The phone screen lit up again, and Bertie thanked his instincts again for putting the device on silent before he’d gone to bed. He rolled over on the unfamiliar mattress, hoping it was just his mother checking in or maybe a work emergency.

If you want to catch
Up, Mill Rush noon tomorrow
Great potato skins

He’d traveled over six hours in bad weather to be here, to spend the weekend with a friend he hadn’t seen in over a year. He didn’t remember telling anyone but his boss, some coworkers and his mom – but somehow Gil had found out anyway.

At least he hadn’t woken Rachel. He knew how much trouble she had sleeping through the night, and was glad that the random text had flown beneath her notice. In fairness, Rachel didn’t know about Gil. Bertie had never told her. He hadn’t thought that he’d need to.

But here they were, in the same region at the same time. And if he didn’t meet with the man the one time that the stars had aligned, he knew he’d hear about it for years to come.

He rolled over, noting the empty mess of sheets where a certain visitor had tried to sneak in during the night. “Just to sleep,” she’d promised, her crooked smile suggesting anything but. She might have tried for more if she’d been able to lie still, but her tender backside and constant squirming had made her a poor bedmate. Bertie had seen the marks – she should have already learned that goading Rachel into spanking her would get her more than she’d bargained for.

The sun had just risen over the snowy streets as Bertie snuck out the door toward his car. He’d wiped it off the day after the storm, and was glad he’d taken the time. Even still, he was opened his door and started up the car as quietly as he could. The note he’d left to Rachel would explain his absence more convincingly than he could himself.

And then the passenger door opened as well.

“Morning, Daddy,” said Mika. “Where are we going?”

***

He’d first met Mika through a friend she’d been dating some two years ago, and his judgment at the time was that Jeff must have been thinking with the wrong head. Mika was young, animated and an exotic beauty – but she was also a spoiled brat who couldn’t understand why the local fetish community didn’t take her seriously. When she’d finally broken up with her nearly seventy-year-old boyfriend, Bertie was sure he’d seen the last of her.

But Rachel had somehow managed to see past Mika’s provocative exterior and the two had remained friends, enough that Mika had invited the couple to come meet with her parents during the long weekend. Of course, the family had never been there – Mika had wanted Bertie and Rachel for a kinky last hurrah before she joined the corporate track that those same parents had laid out for her.

In times before, Bertie had resisted the urge to give Mika a good spanking, as much as she teased him. But he’d already taken her over his knee once since the weekend started, and he was feeling the temptation to do it again.

“Please get out of the car, Mika.”

“I want to come with you. Come on, Daddy! You know Mommy’s going to be in bed for another hour at least. This weekend was supposed to be fun!”

So she’d hoped, Bertie fumed to himself, not that she’d shared her plans beforehand. His own hope was that Mika would become more tolerable once he’d finally given in to her little domestic fantasy, but he was similarly disappointed - and she still hadn’t stopped calling him ‘Daddy’.

“Mika, this is personal.”

“So personal that you can’t tell your girlfriend where you’re going?” Mika snapped. “You’ve been glancing at your phone every five minutes.”

Bertie stared back in shocked silence. “I’m not… this isn’t an affair, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

“Good to hear. Then why are you so jumpy?” He couldn’t bring himself to answer, so she continued, “If it’s something bad, wouldn’t you rather have someone with you?”

Even gripping the steering wheel, his hand was trembling. Mika was more perceptive than he’d expected – and she might well be right, as well.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But you have to behave. No sex stuff, okay?”

“Absolutely! I still want to have that three-way later.”

“Mika…”

“The first thing you have to know is that I have really sensitive nips and it’s not in a sexy way, so anything like biting or pinching is off the table. Licking is okay. Are you taking notes? I think you should be taking notes.”

Bertie clenched his teeth and drove.

It turned out that the plows had been busy since the previous morning. Even at the city limits, the roads were clear and salted. Mika exhausted herself in short order and sat quietly throughout the rest of the ride, fidgeting in her seat and occasionally humming along to the radio.

Two hours after he’d left, Bertie’s GPS informed him that he had reached his destination. He looked up from the dashboard to a small pub on the corner of the street. A sign hanging over the vestibule read: Milles Roches.

The bar was nearly empty at the early hour, and Gil wasn’t hard to find. He’d lost weight since the last time Bertie had seen him – ten years ago, now? His close-trimmed hair and beard had turned as white as the snow outside, but the look suited him. What didn’t was the polyester jacket, though it must have been the height of fashion in the eighties. Gil always had them tailored too wide in the shoulders.

Mika raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the silver fox?”

“That’s my dad,” said Bertie glumly.

Gil rose with a grin from the booth he’d been occupying and gestured the pair over toward him. He stretched out his arms in what could have been a hug, but morphed uneasily into a handshake and a pat on the back as Bertie approached.

