbled, "Night, Daddy." I chuckled. She giggled and softly said, "I can't wait to call you that when you're inside me."

Junior, already at full mast from Dana, twitched. He certainly liked the idea. I still didn't know how I felt about it. I stroked Bryce's hair and left her door cracked, too.

I stood outside Nikki's room for I don't know how long. As a father, I felt the need to check on her. As a perverted, fucked-up, deviant, asshole, prick of a father, I wanted to go in and take a look at her, gaze at her radiant beauty, her sheer sensuality, her overpowering sexiness. I wanted to bask in my growing lust for my own child.

Giving myself some time to calm down I went back downstairs and got another pot. I paused outside her door again, took a deep breath, let it out explosively, and quietly entered her room. I looked at her long enough to make sure she was breathing easily and didn't have a pillow muffling her face or something. Then I set the pot down softly on her nightstand and left her room. I don't remember if I left her door open, closed it, left it cracked, or what. I just...I had to leave.

Once in my own room I undressed slowly, exhausted both physically and emotionally. I hung my hat on a hook hanging on the inside of the closet door, then dropped my shirt, pants, socks, and boxer-briefs in the bathroom hamper. I turned on the shower and just stared into space while the water heated.

Some time later I noticed steam billowing from the shower and got under the scalding water, hoping it would ease my mind as well as my body. No such luck.

My mind kept returning to every recent memory of Nikki. Her grinding on Chelsea. Her masturbating while looking into my eyes after I'd fucked Bryce. Licking my come from Svetlana's breasts. The way she moved when she walked, when she ran. The way her throat worked when she swallowed a bite of food. The way her lips gripped the top of a water bottle when she took a drink. The feel of her pubic hair tickling my hip. The feel of her labia kissing my hip just moments later. The indescribable feel of her pussy just three layers of fabric from my cock. The feel of her hand gripping me.

As my mind cycled back to the look in Nikki's eyes right before she came That Weekend while I was still inside Bryce, I screamed out and realized with a shock that my hand was wrapped around my cock and I was blasting shot after shot after shot of come.

My scream turned from one of ecstasy to one of horror as I crumpled to the shower floor. When the water turned cold I forced myself to turn it off. My legs weren't working right so I just dragged myself to my bed, still soaking wet, crawled under the covers and tried to shut my mind down.

It didn't work. I kept whipsawing between sexual memories of and attraction to my daughter, and absolute horror and revulsion at what I'd just done. I was a monster. A pervert. A deviant. A bad father!

Over and over my mind turned, as I lay in bed, sick to my stomach, sporting a rock hard erection. What's wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with me? Help me!

* * *

I remember seeing the beginnings of dawn, and then I remember someone sitting down on the bed next to me. A hand stroked my back through the sheets.

"Good morning, Jesse."

My face was pressed into my pillow, so I don't know if Dana heard me mumble "Good morning," back to her.

"Nikki, the absolute dear, is brewing up some coffee. She doesn't appear to have any signs of a hangover, the little bitch." She laughed and continued stroking my back. "I think I overdid it last night. I don't even remember getting out of the limo or coming inside."

The small part of my mind which was still functioning was very relieved. Good. Now we don't have to have a really awkward conversation.

"Come on, get up, Jesse. Nikki said she and Bryce would be out all day with the girls. We can work some more on Trixie."

I rolled over with a mumbled, "Good idea."

"Oh my god, Jesse. You look like shit! Did you drink more than I thought you did?"

I shook my head slightly. "Don't think so. Just not feeling so hot this morning. Working on Trixie will be a good distraction, though. Gimme a bit to finish waking up."

She nodded, still looking concerned. She stood, her hand trailing down my side and over my hip, and calling over her shoulder as she left, she said, "I'll see about getting some toast working or something. No rush. Come down when you feel up to it."

I lay there for a bit, struggling with my thoughts and emotions. Finally, I did what any sensible man would do. I took all that shit, shoved it deep down inside and resolved to ignore it. Bryce bounced in shortly after that, for once wearing more than revealing underthings. She was actually in a baggy t-shirt and yoga pants. In deference to Dana's presence, I supposed.

