CHAPTER SEVEN
It was slightly past 11 a.m. when Sherry awoke. She was sobbing and only vaguely aware of the reason. Then, slowly she remembered her dream. She lay there recalling the details, conscious that her father was not in bed beside her. She could hear him rustling about in the kitchen, humming softly to himself. He was obviously in a happy mood. She had dreamed that she was old and fat and untalented. Tony Agnello had laughed when she had suggested they run away and get married. And her father had abandoned her and found a new young singer to manage – one with a decent voice. Why had she dreamed such garbage? Was it because she had sneaked the love session yesterday with Tony, felt guilty about cheating on her father who had been her confidant, lover, and patient advisor ever since she could remember? Yes, she had been cruel to Daddy, she decided, wiping away her tears. She would have to make it up to him some way. But what was she to do about Tony?
Tony Agnello was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened in her life and he genuinely cared for her, she could tell. Last night they had watched each other's performances in admiration and they probably would have spent the night together if she hadn't told him she had a few personal matters to straighten out and to be patient. They would be together again in a few days, she had explained.
Victor Redgrave emerged from the kitchen, beaming and carrying two cups. "It's just instant coffee," he said, "but I thought my lovely daughter might like some to greet the morning with." He set the cups down on the nightstand, went to the window and opened the drapes with a flourish. The sunlight streamed in, filling the room. It was a beautiful sunny day and Sherry could see the deep green of the trees and the cloudless blue sky. Daddy's mood puzzled her. The night before last had been a failure sexually and, last night, there had been no attempt at all at physical intimacy. It was some kind of record.
Sherry sipped at her coffee eyeing her father warily. "Why so chipper?" she asked.
"Oh, I don't know," he said. "Girls grow up and become adults and I guess their fathers have to realize this fact." He smiled, sitting there beside her in his bathrobe, then reached out and patted her cheek. "In fact, their fathers have to grow up, too. I realize this now and I want to apologize for my behavior, dear."
Sherry was touched. "That's all right, Daddy. I understand. Everything's going to be all right."
"Of course it is," he said. "In fact, if you like I'll even begin sleeping in another bed from now on. You've grown up, dear. You're entitled to your own life. You have a mind and will of your own."
Somehow the thought of sleeping alone frightened Sherry. She had become accustomed to their after-work talks and lovemaking and Daddy in bed beside her. She did not wish to be lonely – all alone and lonely with nobody to talk to at night and in the mornings. Was Daddy playing some kind of game with her? Was this his way of punishing her? "What's come over you, Daddy?"
"Nothing, my love. Nothing at all. It's just as I said. I realize that I have no right to monopolize your time. Yesterday morning after I returned from the bank I looked all over for you. I found myself excited, even going to a rage because I couldn't find you. I had you paged in the hotel and when there was no response I even had Tony Agnello paged, too. Then I put two and two together. Finally, I calmed down and accepted the fact you have your own life to live. I refuse to work myself into a lather ever again."
"I'm sorry, Daddy. I ran into Tony in the casino and we… we did spend the day together. I-I hope you understand."
"Understand? Of course I understand. That's what I'm telling you. At last I understand. Any fool could see by the way you two were looking at each other backstage last night that you're fond of each other. Who am I to stand in your way?"
"You mean that?"
"Yes, I mean that."
Sherry flung her arms around her father, nearly spilling her coffee cup on the table. "Oh, Daddy, I feel so much better knowing you don't hate me."
They broke from their embrace and Victor Redgrave said, "Has my big girl made any plans with her boyfriend for today?"
"No," Sherry said. "I haven't planned anything."
"Good. I thought we might drive over to the other side of the lake then. I thought we might play a little tennis and have brunch. There are some nice courts over at the North Shore." He chuckled, holding up his hands and backing sway. "Purely platonic you understand. Just lunch and tennis."
"Oh, Daddy," she said. "You're so funny. You're wonderful."
"Up and at 'em," he said. "Let's be on our way, young lady."
Sherry leaped from bed, hurriedly dressed and twenty-minutes later she and her father, wearing their white tennis outfits, were driving along the shore road toward the North Shore. There, they found some excellent public courts, deserted except for an elderly man and woman and what appeared to be their young daughter. They were alternating sets among themselves. Victor and Sherry began rallying leisurely in the late morning sun, the pohng… pohng of the ball on the cement court music to Sherry as they played in the delicious silence of the mountain landscape and the scent of pine. It was good to be young and back in her father's good grace and she played with enthusiasm.
Young or old though, the high altitude made one short of breath, and after three games which Sherry won 6-5, 6-4, 6-2, she and her father were both breathless and agreed to take a long break. They sat on a bench next to the other court and wiped perspiration from themselves.
The other girl and her parents were also taking a break just beyond the fence.
"Pardon me," the white-haired gentleman inquired, "I don't mean to be rude, but aren't you the young lady we saw at the Alpine Hotel last night? Aren't you a singer there?"
"Yes, I work in the lounge at the hotel," Sherry said smiling. "This is my father, Victor Redgrave," she added.
They exchanged introductions and the girl was indeed the daughter of the elderly couple. They were the Whitcombs of Newport Beach, California, and their daughter who was about Sherry's age was Sheila Whitcomb. They were a pleasant though slightly stuffy family and they made small talk about the beauty of Lake Tahoe and show business for a while before they resumed playing tennis. Before they parted Mrs. Whitcomb mentioned that Sheila herself sang and that they would look forward to seeing Sherry perform again in the lounge soon. They, too, were staying at the Alpine Hotel. Mrs. Whitcomb actually said, "Ta-ta," as they parted and continued their respective games and Sherry and her father had to suppress their laughter at the formality of the family. This time, Sherry intentionally let her father win one game and they split 6-5, 6-3 before calling it quits and leaving for brunch at a nearby Swiss restaurant where they ate ravenously.
It was nearly three o'clock when they returned to their motel and they showered and then both eagerly lay down for their nap. Sherry's attitude toward her father had changed and she permitted him to fondle her once they were in bed. He massaged her back and then she permitted him to work on her with the vibrators – the regular hand vibrator and the penis-shaped one which he inserted in her vagina and rectum. It was pleasant but somehow the old passion and fire was gone. She tried hard not to think of Tony Agnello as Daddy fucked her in the ass and massaged her clit skillfully, but the memory of yesterday's love session with Tony and his marvelous prick kept interfering with her total enjoyment. Daddy's prick was nice and hard and eager as he huffed and puffed behind her, plunging his organ into her greased rectum, but it was only with the greatest of concentration that she was able to achieve an orgasm. Her climax was good, naturally – climaxes always were – but it was probably one tenth the magnitude of her climax with Tony. Nevertheless the session seemed to relax them both and they were both ready to sleep.