Me and My father

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Babes

Me and My father
“So what is this place?” I asked as we turned from the road and down a tree lined lane.

“It’s a surprise,” my Dad smiled at me both happily and enigmatically.

We were close, me and Dad, I’d not know my Mom, she’d left when I was so small she wasn’t even a blurry figure in my memory and Dad had brought me up. As a rule we were a no secrets house, I’d come out as gay to him without a thought and let him know about all my boyfriends. He in turn had let me know about the women he was seeing, (even before he’d gone on the official first date) and as soon as I’d met them he’d be asking me my opinion, and I told him truthfully. If didn’t like them they were out – though he dated so seldom in the last eighteen years when he did I tended to make myself like them.

So if he wasn’t telling me something there was a reason and normally that was because not only was it a surprise, but it was one he was confident I would like. I relaxed back in the car and looked out the window, beyond the trees I could see rolling green fields and gardens, even a lake with a small waterfall – we were obviously in the private grounds of somewhere grand and as we turned the corner that was confirmed. The building in front of us was magnificent, five stories high in the centre and even higher towers at the sides, wide and deep, with large windows and a steps up to a door through which a dozen people could have walked abreast all carrying suitcases and with room to swing them.

The parking lot was almost as large, with perhaps eighty cars already parked and with several more behind us. My Dad found a space and we rolled to a stop. He switched off the ignition and turned to me, “You’re into Senior year, Todd, in less than twelve months you’ll be a college guy.”

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“It’ll be different, not having you home,” he said, with just a trace of wistfulness in his voice. But he immediately perked up, “so we need to make the most of this year.”

“Yeah, we should,” I agreed. I knew how he felt and he knew how I felt, I was both looking forward to college and really nervous about it. As my Dad said it’d be different and hopefully in a good way, but however it was I was determined we’d remain as close as were – ringing every day and going home whenever I could manage a weekend. I gave him a grin, it would still be good to make the most of the time we had together, “So this is what this weekend is, some time to have fun together and bond.”

“Still a surprise,” he smiled back, “Anyway Todd, I just want to say I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad,” I’d never said the words to any of my ex-boyfriends, but to my Dad they just tripped off the tongue.

He popped the trunk and we got out our suitcases. Mysteriously Dad had packed them both, normally it was something we did together and I noticed as I lifted them out that Dad had both brought a big one, but which felt curiously light as if there was little in it. I didn’t say anything, he’d made clear this was going to be a surprise and I knew it would become clear as he wanted it to become clear.

We walked up the steps and into the reception and it became obvious that whatever was happening this weekend was a dad and son thing as the women were a few of the employees and all the guests were men in middle age or late teenage years. My Dad still didn’t say anything as we queued to check in, and as I briefly looked around I could see most of the sons looking as curious and bemused as I was, I wasn’t the only one in the dark.

The reception was efficient and soon we were at the desk as my Dad announced, “Michael and Todd Chadwick.”

The women at the desk quickly typed in our details, “Two rooms, yes?”

“That’s right,” my Dad confirmed, obviously splashing out for the weekend as we often shared a twin on vacation.

The women picked up two pairs of electronic keys, handing us one each as she rattled off the directions. I didn’t know whether it was planned or accidental, but the rooms were almost at opposite sides of the building. As we left the desk, towing our cases I said to him, “Do you want to drop our things off and then we can meet down here and have a look what the hotel’s got to offer.” I was sure with a place this big the facilities would be great and I was looking forward to trying them out with Dad.

He shook his head, again with that enigmatic smile, “I’m going to prepare for later.”

“Later?”

“You’ll see,” he grinned, putting me in an even greater state of anticipation. “I’ve put your suit in the case, if you could wear that this evening.”

“Very smart,” I said.

“I’ll see you later,” he replied.

“When?” I asked mystified.

“They’ll be instructions in your room,” he gave an appealing laugh and then we separated to go to our different rooms.

