Dad and daughter bond unexpectedly over a movie.. “Thanks for renting from Midnight Dreams,” Juliet said. With a shy grin, she handed over the pile of DVDs. The customer, a young man wearing longish hair and a black tee shirt with a skull logo emblazoned on the front, stammered a thank-you and left.
Juliet breathed a sigh of relief as the last customer left the video store. As she picked up a pile of DVD cases from the counter and pitched them onto the return cart, she caught sight of the sticker on the topmost case. SOMETIMES MIDNIGHT DREAMS COME TRUE, the slogan read.
She grinned wryly. Her dream had come true, all right: a dream of closing time. Juliet flicked the switch on the OPEN sign, extinguishing the store-spanning array of bright red neon that decorated the last video store in Donner Bay. The garish glow that soaked the store in crimson during operating hours faded to the cold blue of a cloudy, starry evening.
“Thank god that’s over,” Kendall groaned as she hastened to the front door. With quick, practiced motions, she shot the bolt and lowered the shades. As a novel holdout of a dead industry, Midnight Dreams tended to attract night owls, misfits, and people who liked to show up one minute before – or after – closing time.
“Hey, at least those dudes didn’t show up to ogle us like they usually do.” Juliet punched the key combination to open the register and began counting the evening’s cash.
Neither of them were very surprised by unwelcome male attention – Juliet was twenty and Kendall twenty-one, both of them blessed with the attractiveness of youth. Juliet, shorter than Kendall by a head, with her unruly mouse-brown hair and curvy figure, got hit on less often than willowy, blonde Kendall, who looked and acted like a manic pixie dream girl out of some adolescent’s overactive sexual imagination.
It didn’t help that the manager’s informal uniform of choice consisted of black tank tops and jeans – or shorts. On July nights when the air conditioning at Midnight Dreams couldn’t hold back the blistering heat, both of them ended up showing a lot of skin and sweating in their outfits. Judd, the manager, said it helped bring in customers, but Juliet thought Judd was probably just an old perv.
He wasn’t wrong, though – every Wednesday, a group of older guys, self-proclaimed movie buffs in their late thirties and early forties, would trek in en masse to loudly discuss whatever obscure art-house film they were into that week. Though they always stopped at friendly comments and the occasional light flirtation, Juliet could count on at least one of them staring unabashedly at her breasts during checkout.
Worse, she found she didn’t always mind. Juliet lived most of her life alone, and sometimes the attention felt good, even though she felt like it shouldn’t.
“At least they keep it interesting,” Kendall said as she started going through the returns one last time. “The one guy is cute. The one with the beard? He asked me out last weekend.”
“Are you serious? He’s like forty.”
“So? I kind of like older guys. At least they know what they’re doing in bed most of the time.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Juliet hadn’t dated since high school. She had been too shy and withdrawn to make many friends, and the dating landscape outside of school intimidated her. More than anything, it seemed more effort than it was worth.
Kendall, on the other hand, filled her life with one-off sexual encounters and brief relationships that burned hot and then were snuffed out without remark. It seemed to work for Kendall – but Juliet couldn’t imagine it. She longed for something more intimate and understanding.
The blonde girl grabbed a stack of DVDs and began breezily replacing them in the racks. “You should give it a try, girl. Date a customer. Suck his dick in the back room. Make a terrible decision. It’s a rite of youthful passage.”
“Hard pass, Kendall.” Counting the money, Juliet plucked a piece of stiff paper from the bills. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
“The long-haired guy who was in here? The one wearing the Killhammer tee shirt?”
“I don’t know what that is,” Kendall declared.
“It’s a horror franchise. He left me a card. Like, a business card. But it just has his email and his Dategrind address on it.” She laughed. “This is utterly ridiculous.”
Kendall slotted the last disc in place and sauntered back to the front counter. “That guy’s in love with you, Juliet. He’s in here every day you’re in here. I see him checking out your ass in the security mirror.”
“You do not.
“Swear. And he’s into horror movies, like you are. Don’t you watch horror movies with your dad every Thursday night?”
Juliet smiled at the thought of it. She reminded herself to take the copy of obscure 70s horror masterpiece The Seventh Sacrifice out from under the safe where she’d stashed it so no one would rent it. She’d been looking forward to seeing it with her dad for months.
“Yeah. But that’s different. I’m not into that torture-and-gore Killhammer shit.”
“Oh, fuck,” Kendall groaned, rolling her eyes. “Who gives a shit. Juliet, lower your standards a little. Get on Dategrind, DM this guy, and go out with him. You could really hit it off.”
Juliet twisted the little card between her fingers, watching it bend. A smile crept across her face.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
***
Juliet lived by herself in an apartment in Sunshine Row, a dreary and optimistically named complex on the west side of Donner Bay. It was a forty-minute drive beyond the smog-choked expanse of industrial parks, and put a lot of miles on her beleaguered Dodge Neon, but Sunshine Row was the only place she could afford to live without a roommate.
On the up side, her late-night drive meant phone calls with her dad.
Juliet’s parents had divorced when she was only fifteen – a consequence, her mother said, of irreconcilable differences. That was how her Maria Goodwin talked. Mom was a lawyer, one of the most in-demand in Donner Bay. Her ex-husband, Juliet’s father, was a contractor, but had been out of work for months.
Their familial relationship had always been strained. By the time Juliet entered her teen years, her mom and dad were already mostly estranged, and the close relationship they’d once shared had disintegrated with a kind of glacial slowness. Mom moved on quickly, remarrying a fellow partner at her law firm soon after.
