I pretend Dad and I are husband and wife. "Honey,"
he asks, "what size are you?"
"Sweetie," I say, "I'm a ten."
He says that with my new breasts I'm probably a twelve. I put my arm around
his waist while he picks out dresses that he likes. We have all twelves
when the saleslady asks us if she can put the dresses in a fitting room.
I wonder if the saleslady can tell I'm just a daughter. To throw her off,
I slip my arm into his.
I tell him I'm going to the bathroom.
"I'll meet you back here," he says.
"No," I say, and touch his thigh, "I want you to come with."
He follows me. The sign for the bathrooms says left. I go right, through
the stocking section.
"What're we doing here?" he asks. I slide my hand into his and
give it a tug. Then I drop it and he follows me. I go to the shoe section
without turning around and when I stop to look at a shoe he's right there
At the bathroom, I go in and he waits outside.
The saleslady says she wasn't sure if we were coming back. "Let me
show you where the dressing room is," she says to me, "And you
can come out here to show your dad."
"I'll just go in with her," Dad says.
When Dad sits down in the dressing room he looks so silly--the chair is
too small, and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He has this dumb
smile on his face, like he's waiting for me to do something. I stand over
him looking through the dresses. They're all strapless. I've never had a
strapless dress before, and I'm thrilled, but I want to look mature, so
I don't show my excitement.
"Stand up and unbutton me," I tell him, turning my back toward
him. I've seen my mom do this a million times. But the only thing I have
to unbutton is the top of my skirt. He does it, and then he unzips it, and
the skirt falls while he slips his hands under my turtleneck, and lifts
it over my head. I turn around in my bra and underwear and look at him.
He looks at me. I know he wants to touch my breasts because he looks at
them so often. So I lift his hand and put it on my breast before he can
do it himself, so he knows I'm the one in charge.
It amazes me how childish he becomes with his hand on my breast. "Thank
you," he says. "That's nice of you," he whispers. No one
else can hear.
"Take off my bra," I whisper, as meanly and condescendingly as
possible. And he listens to me. He unclasps the bra from the front. It falls
to my shoulders, and I let it drop to the ground, and I stand there in front
of him. I know he wants to touch my breasts again, but he's waiting for
permission. This amazes me. I never want this moment to end. "No,"
I say, and push him back down in the chair. I lean over him to get a dress
on the hook next to his head. I put my breasts in his face, but I don't
let him touch.
I pull on a short, satin black dress. It's very tight, and I tell Dad to
stand up and zip me. He does. I spin around the room while he stands there,
with an awkward smile. "You look beautiful," he says.
I feel sophisticated.
The saleswoman knocks. "Is everything okay?" she asks.
"Yes, thank you for asking," I say, just like my mom.
While my dad recuperates in the chair, I manage to unzip myself.
I put on a pink, lacy dress, with a short full bottom. "Zip me,"
I say. He zips me and stands there. "Do you like it?" I ask.
"Yes," he says, staring at my breasts. "You look so innocent."
And then he looks up at my eyes, and slowly moves toward me.
He thinks I'm going to move away, but I want to show him that I'm not scared
of anything anymore, so I stand there, and he moves his head closer and
closer, until his lips are on mine, and his tongue is in my mouth. I've
done this before, with boys, and I want to make sure Dad can tell that I
know what I'm doing. I move my tongue with his, and wrap my arms around
him. I press my breasts against him, and he moans softly .
Then I bite his tongue. Hard, so it bleeds.
"Ow!" He says. He moves his head away from me. "What's wrong?"
I'm silent for a few seconds, thinking. I move my arms across his back and
up to his head. "I don't ever want to see you do this with Mom again.
Do you understand?"
It Wouldn't Matter If She Were Here Or Not | Pro-Choice