“I hope the drive wasn’t too bad,” welcomed Gil, and turned admiringly to Mika. “This must be Rachel, I suppose. You never told me she was Asian. I know a great Chinese place around the corner—“

“Do they have pasta?” asked Mika.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, I’m not Chinese… but my Poppa’s Italian, if that helps.”

Bertie barely caught it – a twitch at the edge of Gil’s lip, a flaw in his effortless good humour. He’d never seen his father caught off-guard like that, and he doubted that he’d ever see it again.

Mika chuckled. “Sorry, it’s a joke. I’m Mika, by the way. Bertie and I are… friends.”

She left ‘...with benefits’ unspoken, to Bertie’s relief. Gil missed the implication, perhaps still baffled by the earlier conversation. Finally, he laughed.

“Oh, I like her. She’s funny!” He gestured toward the table, and all three took their seats. “So, how did the two of you meet?”

“I went to school near where Bertie and Rachel live,” said Mika before Bertie could speak a word, “We kept running into each other in the shops and the grocery store, and eventually struck up a conversation. I’ve always had trouble making friends my own age.”

If Gil recognized the lies in any part of that story, it didn’t show. For his own part, Bertie was impressed at how convincing Mika could be. He’d never seen her in this element before – she was articulate and charming, hardly the demanding brat that he’d forced himself to endure over the last two days. Ashamed as he was to admit it, he’d underestimated her.

Gil turned back to Bertie. “Ah, so you and the missus are still together? I haven’t heard from you in a while, so forgive me if I’m behind the times.”

“We’re still together,” replied Bertie. “Still in the apartment.”

“I don’t blame you. I’ve seen the housing prices in your neck of the woods – brr! But the best time to buy’s always yesterday, right?”

“Uh, right.”

“What about you, lovely? Is there a young man in your life?”

His smile had always been Gil’s best feature. Even in his golden years, he’d kept it gleaming. (Bleach? Veneers, maybe?) At various times in his life, that smile had sold watches. Printers. Timeshares. At one time, it had even sold the promise of family.

And in the face of that smile, Mika blushed.

“There was somebody. He was an older man. A lot older.”

Gil’s eyebrows rose. “Bertie, really you shouldn’t have.”

Bertie felt himself involuntarily clench. True, Mika wasn’t his girlfriend, but she was a friend – kind of. Regardless, his father shouldn’t be flirting with a woman nearly young enough to be his grandchild.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Gil continued, patting Mika’s hand. It came across as an almost paternal gesture, innocent at first glance.

Mika laughed. “Oh, it’s nothing like that. My Dad—that is to say, Jeff, he wanted to settle down. And I loved him, but… you know, life’s too short, right?”

“I’m glad you said it. See, Bertram, this is what I’ve been telling you. You’re too cautious. You need to take more risks, live a little like this young lady here. Stop and smell the roses, you know?”

His hand hadn’t moved from Mika’s, nor did it seem like she was in any hurry for him to move it. Her grin had grown warmer with the prolonged contact, and he’d seen a flash of colour brighten her face at the mention of roses.

Without realizing he was doing it, Bertie inched closer to Mika in the booth. A waiter arrived to take their drink orders. Mika needed another moment with the cocktail menu, but Bertie only asked for water.

“This is the sort of thing I’m talking about,” said Gil after the server had left. “They’ve got eleven beers on tap here. You’re not even going to try one?”

“I have to drive.”

“Suit yourself.” Gil finished his second glass and brought it back to the table with a hearty thud. “So, Mika – I imagine you’re wondering why I asked you and Bertie to come here today.”

“You didn’t ask me to come,” Mika corrected. “I just tagged along.”

“And you’ll be glad you did. As it turns out, you’ve come at a really fortuitous time. I’ve got this new start-up going. New phone app, great concept. We’ve got an audition at the end of next month to pitch this thing on Dragon’s Den, we’re talking that big.

“Problem is,” Gil continued, “we need a little seed money before the big fish are going to bite. Just a little something to cover development costs. I’ll pay you back once we have a contract, of course. Bertram… this could be my big break.”

Bertie blinked. “Nobody’s going to fund a tech startup from a seventy-year-old man. Especially not after five bankruptcies.”

“Bertie!” Mika nudged him in the ribs. “Let your dad finish.”

“I’m sixty-six, and you should know that. We have the same birthday,” he added to Mika. “You’re right, though. That’s why Robbie is taking lead on this one. Twenty years old, and the kid’s a genius. The judges are going to love him. You’d like him too.”

“Who’s Robbie?”

“I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before. He’s my son.”

The pub door was firmly shut, but somehow Bertie felt the room grow colder.

“I was your son.”

Gil sighed. “That's not fair. Look, what went down between your mother and me… that was more than twenty years ago. She’s gotten over it, I don’t see why you can’t do the same.” His point made, he pivoted again. “As I was saying, Robbie’s the one with the expertise. His buddies at school have coded this app that lets him…“

Bertie knew that his father had little to no technical aptitude, but Gil never let his limitations stop him from a good pitch. He was talking up a storm about Robbie’s invention, singing the young man’s praises, but Bertie wasn’t hearing any of it. His focus was entirely on Mika.

