The Art of Seduction

"Bullshit" Bill Paxton snorted, as he flipped the cooked burgers from the grill to a plate. "Any woman can be seduced."

"That is the most sexist thing I have ever heard, and I can't believe it just came out of your mouth" the young blonde behind him exclaimed.

Bill turned and set the plate of hamburgers at the patio table, then pulled up his chair to sit. The 48 year old settled into his chair with a heavy sigh. His eyes never looked up from the food piled before him. Hamburgers, potato salad, and sliced watermelon made for a simple but filling meal on a hot Saturday afternoon.

"It has nothing to do with being sexist" he replied to the figure across the small table. "It has to do with mindset."

He began to assemble his burger one piece at a time on his plate; not looking across the table.

"Look, first of all anyone can be seduced" he said. "Power, money and yes sex; are all lures and can seduce someone. For somethings, women have a stronger mindset; for men others."

The slim blonde snorted and shook the curls of hair from her face as she dug into the food. "I don't buy it" she told the man sitting across from her. "Remember, I was a psych minor in college. People have the ability to resist temptation, they just choose not to."

Bill looked up finally into the blue eyes searching the table for what she wanted. "Remember" he laughed. "Baby, I paid for that college education if you recall."

At that, the blonde finally looked up at him. "Dad" she admonished. Bill could only laugh softly at her words.

Miranda Paxton reminded him a lot of his late wife. They were both built a lot alike; slim, blonde, with piercing blue eyes. Both had hips that swayed when they walked, and a rack that would draw any mans' eyes. More, they had the same sharp wit and keen mind that was rare in any person; willing to verbally duel, hating to lose.

As his eyes followed her movements, he felt a stirring in his groin he felt whenever she was near. He mentally tried to push the thoughts from his mind. The loss of his wife four years ago from ovarian cancer; had been hard for the entire family, but especially hard for him. He hadn't been with a woman since his wife's death, and having an almost spitting image around him now and then, didn't help his raging libido.

Her father's silence settled on Miranda, she raised her eyes to stare at him. His chiseled features were deep in thought, she watched as his broad chest rose and fell with his breathing, the hint of muscles rippling beneath the thin shirt he wore. She looked at his face, seeing the direction of his smoky gaze.

"My eyes are up here dad" she told him softly.

"Sorry baby" her father muttered as he tore his glance away.

His eyes had followed the swaying movement of her braless breasts beneath her tank top as she moved. Watching her nipples press against the thin material. Jesus, he needed to get laid.

"It's OK" Miranda half laughed. "They tend to draw attention."

"If they didn't look so damn good" she heard her father reply softly.

She decided silence was the better reply and pressed back into their debate. She loved spending time with her father, especially the spirited debates they would often get into. She had sought other men who could charm and persuade her the way her father could. She had yet to find a man who could match him. One day she hoped to, and when she did, she planned on marrying him.

"I just think people can resist, if they really wanted to." She reopened their discussion.

"Look at this, all of it. You have to admit, life has been good to the Paxton family." Bill settled back in his chair, waving one hand around himself.

"Yeah, so what's the point?" She asked as she shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth.

"My point is" her father replied. "All this is because people, especially women; can be seduced."

He saw the puzzled look on his daughters face. "Baby" he told her "I sell advertising, advertising that sells products to women. It's all in the pitch, the approach."

"You mean all in the lie" Miranda laughed back.

"Hey" her father seemed taken aback. "I don't lie. Fudge maybe, lie no. I tell you this dress is going to make you sexier, more desirable. I don't say who for, and I don't say compared to what. So, it does make you sexier in its own way."

"You lie" Miranda laughed as she took a small bite. "You tell me that I am the most beautiful woman in the world, then I see Angeline Jolie and I am shattered."

"Ahhh" he father said. "But you ARE the most beautiful woman in the world; to me. Isn't that all that counts."

Miranda snorted again. "Semantics; and you know it. I don't buy it, and I wouldn't fall for it."

Bill's eyes looked sharply at his daughter. "Are you telling me, you don't think you can be seduced?" he asked.

"Nope" his daughter said confidently. "I don't think I could be seduced, I believe it's a con and anyone can see through it."