Dad, on the other hand, had never quite recovered. He’d struggled with depression and sometimes with drinking a little too much.
Juliet worried about him. So she called him every night on the way home from work. He claimed it gave him peace of mind to know she got home safe, but she suspected it helped soothe his loneliness a little.
So, as she waited at the stoplight, she fished the tattered earbuds from the drink holder, plugged them into her smartphone, and called her dad.
***
“Hey, pumpkin.”
His voice always soothed her, even through the fuzzy reception. She used to joke with him that he had an announcer’s voice: smooth, calm, deep, but not intimidating.
“You should go into radio,” she would joke with him, “whatever that is.” And he’d laugh, the joke recycled five hundred times, still somehow funny to both of them.
After the long week she’d had, she was glad to hear his voice.
“Hi, Dad.”
“How was your night? Glad to be done with work for the week?”
“I’m not done. I picked up one of Kendall’s shifts. She’s got a date, which she arranged like ten minutes ago.”
“Oh yeah?” He chuckled. “Is this the one you said likes older guys?”
“Why, Dad? You want me to set you up?”
The sound on the other end fuzzed out for a moment. The reception on this end of town was always garbage. “That sounds like a bad idea.”
“Trust me, it is. The guy she’s dating is your age, funny enough. But it won’t last.”
“It never does,” he said. That quiet sadness crept into his voice, and Juliet felt her heart dip to hear it. He was thinking about Mom again. She decided to change the subject.
“Hey, speaking of bad decisions, I got asked out on a date. Sort of. This customer gave me a card. A physical card.”
“Very retro in this new digital age,” he said, and she could see the wry grin on his face. “Are you going to go?”
“I don’t know. I might. Kendall says I should because he’s a horror fan too.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” he teased. “I’m getting replaced.”
She grinned. “No one could ever replace you, Dad,” she said tenderly.
She met only silence as her Neon chugged into Culver Park, home to Donner Bay’s factories and warehouses. A moment later, she heard the beeps that indicated the call had dropped.
“Fuck,” she muttered.
***
Juliet drove the last five minutes to Sunshine Row without calling him back. This had happened dozens of times, and they both knew the routine.
She parked her Neon in front of her apartment – the whole complex was a converted motel, and between the battered yellow sign that bore the building’s name and the ratty vehicles parked out front, she often felt like she was living in the beginning of a horror movie herself. If one of the neighbors turned out to be a serial killer, she wouldn’t even have drawn a breath in surprise.
Locking and bolting the door, she was immediately disappointed in the muggy heat of the apartment. The air conditioning in Sunshine Row was even more theoretical than at her workplace. She flicked on the fan and stripped out of her clothes, peeling off her tank top and then squirming out of her shorts. The air from the fan felt good on her skin.
As she undressed, she dialed her dad’s number and put him on speaker.
“Hello again, pumpkin. Lost you in Culver Park?”
“You know it.” She left the phone on the chipped second-hand dresser and moved into the bathroom.
“Glad you got home safe,” he said.
“Thank you, Dad.” She grabbed a hair tie and pulled her brown tresses into a ponytail. She felt slightly naughty, talking to her dad while naked from head to toe – but she found she also enjoyed the secrecy of it, the unspoken deception. It made her feel ever so slightly mischievous. Like it was something she shouldn’t be doing – but she didn’t see any harm either.
“So did you get the movie?” he asked.
“I did! Seventh Sacrifice, 1979, directed by Douglas Pierce. That’s the one, right?”
“That’s the one. I think you’re going to love it.”
Juliet had inherited her love of horror movies from her dad, whose encyclopedic knowledge of obscure films from before she was born had inspired her. Their mutual love of haunted-house stories and ghostly tales had brought them together even as it annoyed her mother. In Juliet’s teen years, her mother’s annoyance had gone from inconvenience to asset – a way to bond with her father while quietly defying her mother. To this day, Juliet still felt a tingle of satisfaction when they settled in to watch a new horror movie together.
“I can’t wait,” she said, looking at herself briefly in the mirror as she talked. Her self-esteem had never been sky-high, but long hours standing at Midnight Dreams, combined with poverty, had melted off her high-school weight and left her stomach trim and her muscles defined. Best of all, she hadn’t lost her breasts in the weight loss. They stayed big and round.
Her job and life situation was far from ideal, but at least she liked what she saw.
“Me neither,” her dad said. “I look forward to it all week.”
She blushed to hear his voice, suddenly self-conscious about her nakedness, but – once again – enjoying it at the same time.
“I’ll be there tomorrow night, right after work,” she said, doing a little twist and hop in front of the mirror. “You make the popcorn.”
“Always. I’ll see you then. Love you, pumpkin.”
“Love you, Dad.”
Juliet walked to the phone and thumbed the hang-up icon, then flopped into her messy unmade bed and stared at the ceiling. She lay there for a long time, thinking. Thinking about the cute customer who had left her his card. Thinking about her dad’s soothing, tranquil voice. Thinking other, more dangerous thoughts she didn’t yet dare give voice or form.
She wormed her way under the covers and fell asleep that way, the comforting thought of his voice lulling her into sleep.
***
Her next shift at work was uneventful but lonely. She was alone in the video store on a Thursday, which always made her nervous, especially as the creep factor tended to get worse as the night went on.