He’d never denied that she was pretty, she just… wasn’t his type. She was too skinny, too loud, too forward. Too young. And he was almost certain that the feeling was mutual, as much as she enjoyed teasing. And yet, out of all the partners she could have chosen, she’d picked him for a threesome. (And Rachel. Mostly Rachel.)

But Mika was impatient, and he knew her tastes. Gil was mature, self-assured and unambiguously available, sitting before them, basking in the young woman’s rapt attention.

“I have to use the bathroom.”

He’d spotted the signage for the facilities on the way in, just in case he’d needed this excuse. Mika moved aside to let him out. Gil seemed annoyed to the extent that he noticed Bertie’s departure at all.

The bathroom door flew open with a bang, surprising Bertie with his own strength. An older man standing in front of a urinal yelled something at him, but the words never made it past the bass drum beating inside Bertie’s head. He leaned over the discoloured sink, his forehead nearly touching the mirror in front of him.

Images of Mika’s naked body flickered before his eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he’d anticipated seeing her like that again, but the vision was marred by the intrusion of his father’s wrinkled yet perfectly manicured hands wandering across her soft, unmarked skin, her dimpled little bottom.

His father’s tongue brushing her earlobe, his hot breath on the back of her neck as she moaned and begged for her Daddy.

His father’s voice telling Mika that she was his good little girl, and that he loved her.

That he would never leave her.

He should go, Bertie thought. Make his goodbyes, some empty promises to meet up again in another ten years, then take Rachel and go home.

He heard a woman’s voice. “Hey, buddy, piss off.”

“Believe me, I’m trying…”

There was a flush, then the door opened and closed again. Looking up, he saw Mika standing over his shoulder in the mirror. He waited for the inevitable comment – ‘Daddy, what’s wrong?’ Or at the worst, ‘Daddy, why do you look like shit?’

“You want to talk about it?” she asked.

“What’s there to tell? He left when I was thirteen – one week it was ‘I’ll see you at Christmas’, the next ‘This number is not in service’. He’s never told me why, but every few years he’ll check in with me. Each time I hope to get some kind of closure, usually I just end up with the bill.”

“Does Rachel know?”

Bertie shrugged. “The last time I heard from him was just after we’d started dating. I thought it was too soon for Rachel to see me like this.” He took a long breath. “If you’re looking for a Daddy, though, this one comes with references.”

He glimpsed a frown from Mika’s reflection.

“Is that what you think of me? I fucked one senior citizen, Bertie. Not because he was old, but because he was kind to me, and he treated me like an adult even when I wasn’t acting like one. Which is more than I can say for you.”

“And Gil? You have to admit, the man’s charming…”

“Honestly your dad’s kind of a pig. He thinks I can’t see him trying to stare through my shirt.”

She’d left her coat back at the booth. Underneath she’d worn a sweater that clung to her slim figure, emphasizing the sensitive nubs of her small breasts. She had on leggings in place of pants, a decision that puzzled Bertie given the cold weather.

“You were flirting with him.”

“I like to flirt. You know that.” She’d crossed her arms defensively, but it didn’t distract him from the smirk that she couldn’t quite hide.

Bertie felt a little better for that. He lifted his hands from the cracked porcelain and turned just as Mika wrapped him in a hug, her thin body surprisingly warm against his.

“Are we good?” she asked, his chest muffling her voice.

“I’m good,” he whispered. “You’re the one who’s being a brat.”

“Mm. And what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know, but surely some punishment is in order…”

He set his hands down on the seat of her leggings, cupping her cheeks in each hand.

Mika looked up at him with mock horror. “Are you threatening me? With a spanking? Whatever will I do?” She laughed. “And you’re the one who skipped out on Mommy without telling her where you were going. Remember, I’ve seen what she can do to your cute little butt when she’s mad.”

“We staged that scene for your benefit, you know. And my butt isn’t cute.”

“It isn’t little either, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to play along.”

He gave her a light smack and let her go. His bulge was becoming too prominent to ignore, and they hadn’t finished with Gil yet.

"Is he the reason you don't like me calling you Daddy?" asked Mika softly.

Bertie shook his head. "Honestly, no. It's just... kind of weird, that's all. I'm getting used to it." One last matter nagged at him. "Mika? You don’t like me that way, do you?”

“No. But you don’t have to be my boyfriend—“

“—To be your Daddy?”

She grinned. “You’re getting it. Come on, go get your closure and we can spend the rest of the weekend doing something fun, okay?”

By the time they got back to the table, Gil was already gone. He’d left behind two empty glasses and a slip of paper.

For just a moment, Bertie’s heart quickened. The paper was written-side down, and he turned it over with clumsy fingers. The typewritten note told him everything he needed to know.

Grumbling, he reached for his wallet.