Her father let the remark go unanswered, and as the afternoon flowed on, the topics changed from advertising, to politics to the art world Miranda circled in every day. But his daughters comment never left his mind as he watched and listened. For perhaps the first time, he began to look at her as not his daughter, but as a woman. Young, beautiful, intelligent; his eyes followed her every movement as his mind registered her every word.

Twenty-eight years ago; his wife had called him beguiling and seductive. She had told him he could sell ice cubes to an Eskimo and they would buy them happily. The pair had enjoyed a loving and adventurous marriage together. Some of which their beautiful daughter had never been aware of. The fact his wife loved sitting in the soft easy chair in their bedroom, and watching as her husband makes love to another woman. Or that her father, had loved the taste and feel of his wife's soft body, after another man had driven her to the depths of pleasure.

His wife had claimed that Bill Paxton could seduce any woman, and now his daughter had just issued him a challenge. Without even a second thought, his mind shifted gears. He watched how Miranda moved about the patio, the swing of her hips, her gait. How her heavy 36D breast swung to an enticing glance. The way she smiled and laughed.

He watched as she sipped her wine, noting her reaction, and then offering a red merlot, seeing her approval in her eyes. For the first time in four years, Bill felt himself back in the game. This time, he didn't intend to lose.

He watched how Miranda reacted to his touch, first the flat of his hand on her back, feeling her press back against his touch; his fingers grazing her neck, feeling the rise of small goosebumps on her skin. He smiled to himself, he would need to move slowly, but he had every confidence in skills he had not used for so long.

By the time evening began to fall, he knew more about his daughter as a woman, than he ever thought he would be interested in. Time and again, he just slightly drifted the conversation to her, and her likes. Cataloging everything she said in his memory. He learned her favorite color, her favorite flower; all the things he had never asked. By the time dark arrived and she gathered her purse, he knew already what his next move was.

As the pair strode to her car in the driveway, Miranda tossed her purse through the window to the passenger seat.

"Dad, this has been the best weekend I can remember having in a long time, thanks" she said turning to her father.

"It will only get better" he smiled.

Before she could even react, Miranda felt her father lean in, his lips softly pressing to hers. Miranda felt a tremor shoot to her core, as her belly did a small flip at his deep voice.

"Oh, and baby" Bill said as he opened her car door for her. "Next weekend, wear a dress; those legs are to die for."

"Ummmmm...OK." was all Miranda could stutter back; as she slid into the drivers' seat.

"Night baby" her father clapped the roof of her car.

"Night dad" Miranda muttered back. She started the car and slowly pulling out of the drive way. As she headed down the street, her confused mind tried to figure out what had just happened. He had just kissed her, not as a daughter, but almost as if she had been his date. Glancing down, she saw her nipples straining at her top; Jesus she thought. What the hell was wrong with me, her mind asked, stunned.

A week later, Miranda pulled her car into her fathers' driveway, shutting off the engine. She pulled her compact from her purse and checked her make up. Oh my God, she thought; what am I doing. She quickly stuffed the small silver case back into her purse and stepped out of the car. It wasn't until she smoothed down the cloth of her summer dress; she realized how she was even dressed. No, she thought, I wore it because I wanted to, not because he asked me to. She kept that thought firm in her mind a she walked the stone steps to his front door.

As she stepped to the front door, it opened on its own, to find her father standing waiting for her. Had he been watching her? Before she could ask, she was whisked inside and her father started his usual chatter about the week. Miranda quickly slipped into the daughter role, all previous thoughts drifting from her mind.

Bill smiled when he saw his daughter at the door. Her light summer dress ended just above her knees, showing off her tanned firm legs. The heels she wore accented the curve of her calves, something he had always found sexy in a woman. He let his eyes travel up her quickly, once again noticing how her firm, large breasts strained at the top of the dress, proving once again she had come without wearing a bra. Her nipples were evident against the thin material.

Her eyes had a light liner, and lipstick glistened on her pouty lips. She had done herself up, he thought. She looked stunning to his hungry eyes. He made a point of not staring as she moved through the house, his light banter working to drop her guard.