The room was as nice as the hotel, large and spacious with a double bed and desk as well as an en-suite bathroom and shower. There were a set of joining instructions on the table, which canlı bahis şirketleri I decided to read once I was unpacked. I opened my suitcase and saw what my Dad had decided to take for me. Apart from the suit (which I immediately took out to hang up) and my washing things, there were a pair of trunks for swimming, pyjamas (which I seldom used) and my tennis short and shirts as well as some casual clothes. All you needed for a weekend of relaxation. I put them away in the wardrobe and then turned to the instructions.

“Welcome” it said in big black letters, but not to what it was welcoming you to. There was a bit of a corporate blurb about how much the company wanted us to enjoy our stay and quick rundown of the facilities (none of which seemed to open until later or even tomorrow) and health and safety. Then right at the bottom was a brief final paragraph.

“The weekend’s entertainment will start in the ground floor restaurant from 6.00 – 6.30. Suits and ties required.”

I still wasn’t sure what the entertainment was, but I could wait and as the facilities didn’t open I watched a movie on the TV and then had a leisurely bath, before getting changed and going down.

It was easy to find the restaurant, not just the signage, but that there were plenty of suited young men heading in that direction – but, I noticed, no dads. The restaurant itself had been set out specifically for the event with buffet tables along the side and then a few standing tables to congregate round while we ate. I was just wondering whether to wait for my Dad and see if he arrived when a waitress went by with a tray of drinks, I quickly took an orange juice and I was doing so she smiled and said, “You should get something to eat now, your Dads are having something separately.”

Stranger and stranger, I thought, but did as she suggested.

“Todd,” I heard my name being called just as I finished filling my plate. Turning up and around I saw Dave Willis, standing a few feet from me, a half surprised, half pleased look on his face. I’d known Dave as a friendly acquaintance for a few years – he was at school a couple of towns over who we regularly played football against and like me was raised by a single Dad and so we’d found we’d things in common, even dating a few of the same guys (though never at the same time). I gave him a wave of greeting and then as I didn’t know anyone else and it looked like my Dad wasn’t yet joining us walked over to join him.

“You here with your Dad?” I asked.

He nodded and straightened his tie, “Yes and he’s been very mysterious about it, won’t tell me a thing.”

“Mine as well,” I agreed, “All I know is he’s packed my suits, trunks and some tennis gear.”

“Sports weekend?” Dave asked, “My Dad isn’t very sporty.”

“Mine neither,” I was the jock in the family, my Dad always came to cheer me, but we didn’t do much together beyond throwing a ball in the back yard and even that we hadn’t done since I was about twelve. “I noticed there was a pool and court here, so there might be some tournament they’ve entered us for and they’re here to cheer.” I was pretty sure that wasn’t what was going on and from Dave’s face he didn’t believe it either. I shrugged and gave a grin, “Whatever it is I’m sure it’ll be great.”

He nodded, “I think so, my Dad’s pretty damn good at reckoning out what I’d like.”

“Mine as well, I think this is something we’re going to bond over before I go to college, not that we need to – we’re close already.”

“Mine hinted the same on the way over,” said Dave.

We continued to eat and guess, each of our guesses more outlandish than the last – though it turns out none were outlandish enough. The restaurant filled up, with over a hundred young men of about our age standing together and all wondering what was going on. It was about seven when the staff started to usher us from where we were down the corridor towards the main hall. I walked with Dave, still guessing what it was we were heading to.

We entered the hall together and almost immediately saw a large sign above the stage, where a band were limbering up, “Daddy-Son dance.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise, my school had had a Dad-Daughter dance a few weeks ago and a Mom-Son one the weekend before that, but I hadn’t been eligible (or interested in) either. A Dad-Son dance sounded weird, but also kind of fun, and it would certainly bond.

There were a number of round tables set around the dance floor and one of the staff gestured for me and Dave to go to one. We went to one at random, noticing there were twelve seats, half of which had a name badge with son and next to each of them Daddy. A few other guys joined us and myself and Dave quickly introduced ourselves and found out they were as mystified as we were about the evening’s events (but also as excited). As the last of the sons found a seat, a compère came on stage and tapped the microphone.

We turned expectantly towards him as süperbahis he waved his hand with a flourish, “Welcome to our first annual Daddy-Son dance, I hope you all enjoy the evening.”

