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“Daddy’s going to help you fix them all, babygirl,” Jackson says, taking my hand in his and kissing the knuckles. “You just tell me exactly what to do and I’ll do it. I’m your assistant.”

“So I’m the boss now?” I grin, enjoying the thought of being in charge.

“Just while we fix these, yes.”

I spread out the fabric on the floor of the plane and look over it. It’s weird. I only have a vague recollection of the contest I’m heading to right now, but I still know how to dothis.

Bits of memory keep coming back, pictures of people I know I’ve met but I’m not sure who they are. I know that Jackson’s dad is a retired football player. That came back to me at the house, and when I asked Jackson he said that was right. But confusingly I thinkmydad might be a footballer as well. Is that how we met? Through our fathers?

I haven’t even asked about my mom. Who she is, how well we get along, when I might see her next. I have this image of a beautiful woman and a loving relationship, and part of me doesn’t want to shatter that illusion if it turns out we hate each other and I haven’t seen her in years.

But all of those worries are pushed aside as I just enjoy the simple pleasure of mending my clothing collection. As I show Daddy how to use a needle and thread, and get him pulling together the easier bits, I work on a blue ruched satin evening gown that needs a lot of work.

And slowly, as we laugh and he tries his hardest to sew, it all comes together like magic.

“I’m really good at this, huh?” I ask as I hold up a finished piece, nod and fold it aside. It will need to be ironed when we get to the hotel, but at least it’s fixed.

“You’re amazing,” Jackson says. “The best.”

“Simply the best,” I sing, chuckling to myself as I put the final stitches into the piece he was working on for me, making sure it’s absolutely as good as it can be. “I think I might win.”

Jackson stands and steps over to me, standing behind me as I nod, satisfied, and put the final piece with the rest.

“You deserve to,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I already won, getting you. It’s about time you got something too.”

“I got you, Daddy,” I say, smiling as I stand and turn toward him. “What more could a little girl wish for?”

I feel his bulge starting to grow as I press myself against him, and grin as I reach down between us, rubbing a hand over the hard tip. It triggers a memory, and for a moment I hesitate. The first time I did this it felt wrong. But why? I close my eyes trying to remember.

“God, you’re not married are you?”

“Jesus.No.What’s wrong, baby?”

I shake my head. “Nothing, I just…” The memory fades as quickly as it came, and I notice with delight that my hand is wrapped around his shaft through the soft suit pants. “Daddy’s cock,” I whisper.

“What’s your job, baby?”

“To make sure Daddy’s cock is always satisfied. Using all my holes, my tongue, my hands, my tits, my feet. To not waste a drop of Daddy’s special cream.” I flutter my eyelashes as I look up into his face, still stroking his head with the palm of my hand. “Nobody else is here, Daddy. Just the pilot and he has to fly the plane.”

“Naughty girl,” he whispers with a grin, and I nod.

“As naughty as you want me to be. All for you, Daddy.”

Eleven

Jackson

An older woman at the check-in desk for the contest looks up and smiles at Mina. “Your name, please?”

“Mina Miller,” she says before I can stop her.

We checked into the hotel under my name, of course, so that wasn’t a problem. Then we had the rest of the day to ourselves, but I hadn’t anticipated this. Of course, for the contest, they need to know she’s really the one that won.

As the woman runs a finger down her list of names, stopping at Mina’s name and frowning, I step forward.

“It might be under Mina Sanders,” I tell her.

“Really?” Mina looks confused.