ON THE SET

"Come in," said Alan when he heard Emma knocking at the door of his study.

In she came, her eyebrows cocked, a doubtful, what-am-I-doing-here? look on her face. She was in her Mickey Mouse pyjamas already and her hair was braided in two cute pigtails, as it was ten in the evening and she was almost ready to go to bed. She wasn’t exactly worried, though being summoned in dad’s study at such a late hour – at all hours, actually – usually didn’t mean something good coming her way.

Alan watched intently as the young girl entered and closed the door behind her, then took off his glasses and set aside the script he was working on. He pointed his elbows on the table and looked at her, straight in the eye... in his hand he was holding a small carton box, one of those which are used to contain pills.

"Do you have an explanation for this?" he spoke, loud and clear.

Emma looked at the box, then him, then the box again, not understanding at first. Then she did, and her face flushed.

"HEY! Were you in my room?" she demanded, her hands on her hips. "I should get some privacy you know!"

He didn’t reply for a second, then he stood up from behind his desk. "I was in your room cleaning up the *mess* you always leave behind... and came upon this." He threw the small box to her. "What’s that?"

She caught it. "It’s none of your business, that’s what it is! You have NO right going in my room like that! That’s snooping, I have private stuff in there!" She looked deeply upset, and was making no effort to hide it

Shaking his head, Alan sighed. "So private it was laying on top of your bedside table for everyone to see. Emma, those are birth control pills," he said, looking aghast.

Emma laughed. "Yeah, as if I *didn’t* know! But they’re none of your business and you would not have seen them hadn’t you gone in so I’m not going to dignify your snooping with a response!" she snapped very smartly, and she turned to leave the study.

"Emma, you come back here right now!", he said, pointing at the floor for emphasis. "I’m not through talking to you."

"Well I am through talking!" she yelled, stomped all the way to her room and slammed the door, plopping onto her bed with a huff, throwing the box into the drawer in the bedside table and putting on a huge pout. She hugged a pillow and shook her head, waiting until some anger would go away.

Alan was fuming. He couldn’t do anything but watch as she walked upstairs and slammed the door. He sighed, then tried to calm down. Be a modern-day father and take this easy... he kept repeating to himself. You know how kids are nowadays, she probably doesn’t even know what those are for, she just wants to look grownup with her friends...

"Oh, to hell!" he exclaimed, and throwing caution to the wind he stormed up the stairs himself, and reached for her room and entered without knocking.

"HEY! WHAT IF I HAD BEEN CHANGING! AND THAT *WAS* A RULE YOU KNOW!" Emma scowled darkly at him, yelling aloud.

"You do NOT run away from me. You do NOT raise your voice like that. You do NOT slam doors! I’m not accusing, I just want to talk, do you hear me?" he said, raising his voice too and completely ignoring her outburst, though it made him even angrier.

"I don’t want to talk about *this* it is NOT what you think, don’t get your panties in a knot!" she crossed her arms over her chest, levelling a glare at him.

"And then, pray tell, just what is it about?" he said, an exasperated look on his face. "You are thirteen, for Goodness’ sake!"

She rolled her eyes. "Dad, it is SO not any of your business, okay? Just like, let it go already!"

He was always taken aback, even a little, when she called him ‘dad’ – that first week in the new house had been flowing quite peacefully, and Emma had started calling him ‘dad’ or even ‘daddy’ from time to time, which always made his heart sink in a most pleasurable way. She had learnt the basic house rules pretty soon, also because there was basically none besides the ones dictated by common sense, and Alan was very permissive on things like bedtime and house chores.

So, usually he would’ve smiled at her for calling him ‘dad’, but he was too upset at the moment, so he sat on her bed and looked at her straight in the eye: "Young lady, it is me here to decide what we do or do not talk about, get this straight?"

"There are some things a girl keeps private, especially from a guy, especially more when that guy is her father," she whispered, her voice laced with anger. "So please, just bug off, okay? I don’t want to fight with you, dad, really, but I’m not talking about this."

"There are some things a girl is not supposed to do, and supposed to let those who love her know, especially more when they are her father," he replied. "And keep that tone down or you’re getting it BIG time, do you understand Emma?"

Emma’s lower lip trembled for a moment, then stopped, understanding that mouthing off would just earn her a spanking right away, so she shook her head, softened her tone and went on.

"Dad, please, don’t push me," she begged rather earnestly. "Please, I just can’t tell you, okay? But I’m not doing anything bad!" She looked down at her purple bedspread, which had a purple-and-white butterfly pattern printed on it.

