Daddy’s Nervous Little by Jess Winters
CHAPTER 4
Lawrence
I don’t miss the way her lips part and her breath catches in her throat when I tell her we should go inside. I want nothing more than to fulfill her fantasy, and mine, but now isn’t the time for that. She needs a Daddy, not just a lay, and I need a relationship that’s about more than just sex.
So, even though I know I can have her easily and she’ll be excited to give herself to me, I don’t make a pass at her once we’re inside. Instead, I lead her to the couch and sit next to her.
“Have you ever had a Daddy before, Wendy?”
She nods slowly. “Yes,” she says. “I mean, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Well, I dated this guy a few years ago who was a Daddy and we went through the motions. I called him Daddy, he called me little girl. He would spank me if I misbehaved, you know, that stuff. We weren’t really in love, though. It was just a fling for a few months before he moved away. We never had a conversation like this one. I guess… I guess he wasn’t really my Daddy, and I wasn’t really his little girl. We just pretended to be for a while.”
After telling me this, she looks at me a moment. Then her eyes and mouth fly open. She clasps her hand over her mouth and says, “Oh my God! I can’t believe I just told you that! Why would I tell you about my last relationship on the first date? Oh my God, I’m so stupid! I’m—”
She doesn’t finish that thought because I immediately snap at her. “Little girl, you are never to call yourself stupid again, do you understand me?”
She stares at me, stunned into silence by the forcefulness of my voice. I’m guessing her last “Daddy” never used that tone with her. There is fear in her stare, but there is lust as well and I feel my body responding. Goddamn, she’s beautiful. I force my lust to the side and continue, “You are not stupid, Wendy. You know that, right?”
She doesn’t respond so I snap again. “Answer me, little girl.”
She squeaks and quickly says, “Yes, Daddy. I know I’m not stupid.”
“Then why do you call yourself stupid?”
“I…” she pauses for a moment. Her lip trembles and she seems on the verge of tears. I give her some time to work out the words she wants to say, though she’s not having an easy time coming up with them. I can see the battle waging inside of her, a battle I know she desperately wants to win. I also know the first step is the hardest for her.
I gently take her hands in mine and say in a much more soothing tone, “Little girl, if I’m going to be a good Daddy to you, then you need to trust me enough to talk to me about things that aren’t comfortable to talk about. I know it’s hard. Just remind yourself that I will never put you down or belittle you or make you feel stupid for the things you say and do.”
She nods and takes a deep breath. Then she says, “I don’t know why I think about myself like that. I’ve always done it, ever since I was a little girl. I think I just get so afraid of looking stupid that I psych myself out, so when I do make a mistake I feel like it’s just proof I shouldn’t have tried after all, that I am really stupid and now everyone can see it.”
“But you know you’re not stupid.”
“I know,” she says. “I’m a nurse. A good one. You can’t be a good nurse if you’re stupid.”
She says this so matter-of-factly I can’t help but chuckle. God, she’s adorable! She laughs with me and when she speaks again, she is more relaxed and her voice trembles less. “I know I’m not stupid. I’m just afraid sometimes that other people might think I’m stupid if I make a mistake.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Well, because smart people aren’t supposed to make mistakes. They’re supposed to be smart enough to know better.” She shrugs. “You know, it starts in school. If you get good grades early enough, everybody assumes you’re really smart. They expect you to know how to do things, to get things right away. They expect… Well, pretty soon you’re afraid to admit if you don’t know something, and…”
She pauses and I almost speak. I’m glad she speaks first when she says, “I guess I was just never good enough. Well, and you start to think you’re stupid because you don’t come up with answers immediately, or you’re not as quick to come up with an answer you want to come up with and… Well, the point is smart people don’t make mistakes, but I do.”
“Honey, smart people make mistakes all the time. Even the smartest person in the world doesn’t know everything, and that’s okay. What’s important is that you learn from your mistakes so you don’t keep repeating them.”
She nods agreement, but I can tell she’s not entirely convinced. “Tell me what’s wrong, princess.” She bites her lip but doesn’t answer. “Little girl,” I press more firmly.
She looks up at me, eyes watery. “But how do I stop?” she asks timidly. “How do I stop these thoughts from taking over me? Every time I get close to getting a handle on this, I… Well, I collapse and screw it up.”
I reach forward and stroke her cheek. “There are some things we can do to help build your confidence,” I say. “The first step is cleaning your apartment.”
“Cleaning my apartment?” she asks incredulously. “How’s that going to make me feel smarter?”
“I think a lot of your confidence issues stem from the fact that you allow yourself to see yourself as stupid. You allow yourself to see yourself as a failure. I think allowing your apartment to stay messy is a big part of that.”
She looks at me dubiously, so I ask, “Does your nurse’s station at the hospital look like this?”
She quickly shakes her head. “Oh no, I always make sure it’s clean, organized, and well-stocked.” She says it quickly, the look on her face telling me she doesn’t comprehend the connection.
“And do you feel like you’re a bad nurse?” I ask. “Are you constantly worried you’ll screw things up, or do something stupid?”
“No, for some reason, work is the only place I feel… Oh!” Her eyes brighten as she realizes the point I’m trying to make.
“Do you see what I mean?” I ask.
She nods happily. “I see now, Daddy.” She frowns and says, “But I think I keep the station clean because I’m a good nurse. I don’t think I’m a good nurse because I keep the station clean.”
I nod and say, “Sure, I understand that. But tell me something, little girl. If your station were messy, what would you do?”
“Clean it.”
“When?”
“Immediately.”
“Why?”
She pauses and shrugs. “Because I’m a good nurse. Good nurses don’t have messy stations.”
I nod. “That’s right. If you want to think of yourself as good and not stupid, you need to take away things that make you feel the opposite. I think cleaning your apartment is a good start. It’s something you see every day. Something you see neglected every day.”
“Neglected,” she says. “I never thought about it that way. I think I understand now, Daddy.”
“Good. Tomorrow, we’ll make sure your apartment is clean, organized, and well-stocked.”
She looks coyly at me. “Tomorrow? What are we going to do tonight?”
I smile at her. “What do you want to do?”
In response, she smiles a little bit nervously. Then, she stands and lifts her shirt over her head. She isn’t wearing a bra and her breasts bounce tantalizingly before resting, her nipples erect. She slowly unzips her shorts and slides them, along with her panties, down her legs. Then she straightens up and stares at me. “I’ve been fantasizing a whole lot about what I’d like you to do, Daddy. Will you please… please…” She smiles almost conspiratorially as though the next word is something she doesn’t want anyone to hear. She almost whispers, “…fuck me?”