She hopped on the bed and gave me a very passionate kiss. "Morning, Daddy. Breakfast will be ready soon." And away she went. Leaving the door open. With me naked under my still-wet sheets. And three women in the house, any of whom might walk past the door at any moment. Damn it.

"Nikki!"

It didn't take long for my baby girl to pop into my room. "Yes, oh bellowing father? How may I assist you?"

"Would you please be so kind as to close my door for me, so I can get out of bed and get dressed, without worry about flashing anyone?"

She giggled and dimpled, then made a big show of backing out of my room and slooooowly shutting my door. When there was an inch or so gap she stopped and made sure I could see her wide blue eye peering into the room at me.

I sighed. "Nikki. Please?"

She laughed and pulled the door firmly shut.

* * *

With all the unresolved issues I was firmly denying the existence of, most of the work I did on Trixie that day was body work. I pounded out the dents, taking a good deal of satisfaction from the sheer physical effort of banging imperfections out of the steel. It let me get some rage out. While I was doing that, Dana was checking the seals for the windows, making notes occasionally as she encountered one that needed to be replaced.

I was working on a particularly big dent, just slamming the hammer down, grimacing and sweating, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I paused and looked up to see Dana staring at me, looking pretty worried.

"Jesse, what's the matter? You look like shit, and you're beating that door like it's a rapist's head."

I straightened my back, stretched, set down the hammer, and then sat, looking up at this wonderful lady I'd known almost my whole life who was, without any warning, suddenly very appealing to me, both physically and emotionally. After just staring at her for a bit, lost inside my head, she smiled gently then sat down beside me.

"Come on, talk to me. You know there's nothing you can tell me that would make me hate you or abandon you. Something is obviously eating you up, and you need to get it off your chest. Tell me. You know I'll never tell another soul."

I dropped my head between my knees and just stared at the floor. Very softly I said, "I can't. I can't talk to anyone. A lot of what I'm holding on to isn't just my own shit, but secrets belonging to other people. So I have to just hold on to it." I straightened back up and offered her the most sincere smile I could. "I'll be ok. I just have to get a handle on things and I'll be back to the old Jesse before you know it."

She sighed. "I know your folks were very old-fashioned, and raised you to think that a man always protects the people he loves. He doesn't burden them with his own problems. He handles them himself and takes on their problems. You believe you have to be strong, all day, every day. You can't ever show weakness. Well honey, let me tell you, while that's very charming, and endearing, knowing that you're a strong man and can handle most things on your own...it doesn't detract from who you are, from how good you are, from how strong you are...to admit that sometimes you need help, too." She reached out and took my hand, holding it gently. "I've heard you telling other veterans that it takes strength to admit weakness, to seek help, to admit that they need to talk about their PTSD and get assistance working through it. I've seen you work wonders with other big, tough, strong, manly men and persuade them to go get counseling. I think...I think you might need to see someone, too."

I laughed. A bitter laugh full of pain. "I can't. This isn't PTSD from my time in the Sandbox. This is purely personal. Stuff I can't...stuff that I can't talk to anyone about. Just...please believe that I'm trying to work through some shit and figure it out, but that I'm ok. I'll be ok."

"Bullshit. That's a gigantic mound of bull shit." She moved around until she was sitting right in front of me and stared at me until I finally looked up and met her eyes. "We've known each other for around thirty years. You're one of my oldest, and at this point only friends. We've been through things, we've done things, that we haven't ever told anyone else. I remember when you were playing around with your daddy's lighter out near the lake and lost control of it and nearly started a wild fire. I also remember that Meg and I never told another soul. Ever. We went back out there with you after you'd told us and helped you clean it up and we never said another word. I remember when Meg and I caught you up that tree peeking into Mrs. Johnson's window, trying to see her while she was changing clothes. We never told anyone. I have always kept your secrets. You know I don't talk to anyone about things better kept quiet. So talk to me. Please. You've just come back to us. I don't want you shutting down again." She put her face closer to mine. "Meg doesn't want you shutting down again."