He sat closer to her and took her hand. "Then why not telling me... I don’t know, *something*! If you’re ‘not doing anything bad’, what’re you afraid of?"

"It’s personal!" she wailed rather desperately.

"Then it’s so much of my business, since it’s about you. Oh, Em, let’s not start it all over again, you know you can tell me everything. I won’t laugh or think anything bad about you, come on."

"No!" she said firmly. "Just stop invading my privacy, you’re not supposed to do that!"

Alan felt his face flush again. "Emma, since you’re living in my house now I expect you to respect my will to know what goes on in your life. I’m not curious, you know, I do that for your safety. I’m going to repeat that, tell me why you have those pills, at your age."

Emma shook her head no, still looking at her bedspread.

"EMMA!" he snapped, aloud, starting to see red. "Your last chance!"

She jumped at his snap and sniffled, scooting back a little and sitting up straight. "Dad, no, it’s too personal," she whispered in a meek, small voice.

Not knowing what else to do, and feeling very confused, he stared in her eyes with a very firm glare, and simply said: "Get over my lap."

"Daddy, please, I’m not being naughty!" Emma pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. It was clear she was scared.

"You’re disobeying *openly* to an order of mine. Come right here across my lap this instant, young lady. If I have to repeat that you know what will happen!" he said, hoping she caught his not-too-veiled remark about the hairbrush.

Emma started to cry but slowly leaned over his lap. Alan grabbed her arm and pulled her not-too-gently across his knees while she was already doing it, and smacked her cotton-clad bottom a dozen times with very hearty smacks.

"Owwwwwwwwwww!" Emma shrieked from the very first smack, squirming to try and make him miss. However, he was very skilled and never missed his petite target.

"Are you going to talk to me now?" he said as he continued whacking her little backside. smack smack smack smack smack smack

"Alan stop PLEASE! Stooooooooop!" she wailed, crying harder now.

Shaking his head, he gave a firm tug to her pj’s bottoms, pulling them down, and resumed the spanking on her – quite skimpy – underwear, his smacks not an ounce lighter.

Emma kicked and squirmed. "Stoooooooooooooop pleaaaaaaaaaase!" she begged through her tears and hiccups.

"Make it stop yourself!" whack whack whack "Tell me why you had those pills, whatever the reason, but TELL ME!"

After even more smacks, Emma went limp over his lap, her young teen pride keeping her from ending the burning spanks on her tender panty-clad cheeks. And yet Alan kept going, but not before lowering that little protection she had and spank on her bare bum, his smacks still quite hard.

"I can go on all day, Em... can you??" spank spank spank

"Daddy please stop," she screeched, still limp and bawling.

After a particularly intense flurry of spanks to her sit-spot, now turning a very bright pink, Alan stopped, and let her up and looked at her: "Em, I’m not having fun here and I’m not asking much of you! Why don’t you tell me if it’s nothing so naughty??"

Emma was sobbing and holding her bright red bottom cheeks, not caring about her modesty and still weeping rather desperately. "Daddy, it’s so personal, I’m ashamed!" she wailed.

Alan took her elbow and started to push her back down over his lap, but stopped: "Shall I start again? Perhaps with the hairbrush?" he said, hoping that was the magic word to make her talk.

Emma screamed, her sobs heart-wrenching. "Noooooo daddy! Please, please, I wasn’t bad! Please, it’s so embarrassing!" she threw her arms around his neck, clearly distressed and worried at what she knew he wanted to know.

Despite his rage, Alan hugged her too and rubbed her back, trying to calm down a little, but not quite succeeding. "I know it must be bad for you... and I HATE to have to resort to this, but if you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll paddle your bare bum with the hairbrush until you do, and I mean it. Your choice. Speak to me, Emma, I’m here for you!"

"Daddy, please, it’s so hard, you don’t understand how hard... and you’re being scary," Emma whimpered, shaking a little now.

"What is hard, Em?" He swallowed hard. "Are you sexually active?" he said, knowing it sounded blunt but not finding another way to ask.

Emma gasped and shook her head no very quickly, hiccuping. He couldn’t help but sigh with relief. At least it wasn’t that. "Then why do you have those? Are they for... I don’t know, something about you?"

She nodded. "Please daddy, no hairbrush! I’m not trying to be bad!"

"Come here," he said, and he had her sit on his lap, still hugging her. "You don’t need to tell me everything if you don’t feel like... but let’s start with some thing easy: who gave them to you?"