By the end of the first hour, Miranda found herself laughing and sharing about the art gallery, as if the two had never been apart for the last seven days. It amazed her how comfortable she was in his presence. They had spent the time walking about the large back yard, talking; as her father gently guided her with his hand at her bare back. At first, she had balked at the touch of his hand on her skin. Then, slowly, the soft fingers had brought a sense of warmth and comfort. When he took them away to lead her inside for dinner, she almost missed the soft touch.

Miranda sat at the dining room table as her father prepared dinner. "We're eating inside?" she asked.

"Sure, why not." Bill chuckled. "Damn hot out there, and it's a nice change."

Miranda couldn't argue with either reason. Still, it nagged at her; this was somehow different, unusual for the pair. Yet, she sat stunned as her father poured a glass of '76 Merlot for her without a word. She sipped at the delicious wine, one of her favorites, the sweet taste rolling over her tongue. Then, she watched as her dinner plate was set in front of her. Chicken Kiev it was one of her favorites.

"Dad" she whispered. "You didn't have to do all this."

"I know" was Bills' simple answer. He bent down to softly kiss her forehead. Miranda could feel herself tremble at the soft touch of his lips on her skin.

After the delicious meal, Miranda followed her father out onto the patio. Just where he had told her it was too hot to eat at, yet the thought never entered her mind. This time he led her to the bench swing instead of their customary seats at the table. Miranda settled herself in as their banter continued as she talked about the things she had been doing during their week apart.

All through their conversation, Miranda felt the soft caress of her fathers' fingers at her bare back. Like in the yard, the touch soon became so common, so easy to accept, it felt natural for his hand to be there. She turned in the seat and faced him.

"I'm telling you dad" she laughed. "Sometimes I don't know why people pay what they do for some of the stuff we sell at the gallery; but they do."

Bill laughed back, his voice rich in the dimming evening light. "That's because you aren't an art critic darling" his hand slid from her back and came to rest on her knee. His touch light on her bare skin. "You are an art appraiser. You're not there to appreciate the art, only sell it."

Miranda glanced down at the strong hand resting lightly on her bare leg; she felt a shiver run through her. She knew she should move her fathers' hand; but something deeper inside her stopped her.

"Good thing to" she said quietly. "Some of that stuff is really shitty, at least to me."

"Honey, everything is shitty to someone." Bill laughed, his deep voice carrying on the evening air.

She felt her chin tilted up until she found herself staring into his eyes in the dim light. "Just like, every woman is beautiful; to someone."

Miranda could only stare as her fathers' face lowered to hers. Her mind screamed no, while her body cried out yes. Before she could reconcile the two, his lips were on hers. She felt him press into her as part of her simply melted on the spot. Miranda could feel a heat spread throughout her entire core that only grew as she felt herself pressing back into his kiss.

"Mmmmmmmm" Miranda tried to suppress the soft moan that hummed against their lips. She felt her nipples harden almost instantly, and a warm gush soak into the gusset of her panties. Just as her mind started to awaken to what was happening, Bill pulled back; leaving his daughter sitting there, hungry and confused.

"Sorry baby" Bill told her. "I have to get up early for a sales meeting tomorrow."

"Umm...sure" Miranda stuttered as she gathered her purse and rose from the swing.

Again, Bill followed her to the car in the drive way, he could almost feel the palpable confusion, mixed with desire. He smiled; close but not yet. It had to be willing, and she was still a bit torn.

As Miranda settled into the drivers' seat, her father leaned down and softly kissed her cheek. Then, his warm voice echoed in her ear. "Drive safe hun" he softly spoke. "Oh, and next time; skip the panties."

Stunned, his daughter couldn't even reply as her father walked back to the house in the darkness. As she started the car she thought; no panties, she couldn't do that. Then, a violent tremor shot through her body, as a second gush of warm fluids dripped out of her.

All the way home, Miranda tried desperately to sort what had happened tonight. All the while, a scent kept filling her nostrils that she couldn't place. It wasn't until she slipped out of the car at home, and saw the damp spot on the seat of the car that she realized what the smell was. It was HER, a woman in heat that she had smelled.

