Mcenzie's Turn

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ALL PARTICIPANTS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18

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PLEASE RATE THIS STORY AND COMMENT

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*Note: This story is related to the "Daddy's Sunshine" series and takes place the morning of "Daddy's Sunshine Part 3," but you don't have to read them to understand this story.* *Additional note: My stories are STORIES. If you're looking for wham, bam, thank you ma'am stories, then you will be very disappointed with my works.

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I blink aching eyes, my head pounding and my mouth dry. My tongue seems to weigh a ton as it sits in my mouth, but it doesn't taste sour like my usual hangover mouths do. I moan as I slowly push up to a sitting position; I moan, again, when my head spins wildly for a moment. I hold my head as if that will stop the whirling world, close my eyes when that doesn't work, and then lick my lips as nausea churns in my stomach.

"Lord, how much did I drink last night?" I ask aloud only to be met with silence. I risk opening my eyes back up and frown when not even the sound of snoring echoes back to me; I glance over my left shoulder to find the other pillow on the bed hasn't even been slept on and finally wonder where my best friend Shayenne is. I vaguely remember waking up to her in the shower, the running water making me have to pee in the worst way; I know that I used the bathroom, took some pain pills, and brushed my teeth using her toothbrush. "Where the fuck are you?" I grumble as I rub at my aching temples, but I push to my feet.

I glance down at my body and realize that I've slept in my party clothes, something else that Shayenne never usually lets me do. I frown as I pull my too-tight shirt away from my body, then I look around for my shoes; I find them tossed by the door, so I know that Shayenne removed those. "But where the fuck are you?" I repeat as I reach down to scoop up my shoes and slide them on. I walk on silent feet, the carpeting masking the click-clack of my high heels until I reach the smooth marble flooring of the bathroom; the sounds my shoes make might as well be gunshots to my poor pounding head. I walk slower, tiptoeing so that the heels don't click.

I lost count of the drinks that I had last night, something that I don't normally do. I had made plans with my boyfriend to celebrate Shayenne's birthday last night and then had promised to sneak off with him right after the cake was served to finally give him my virginity. My best friend had been really wonderful about offering us her bedroom to use, but my boyfriend never arrived and he ignored my calls. I had left a few voicemails only for the call to go straight to voicemail around ten last night; I had been so upset that he had turned his phone off on me that I had hit the vodka until the bottle was gone and then I had switched to something stronger.

I don't remember how much of the second bottle I had drunk, though...

I wash my face, pop two more pain relievers, drink my weight in water, then dry off with a towel discarded nearby. I hang the towel back on the rack, then tiptoe out of the bathroom until I'm back on the silencing carpet. "Shayenne?" I call loudly, then give a listen as I expect to hear her call back up to me from the kitchen or living room; I know that she wouldn't leave the house without me...I think... "Shayenne?" I try, again, and walk toward the stairs.

I hear fumbling behind me, from the other end of the hallway, a second before I hear a lock click. I frown as light emerges from the doorway down the hall and I slowly make my way toward that room; I hear hushed voices hissing, but can't make out the words. "Shayenne?" I call as I reach the doorway only to gasp and jump backward when Shayenne leaps in front of me; I watch her pull the bedroom door closed, then stare at her flushed face through narrowed eyes.

"Hey, Kenz!" Shayenne shouts way too enthusiastically for this early in the morning.

I wince and wave my hand in front of her. "Not so loudly, please..." I beg her and rub at my throbbing temples; it's like my brain switched places with my heart and my heart doesn't like my skull, so it's trying to break free to get back to my chest. "I woke up and you weren't there. I thought you left me alone in your house." I grumble as I examine her from head to toe and back; I frown as I take in the white t shirt that's at least three sizes too big for her. "Is that your Dad's shirt?" I ask her, then I glance at the bedroom door that she's grasping the knob on so tightly that her knuckles are white. "Did you just come out of your Dad's room?"

Shayenne takes her lower lip between her teeth and nods. "Yeah. Um...you missed a lot."

I frown as I take in her appearance, again. "You slept with your parents?"