Emma snuggled tight in his arms, still shaking slightly. "My doctor, just before we started filming, I have a prescription... it’s in the cabinet over my desk."

Now, *that* was some breathtaking news. "Your doctor... you mean Dr. Kelley, your paediatrician?" he said, not believing that for a second.

She rolled her eyes. "No, Dr. Hanson, my gynaecologist"

Alan’s jaw dropped, and he was speechless for a second. "Your parents never talked about any gynaecologist..."

"Cuz they’re stupid," she sniffled.

"Well, they did know... didn’t they?" he said, casting her a side look. "Please, Em, tell me you didn’t go and see a gynaecologist without telling them, because if you did..."

"My mom did," she said quickly, "cuz she took me to see hers."

Alan exhaled and nodded. "Alright... and why did he give you those?" he asked, still keeping her close, calming down, himself.

"SHE, and... and... " she sniffled. "Just because," she squeaked.

He sighed, knowing it must’ve really been embarrassing to her. "Okay. I shan’t pry anymore for now, but I want to know two things. One: do you have a serious illness?"

Emma paused, thinking it over. "No, I guess not. I mean it is kinda serious, but then it’s like not." she whispered

"Oh my," he murmured, looking at the ceiling, now quite worried. "Well, this was my second question anyway: I want to talk to Dr. Hanson. No, you won’t be there, don’t worry, even just a phone talk, but I want to meet her."

"But whhhhhhhhhhy?" she whined. "It’s not *that* important!"

"Because I am your father, Emma," he said, simple and clear, and yet firm. "Your health issues are my biggest worry, do you realise that?"

"Yes, but it’s okay now..."

"And what about the future, hmm?" he said. "Will you keep hidden from me any other doctors? And who’s paying Dr. Hanson anyway?"

"Medical insurance through Warner Bros.... and no, I don’t have any other doctors." She paused for a second, taking a very deep breath and looking at him through her teary, beautiful hazel eyes. "Do... oh god, are you sure you really really want to know? It is SO gross!"

Alan sighed. "Of course I want to know, Em. I need to know." He kissed her forehead, sweetly. "You are my child, nothing is gross about you."

"I’m not.... like.... er.... regular." Emma blushed several shades of red, then buried her face in a pillow, but at least she had said it.

It took Alan a few seconds to understand and to get it straight, but he finally did. He inhaled deeply, then held her even tighter, but did not try to remove the pillow to look at her face. "I understand, honey. You were right, it’s kind of serious... see why I want to talk to Dr. Hanson?"

"Daddy, it’s NOT that serious, see, I’m all better now, cuz of those! Things are normal now, don’t you get it?" she asked, sounding exasperated.

"Em, don’t treat me like I was the last idiot on Earth, I may be a male but I am four times your age, you know? I do know some things, if you’ll allow me... and I’m telling you: whenever health issues come up, *I* must know about them. Serious or not, over or not. I’m sorry if I were too pushy, but I had and still do have my reasons."

"But, see, the pills make it better, so you don’t have to worry, cuz now I can be regular and not hurt so bad." Emma wriggled in his arms.

Alan shifted position on the bed and kept hugging her. "I’m glad about that, really. But tomorrow morning, you will give me her phone number. I promise you she will not tell me the details. She can’t, you know? Doctor-patient privilege."

Emma whimpered and just nodded.

"Good girl." Alan kept her close and kissed both of her cheeks. "You are too important to me to hide things about your health from me, sweetheart."

"Okay... I’m sorry... But you can’t snoop. That’s not nice. I’ll have to hide lots of things now," she whispered. "And you spanked me and I wasn’t even bad!" she nearly burst into tears again.

He didn’t think it would happen, but now he felt a sudden pang of guilt. "I’m sorry I stuck my nose in your stuff... even if it brought to a good thing, I shouldn’t have. And the spanking, well, you had been very rude, Em, but that aside, I was scared something bad might’ve happened to you."

"Still... and you were mean and it scared me!"

"Because of the hairbrush threat?" Alan felt his heart break.

Emma nodded. "I wasn’t even bad and you were spanking so hard and you were gonna start all over with that THING and it burns so bad and that stupid brush scares me so much!" she threw her arms around his neck and started to cry again.

And now he really started to feel bad about it all, and hugged her back and held her very close. "Honey, I’m so sorry I scared you... please believe me... I was afraid, I was trying to get to you."

"I hate that brush so much" she whimpered out, drying her face several times on his sweater.

