I nearly faint from the thrill of Daddy's kiss, and it seems like hours before he releases me. Along with the other fathers and daughters, we slowly m...ve toward the elevator. Daddy keeps his arm around my waist. I feel my nipples rubbing against the fabric of my blouse.His hand gently rubs my bottom on the elevator. Everybody else is staring at the dopey numbers above the door, so they don't notice. I can really feel the tension, though. Three other daddies and their daughters are on here with. My mom didn't mind our drinking, if it was in the back yard and no one was going to drive. As we all lived a short distance from each other, that was never an option. Her and I lived alone, dad was a distant memory for both of us and there was never any longing from me to see his shadow move across our doorway. She was Philippa and I was Ian. She worked in middle level downtown corporate, was in her early 40's, just a little shorter than my 5'11", light auburn hair cropped to mid neck, with. As Ientered her lovely home she gave me a quick tour so I would know where tofind things and be able to direct guests to what they needed. She told meto lift my skirt and show her how I was dressed. She laughed at my diaperand said it was a nice touch. She said everyone will love knowing thatthe sissy maid is really a sissy baby. We went to the kitchen and sheoutlined my tasks for the night and instructed me to start fillingplatters with snacks and hors d'ouevres. I took to the task and. ’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Her wheelchair won’t fit in the elevator.’ Of course, this was in the ghastly pre-Americans With Disabilities Act days, when disabled people were meant neither to be seen nor heard. The rest of us were all hot for desegregation and racial equality (I had friends who Freedom Rode, and we all went to all the appropriate demonstrations), but no one thought about gays, Lesbians, or disabled people, except other gays, Lesbians and disabled persons. It would have been a novel thought.