Slipping through her door, she leaned back against the cool wood. Without a second thought, she leaned down and drove one hand under her dress, between her spread thighs. Her head rolled back as she jammed two fingers deep into her soaking wet pussy.

She knew it was obscene, it was illegal, hell it was just totally wrong; and then her mind blanked as the mother of all orgasms ripped through her.

"Daaaaaaaaaaddd" Miranda moaned, as she mashed her hand against her aching clit, pure pleasure rolling through her belly. She could only stand there and shudder, as her juices dripped to the floor between her spread feet.

For the next week, Miranda's mind recoiled at the thoughts that kept pressing in on her. Her father; on top of her, as he stared into her eyes. Him mounting her like some rutting animal, using her body. Never one to masturbate much, Miranda found herself, pleasuring herself again and again to the images. As the distinction between father and man, began to blur in her mind.

By the time Saturday came around, Miranda found herself in a frenzied state she barely recognized. As she stepped from her car in her fathers' drive; she ignored the wet spot she already knew was in the seat. She felt her bare thighs rubbing together as she ascended the small walkway. Looking down, she could see the pebble hard nipples that strained at her dress.

She was a bit disappointed when her father didn't meet her at the door this time. One part of her wanted a hug; another, something far different. While she knew it was wrong, she also knew her lips ached for his.

She quietly slipped through to the back of the house, as she stepped to the open patio door, she froze. He father was standing out on the patio, without a shirt, working on the grill. She could only stare at his bare back as he moved about. Seeing the muscles only ever hinted at from under his shirts, ripple across his back.

"Fuck" Miranda whispered. She could feel a trickle of moisture run down a bare inner thigh just standing there watching him. She knew what she felt was wrong, but she couldn't stop it any more than she could stop breathing.

Bill turned and looked at his daughter. He had heard her whisper, but gave no appearance of noticing. He could see the hunger in her eyes, but kept his composure.

"Hey baby" he smiled. "Sorry, running a bit late, hope you don't mind."

Miranda stepped onto the patio, sitting at the small table. "That's OK Dad" she replied. "No hurry on a weekend, right."

Bill chuckled; "We have all the time in the world darling. Some pleasures should not be hurried."

Miranda almost shuddered at his words. On one hand they seemed totally innocent, but the state her mind and body were in; they sent a shiver through her loins.

Her mind tried to reason what was going on with her body, but the easy banter between her and her father, quickly settled her unease. Talk shifted mostly around the art gallery and his work. She was startled by how eager she was to hear about his day. When he told her he had closed a half million dollar sales account, she was thrilled.

"God Dad", she almost bubbled. "That will be a healthy bonus. Congratulations."

Bill sighed. "Yeah, just now what to do with it" then he laughed. "Of course we could always go to Maui for a week."

"Hawaii?" Miranda almost screamed. "I would go in a fucking heartbeat dad."

Her father looked across the table at her, and she could feel his eyes traveling over her body. Instantly, she felt her nipples harden at his glance.

"You'll have to buy a new swimsuit you know" Bill told his daughter. "Something suited for a tropical beach and a beautiful woman."

Miranda laughed back; "Right and have all the guys staring at me."

"Baby" Bill spoke softly. "You might as well get used to there being a hard on wherever you go."

Miranda stared back at her fathers' blatant comment "That's my point, all those men watching me, getting hard."

"I wasn't talking about them." Her father answered.

Before Miranda could answer, Bill rose from the table and took his empty plate into the kitchen. When he stood, her eyes dropped to his waist, and she swore she could see a tenting in his shorts. He couldn't be, she thought, not for me. Miranda shuddered again as a warm gush of fluids seeped between her bare thighs.

Just as her thoughts tried to clear, she felt firm hands on her shoulders from behind. Then, gently caress down her bare back between the straps of her dress.

"You OK hun?" he father asked from behind her.

Miranda ignored the question, instead focusing on the sensation of his hands on her bare skin. She stared down at the half empty wine glass in her hand. She forged ahead, wanting desperately to know.

"Are you hard now?" she asked quietly.

"Yes" was the simple reply behind her.

"Why?" she asked, without turning her head.

She felt her father lean down closer behind her, and then his warm breath washed over her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Do you really want to know?" Bill asked softly.