But tonight, for whatever reason, the creeps were relatively few and far between. The one regular who was obsessed with kung fu movies hit on her, as he always did. She declined, as she always did. He left without remark.
The guy in the Killhammer tee shirt who’d left his business card did not return. Juliet felt relieved. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him just yet. Plus, she’d found herself running late that afternoon. She hadn’t had time to put in her contacts or do anything with her hair, so she wore her horn-rimmed glasses and had her hair up in a messy ponytail.
Mostly, she thought about how excited she was to spend the evening with her dad, watching a horror movie. Not just any horror movie, but Douglas Pierce’s _Seventh Sacrifice._ It was supposed to be a buried treasure, an underseen and transgressive classic. Her dad had talked it up on many an occasion, but she’d kept herself uninformed and spoiler-free. Neither of them had seen it before. She wanted to be as surprised as possible.
The evening passed slowly, as Thursdays often did. Midnight Dreams hadn’t done brisk business since the turn of the century, but Thursdays were the slowest nights of all. She killed time by putting some of the less intense horror classics on the store TV. One of the advantages of working for a guy like Judd: he didn’t care what employees played during their working hours. Midnight Dreams didn’t turn on being a family-friendly establishment.
With no one in the store, she took a chance and closed up fifteen minutes early. She shut off the lights, barred the front door, and let herself out the employee entrance. With a sigh of contentment, she texted her dad as she got in the car.
[on my way]
As she pulled out of the parking lot and headed out to her dad’s place, she felt an unusual thrill in her heart. She was happy to be going to see him – as happy, perhaps, as she might be at going out on a date. Maybe even a little happier.
She pondered that mystery on the dark and empty road to her dad’s place, her thoughts dancing around what she was truly feeling, but still not ready to label it: shadowy fantasies without form or name, mysterious but exciting all the same.
***
Juliet’s mom had gotten the house in the divorce, and her dad had fallen on tough times not long thereafter. His depression and preoccupation with putting his life back together had hurt some of his contract work, and he’d never quite recovered in the years since.
While her mother Maria thrived with a new husband in the house Juliet had grown up in, her father Ryan lived in an RV on the south end of town.
In fairness, it looked a lot better than it sounded. The RV, while not a top-end luxury model, was roomy and comfortable. He had a kitchen, a small dining table, and enough room for a modest library. He’d parked it on a remote spot just upland from Connor Beach – a small piece of real estate owned by a friend who wasn’t using it. Ryan lived rent-free while he worked at putting his career back on track.
Juliet knew her dad was ashamed of his living conditions. She didn’t mind at all. She loved the drive out to Connor Beach: the twisting road that wound between the ghostly trees, the isolated homes with their lonely lights in the distance. She especially loved driving down the last stretch to where his RV lay parked between two banks of trees. It was just close enough to the beach that you could hear the murmur of the waves, but not so close that they’d ever be bothered by passers-by.
Dim orange light shone through the drawn curtains of the RV. He was home and awake. She smiled as she parked the car. She grabbed the movie from the passenger side seat.
She knocked on the side door, marveling at how much cooler the weather was out here. Midnight Dreams had been stifling, but this was pleasantly chilly.
Ryan opened the door, light spilling out into the deep blue of the evening. “Hey, pumpkin.”
“Hi, Dad.” She hopped up the metal stairs into the RV and kissed him on the cheek.
He bent down to accept the kiss. He was just over six feet to her five and a half, his chest and shoulders broad and muscular from years of physical work. His hair, the same shade and texture as hers, was going slightly thin in the front, but in a way that made him look more distinguished. He grinned as she landed the kiss, masculine lines creasing his cheek.
He stepped back to let her in, and she closed the door behind her. With all the curtains drawn, the TV felt bright, cozy and comfortably warm. Juliet smelled popcorn – not the microwave kind, but real kernels popped in an old-school popper – and a sweet, rich whiff of chocolate.
“Are you making cocoa?” she asked excitedly.
He grinned and moved to the stovetop. “Of course. I didn’t have it last time. I felt bad.”
Popcorn and hot cocoa had been part of their movie traditions since she was young. He always insisted on buying the quality stuff, too – melted chocolate and milk, not the stuff from the packets. He stirred a tiny pot with a wooden spoon. It smelled amazing.
Juliet put down her things in the RV’s passenger side seat. She frowned as she looked at the space above the windshield.
“Where’s the TV?” One of the first modifications he’d made was to mount a big-screen TV in the space above the front seats.
Ryan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Ah, about that. I ended up moving the TV.”
“To where?”
He turned and pointed to the rear of the RV. Curious, she slid past him and moved past the shower and wardrobe to the back. She spotted the TV mounted at an angle on the interior wall at the foot of the bed. An unobtrusive cord led to the Blu-Ray player on a shelf around the corner.
“Oh,” she said.
“I found it a lot easier to watch from back there,” he explained. “I hope it won’t make it awkward. I’m old and my eyesight is going.”
“Stop it, Dad.” She sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly. Although they’d had the RV since she was a teenager, she’d only gone on a handful of excursions in it. She’d never gotten to sleep in the bed itself, but she’d always loved the way it filled up the space it was in, the sides flush with the walls. It seemed so comfortable and safe.
He smiled and poured cocoa into two thermal mugs. “Did you bring the movie? I timed it just right. Everything’s ready.”
“I did!” She hopped off the bed and slid past him again, putting her hands on his waist as she pivoted around him in the small space. She struggled with the plastic bag for a moment before producing the disc.
