Daughter In Need

There is no sex in this chapter

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I popped my head in my daughter's room, knocking on the door frame. "Alyssa, time to set the table."

"Okay Dad."

It had been almost a week since my daughter had returned from University after failing an entire semester's worth of classes. I had been as understanding as possible and after a face to face meeting with her therapist and guidance counselor I knew how important it was to unconditionally accept her. She was extremely depressed and emotionally fragile according to her school therapist. The woman assured me that her feelings were extremely common in students, and hinged on a belief that my love and approval were conditional upon her good grades. The anxiety had been eating her alive.

I was shocked. Alyssa (Ally to her friends) had been lying to me about her grades ever since her freshman year when they had apparently started slipping. Two years of increasingly inflated lies and I was caught completely blindsided by the entire thing - I thought she was having a great time as her phone calls indicated nothing but fun friends, interesting classes, and excitement for a semester abroad.

I of course was furious that she had been lying to me for so long but I was also furious at myself for not recognizing anything wrong. Had I messed up irrevocably in her teen years that she now felt this way? I'd expect this problem from clueless parents with unrealistic expectations - I'd had several friends (mostly Asian) who felt if they were anything other than a doctor or an engineer they were a failure. I had never expressed that kind or perfectionism, had I?

I knew Alyssa had some deep insecurities - a mother walking out on you will do that to you - but I had always thought I had done a pretty good job being fair and balanced and making up for it. I had insisted she go to therapy both individual and a few group sessions when she was younger. I had made sure she had a few strong female role models to spend time with- mostly her aunt Becky. I had read my fair share of child psychology books when I took on single parenting and took care to encourage independence without committing the Cardinal sin of being distant - something my own father had hurt me with. I knew that so-called 'Daddy issues' could take a lifetime to heal (mine certainly have) and that teenage girls were most vulnerable. I was very affectionate with Alyssa, set firm boundaries, and encouraged her to be open with me about everything (while helping Becky or a girlfriend make time for her to talk about girls stuff). I thought I had done everything right.

I waited in her doorway until she rolled her eyes at me but got up from her computer desk without complaint and passed in front of me to the stairs.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady."

I reached out and tousled her hair as she passed me.

"Dad! Don't mess with my hair!"

She shoved my chest hard. I rocked back but didn't move my feet. Alyssa stormed back into her room and emerged angrily combing the frizz I had introduced out. She huffed at me and handed off the comb. "You can put that back for me," she informed me snottily. I raised my hand again in threat and she jumped back, hissing "Don't you dare," and galloped down the stairs, jumping the last three.

I smiled as I put the comb on her bathroom sink and headed down. She still had a happy girl inside the zombie version I had been dealing with all week. Alyssa had at 14 gone through a period of time I privately dubbed the Drama Queen Phase (™) where she rolled her eyes at everything and gave me the most contemptuous looks and teenage snark. It was the same time she started caring exceedingly about her hair, makeup, and boys (in that order) and I eventually found the best policy to discourage it without actively punishing her was tweaking her hair. It was particularly effective when she had a date coming up. (Which had been almost every other day at the time.)

Alyssa had grown out of it for the most part, (though the dates never slowed down) but I still had to occasionally reinforce it over the years when she was particularly bratty. Every parent knows nothing tries your patience like a teenager and Alyssa without phone or Internet privileges (my go to punishments) was an absolute nightmare. Fortunately after Drama Queen Phase (™) petered out she was overall well behaved and I rarely had to chastise her. Case in point, it must have been a couple years since I had ruffled her hair like that.

I entered the kitchen to Alyssa pouring the drinks and took a seat. I flipped open the paper and read the editorials while she skipped around, setting my whiskey at my right and her fizzy water with juice at her place. I looked up from the paper and caught her eye, smiling at her. She smiled back, forgetting she was supposed to be mad at me or depressed with life. She evidently found the familiar routine as comforting as I did. Alyssa finished setting the table and pulled the food out of the oven and began serving us both. "No reading at dinner, dad."