Shayenne blushes, but shakes her head. "Not exactly..." she hedges, then she licks her lips and takes a step toward me; she grips my bicep and starts to lead me toward her bedroom. "You were passed out drunk when I came up to check on you, something that needs to stop, by the way!" she growls with an angry glare at me that makes me look away in shame. "You were sprawled out across my bed and you were dead weight; I couldn't move you and my parents were fighting, then my mom left, and all hell broke loose..." she trails off with a sigh as she leads me back toward her bed; she releases my arm at her bedside, then walks around the bed to sit Indian style on her side and grabs the pillow she hadn't slept on to hug it to her.

"Like you, my Mom got totally shitfaced last night." Shayenne says with an angry glare.

I blush, kick my shoes back off, then sit beside her on the bed; I can't sit Indian style because of my too-tight mini skirt, but I sit sideways on my left hip. "I'm so sorry." I say sheepishly and reach forward to touch her left hand; her Mom is usually a total bitch to her and even I know it only get worse when the woman drinks. I feel awful. "I should have been there for you."

Shayenne sighs. "My mom left in the middle of their fight."

I gasp, my eyes wide. "She didn't drive."

Shayenne nods and finally locks eyes with me. "She almost hit a woman with a baby stroller..." she explains and her eyes fill with tears of misery. "She was so drunk that she didn't notice a stop sign and she swerved to miss the baby, but ended up in oncoming traffic. There was a van with a family, two kids were hurt..." she explains and buries her face in the pillow to cry; she cries quietly, her shoulders shaking the only indication of her emotional state.

"Oh, shit, Shay..." I whisper, my hand moving to her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"No more drinking, Kenz." she snaps, her water eyes locking with mine. "Swear to me."

I flinch as if she slapped me. "I'm not an alcoholic, Shayenne. I don't need to swear-"

"You drink to cope, to feel, to deal. It's the same thing." she cuts me off. "Swear it."

I frown, but nod. "Okay, okay. I swear. Not another drop. Ever."

She nods, then wipes the tears from her face. "Mom's in the hospital..." she says as if our odd exchange hadn't just happened. "I did actually leave you for a while because my Dad and I had to go see her, but she totally flipped. She's facing some real jail time and Daddy can't do a damned thing to help her this time, so she went ballistic on us both..." she trails off and her eyes glaze over as she relives whatever happened in the hospital.

"Shay, don't." I say and touch my hand to hers, again.

Shayenne snaps back to the present. "Sorry." she says smile as she looks back at my face, then she slides from the bed and smiles a real smile. "I'll get dressed, then wake up my Dad to drive you home. Why don't you go and have some orange juice to refresh your mouth?" she teases with a too-knowing smirk and a quirked eyebrow.

I blush and roll my eyes, then slide from the bed and scoop up my shoes. "Whatever."

Shayenne laughs softly.

I head downstairs and toss my shoes by the front door, then slip my feet in to a pair of flip flops that Shayenne always leaves there for me to use. I head into the kitchen and dig in the refrigerator for the carton of orange juice; as I'm pouring myself a glass, I hear doors click back upstairs and give a listen while I sip. I frown when I realize that it's ridiculously quiet compared to the usual activity in the mornings, but I shrug it off as my best friend being mindful of my hangover. After pouring myself a second glass of OJ, I look for the bread to make some toast just in time to hear Shayenne coming down the stairs.

"Bagels are in the freezer now, so they won't go bad as fast." she states as she does up the zipper and button on a pair of jean shorts; she's abnormally flushed for having just come

down

the stairs. "Daddy is gonna have a quick shower, then he'll be ready to drive you home." she explains with a deep blush before she breaks eye contact and moves to the coffee maker.

I watch her make the coffee and purposefully avoid my eyes. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't look at me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're acting weird." I say, then my eyes widen in fear. "Are you mad at me?"

Shayenne finally stares at me, stays silent for a few seconds too long, then sighs and looks away. "A little..." she admits as she continues preparing the coffee maker to start brewing. "I mean, you broke tradition by passing out before my midnight birthday and I had to sleep with my freaking father because you hogged my entire bed with your dead weight..." she complains, then blushes heavily as she clicks the on button to the coffee maker before moving to the cabinet so that her back is to me. She reaches up for a box of her favorite toaster pastries and drops it on to the counter top with a sigh. "You were so drunk that I couldn't even vent to you about the fight my parents had, the fact that my mother drove away drunk, or come with me to the hospital..."