“The Seventh Sacrifice,” she read from the back cover copy, deepening her voice for dramatic effect. “Douglas Pierce’s shocking 1979 classic tells the story of a reclusive witch-cult in a small town…”
“Good stuff, angel. Put it in the player, please.”
She scoffed as she moved to the DVD player. “You don’t like my announcer voice?”
“Let’s just say that as an announcer, you’re an amazing daughter and young woman.”
“Oh my god.” She pressed the disc into the slot and grabbed the tiny TV remote from atop the player. “You are so mean.”
He handed her the cocoa. “Forgive me? And don’t get cocoa all over my bed.”
She grinned as she took the mug. “Cocoa, no. But I will be hiding popcorn under your sheets. You’ll never find them all.”
“Nefarious,” he said, deadpan.
He grabbed the bowl of popcorn as Juliet slid onto the bed, putting her back against the comfortable pile of pillows against the rear wall of the RV. She looked at him expectantly as the FBI warning faded in on the TV screen. Her dad was just standing there, bowl in hand.
“What’s up?”
“Maybe I can just get a folding chair or something,” he said.
“What are you talking about? Just come sit next to me.”
Reluctantly, he slid onto the bed next to her, being careful not to spill the popcorn. She looked at him quizzically. Why was he being so weird?
“I’m sorry,” she said as she paused the movie at the flickering Obelisk Studios logo.
“For what?”
“Can we turn off the lights? It’s kind of bright in here.” She grinned apologetically.
He made a faux-resentful noise and slid back off the bed. One by one, he flicked off the lights in the RV, until the only radiance came from the blue light of the TV.
“Better?” he asked, sitting next to her again – a little closer this time, she noticed.
“Better. I’m excited for this, Dad.”
“Me too.”
She started the movie again. Their shoulders brushed as she settled in next to him, feeling happy and content.
***
As Juliet had both feared and hoped, the movie got weird right away. The first scene opened on some kind of demonic ritual. In true Douglas Pierce fashion, there was a lot of nudity. Naked men and women chanted in a strange language around a blazing bonfire, while a young couple, also naked, copulated passionately on an altar.
“Oh,” Juliet said. “It’s going to be that kind of movie, huh?”
“Not surprising for Pierce,” her dad said.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” She nudged him affectionately.
They watched together, drinking cocoa and eating from the same bowl of popcorn. The film unfolded, slow and deliberate, in the surreal and dreamlike style of Douglas Pierce. Juliet knew her father had fallen in love with them because of their languid, sensual style punctuated with moments of intensity, and she had cultivated that same love over the years. Seventh Sacrifice did not disappoint.
The movie told the story of a British mystic Roarke, living as the patriarch of a remote village in 1970s Britain. Roarke’s ambition was to make a deal with a demon to gain immortal life. To satisfy the demon, Roarke schemed in the lives of the villagers, leading them one by one to bizarre, macabre deaths.
Even more intriguing to Juliet was the character of Roarke’s daughter, Lisbeth. She was young, supposedly innocent, but as the film went on, she grew more involved in Roarke’s dark crimes. It became clear she was every bit as dark and clever as he was. Soon the two became emotionally intimate, and she began to aid him in his occult work while distracting the American detective who was the movie’s supposed protagonist.
“Give me your cup,” her dad said, standing. On the TV, a leisurely scene unfolded in the last third of the movie. Roarke and his daughter stood in a gloomy vestibule, talking about how best to dispatch the meddling detective.
Juliet handed it to him without looking, enraptured by what was happening on screen. The tension between the two characters was undeniably erotic, from the dialogue to the way they looked at one another. Not only that, but the character of Lisbeth had traded in her chaste white gown for a scarlet dress with a plunging neckline and slits up both thighs.
“So is it just me? Ryan asked as he rinsed the cups in the sink, “or is their relationship a little out of the ordinary?”
“Uh, yeah,” she agreed, unable to take her eyes off the movie. The tension in the scene was building. She could feel it, a quiet certainty deep in her bones.
He lay down next to her again, crossing his sock-clad feet as he leaned back against the pillows.
On screen, Roarke looked down at his daughter. She swore allegiance to his dark designs, asking to stand by his side in immortality. He requested a display of loyalty. A moment of silence passed between them. Then Lisbeth went down on her knees.
“Oh,” Juliet said softly.
The action was not explicit, though it was abundantly clear what was happening. Lisbeth was performing oral sex on her father.
“Uh,” she heard her father say.
The music in the movie swelled, blaring and caterwauling as if to imply this was all terrible and evil. But Juliet found herself utterly absorbed. The scene was just short of pornographic visually, but instead focused on the emotional details – his hand on her hair; her hesitation and doubt, mixed with raw carnal lust; Roarke’s agonized and ecstatic expressions as she urged him to climax. The final shot was as close to explicit as she’d ever seen a movie get: a long shot showing Lisbeth kneeling, her father’s hand on her head, thrusting into her mouth as he, quite vocally, finished.
The scene ended, fading into a shot of the village countryside. Juliet was no longer paying attention. She realized she was flushed, breathing quickly, her skin hot.
She also realized she’d put her hand on her father’s leg, fingers clenched. She jerked her hand away self-consciously.
“Sorry,” she breathed, then cleared her throat.
“It’s okay,” he replied. If he noticed her arousal, he didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure how he could have missed it.
