August 14, 2009
Fiction
The Truth Hurts
(This story contains content that some people may find disturbing, such as non-consent, borderline consent, seriously bodily harm, or incest. If you're not interested in reading stories with this type of content, please don't read this story.)
Sometimes the truth hurts.
That’s what the deputy had said before he left. Deputy Starr, the old busybody, always with his nose in people’s business. The kind of cop who liked to wait around the corner of the stop sign at the bottom of the hill, just waiting for people to slide through without quite stopping. The kind of cop who prowls the bowling alley parking lot, waiting for beery guys to come out who’re just under the legal limit, then humiliating them in front of their friends by putting them through the whole battery of drunk tests, knowing he won’t have a bust. Just to throw his weight around.
This evening’s visit had really taken the cake, though. Joe Jimenez vowed to complain to the man’s superiors.
But first, he’d get to the bottom of this.
Joe had been a member of the Pumpum Gym for a few years. After hitting middle age, he wanted to be as fit as possible, so he went several times a week. He had lost some weight, but there was always a minor muscle strain or twist lurking in the background, so he could never exercise as hard as he wanted. Who knew middle age meant being so careful of strained wrists and twisted knees? He could remember the long days of football practice in college, throwing his body around like it was meat. He had felt indestructible — not that it helped his play. He was always half a step behind somebody.
But at least he was tough. Now what was he? Middle aged.
The other reason he went to the gym so often was Tiffany Johns. Just graduated from college, only a few years older than his daughter Alex. She had been on the track team and the soccer team; she was in unbelievable shape. And a year ago she became the new assistant manager at Pumpum.
Joe had spent many hours secretly staring at Tiffany’s ass as she guided new members around the gym and helped them try out the machines. Her bionic butt, usually clad in red satin athletic shorts but gripped by form fitting spandex when she led aerobics classes, was high, tight and practically rippling with muscles. If you put it to her doggy style, that butt would be right in your face, pushing back, working away like the fantastic machine it was.
What an ass. And how utterly unobtainable. Not only was he old enough to be her father, but Tiffany, to the great disappointment of every man in the gym, was already married, to a Marine Corps corporal.
Well, he could look. Why else would they have covered the walls with mirrors?
In fact, the deputy had come about the gym. No, it was not a crime to lust after Tiffany Johns. Even Deputy Starr would concede that.
It was what Tiffany was doing there, after hours.
It seemed that one morning a few weeks ago, when the other assistant manager, Kenny Ray, had opened the gym bright and early — going around to one machine after the other, turning them on, wiping down everything with disinfectant, and finally going over to the TVs and turning them on — Kenny had found something that was, well, incriminating.
For when he had turned on the TV that was also used to show training videos, it had started up playing a tape that was already in the attached VCR. Kenny hadn’t noticed at first, since all the other TVs were coming on, tuned to CNN and CNBC and the Today Show. The news of the day had drowned out the tape at first, and Kenny finished his rounds by starting up the hot tub and getting steam going in the sauna. It was when he came back into the main gym that he noticed what was on the tape.
It was a scene shot in the gym itself — that was easy to see, since the gym had a big PUMPUM sign hanging on one wall, and the garish yellow and purple logo was reflected in all the mirrors. He also recognized the weight bench and the squats machine. But what was happening on them was not exercise — not the conventional sort, at least.
There was Tiffany, sprawled on the weight bench, in a posture not approved for lifting weights. Her head was hanging off one end of the bench, and her mouth was being plumbed by the large cock of a very muscular guy. Kenny recognized him. It was Con Fastow, a player on the Major League Soccer team in nearby San Jose. And Kenny also recognized the man at the opposite end of the bench, whose equally large dick was piercing Tiffany’s pussy. It was Tom Metson, general manager of the gym, Tiffany’s boss.