I sighed theatrically and put away the paper. I made meatloaf today, with scalloped cheesy potatoes and fried veggies. Hearty fare but both of us were big eaters. (Ally had tried to diet once, but seeing as she was both skinny and active with soccer and gymnastics, I had put my foot down and had Becky come over for a long talk about body positivity and nutrition.)

Conversation stuttered and died as we ate. Alyssa had always filled meals with chatter, and its absence was conspicuous. I watched in the corner of my eye as she shrunk inwardly and picked at the last of her food.

It broke my heart to see my daughter robbed of her natural cheer like this, but I knew from experience that trying to coax her out of it with small talk of my own was useless. We finished the meal in silence, Alyssa didn't have seconds (slightly worrying), but waited while I ate. When I was done she started on the dishes without comment. I sat and brooded, trying to organize my plan of attack. The last few days I had been busy at the office and we hadn't really talked about her future. Alyssa got her old highschool job at the pharmacy back but hadn't started yet, and spent most of the time moping as far as I could tell. Obviously she needed more oversight, and I was both looking forward to and dreading having more time for her on the weekend.

Alyssa finished putting the food away and ghosted back up the stairs to her room. I sighed. What was I going to do with that girl? I didn't want to take away her communication privileges considering how she needed social contact now more than ever but I couldn't let things lie. Obviously I wasn't about to let her dropout of college when she was only three semesters away from graduating. She was too smart for that. She was on leave of absence but if her appeal to the school was successful she could return in the fall. That was almost a year from now though. God this was a mess. As selfish as it was I could see my dating life slipping away. I had already cancelled my weekend plans with my current girlfriend Selena. I had gotten used to having the house to myself, and having a despondent daughter who needed extra attention was sure to put my relationship in limbo.

I was on my second whiskey when the target of my worries clunked down the stairs in a pair of high wedged sandals and knee high socks. She had a crop top and miniskirt on and her makeup looked particularly glam. Her big hoops framed her face. I lifted an eyebrow at her and she fidgeted.

"Sean is picking me up."

"Sean huh?"

She curled the ends of her hair around her fingers nervously. I kept my face impassive, thinking hard. I needed to address the lying and everything else. Alyssa did not deserve to be going on dates at the moment. Especially with the guy she had been spending all her time with. The same guy who had dropped out last year and must have known she was in danger of failing herself.

At the same time, she had been miserable all week. I knew she was avoiding most of her friends. She had been wearing the same pair of sweatpants and oversized hoodie and I was convinced she had been skipping showers. Today was the first time since she'd come home that she had looked anything close to her normal put together self. In fact, that one smile at dinner was the first I'd seen. She very well might need this.

"Bit cold for the skirt, isn't it?"

"The socks are warm."

I dubiously eyed her black knee socks. They stretched to her thighs and just barely managed to avoid looking like lingerie.

"Be back by twelve," I finally acquiesced.

She scowled. "I'm an adult, I haven't had a curfew since I was 17."

I just looked at her. "Have you been behaving like an adult at school?"

She looked confused for a second before blushing furiously and I immediately wished I could re-word that. I favored my Mexican father and Alyssa got most of her looks from me but she inherited her mother's fair skin and when she got embarrassed her ears turned crimson.

"Was choosing to ignore your responsibilities an adult choice?" I re-worded it, ignoring the way her mind had jumped straight to the gutter.

She didn't look away from me but if anything her collar flushed even more and her eyes filled with tears. My heart broke and I pulled her into my arms.

"You know I love you no matter what, right?"

She was stiff for a second before snaking her arms under mine and burrowing her cheek against my chest. "I know, dad." I let go but she held the hug and I returned a hand to rub her back soothingly.

"But that doesn't mean you're in the clear," I warned. "You've got a lotta chore days in the future, alley girl."

Alyssa squeezed me tighter at the mention of her old nickname, which had accurately described her at 12; roaming the street with a pack of boys, always coming back covered in dirt and scrapes.

"Okay."

"Maybe for the rest of your life."

She hiccupped into my shirt. "Okay."

I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Starting early tomorrow."

"Okay."

"So I want you back here by twelve."

"Okay."