Neither of them spoke again until the end of the movie. From there, it grew even more sexual and extreme. Lisbeth spent much of the rest of the movie naked as she wandered the old castle. She and her father made love in a pair of brief but highly charged scenes. Lisbeth seduced the detective and led him to a grisly death, just as she’d promised.
As they watched, Juliet found herself wanting to look at her dad, to see what he was thinking. She didn’t quite dare. She could feel the tension there, like an invisible line drawn between them and pulled tight. But it didn’t feel awkward. Not in the way she’d expected. It felt strangely comfortable.
In the final third of the movie, the remaining villagers turned on Roarke and Lisbeth, hunting them down and finally cornering them in the trap-laden cellar of the old castle. The deaths were gruesome and frequent, the suspense spring-tight.
Juliet inched closer to her dad during the worst of the gore, until her entire body was pressed up against his. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, his hand warm against her skin.
When Roarke was messily dispatched by one of his own traps, she flinched and pressed her face to his chest. He chuckled a little under his breath.
“Oh my god,” she said. “Is it over?”
“No, he’s still dying. Want me to describe it to you?”
“No!” She giggled.
The ending of the movie was consistent with everything she’d ever heard about the director. After a gruesome bloodbath in which Lisbeth killed a good half-dozen villagers, they finally caught her, bound her, and burned her at the stake. The final scene, in which Lisbeth burned while the crowd jeered and shouted, was protracted and merciless.
As the credits finally rolled, Juliet realized she’d been pressing her body hard against her father’s for several minutes. Her pulse was racing again, her breath quick – not arousal at Lisbeth’s death, but excitement at the raw violence and tension of the movie’s final moments.
She looked up at him, smiling nervously.
“That was intense,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he said. The screen had faded to black, and now the glowing white letters of the credits were the only light in the RV. She could barely make out his features in the gloom, but he was staring straight back at her.
“Did you like it?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. The director is kind of…”
“Messed up?”
He laughed softly. “Maybe a little.”
“I wasn’t really expecting a couple of those scenes,” she said. She felt awkward mentioning it, but at the same time, she felt an intense desire to talk about how it had made her feel. She knew that wasn’t appropriate – but at the same time, she didn’t entirely care.
“Me neither,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He shifted on the bed, uncrossing his legs. Some awkwardness in the way he moved drew her gaze, and she looked down to see the clear outline of an erection in his sweatpants.
She drew in a sharp breath. She looked back to his face again, saw the embarrassment there.
A forbidden thought raced through Juliet’s mind, sudden as a lightning bolt. The movie had aroused her. The scene between Roarke and Lisbeth in particular. She wanted to touch it. To touch him.
“It’s really late,” she found herself saying, almost as if the words came from somewhere else. “That was longer than I thought. I should go.”
She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay. But if she did, she didn’t know what would happen. What she might do, or try to do.
He reached out to touch her arm. She pulled away, slid off the bed, and went to retrieve her things from the RV’s passenger seat.
When she turned back, he was still sitting on the bed. He couldn’t stand. She knew why.
“I love you, Dad,” she said. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Heart hammering in her chest, she fled before he could say anything else. Like ask her to stay.
***
As she sat down in the car, Juliet realized she was extremely wet. She gave a little moan of frustration as she started the car.
Her mind raced the entire drive back. Images kept surfacing in her imagination: the father in the movie, plundering his daughter’s willing mouth. How own father’s erection, plainly visible through his clothing. The look in his eyes as he realized she’d seen. What had it been? Concern? Embarrassment? Had there been desire there, too? Or was that only wishful thinking on her part?
Was that what she wished – for her father to feel desire for her?
The question burned bright in her thoughts. As her car crossed into the no-man’s-land of Culver Park, she realized these feelings were not truly new. For months, during these Thursday night movie sessions, something had been changing inside her. She’d begun to think of their time together as a kind of date, from the first hello to the goodbye kiss. A kiss she’d missed tonight, because-
Well, she knew why. They both did.
By the time she got back to her apartment, she felt more confused and emotional than ever. She parked the car, turned it off, and sat in the dark for a moment, trying to calm her thoughts.
To distract herself, she checked her phone. He hadn’t texted. He always texted while she was driving home, to tell her he loved her and make sure she got home safe. Not tonight. She didn’t blame him, but it still caused a twinge of hurt that she didn’t like one bit.
She had so little connection in her life. Few friends and fewer people still she could call close. Her dad was one of those few. Was it so wrong that she had feelings for him that lay outside the norm?
She thought of the end of the movie. Of Lisbeth screaming as she burned.
Before she could ponder any further, she unlocked her phone and sent a text.
[I’m home safe. Love you Dad.]
She locked her phone again before he could reply.
***
Juliet fell into bed without taking off her clothes. She lay thrashing for awhile before finally falling into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
She awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the half-open blinds. With a a groan, she rolled over and grabbed her phone from the nightstand.
Two messages from her dad.
[love you too pumpkin. good night]
And then:
[you left the movie here]
“Shit,” she muttered. She’d forgotten all about it in her haste to leave. It was hardly an emergency, but she’d still have to go back for it.
She looked at the messages until the words were meaningless. Perfectly normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. But last night had been anything but normal. She hadn’t imagined what had happened. She’d been turned on by the incestuous scenes in the movie – and so had he. Even as doubt crawled into the back of her mind and settled there like a scorpion, she knew what she’d experienced.