I feel like the stinkiest piece of shit in a cat litter box. "I'm so sorry, Shayenne...really."

Shayenne merely shrugs, then puts the box back on the shelf untouched. "It's fine."

I move to her side, place my hand on her shoulder, and wait for her to look at me. "I'm sorry." I say sincerely, our eyes locked together. "I'm a shitty friend and an even shittier person. I'll do better. How about this..." I offer and smile as I lean a hip against the counter, then look around the messy kitchen and living room. "I'll go home, shower, change, and then come back here to help you clean up. Let your Dad take you out to breakfast or something until I can get back here so that he doesn't make you do it."

Shayenne laughs. "Breakfast?" she asks with a quirked brow. "It's almost 2pm, Kenz."

My head jerks around to glance at the microwave's clock. "Well shit...lunch, then."

It works; Shayenne laughs.

I smile at her. "Deal?"

Shayenne looks around the messy house and groans. "Deal."

"What's a deal?"

We both glance up at Mr. Soleil, fresh from a shower.

I stop breathing.

Shayenne blushes, smirks, and looks away. "Kenz has graciously agreed to come back and help clean up the aftermath of my party." she explains as she reaches for a travel coffee mug to make for her Father. "She's going to go home to shower and change, first, but then will come back. Maybe we can grab lunch or something after we drop her off?" she asks as she turns off the coffee maker and hands the travel mug to her father. "I'm starved. I feel like I've run a triathlon, I'm so hungry...can't imagine why..." she says with a smirk up at her father.

Mr. Soleil smirks back at his Daughter, but then tries to hide it behind his cup of coffee as his eyes drift to McKenzie. "Ready?" he asks after taking a long sip of the steaming brew. "It's after two, so I don't think they'll be much traffic and I need to pick up some more garbage backs as well as get this one some lunch before we all meet back here to clean up." he says with a smile at Shayenne as he elbows her playfully before kissing her temple tenderly.

I can't help but smile; I've always loved how close they are. "I'm ready, thanks." I say as I move to collect my glass of OJ; I chug it down, rinse the glass, then put it in the dishwasher before heading to the door to slide the flip flops off. I slide on my heels, then scoop up my purse and follow them to the garage and hop into the backseat with my bestie; I try my best to make her laugh as much as possible because of the night she suffered without me and, all too soon, we're at my house. I climb from the car, thank her Dad, then hurry inside to shower.

"McKenzie?"

I freeze on the bottom step, the door slamming shut behind me. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Are you just getting home?!"

I roll my eyes even though he can't see me. "No big deal. I stayed at Shay's."

He appears in the entryway to the living room. "You could have called."

"Dad, seriously?" I gasp in exasperation as I step off the stairs to walk toward him. "It was Shay's birthday. I told you that. I

always

stay over for her birthday. Why are you tripping out about it all of a sudden?" I demand as I lean down to pluck my heels off. "I mean, it's not like..." I begin, then trail off when I see my Father's wide eyes focusing on me way too hard to be normal. I follow his gaze to find my cleavage practically spilling out over the top of my way too tight blouse and I immediately stand to my full height while covering my chest.

I feel myself blush. "Sorry." I whisper and can't even bring myself to look him in the face. "I'm going to grab a shower and change. I promised to help Shayenne and her Dad clean up the warzone that the party left her house..." I ramble on and back away toward the stairs.

"You're going back out?" he grumbles.

I glance back at his face. "Dad, what's your deal today? I'm always with Shay."

"Maybe you might try staying home sometimes, is all..." he counters tiredly.

I roll my eyes and scoff. "For what?"

"McKenzie Louise, did you just roll your eyes at and sass your Father?!"

My eyes widen at that tone.

My Father is ex-military, you see. He served for many years before I was born, until I was ten or eleven years old, at which time he was medically discharged and awarded a purple heart; he saved his entire SEALS team during a shore mission gone wrong, which is when he was injured. He was gone for months, sometimes years at a time before that discharge and then he was suddenly home twenty-four-seven; it was quite the adjustment for all of us.

As a little girl, I used to love hearing him tell me stories about how he saved people in other countries, how he loved tasting their incredibly different foods and wearing their vastly different clothing; I used to marvel in his descriptions of other countries, other oceans, other languages.