He gave a brief pause as there was a brief rumble from the audience, who all seemed to be hoping and anticipating the same, though none of us knew what a Daddy-Son dance entailed. “Tonight we have the Mooncats playing for us, a selection of slow dances and more energetic jigs, modern and classical, something for you all we hope.” The band nodded their agreement and the compère went on, pointing out the extra buffet and serving staff with drinks as well as telling us that they’d all be here until two in the morning. Then he paused again , “And now he said dramatically, our special guests without whom you wouldn’t be here.”

He began to clap and we joined in as to my surprise a long line of women started to file from the wings and fill the stage. What was this? I wondered, where were our Dads. And then came a figure I knew so well, even if he was wearing high heels and a dress that clung tightly to his body – the women were our Dads, all glammed up with their hair styled and their lips done and their make-up on. I could feel the realisation dawning around the room as the applause slowed and then suddenly increased as we looked at our Dad’s again and saw the effort every one of them had put in. They pranced across that stage as if they’d been born in heels, wiggling like they had a real woman’s hips and with pouty smiles that they must have spent hours practising in front of the mirror. The compère milked it for all he was worth keeping the applause going as each Dad stepped and strutted across the stage until they were all in a line almost opposite to how they’d come in. Only then did he formally lean into the microphone and announce, “The Daddies…” to even greater and more rapturous applause.

I could see my own Dad smiling and blushing, as I tried to catch his eye – though we were too far away to make contact. The compère let the clapping continue for another half minute before raising his hands and lowering them palm down as a signal to quieten. He waited until we had shushed, all the Dads remaining in place as we did so, one leg jutting out with a knee and a hand on their hip as if they were posing for us (which they were). Once silence had fallen the compère spoke again, “I’m going to read out your names and when I do could you come to the stage and escort your Daddy date back to the table for the dance to begin… Tom Asquith… Harry Bates…” the roll call of names began and as each one was read out the son was up and going to the stage to escort his Daddy down.

It wasn’t long before my name was read out, “Todd Chadwick…” I stood up and gave a small nod to Dave, who was grinning like there was no tomorrow and then walked across the floor to the stage. He was already coming down the steps to meet me, his arm outstretched for me to hook through. He looked as anxious and nervous as I’d ever seen him, not even when he’d been in the stands for me before a big game, had his smile been quiet so weak and his pallor so wan.

I hooked my arm through his and he said, “Are you okay with this Daddy_Son dance. I know you couldn’t do the Mom-Son one and I hoped you enjoy this one?” There was a quaver in his voice and he looked at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.

I didn’t respond for a second, as I quickly collected my thoughts and decided what to say. He must have mistaken my intent, “If you don’t like it we can go and never speak of it again.”

“You look gorgeous, Dad,” I said in reply.

He did. I hadn’t noticed that he’d been growing his hair a little longer than normal and it now reached to his collar; whoever had done it had coloured it with blonde highlights and styled it in a deliberately short and messy which left the fringe trailing sexily over his eye and down over his ears. His mouth turned slowly upwards at my words, the red lipstick so carefully applied to them making his lips seem both more luscious and larger than they were. Colour returned to his cheeks beneath the make-up, he had always been a smooth shaver, but he seemed even smoother now like he was untouched by a razor. I looked at his eyes, whoever had done the eye-shadow – him or a helper, had found a shade which matched perfectly and I wasn’t sure whether his lashes had been subtly extended or whether they were his natural ones, curled.

I had never imagined him dressed as a woman, but if I had I could never have imagined he’d look that good. The dress he’d chosen was a slinky black number, with tiny straps over the shoulder and a spread so it showed the man cleavage of his smooth chest, behind it was cut even deeper, going down to his lower back. It went a little past his thighs, but ended well above his knees as he walked perfectly in a pair of heels which added two inches to him.

As süperbahis güvenilir mi we reached our seat I remembered my manners, pulling back the chair to allow Dad to sit and then briefly introducing him to Dave, who was awaiting his own name being called. I sat down and pushed my chair closer to Dad’s so we could speak without the others hearing. “I never imagined seeing you like that, you’ve put in so much effort,” I said.