Now the question remained: what, if anything, was she going to do about it?
Juliet dropped the phone on the bed and stood. Stripping off her clothes, she moved into the bathroom for a hot shower.
As she stood under the steamy water, she tried to make sense of her own thoughts.
At first, she felt defiance. So she was attracted to him. So what? Didn’t a lot of daughters go through a phase where they fell in love with their dads.
Not quite like this, a voice whispered in the back of her head. Loving your dad doesn’t mean wanting to fuck him.
Where had these feelings come from? What had brought them on? Part of her mind wanted to blame the movie. Not just the incestuous scenes and the romantic drama that surrounded them, but the emotional bond Juliet and her father had forged from the movie-watching tradition. Yes, the sex scenes had been hot, in that weird Seventies sort of way.
But she’d also loved the emotional closeness between Roarke and Lisbeth, the conspiratorial intimacy of two against the world. On some deep level, it had spoken to her. It had shook something loose inside her, and she had to deal with it in some way.
But how? What was she supposed to do? Couldn’t she just put these feelings away and pretend it never happened? Wouldn’t that be easier?
Her thoughts drifted into fantasy as she rinsed her hair. She imagined the two of them standing close in the tight confines of the trailer. It was overly warm, in her fantasy, and she was wearing little. Her boy shorts and a tank top, the blue one that was just slightly too small. Thighs, cleavage and midriff on display. Something a girl would never wear in front of her father.
She imagined herself confessing her feelings to him. Touching his chest lightly as she told him everything in hesitant tones. He looked down at her, his expression indecipherable, his brown eyes looking at her face. Down at her body. She wanted him to look at her, to desire her.
His hands on her waist, squeezing. Pulling her to him as he leaned down to kiss her. In her fantasy she could feel his erection through his clothes, rock-hard and urgent. She reached down to pull it out-
“Okay,” Juliet breathed, bringing herself back to the present. The water was getting cold. She finished rinsing her hair, washed the soap off her body, and turned off the shower.
She wrapped herself in a towel and wiped off the mirror above the sink with her hand. Staring at her own dripping reflection, she frowned.
“He’s your dad,” she told her reflection sternly. “It’s not okay.”
She was disappointed, but not surprised, to find it didn’t change how she felt.
***
It was her day off from Midnight Dreams, which gave her lots of time to kill on a day when she wanted anything but. The oceans of time in front of her gave her plenty of time to consider her situation. She made herself a meager breakfast and watched some videos on her laptop, thoughts still turning over in her mind.
She knew people sometimes asked the internet for advice on subjects like these. She considered the idea and immediately rejected it. There was no way strangers on the Internet could know her life, how she felt, what she wanted. The thought made her anxious to the point of nausea.
What about Kendall? Her friend and co-worker was nothing if not sex-positive, but this was a taboo subject, and she doubted Kendall would understand. Juliet also wasn’t sure she could be trusted.
As time went on, she realized she had nobody she could talk to about this. Or, rather, there was only one person in her life she could talk to, one person who would almost certainly understand. The one man who had always been there for her, who had always played a role in her life.
“Oh no,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands. Sitting cross-legged on the bed – in the tank top and shorts she’d fantasized about wearing in front of her dad – she picked up the phone and texted him.
[what are you doing today? can I come over and pick up the movie?]
Juliet placed the phone gingerly back on the bedspread, as if it were explosive. She didn’t think it was likely he’d be busy today, but she didn’t want to assume either.
She watched more videos while she waited. Time seemed to stretch out into an infinity of anticipation.
When the phone finally chimed, she picked it up with lightning speed.
[sure, come on over!]
She grinned and sighed in relief. Then the relief passed as she remembered she actually had to face him – and her own feelings.
“I’ll figure it out when I get there,” she said to reassure herself.
***
She decided to stick with what she was wearing. It was skimpy, yes, but it was also hot out, and she didn’t feel like changing. A little voice in her mind told her she had other motives for what she was wearing, but she chose to ignore it.
Despite what Juliet had told herself, her mind kept trying to solve the problem of her feelings as she drove. What would she say when she got there? What would she do? What if she confessed her feelings and he rejected her – or worse? What if he got angry? What if she’d been absolutely wrong about everything?
“Forget it,” she whispered, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. She’d figure it out when she got there. Or not. Obsessing on it wasn’t going to make anything better.
***
The heat was sweltering by the time she reached the RV. It hit her in a wave as soon as she stepped from the car, and she was already sweating – partially from the heat, but also from anxiousness.
She walked to the RV door and knocked. A muffled voice said something that sounded like an invitation, so she opened it and stepped in.
The RV was marginally cooler inside. Her dad had rigged up a small swamp cooler in one window, hooked to an exterior generator. It was hardly chilly, but definitely better than outside.
Her dad stood at the kitchenette counter, putting together a sandwich.
“Hey, pumpkin,” he said. He was wearing a tee shirt and shorts, his feet bare. He looked a little like he’d just rolled out of bed – his hair was a bit mussed. “You hungry? I can make one of these for you.”
“What is it?”
“Bologna.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Gross. What is wrong with you?”
“Fair enough.” He grinned and pointed behind him, to where the DVD case lay on the countertop. “I put it back in the case for you.”
“Thanks,” she said, feeling oddly dispirited. She took the case and turned it over in her hands, pondering.