That was back when I was the little kid who loved it when her Daddy finally came home after being gone "for forever." That was when my Daddy came home between missions. That was when he was

Daddy

and not the man who came back to us after that discharge.

The man who came home after that medical discharge was cold, distant, quiet, but commanding. He ordered us all around; my mother, my older Sister, and myself; and he expected immediate obedience. He was ridiculously strict when it came to everything from watching television: "A waste of time. Pick up a book, instead!" to going out with friends: "Who are their parents? Why haven't your Mother and I met their family, yet? You can go out with them after we meet them. Until then, you can go and do your homework."

I used to love it when Daddy came home from missions.

Now? Not so much.

I mean...of course I'm glad that my Father survived because I know that some families weren't so lucky. I'm grateful and thank God every day that he not only lived after the attack that could have easily claimed his life; but that he came home whole, with his entire team also alive, and that their wounds all healed well. I love my Father and I'm happy to still have him; I just wish my Daddy had come back, instead, but Mama says that war changes a man and that nearly dying changes him even more.

It sucks.

My playful, fun, and funny Daddy was gone and, in his place, is Daddy Drill Sergeant.

That's the voice he's using; the Commander's voice. "Answer me, little girl"

We've been playing this game since I turned 18 a few months ago. He says something parental and I say something back that I know will make him mad because I want what happens next. He pretends not to know what I want, what I look forward to, and he pretends he doesn't like it, too. He likes it, though. He likes it because he gets hard

every time

just like I get soaking wet for him. He knows he can have me because I've never fought him on it.

I let him touch me, spank me, get hard for me.

I just have to be careful that I don't push him too far because his anger sometimes wins out.

I blink wide eyes. "Daddy..." I reply carefully. "I'm not a little girl, anymore."

Wrong answer; I know it instantly.

His eyes narrow. "So you think you're too grown for my discipline, do you?" he barks angrily, his face turning red and that vein in his temple throbbing visibly. "You think that turning eighteen means that you can do whatever the fuck you please?" he demands loudly and crosses his thick arms over his chest; he spreads his legs a bit, the stance of a Commander addressing his troops or, in this case, one troop. "In

my

house? Living under

my

roof?"

I struggle to breathe normally, but he's so hot. "That's not what I was saying, Daddy! I-"

"And now you're talking back to me, again!" he snaps, cutting me off; his biceps, well-formed from decades of working out to stay in peak physical condition for the military, flex beneath a fitted white t shirt that clings like a second skin. "You are out of control, McKenzie. You've gotten away with a lot in my absence, thanks to your Mother, but that stops now." he states calmly, his voice low and even; it's scarier than shouting. "I think you're spoiled and ungrateful. You need to be reprimanded for staying out all night-"

"But it's tradition!" I stupidly cut him off and gasp when I realize my error; but I'm so wet.

"...and for being disrespectful." he spits venomously, then he turns his back to me and walks from the foyer toward the living room. "Now, McKenzie!" he calls, his voice echoing from the other room in a no-nonsense tone; his shadow moves along the wall, then shows him sitting down in the wall opposite the windows in the living room. "Don't make me call you, again."

I swallow hard and step down the two steps, then around the banister; I drop my head, my chin resting against my chest demurely. I glance up at my Father through my lashes to find him glaring at me; my body shivers, my skin erupting in goosebumps, and I'm actually a bit fearful. With his temper being what it is, I'm not sure which Father this is that is going to be putting his hands on me. I don't want to get hurt. "Daddy, please..." I whisper nervously as I meet his eyes. "I really didn't mean to seem disrespectful. I'm a good girl! I've always been a good girl."

"Close the curtains, McKenzie."

I swallow, my gaze drifting to the windows. "Daddy-"

"For every time that I have to repeat myself or you are disrespectful of my authority, McKenzie, you will receive two additional spanks to your ass." he warns, his eyes locked with mine and the vein in his temple throbbing thickly as he grits his teeth. "You are currently at fourteen, little girl. If you want to be able to sit down for dinner when your Mother gets home with it in an hour or so, I highly suggest you

close the curtains

."

I swallow, again, my mouth and throat bone-dry. "Daddy, you can't-"

"Eighteen." he cuts me off, his eyes narrowing, again.