Kenny stood rapt for a few minutes, watching Tiffany get it on both ends. It was only when Con pulled out and shot his load across Tiffany’s face that he stopped it. Sex was one thing, but the come shot had lowered it to the level of porn, and good Mormon boys don’t watch porn.
Nevertheless, that didn’t stop Kenny from regularly reviewing the tape at home. When it came to the come shots, he just closed his eyes and fast forwarded for a few seconds, then picked up the action a little later. Besides, what else could he do? He couldn’t report the tape to his boss — his boss was on it. Finally he decided to turn the tape over to a higher moral authority — a member of his church. Deputy Starr.
So what did all this have to do with Joe Jimenez, aside from giving Joe a whole new reason to lust after Tiffany? As the deputy explained, in great detail, the contents of the tape, Joe composed a few subtle comments he might make to Tiffany. Have you ever considered being in the movies, Tiffany? They’re always looking for fresh talent. Of course, it depends on the right co star… No, too subtle. Would you like to hear this dream I had last night, Tiffany? No, too direct. Tiffany, I could use a little help with the weights? Would you spot me? And I’ll spot you and maybe you can help my form a little.
Joe’s attention snapped back to the present when Deputy Starr got to the point. Con and Tom weren’t Tiffany’s only co stars, he regretted to report. Several girls from the college, who also were members of the gym, were also on the tape. They were shown making out with Tiffany and each other, then servicing the two male members of the cast.
Joe’s daughter went to the college. And she was also a member of the gym. The flush of excitement that had been rising in him suddenly turned cold.
Was his daughter on the tape? The deputy wasn’t sure. He was going around asking family members if they’d be willing to take a look and possibly identify their wayward daughters.
Joe almost blacked out. “You want me to watch a porn video that my daughter might be in?
“Mr. Jimenez, I understand. You have a right to your privacy. I would never ask someone to do that in my presence.” He reached into a briefcase. “I made copies.” And handing the tape to Joe, he left his card and asked Joe to call him if he had any information.
Now Joe was standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the tape sitting on the coffee table as if it might explode any second. He had no objection to seeing a professional athlete splooge across Tiffany’s attractive face, or watching her fantastic ass tense with the effort of pumping Tom Metson. But watching his daughter do the same things! He had to sit down.
He sat on the couch for a long time. His hand would reach out toward the tape, then stop. He couldn’t even bring himself to touch it.
After several long, agonizing hours, he leapt up, snatched the tape off the coffee table, and ran out to the garage, pulling the tape from the cassette. He pulled out as much as he could, breaking it in several places, before hurling the mess into the garbage.
Then the automatic garage door began to open.
Headlights illumined him as he stood quivering beside the garbage cans. It was his daughter Alex, coming home.
She pulled the car into the garage, turned it off, and stepped out. “Hi, Daddy,” she said. “Whatcha doing in the garage?” She went to the trunk, opened it, and took out a gym bag.
“Where have you been?” Joe asked.
“At the gym. Are you all right, Daddy?”
“Do you know what time it is?”
“What? It’s only midnight. I went out with Tiffany and a couple guys from the gym. I didn’t have any alcohol, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m almost 21 anyway.”
“You come inside right now.”
“What’s the matter?”
He led her into the living room and made her sit down on the couch next to him..
“Are you okay, Daddy?” she asked again. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is something wrong with Mommy?”
“No — your mother’s fine. I guess. I didn’t hear from her.” His ex wife had moved out of state.
“Well, what’s the matter?”
He clenched and unclenched his fists in his lap. What could he say?
“Honey, you know I’ve always trusted you, and I’ve given you a long leash. You’ve had your own car for years, and you’ve stayed in school and you’re doing well.”
“Yeah? Daddy, what’s wrong?”
“I just… Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“Like what?”
“Anything about the gym?”
Did she hesitate slightly before answering? “Well. Not really, Daddy.”
“What? Is there something?” He struggled to keep his voice under control. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know, or should know, what Alex had been doing. But he had to find out. “Anything you shouldn’t… be doing?”
