Daddy’s Shy Little Girl by Jess Winters

CHAPTER THREE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Janna

I feel like my mind is going to explode and I don’t know that I’ve ever been as nervous as I am right now. Okay, that’s probably not true since I spend most of my life pretty damned nervous. I’m shy bordering on some kind of mental disorder, not that I’ve ever checked in with a therapist about it. The point is, every day I’m nervous as can be. I’m terrified just ordering coffee at a coffee shop. I’ve been going to the same one for almost a year now and sometimes, when it’s a barista I don’t know, I’ll just turn around and go without coffee for the day. So, maybe I have been more nervous than this before, who knows.

I’m not nervous because I’m shy, though.

I’m nervous because I finally have a face and a body for my Daddy that isn’t borrowed from one of my friend’s Daddies. As far as I’m concerned, Donnie must be the most perfect man on Earth. I can’t believe just how sexy, smart, handsome, stern, strong… Well, I can’t believe just how perfect this man is. I also can’t believe I’m on a date with him! I was too afraid to talk with him past the introduction at the beginning of the barbecue even though I desperately wanted to. But he asked me out anyway!

How does something like that happen?

Jesus, I have no idea how I managed to say, “Yes,” and it was a good thing I could just tap my phone to send him my address because I don’t think I could have given it to him any other way.

When the knock comes on the door, I think I’ll faint. I manage to make it to the door, though, and I open it up. Donnie stands there, a giant of a man. Actually, I think he’s only six feet and a couple of inches but he might as well be a giant since I’m tiny, barely cracking five two. My sister Kendra calls me Pixie because I’m tiny and I have a tiny frame but it’s still a very womanly frame with an hourglass figure and breasts and a rear end to die for. She says if I grew wings I’d be perfect for animated porn.

She just says that stuff to make me blush like a boiled lobster.

I look like a boiled lobster now, of course, because I’m looking at Donnie and wondering if he would like the look of me without any clothes, or wings for that matter. He’s tall and muscular and his beard is perfect. He’s got deep nut-brown hair and his beard is curly but looks soft rather than scratchy, like the kinds of beards in books about Greek heroes like Hercules or Perseus. I love the thought of being Princess Cassiopeia to his Perseus, that’s for sure.

“Are you going to invite me in?” Donnie asks. The shyness kicks in and he says in a stern voice, “Little girl, it isn’t polite to make a person wait outside when you’re expecting him.”

God.

I could faint because of the shyness.

I could also faint because if he’d reached between my legs and rubbed me there it wouldn’t have turned me on any more than his voice did.

“Yes, please!” I squeak out. “Please come in!”

I step back and let him enter. I catch a whiff of him as he enters and the smell is so intoxicating I have to stifle a moan. I don’t know if he’s wearing cologne or if he just naturally smells amazing but I am now seriously worried about soaking my panties.

He looks around and nods approvingly. “You keep your home very clean and organized,” he says.

I brighten at his praise and even make eye contact as I say, “My mom always used to say that cleanliness was next to godliness.”

He turns to me and the smile on his face—equal parts enjoyment and predatory lust—sends shivers down my spine. “Your mother sounds like a smart woman. I’m glad to see her daughter takes after her.”

My blush deepens and I’m suddenly nervous. I shuffle my feet and don’t say anything. After a few moments, he says, “Are you ready to go?”

I nod without looking up.

“Answer with words, little girl,” he says in the same stern tone of voice from earlier.

My eyes snap up to his and warmth floods me, pooling in that old familiar spot deep inside me. “I’m ready,” I say breathily. Little girl!He just called me little girl!

His smile widens. “Let’s go, then.”

He takes me to a restaurant near downtown, one that isn’t super fancy but has really good food. I am quiet on the car ride but when Donnie asks me a question, I make sure to answer. Somehow that little command from him to answer with words actually gives me the strength to answer with words. It’s not quite the same as engaging in conversation but it’s something and it’s far more than I would ordinarily be able to do in this circumstance.

It doesn’t help that Donnie is so mind-numbingly handsome. I have no idea how in the world he’s managed to remain single and I have even less of a clue why he would choose to ask me out when he could have literally any girl he wanted.

When we’re seated at the restaurant, the waiter approaches us, smiling. I stare at my menu as usual, refusing to look up. I dread the moment when I will be asked my order and I’ll have to talk to the intimidating figure in the apron but I never do. Instead, Donnie says, “I’ll order for Janna.” He looks at me. “That is, if that’s all right with you.”

I nod, relieved, only barely remembering to answer with words. “That’s fine, Donnie. Thank you.”

He orders me a braised salmon fillet with steamed broccoli and risotto on the side. When the waiter comes with our food, I try the salmon. My eyes widen and I look at Donnie and exclaim, “It’s delicious!”

He smiles. “I’m glad you like it, Janna.”

I smile gratefully and say, “Thank you for ordering for me. I don’t know why, I get really nervous in these situations.”

“Why do you get nervous?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just always afraid I’m going to say the wrong thing and look stupid.”

“I don’t think you sound stupid.”

“I know, I know. I know I shouldn’t think this way but I do. I’ve always been anxious in social situations. Anyway, thank you for ordering so I didn’t have to.”

He nods and smiles. “My pleasure, Janna.”

The conversation turns back to small talk. I tell Donnie about moving to town the year before and slowly making friends. He tells me about growing up her and the scrapes he and his friends would get into as kids.

After we’re finished eating, he looks at me and asks, “Do you feel like dessert?”

I nod eagerly. “Yes, please!”

“Okay,” he replies. “When the waiter returns, I want you to order yourself some dessert.

I stare at him a moment. “M…Me?”

“Yes,” he replies. “When the waiter returns, I would like you to order your own desert. It’ll be a good chance for you to practice building confidence in social situations.

The waiter approaches us and my heart begins to pound. I haven’t even looked at the menu.

What have I gotten myself into?