May 15 So, I guess I’ve been doing these diaries for a few years now, but it’s only today that I’ve had something to write that is seriously super secret. Something I can’t let anybody read, not even my BFF, Madison. I sort of can’t believe it really happened. Anyway, Diary, you know how Daddy’s always so sweet to me? And he loves to kiss me, right? Only, it’s always been just a sweet Daddy-type thing in the past. Ever since Mom died, he and me’ve been real close, and I always loved that, knowing that he was there for me, and me there for him. And I know you know how all my friends have this thing for Daddy. And, in some sort of objective way, I always knew why. I mean, sure he’s really old and all, forty-five, or something, but he totally keeps himself fit, which is pretty impressive. Madison’s dad is all flabby, and Portia’s dad has this disgusting beer belly. I don’t even know why her mom stays with him! But my Daddy… well, anyway. Let’s just say he looks pretty good in a swimsuit. I’m always complaining to you about my senior year, diary. It seems like ever since I turned eighteen, the guys have been kind of stay-away from me. And I don’t know why! I mean, I’m still me, right? Still Fiona Dunn, on the cheer squad (but not good enough to be head cheerleader, I guess. That bitch Ashley Morgan’s got that spot locked up since tenth grade!), still rocking the good looks, IMHO. But yesterday, I saw Peter Horsley with Bridget Monahan. I’ve been so nice to him all year long, ever since Matt broke up with me. And he goes out with that cow? What is going on with this world? I still wonder whether it’s because I never gave out to Matt. Did he spread some nasty rumors about me? I swear, if I ever find out that he did, he will be several inches shorter in the crotch department. But back to what I was talking about, more importantly. What happened this afternoon when I got home. I was feeling pretty low, after seeing that. Questioning myself, you know? All that teenage angst. Clichés abound. I was moping around, just feeling blah, in my usual dumpy moping-around clothes, when Daddy came home. He’s all empathetic and shit, you know? Like, he always knows exactly what I’m feeling, somehow. It’s one of those Daddy things, but I guess not all Daddies have it. Anyway, I can always count on him to understand these things. “Hey, Kitten,” he said. “What’s eating you?” “Don’t want to talk about it,” I groused. “Come on, honey,” he urged, putting his briefcase down. He was rocking one of his fine suits, pinstriped and well-tailored. One of the perks of being a seriously successful lawyer, I guess. He always calls it keeping up appearances. He loosened his tie (red, with blue and gold diamonds) and sat down next to me on the couch. Well, of course, the waterworks began. You can’t resist the Daddy charm, no matter how mature you are. And the whole story poured out with my tears. He held me, stroked my hair, made all of the silly comments Daddies have to make about how Peter isn’t good enough for me, blah, blah, blah. Nothing out of the ordinary here, right, diary? Yeah, except that when I finally stopped sniffling, and wiped my nose with my hand, I knew I looked just as shitty as I felt. “God, I must look like hell, right?” “Nonsense, sweetie,” he said softly, brushing my hair out of my face and behind my ear. “You’re beautiful, like always.” “Yeah, right,” I snorted. “You’re just saying that because you’re my Daddy.” “No, I’m not.” He contemplated me, a thoughtful look on his handsome face. I gazed up at him, but broke before the intensity I saw there. As I looked down at the floor, his hand dropped onto my shoulder. “I’d kiss you from head to toe, Fiona.” That was a break from the script. I glanced up at him, confused. His hand felt warm and firm on my shoulder, his fingers right over my bra strap. I blinked a couple of times and said the only thing that came into my mind. “Huh?” “I mean it,” he said seriously. “I would.” “Daddy!” I gasped, and giggled, covering my mouth. “You… I mean, I think there are a few places you’d have to, um, like, skip?” Clearly my brain was still catching up. This is what I came up with as an objection to what he said? “Really?” He quirked an eyebrow in that typical Daddy way. “What places are those?” His eyes swept down my body, and I felt tingly, all over. It was the strangest feeling to be having with my Daddy. I knew what it was. It was that feeling I get when I think about sexy guys. “Oh. My. God,” I laughed, feeling both outraged and tipsy. “You know.” “No, I