He blushed, “We’ve been planning it a long time. I’m on forum group for single dads and a group of got talking about how bad it was that as sons you didn’t get to go to a dance because you didn’t have moms. It just escalated from there, a few of us got interested in doing something and we set up our own private forum, inviting new people from the main site if they looked interested. At first we thought it’d just be fun to do something together instead of a dance, then it became a dance, because otherwise it’s just normal things we do not a Mom-Son dance and then we decided that we needed to make it special and all dress up as women, so it really was like a replacement Mom-Son dance.”

“You all look so good,” I said and whilst I’m biased to say my Dad was the best, each and every one was so feminine and beautiful looking, that with a first glance only their sons would know they were middle-aged men not Milfs.

“We’ve all been practising for the last few months, how to walk in heels, how to put on lipstick and make-up, how to dance…”

“How to dance?” I asked, raising an eyebrow wryly

“We are at a Daddy-Son dance,” my Dad laughed.

I saw Dave was coming back with his Dad, a slender man with short red hair in a pixie style and lipstick to match. Dave was grinning broadly. In fact most of the sons had taken it well, a couple had stormed out, but that still left well over a hundred here, a sign that the Dads had guessed well their sons would all enjoy the experience. Apart from the couple of leavers all the Dads and sons were now at their tables and the compère gave a small bow to the audience and a wave to the band who began to play.

The floor remained empty as none of the sons wanted to be the first up, shy teenagers that we were. Instead I took a couple of glasses of orange from a passing waitress and passed one to Dad. He smiled and sipped it, as I asked, “Do you want something stronger?”

He shook his head, “It’s an alcohol free weekend, we don’t want it clouding our judgement.”

I wasn’t a big drinker and neither was Dad so that was fine by me, so I asked him a bit more about his get-up. He told me that he’d spent the afternoon with the other Dad’s getting styled by professionals, making sure that everything was perfect. He wouldn’t tell me, whether the lashes were fake, giggling and saying a Daddy has to keep some secrets. I just grinned and said I’d find out later, as we never could keep secrets from each other for long. Dad giggled some more and said we’d see. We talked about his dress. He explained that he and the others had been to the hotel a few times whilst we’d been at school for fashion shows until he’d finally chosen one he was sure was right; it was perfect I agreed with him.

The band were playing a faster, rockier number and a few of the Dads and sons were getting up to dance. I saw my own Dad glance at the floor and I wondered if he was going to ask me up. He didn’t turning back to me instead and briefly talking about how he’d been practising in heels. I guessed that as he was playing the woman’s role tonight he didn’t think it was appropriate to suggest we got up; personally I thought that was old-fashioned and thought that a women she’d be at perfect liberty to make a first move. But my Dad was in his late forties and had been brought up in a different time, no matter how much he wanted to he wasn’t going to ask.

That left it to me. I stood up, pushing my chair back and turned to my Dad as I did, “Do you want to dance?”

He smiled in delight, “Yes.”

I waited until he stood, before placing my hand on his back and escorting him to the floor. It was a fast moving free for all where Dads and sons were rocking and twisting to a beat, rather than a close-dance. It was lucky as I wasn’t yet sure on the rules for touching, a normal dance partner I’d slide down to their ass, but did you do that with your Dad even if he was dressed as a sexy woman? I didn’t need to worry for a few minutes as we began to dance, me with skill and grace, Dad like he hadn’t hit the floor for twenty years (which was probably true). He wasn’t the worse dancer, but he wouldn’t have been in the top ten anyway.

The dance floor began to get busier as more Dads and sons worked up the courage to get up there and the band continued with their rocky hits. Suddenly without warning the next number was slower, a close dance. I could see some sons quickly leaving the floor, their Dads in tow, not yet ready to plunge. I was tempted to join them until I saw the yearning in my Dad’s eyes and knew he wanted to do this. I grinned and made myself look as confident as I didn’t feel, “You said you’d been practising your dancing?” Dad nodded and I quickly continued before my nerve went out, “So let’s see how good you are.”

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