I Smithson
Tempting daddy
CHAPTER ONE
Leslie Groten, sweet, always smiling, considered pretty by everyone, was almost sixteen years old when she and her divorced father, James, but twenty-four years older than she, arrived to live permanently in New York City.
Their last month in Chicago had been a tragic one indeed. Leslie's mother had lost the expensive court case, but she'd also won more alimony than she expected. At the same time she lost custody of Leslie and even visiting rights could be opted by James Groten.
The marriage of James Groten and his wife, Suzanne, had been heading for the proverbial rocks for the past four years. It was typical of many modern-day marriages where the wife was too young, too inexperienced, continued because of the 'child', and then wearying of this kind of life, threw in the towel. Suzanne began dating other men, having one affair after another, and finally, as it always happens, James Groten discovered his wife's infidelity.
The long, struggling interval of their separating and finally divorcing commenced. During this interval, there was much upheaval in their Chicago home. There were hundreds of endless squabbles, each with its particular nuisance value. There were strong arguments, bitter quarrels and some fist fights between James and one of his wife's suitors. Finally this all ended and James literally fled the city of Chicago, Leslie's hand in his as they flew to New York to begin a new life.
Leslie had few misgivings about living with her father. She liked Jim, as she called him. Sometimes she called him Jimbo, and at other times, softly and cuddly, she called him Daddy, but only when they were alone. Out in the streets or in public places, she always called him Jimbo, and this made her feel very grown up.
Leslie really liked her father. He was young looking. He had a lot of spirit, not like many of the other girls' dads. She could have fun with him. She could run around in panties and bra in front of him. She could even come into the bathroom when he was sitting on the john.
Until only last year she was still taking showers with him. And the thing that got in the way of this was Leslie's mother. She had a thousand moral opinions about the behavior of everyone except herself.
"She's a grown-up young lady now, James. Can't you recognize that? She's no longer a little girl. Her body's filling out. It's not right for you both to be naked together in the shower."
So, that ended all the fun they would have. But it was more than just showering together that caused Leslie to love her father. He was always kind to her, understanding and sympathetic. He never forced her to do things. He told her the whys and the wherefores about things, and let her make up her own mind, make her own decisions.
In school Leslie was a bright student. She was always very ladylike and well behaved. She did her homework promptly every night. She kept ahead of her class. It always pleased her to hand her report card to her father, and win his rich smile as a reward for her efforts.
James Groten was also interested in her growth, Leslie always felt. He often helped her select her clothing, especially her blouses and now her hot pants and sometimes even her boots and her shoes. Suzanne had never had the time for Leslie and although this often hurt Leslie, she soon got quite used to it and began to love being independent of her mother – as few other girls were.
As she and Jimbo sat side by side in the jet, she suddenly leaned over and kissed his ear. This abrupt gesture shocked him, and he almost spilled the cocktail he was holding in his hand.
"Hey," he grinned, "give me some warning, huh?"
"I love you, old Jimbo!"
"And I love you, old Leszie."
She frowned at him. "Don't call me Leszie, call me Leslie, because you know what a lezzie is, doncha?"
"Of course," he smiled, "it's about the only thing your mother isn't, right?"
They laughed together.
It took about a week in a small residential hotel before they finally found a suitable apartment. Furnishing it the way they both liked was fun. Leslie had her own cute little room. There was also a large bedroom, two bathrooms, a roomy kitchen and a front living room. There were plenty of closets and one very large, walk-in one. Gramercy Park was a lovely, carefully kept neighborhood in New York City, and when they moved in, every sign pointed to a pleasant experience.
At the end of the second week James Groten was prepared to continue his analysis work in the New York office of his company; Leslie was prepared to enter a New York City high school, known as Washington Irving.
As it happened, to the delight of them both, Jimbo's office was but three blocks away from the new apartment and Leslie's high school was less.
"We can both come home for lunch, Daddy," she said to him. They were alone, rearranging furniture and doing the necessary things one does after moving into a new place.
"Why should we do that, darling?"
"To save money, you dope!"
"You're the dope!" he exclaimed, rearranging a vase in the living room. "We have all the money we need now, and that includes the green I've got to send to your mother's lawyers."
James Groten went on to explain to his young, attractive daughter, wearing only a loose, almost transparent housecoat over her shimmering, youthful nakedness, that in the future they'd have only the best. The new analytical job he was taking over required some travel. For this he would be paid extra. The job also allowed him freedom to perform "outside" analytical jobs, and since the firm for which he worked was one of the most prestigious in the city, the mere fact that he belonged to it could make his "outside" services more valuable and much more rewarding financially.
"Then why don't we send me to a private school?"
He knew she didn't really want that. "If I thought you could learn more, I would, but until you leave high school, there's no need, darling." He paused. "But if you feel strongly about it at mid-term, we can have a talk, and you know I'll go along with you, don't you?"
She flew into his arms. "Oh, Daddy, I adore you! I don't know any daughter in this whole world who has a beautiful father like you."
"As you," he corrected.
"As you are, Daddy," she agreed, hugging him, realizing how good his manly chest felt against her ripe, swollen breasts so free and so naked under her robe. Leslie was very proud of her breasts. In the last months they had grown tremendously from the little round apples they had been. Her nipples now got hard and not only from being chilly. Her aureoles surrounding her pink nipples were just a shade darker, petal pink and so pretty. She loved to examine them in her mirror, cupping and caressing their ripe fullness, viewing the delicious curves and admiring how firm they were, how they'd bounce lusciously on her chest and inside her blouse or dress when she wasn't wearing her dreadful brassieres.
"You know, Daddy," she said, pulling away from him, and crossing the room to plop down on the brand new couch, "that reminds me. I had a question to ask you, if you don't mind?"
"Ask your question."
"Do I have to wear a bra here in New York City? I mean, Daddy, before it gets too cold?"
He looked over at her. Her robe had fallen open and he could see her milky white thighs and just the suggestion of her curly brown pussy hair. Indeed, Leslie was a growing young girl! There was no doubt about that! No doubt at all! He looked away. He licked his lips.
His seeming hesitation annoyed her. "Oh, Daddy, please say I don't have to wear one. Please! All the other girls here don't wear them, and I don't want to be all that straight!"
"Leslie," he said. He turned and smiled at her. She was really wrought up. "Leslie, I didn't say you had to wear a brassiere, did I?"
She grinned and bit her lip. "No," she answered, lowering her eyes. "You mean, I don't…?"