don’t,” he shrugged. “You’ll have to tell me.” I stared at him, a hysterical laugh just beneath the surface. This was not at all what I had expected. Was Daddy really saying he’d kiss me… everywhere? And I mean, everywhere? Like on my boobs, or between my legs? This was so not happening. “I can’t,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “Well, tell you what,” he said calmly. “You can show me. Let’s make a deal. Anything I shouldn’t kiss, you keep covered. I won’t kiss any part of you I can’t see. Conversely,” (such a typical Daddy word) “any part of you I can see, like this,” and he leaned in and kissed me right below the ear, “I can and will kiss, okay?” “Um…” I thought furiously. His warm lips on the tender skin at the corner of my jaw had felt like heaven. I’d not felt anything so sweet, so tender, so… loving in a long time. But wasn’t this wrong? He shouldn’t be doing that, right, diary? But who cared? It felt so great, I was willing to go along with it. In any case, I was in control. I could cover anything or everything I wanted to, and he’d be stopped from doing anything too… well, anyway. “Okay,” I said softly. I looked up into his intense green eyes. “Deal.” “All right, then,” he smiled. “I’m going to go get changed out of my monkey suit, and then we can have some dinner, okay?” And, then, diary, he just stood up and left me there. I was literally shaking on the couch, feeling like I’d just had an injection of adrenaline or something. And the weirdest thing? My nipples were like totally hard. Thank God I was wearing a baggy sweatshirt. What would Daddy have thought if he’d seen them? The rest of the evening, I was so totally on edge. I didn’t know how to act around him. I mean, this is Daddy we’re talking about. I’ve known him all my life, or I thought I knew him, anyway. Where did all this come from? And I just didn’t feel… safe. You know, the way I always felt around Daddy. But at the same time, I felt giggly. Excited. Nervous, but hyperaware of everything. The way he moved. The way he looked in his casual t-shirt and jeans. The way his aftershave smelled when he’d kissed me on my neck. The rasp in his deep voice. I was skittish, both anticipating and frightened of the next kiss. Which did come, BTW, diary. I was doing the dishes after dinner, putting plates in the dishwasher, when he came up behind me. My hair was in a pony-tail, of course. I heard him coming, and I just tensed up. But his hands on my shoulders were so familiar, so reassuring. “Mmmm,” he murmured. “I can see here.” I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck, and then his lips, gentle, teasing, pressed against where my shoulder met the base of my neck. I couldn’t help it; I felt such a tingle down my spine at the touch. I swear, diary, it shot right down into my place. God, I’m so bad for writing that. But it’s true. And that’s why it’s so super secret, diary, so if you go telling anyone, we’ll never be friends again. I’m sooooo embarrassed. My Daddy made me hot between my legs. Jesus, I’m hot right now, just thinking about it. Can I tell the truth, here? I mean, it’s just you and me, diary, right? Nobody looking over my shoulder, reading what I’m writing. Okay, thanks. I wanted so badly just to spin around in his arms and kiss him on the mouth. Isn’t that gross? I’m such a bad girl. To want to kiss my Daddy back for making me feel so good. But it’s all his fault, right? He started it. He made me feel this way. He got my engines revving, and I’ve got no outlet ever since stupid effing Matt broke up with me. So it’s Matt’s fault too. Not my fault. Truth is, I froze. I even dropped the plate I was holding so it fell into the sink and shattered. I was so nervous! What if… I mean… what if he’d been, like, hard, or something? And I, like, so did not want to find that out. Only I did, too, at the same time. I wanted to know that he was not just playing around with me, you know? That he really meant what he was doing. And if he’d been hard, I would have known. Only I didn’t really want to know that either! OMG, I’m so fucking confused. Anyway, he helped me clean up the broken dish, acting the whole time like nothing was different between us. But I was shaking. Shaking, I tell you! I made some excuse and high-tailed it up to my room, closing the door behind me before collapsing on the bed. And maybe I cried a little, diary, but maybe I touched myself a little also. Just now, he called good night to me through the door. I didn’t hear any remorse in his voice. I’m so tired.