"And you're going back to therapy on Monday. I'll drive you."

"Okay."

"Got it?"

I pushed her shoulders back so I could look her in the eye. She smiled at me, big and genuine, and my heart soared.

"Back by twelve, chore day tomorrow, therapy Monday. I got it."

She held my eyes for a long moment before burying her head in my armpit again, squeezing me tight.

"You can let go now".

She shook her head and squeezed harder.

I grinned in spite of myself. Was this what had been wrong? We hadn't really hugged any more than a greeting pat in years. Had I not been physically affectionate enough with her? Was that why she had lied, thinking I wouldn't love her? When she was growing up I would regularly pat her head or shoulder in friendly touches and every so often I would give her a back rub when she had finished the dishes. She would always reciprocate the favor, and always seemed happier for it, but she had never been clingy. Not including Drama Queen Phase (™) when she'd refused to let anyone touch her (Aunt Becky was devastated to have her hugs declined).

I combed my fingers through the back of her hair. I was still mad at her but I felt like I had my daughter back. She sighed happily into my chest. I waited another minute.

"Alright Alyssa, that's enough. I'm no doubt covered in your makeup, and you have a date coming."

She stopped squeezing me tight but didn't let go.

"Now, alley girl."

She gave me one quick squeeze. "Yes, daddy."

I was suddenly acutely aware that there was a fit, curvy 20 year old woman pressed against me. She slowly withdrew her arms and stepped away and I was glad because my boxer briefs had become tight. I stared at her, shocked. She kept her face down, but looked up at me through long lashes before her gaze skirted away and then back to me.

Her phone vibrated in her purse, and the moment was broken. She jumped, and quickly looked at her phone. "He's here."

She proceeded to fix her mascara in the hallway mirror, and completely ignored me as I stood there, uncomfortably aroused and confusedly watching her. She smacked her lips after touching up her lip gloss and pulled on a jacket. She stepped back to me and bussed my cheek. "Bye Dad, I'll be back by twelve."

She clomped out the door and I couldn't help but notice her hips as her miniskirt swayed. I locked the door behind her and watched as she got into a scuffed up Honda civic. My heart was beating hard.

Jesus! What the fuck was that? I paced through the house, running my hands through my hair.

What the fuck.

That was not normal. There is no way that was normal. My physical reaction was completely appalling of course - thank God she had pulled away when she did. But had Alyssa been coming on to me? She had to have been, right?

She had never before called me daddy. Not since she was three. There was no way this was some kind of child like response to her old nickname. All throughout her childhood it was solely dad, not including the attempt she'd made during Drama QP (™) to call me "old man" (seriously it was kind of hilarious how edgy she was, except the amount of vitriol she managed to put into the words sucked away the comedy pretty quick).

What else could it be but sexual? There was also that reaction to me asking her if she was acting like an adult at college. What adult activities was she so embarrassed about? What was going on? It was bizarre. We had been fairly open about a lot of things as she got older. I was no puritan. I knew she had sex. She knew I did as well. We didn't flaunt it or talk details but it wasn't like it was an avoided topic. I'd made sure to encourage her dating life growing up (within reason, of course). I had only wanted her to be safe, but I understood that safe and virgin were two very different things. And I had known years ago that with her looks and charm it was going to happen sooner rather than later.

So what had happened there? Why was I still aroused?

God this was fucked.

I wasn't blind, my daughter had grown into a beautiful woman, but I had always managed to keep from thinking about her like that. Her beauty rolled off me like water off a duck; it had only swelled my parental pride and love. Any lust it caused was always more of a 'you made a good looking kid' kind of pat on the back. Then I would seek out a beautiful partner, my confidence sky high.