She looked at him for a few moments. “Daddy, if somebody’s been talking to you about me…” Her mouth contorted and her voice rose. “That just really sucks! I’m almost an adult, and what I do is nobody else’s business.”
“Alex, if there’s something I should know, you better tell me. As long as you’re living under my roof, and all that.”
She sat pouting for a moment longer. “Just tell me, was it that bitch Brittney?”
“Brittney? Brittney who? Nobody named Brittney has talked to me.” His voice became firmer. “Alex, if there’s something you should tell me, tell me now, and we’ll settle it the old way.”
“You can’t be serious. I’m almost 21 years old!”
“You’re still my daughter. And we still have an agreement.”
“I can’t believe you’re bringing this up now. We haven’t done that since I was 15.”
“As long as you’re under my roof.”
She pursed her lips. “Well… there is something.”
“Yes?” His voice was no longer steady.
“You know Chang at the gym?”
“Chang?” He wracked his mind. “That little weightlifter guy?”
“Yes. We’ve been dating. That’s where I was tonight.”
“Okay,” Joe said, now at sea. His daughter was dating a five foot six, two hundred pound Chinese weightlifter?
“We’re not sleeping together or anything. We had a drink. I know that’s wrong. And we’ve, you know, made out and stuff. But I haven’t done anything else.”
Tom thought. “One drink?”
“Yeah…”
“How many times?”
She lowered her head, ashamed. “Five times.”
“That’s five times three.”
“I know, Daddy.” When she lifted her head, there were tears in her eyes.
“And that’s all?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He stood up. “All right. Let’s get it over with.”
She stood up and knelt on the couch, her butt in the air. “Is this okay?”
He wasn’t going to tell her to take her pants off. “Sure.”
Placing his left hand on the small of her back to steady himself, he delivered three hard swats to her ass.
“Ow,” she said.
“Alex, are you a good girl?”
“No, I was bad.”
He gave her another three, harder.
“I was bad, Daddy,” she said, beginning to cry.
He gave her another three. I’m doing five reps, he reminded himself, then cringed.
She was weeping openly now. He waited for her to say again that she was bad, then spanked her again.
“Oh, Daddy, I’ll be good after this.”
“Were you good tonight, Alex?”
“No, Daddy,” she cried. “I was bad. I was a bad girl.”
He gave her the last three swats, each harder than the last. With the final blow, she crumpled onto the couch.
He sat down beside her and she put her head in his lap and cried. He stroked her head. His good little girl, all grown up now. He realized this was the last time this would ever happen. A few tears of his own fell.
After a while she sat up and put her arms around his neck. “I love you, Daddy.”
“Good girl. You go up to bed now. I have to put the dishes in the dishwasher.”
She scampered up the stairs to the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth. Then she went into her bedroom and got undressed for bed.
Before turning out the light, she took out her cell phone and dialed. Speaking in a low voice, she said, “Hey. Yeah, I got home a little while ago. I don’t know, he was kind of weird. I think he suspects something. Oh shit, yeah, he said somebody said something. But I didn’t find out who.” She listened for second. “I told him I was having a drink. With Chang. Can you believe that? Yes, Chang! I know. He totally bought it.”
Downstairs, Joe finished puttering in the kitchen, then went back out to the living room to turn off the light. He was rubbing his wrist. It felt like he’d strained it spanking his daughter. Fucking middle age.
His daughter’s gym bag was sitting by the front door. He went over and picked it up to carry it upstairs. Then he noticed the zipper was partly open. Setting the bag on the couch, he turned on a lamp and felt around inside. He felt shoes, clothing, a magazine — and then his hand closed around the unmistakable hard, plastic shape of a video cassette.
• • •
is the author of two collections of erotic fiction, “Too Beautiful and Other Stories” and “How I Adore You.” He lives in San Francisco. His website is toobeautiful.org, and he also writes for sf.metblogs.com.
