CHAPTER ONE
Lena
We’re all at Rollie’s house, giggling like crazy as we color and eat our snacks. All the Daddies are out on the back porch barbecuing, and the little girls and I are having a wonderful time.
Of course, the rest of them are having a better time than I am. All the Daddies on the back porch have two things in common. First, they all have little girls they love, protect, guide and care for. Second, none of them has me.
I don’t have a Daddy. I haven’t had one for two and a half years.
That leaves a void in my life that seems to grow with every passing second. I need a Daddy. I need to have a man I can love, a man who will care for me and treat me like a princess
I don’t want to ruin my friend’s fun, though. I am so happy for Josie and Michael, the newest couple of the group, and Josie is blooming so wonderfully with her relationship. I don’t want to rain on her parade, so I try to drive all of my unhappiness away and concentrate on making a scary-looking wolf seem funny by coloring it hot pink as it chases after two sheep wearing business suits.
When the doorbell rings, Rollie gets up, but Carl opens the sliding glass door and says, “I’ll get it, pumpkin. I’m expecting Waylon.”
“Okay, Daddy!” Rollie says brightly and then plops back down to color. I immediately feel jealous about how sweet their relationship is.
“Who’s Waylon?” I whisper.
Rollie whispers back, “A friend of Daddy’s from back in college.”
I nod and glance toward the door. When I caught sight of Waylon, I knew I didn’t just need any Daddy. I need Waylon to be my Daddy. The man looks like a model, like one who posed for an Ancient Greek sculptor to fashion a statue of Hercules or Zeus. His body is muscular in a very profound way.
His clothing is casual, with khaki slacks and a black tee shirt. He carries himself in a way that suggests he doesn’t work for his physique or, more accurately, he doesn’t give it any thought at all.
Waylon is not the kind of man who vainly works out for hours and looks in the mirror every fifteen minutes to see if he’s gained any additional definition. He is the kind of man who is muscular because he lives a life in which he uses his body. His weightlifting happens in his work, whatever it is, and not in a building with a bunch of vain people trying to outdo each other. His eyes are dark and brooding, but there is almost a smile in them. “Is he a Daddy?” I whisper to Rollie. She doesn’t answer.
I groan softly and look at Waylon’s beard, the way it follows the contours of his face, and how his mustache curls up at the corners.
I hear Rollie, Josie, and Helen giggling, and I turn to look at them. They’re laughing at me! Vanessa smiles at me and says, “I think someone here is lovestruck.”
I blush furiously and say, “No, I’m not!” Then, of course, I start giggling because there’s no way to deny it. “Well, maybe just a little,” I say.
We’re all laughing like crazy when Waylon and Carl reach us. Carl says, “Settle down, little girls,” in a tolerant tone that nonetheless demands obedience.
We half settle down, but trying not to giggle makes it much harder. Carl manages to introduce us all, one by one. Waylon nods at all of us, and when he says, “Good to meet you, Lena,” I feel like I’ll melt into a puddle right there in the living room!
When Carl and Waylon walk outside, the teasing begins. Waylon and Lena are in love. Lena, Lena, Lena! It’s all giggly and fun, and I feel good about everything, even if it’s embarrassing and silly. I can’t stop blushing or smiling, and the truth is, I don’t want to stop.
The Daddies come in with a platter of steaks and baked potatoes. We all sit at Carl’s enormous table, and I feel kind of left out as the Daddies start cutting their little girl’s steaks. I know I can cut my own steak, but that’s not the point. I’m a little girl, and I don’t have a Daddy to take care of me.
I try to hide my disappointment as I reach for my steak knife. “Hold on, Lena,” Waylon says. I look at him in shock. He says, “Would you like me to cut that for you?”
I feel like I’ll faint! I nod, almost frozen, and he raises an eyebrow.
Dear God! Just that eyebrow raise speaks volumes! “Yes, please, Waylon,” I say. He smiles in approval and takes my plate. When he returns it to me, the steak is cut into bite-sized pieces, and the baked potato is split with butter, sour cream, and chives. He also added a side of broccoli to my plate. “Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome,” he says, and I almost hear him add littlegirl to the end. The rest of dinner progresses, and I catch him looking at me repeatedly. I eat the broccoli, most of my steak, and baked potato. Tentatively, I push my plate forward. If he were my Daddy, he’d say something about leaving food on the plate. I feel a hint of disappointment that he won’t say anything.
But he does. Waylon says, “I know you won’t want to waste food, Lena. I’ll pack that up for you so you can finish it later.”
“Thank you, Waylon,” I say. “That’s very nice of you.”
I wonder if he knows what I mean is take me home with your right now and fuck me until I can’t think straight and then keep fucking me until I go forever insane, just a crazy, trembling little girl with a daddy who takes care of her and makes her happy forever.