I had also been pains-taken in not encouraging any sort of crush typical of daughters with single fathers. I'm not stupid, I knew the risk. When Alyssa started discovering boys, I was 32 years old, in the best shape of my life, and more than aware of my own looks. I was professionally successful, and like I said, my confidence was sky high. I had never been much of a charmer; I'd actually been a bit of a nerd in high school. In many ways, Ally's mom (cheerleader, popular girl) had been out of my league all those years ago. But weirdly enough, being a single father was an incredible boon to my dating life. Women (particularly single mothers) when they learned how dedicated I was to my little girl seemed to want to jump into bed with me. Unfortunately they seemed to always underestimate the time commitments my daughter and a busy work schedule entailed. Things tended to eventually fall through and I became a bit of a serial monogamist. It was disappointing, but a parents heart is never empty so the break ups didn't wreck me.

But all that aside, I set what I thought were good boundaries, and encouraged her to find a good person who treated her well. I didn't walk around the house shirtless or anything like that, and while my girlfriends had stayed over many times, they were always introduced long before, and I was careful we weren't overheard having sex. Alyssa had never shown signs of jealousy, and tended to get along with them splendidly. While her Aunt Becky had gotten her first eyeliner, It was Julie, who I'd seen for four years, who taught her how to contour her face (I was largely ignorant and dismissive of all things makeup before Julie who was a beautician. Julie's skill was seriously magical and when she went all out, she could look like a hundred different models. Her Halloween faces were phenomenal.)

Friday and Saturday nights Alyssa would get ready for her dates with Julie's help, and even after Julie, she and my current beau would trade tips and compliments and occasionally help each other when I was going out dancing or to a fancy place.

While I of course complimented Ally when she came down ready for her dates, I kept it appropriate. (There had only been a few outfits I had to forbid her from leaving the house in and only because her ass was literally hanging out.) Overall I had been fairly loose on rules without letting her run completely wild.

Now, I re-institute a curfew and she calls me daddy? Is this some kind of mental regression? Did the pressure of school and my expectations cause her to take solace in childlike mannerisms? I thought about how she had squeezed me and refused to let go like a little kid.

No, I decided. That was a stretch. She had also done the whole - look up at me through her eyelashes before fluttering them away - thing. That was a tried and true seduction method indicating a desire to be chased; something I was particularly observant of as it often also indicated a submissive tendency or the illusion of one. I tended to enjoy being dominant in my relationships and so I took note of the little gestures like that in women I talked to. And that was a pretty blatant one.

I thought about it a little more. Had she been playing with her hair overly? Yes, but that was also a nervous tic for her, it didn't mean anything necessarily. Was she chewing on her lips earlier? Yes, yes she had been. And obviously touching me more than necessary. Holy shit, my daughter was definitely flirting with me. We had five years of harmonious cohabitation after Drama QP (™) ended and now with her 21st birthday around the corner, my daughter had developed a crush on me in her moment of crisis. Fuck.

This complicated everything. I wanted to give Alyssa the love and acceptance she apparently craved but I couldn't encourage this...whatever this was. Shit. I was going to have to set up a bunch of group therapy sessions.

Fuck.

How would Becky react? I thought about my girlfriend Selena. No way in hell I could tell her about this. She was already insecure about my relationship with my daughter superseding her.

Speaking of, I should take advantage of the empty house while it lasts. I called Selena to see if she was still free, but she had made plans with some girlfriends after I had cancelled on her. I was a bit too buzzed to drive to the gym so I spent the next two hours lifting dumbbells and using the inflatable yoga ball I kept in the basement. Exercise always helped clear my head but by the end I was sweaty and still at a loss about how to move forward from here.

As I let the shower run over me I gave my dick a half hearted tug. The memory of her whispering those words into my chest ran through me. "Yes, Daddy". So submissive.

And that look afterwards!

Like she was expecting me to pounce on her. I was suddenly rock hard. I was also unreasonably angry. I slammed my fist on the tile and turned the water to cold.

How dare she!

How dare she fuck up our relationship like that right when we were having such a bonding moment! She had to know this was irreversible. That things would never again be perfectly innocent between us because of those two little words. Right when I was feeling an incredible amount of love for my all grown up girl, she had flipped the switch to turn it to lust.

She knew better! She wasn't a naive little 8 year old with childish fantasies of marrying her father. Alyssa was turning 21 in two weeks; she was an adult in every way that mattered. She'd always been mature for her age so what the hell was this? I know she was depressed but that was no excuse.