Her dad pushed away the sandwich, untouched. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”
“I just. We didn’t get to talk last night. About the movie. After it was over. I was so tired.” She laughed nervously. That was true, but also not the reason they hadn’t talked. She let the lie fall between them, unacknowledged.
“I know, I missed having our usual conversation,” he said.
He turned to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and opened it. The crack and hiss startled her, despite her looking right at him while he did it.
Her dad took a drink. “Do you have work tonight?”
“Nope.”
“Do you want to watch it again?”
A slow smile spread across her face as her heart leaped in her chest.
“Yes, I would.”
***
Juliet situated herself on the bed, stretching out in the air-conditioned comfort. Ryan put the movie back in the player. For whatever reason, the movie resumed at the end credits, and she mocked him gently while he struggled with the remote.
He skipped back to the opening credits and lay down next to her, beer in hand. She felt a tingle of contentment and anticipation as the credits played.
“You want anything?” he asked. “Should I make popcorn?”
“I’m good,” she said. “Thank you for doing this.”
“Of course.”
Watching the movie again with him was an entirely different experience. They both knew what was coming in the story, so the suspense was diminished. It let her focus in on what she’d found truly interesting about the movie: the relationship between Roark and his daughter Lisbeth. This time, she picked up on many more subtle clues that pointed to the attraction between them. Several times, she opened her mouth to mention it, but her courage always failed her at the last moment. She had an idea where that conversation might lead.
About an hour into the movie, the sun slipped behind the afternoon clouds, and the weather cooled. She heard the pattering of summer rain against the roof of the RV. The light level in the interior dropped, like someone had thrown a massive blanket over the vehicle.
“It’s getting spooky in here,” her dad remarked dryly, and she laughed softly.
On screen, Lisbeth was bathing in a massive claw-foot tub, soaping herself liberally, body on display. Her father walked in, waving documents and bellowing about some villager who had wronged him. Lisbeth displayed surprise, but made no move to cover herself.
Juliet spoke before she could think about what she was doing. “Knowing what happens between them later, this scene plays totally differently. I mean, it’s still kinda weird, but-”
He sipped his beer. “It is? You wouldn’t want me to walk in on you and start having a conversation while you were taking a bath?”
“I didn’t say that,” she said. Her stomach clenched as she realized what had come out of her mouth. She tried to stammer a correction, but nothing came out. After all, part of her had meant what she’d just said.
Her dad didn’t respond. He kept his eyes on the screen, his expression unreadable.
Juliet decided to just let it go. There was no going back now.
The movie played on, and they shared some short conversations about it during the lulls in the plot. This was the part she loved – discussing movie trivia and story with him. Horror movies was something they’d both loved for most of their lives, and it felt grounding to share that love together.
She found herself growing more excited and aroused as the movie progressed. The scene was imminent. The first carnal moment between Roarke and Lisbeth, father and daughter. They both knew it was coming, and their conversation fell into silence as it approached.
Juliet drew in her breath as the scene began. Her heart started pounding in her chest almost immediately. She found she couldn’t concentrate on the dialogue between them. She shifted slightly on the bed and discovered she was more than a little wet. She felt her nipples harden under her shirt, almost painfully sensitive.
They both watched as the scene unfolded, the erotic tension rising between the movie characters. Juliet felt an aching intensity, a directionless torrent of emotion that was almost maddening. She wanted to focus on the movie, but she couldn’t. Her own feelings were overwhelming her, slowly but surely, like waves eating away at the soft dirt of a high cliff.
“They understand each other,” she heard her father say.
She turned over, bracing herself on one elbow to face him. “What?”
He didn’t meet her gaze, instead focusing on the screen. His expression was soft, almost dreamy.
“This scene. They each understand how the other person feels, without having to say it. The way they interact – they just get each other. They both know what they want.”
“Yeah,” she answered.
“I think it’s why it was so startling the first time around. Because we’re looking at it from the outside. But they both feel this attraction, and they just… know.”
Her heart was pounding so loud, she was sure he could hear it. For a moment, Juliet felt like she might burst.
“Dad…” she whispered, and then lunged at him. Her mouth met his in a kiss before she fully knew what she was doing. She felt him jerk with surprise, but he didn’t pull away. A moment later, he returned the kiss in full, his hands reaching up to frame her face.
They kissed without words, the only sound their heavy breathing, tongues exploring each others’ mouths. When she moaned loudly with arousal, her dad finally pulled back.
“Juliet,” he said, his mouth inches from hers. “We can’t.”
She couldn’t even feel disappointed. Her body and mind simply refused to accept what she was hearing. “Why not?”
“It’s wrong. It’s really wrong.”
She turned to the screen, where the fellatio scene had continued playing. “It worked for them.”
He laughed. “They died!”
She bit her lip as she looked down at him. From the corner of her eye, she could see his erections clearly outlined against the thin fabric of his shorts.
“We won’t,” she said.
Before he could answer, she slid her hand down his body, under the waistband of his shorts, and pulled out her father’s cock. It wasn’t massively long, but it had surprising girth, and she gave a little gasp of surprise and delight as she wrapped her hand around it.
His whole body jerked with pleasure as she touched him, and he made a vulnerable moan. He put his hand on top of hers.
“Sweetheart-” he began.
“I want to, dad,” she answered, kissing him to silence any further objections. “Please let me.”
She tugged on his cock a few times for emphasis, loving the way it felt both soft and hard in her hand.
To her gratification, he nodded silently, his mouth still locked with hers.
