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.