For a moment, Juliet almost floundered. She hadn’t even dared to fully fantasize about this moment. Now that the moment was here, she wanted everything. His cock in her mouth. Inside her. Both at once, though that was impossible. It was infuriating. She tried to think about her next course of action as she gently pulled and twisted her dad’s cock.
“Sweetheart,” he gasped as she touched him. His fingers found the lower edge of her tank top, yanked it up to expose her breasts. They fell out, full and heavy, her nipples hard. She arched her back to give him better access, and he squeezed her breast with one hand, the other pinned under her shoulder. He brushed her nipple with his thumb, and she felt a shudder pass through her.
Suddenly, she very much knew what she wanted.
“Hold on,” she said in a soft voice. Catching her tongue between her teeth, she rolled away just enough to undo her shorts and yank them down, along with her underwear. She realized she’d never taken off her shoes, and laughed as she pulled her clothing off over them. It would just have to do.
“Juliet,” her father said as she threw her leg over him to straddle him. There was doubt in his eyes, mixed with unbearable arousal. She understood how he felt. She wasn’t about to let it stop her.
Before she could even think about turning back, she reached down between her legs, slipping her hand around his cock again. With a single motion, she guided him into her. She was wet, and he slid in easily as she lowered her hips.
The sensation of being filled by him was huge, overwhelming. All the nerve endings in her lower body seemed to fire at one time. The girth of his cock had surprised her when it had been in her hand – now, in her body, it was nothing short of amazing. She heard a high-pitched, agonized cry of pleasure and realized it was her own.
“F-fuck,” he whispered as he plunged fully into her. His hands sought out her breasts and cupped them, his palms warm and callused.
They began to move together, her dad thrusting inside her. At first, she controlled the rhythm, moving slowly and deliberately, a happy groan escaping her at the end of every thrust. The movie played on, utterly ignored now, the RV rocking gently from their movements.
Then they locked eyes, for the first time since they’d kissed. She saw no doubt in his eyes anymore, no fear or uncertainty. She just saw her dad – the man she loved. The man she’d always loved. And he knew he loved her too.
His hands moved down to cup her ass, fingers clenching on her bare flesh. She giggled with the taboo and excitement of the moment. He began to thrust faster inside her, taking control of the rhythm as he plunged into her again and again.
“Daddy,” she whispered. She could feel orgasm coming on, faintly, like an unseen freight train just around the bend, shaking the tracks as it approached. Her fingers bunched in the fabric of his shirt as she began to tremble.
“We have to-” he said, and it took her only a moment before she realized what he meant. Like he’d said about the movie: they understood each other.
She shook her head. “Come inside me, dad.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded fiercely. “Please come inside me.”
That was all the permission he needed. His hands closed tight on her ass, and he began to hammer into her rapidly. His breath came in a series of low grunts, his face twisted into an expression of ecstasy and disbelief.
When she came, it happened suddenly, building and exploding like an unexpected sneeze. Waves of pleasure rippled up her body, rendering her helpless. Fists clenched, she wailed into her father’s face, loudly, knowing how loud she was being, not caring.
A moment later, his thrusts came to a frantic peak, and he groaned loudly. His fingers gripped her tight, to the point of pain. She savored it. He was so big inside her that she actually felt his cock pulse as he came, felt the gush and the wet, spreading warmth inside her. She laughed with joy at the sensation, her laughter punctuated with sharp exhalations yelps as he continued to pound her.
Finally he slowed, then stopped, chest heaving with exertion. She settled her weight on him, stretching out to touch her lips to his. They kissed in silence, both of them trembling in the aftermath.
A muffled explosion from the movie brought them both back to the present. Juliet giggled as she broke the kiss.
“So,” she said, propping herself up on her arms. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said, looking satisfied and awkward. Juliet felt a surge of love at seeing him this way: hair mussed, breath heavy. She saw a flicker of doubt cross his face, and decided to head it off before it took root.
“That was amazing,” she said, wriggling a little on top of him. He gave a soft sigh of pleasure: he was still inside her.
“Yeah,” he agreed. He didn’t move, and after a moment she reached down to take one of his hands and put it on her breast. She liked it there.
She looked him in the eye. “I want you to know, dad. I wanted this. I’ve wanted it for awhile. I knew I wanted it when I came here today. I just couldn’t admit it to myself.”
“Me too,” he said softly, nodding. “Even though it’s-”
“Don’t say it. Please? Not right now. We can talk about it later.”
She tilted her hips and rolled away slightly, letting her father’s cock slip out of her. They both made a pleased noise at the sensation. Juliet bit her lip, feeling happy and content. They might have to talk later, but for now, she just wanted to be with her dad. Physically. Emotionally. Everything at once.
“Okay,” he said. “Later.”
She kissed him and sat up on the bed. On impulse, she pulled her tank top over her head and tossed it to the side, then stood up, completely naked.
She could see the questions on his face, mixed with appreciation at seeing her body. She embraced her boldness, hoping it would keep the demons of doubt at bay a little while longer.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” she said. “When I come back, do you want to finish watching the movie with me?”
He nodded, looking adorable and ridiculous with his mostly-erect cock still out. “Sure, pumpkin.”
Happiness bloomed inside her. “Good. See you soon.”
As she ducked into the bathroom, she caught sight of the open DVD case on the countertop. She grinned as she read the slogan sticker on the back: SOMETIMES MIDNIGHT DREAMS COME TRUE.
Added by Daddys