"That’s what it’s there for, Em," he said. "But I’m sorry I mentioned it today. Can you believe at least that? That I’m so sorry and I feel bad about this? Please try and understand that... it’s all new for me as well... I never raised a child... a girl," he quickly corrected himself.

Emma nodded. "Okay, just try not to be scary anymore... and you owe me lotion, and I think ice cream too"

Alan smiled a bit. "Yes I do, you are right... but hey, listen to me for a second, okay?"

Emma nodded, her head nestled in the crook of his neck, her favourite place to put it. It was a comforting position, especially with a sore bottom, and his pleasant after-shave was rather soothing.

"I promise I will let you have your privacy, really, I will try my best. But in return you have to promise you will tell me what’s important, and what a father should know. Can we trust each other with this, little one?" He tried to sound as reassuring and soothing as he could, and he always loved the way she nestled against him.

"Yes daddy," she whispered. "I promise. Just... just understand if I need a little bit to work up to telling you, okay? Like the embarrassing stuff. Sometimes I need to get brave, I didn’t get to do that today, I was upset, and you were too. I think you almost had a tantrum," she said lightly, teasingly.

He growled like the old bear that he was. "Yeah I... I guess so... but hey put yourself in my place: you find those pills and start thinking your little girl may be having... having... ooh, you know that word!" he said.

"You mean: sex?"

"Oww," he squeezed his eyes. "Yeah... that thing."

She giggled. "I asked when I was nine and thought it was gross, and it is still gross, like French kissing, I don’t like to do that."

He nodded, until he said that about French kissing. "Why, you tried??" he asked, sounding like the most apprehensive of fathers.

"Once, and we both didn’t like it. We got dared, then we threw popcorn at Rupert, cuz he was laughing like an arse." She shook her head, shuddering. "SO gross."

Alan imagined that it was either Daniel or Tom who she was talking about – most likely the former, though – but didn’t say anything. "Okay... nothing wrong with it... or with sex, I mean, they’re beautiful and tantalising experiences... but not at your age, so, well... I, er... I’m glad you don’t like it. And sorry if I thought bad."

"It’s okay, you didn’t know. But I like little kisses... even on the lips... is that ok?" she looked up, honestly wondering. All her mother required was that there was no sex in public places, as if Emma would do *that*. Did her mother think her a whore or something??

Again, he found himself nodding and smiling. "Yes it’s okay... and kisses are okay too... You need to do things when you are ready to do them, not earlier, not later. It must be your choice, always remember that," he said, tapping a finger on her chest, where her heart was.

At the moment, he thought it better to keep it hidden from her that if ever he saw a boy fondling under her skirt or something he would first beat the boy raw, and then give her a royal chew-out.

Emma nodded. "Yeah, that I know. Get the lotion will you? It burns a lot," she said, anxious to get off that topic for now.

"Aww, you’re breaking my heart... okay, wait for me."

He stood from the bed and went to the bathroom, grabbed a bottle of baby oil and brought it back, then sat on the bed again and motioned for her to lie across his lap once more, which she did.

"About the heartbreak thing..." she said, "don’t make fun, it really does burn!"

He poured the dense oil and started rubbing all over her buttocks, energetically but not being too harsh... My, she’s quite red, what was I thinking? "I wasn’t making fun... I really meant it." he said in a whisper.

"Ohhh," she said softly. "Sorry. You will take me for ice cream right?"

"It’s okay, this is all my fault, please forgive me," he said, shaking his head as he kept rubbing, also at the top of her thighs. "Of course I will, what flavours do you think you want, huh?"

"Chocolate anything."

He smiled. "And chocolate anything be it." He closed the bottle and set it aside. "A bit better, honey?"

"A little. Can you, like, leave, so I can put on a skirt?"

"Sure. I’ll be downstairs getting the car keys, okay?" he said, standing and reaching for the door.

"Thanks."

When he left, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror, then dried tears from her eyes and combed her hair out of those childish pigtails until she was rather satisfied of her look. She replaced her panties, – not without a yelp – took off her pj’s bottoms and shirt, found a nice loose skirt and slipped it on, then went downstairs.

Alan was waiting on her, and kissed her forehead, and they both went out in the nice evening breeze. He sighed as he thought there were many things he still had to learn, because he loved her WAY too much to allow such mistakes. With time, he was sure he would learn. With time.

"OW!" Emma yelped as she got into the car: those seats weren’t padded at all! She groaned and looked over at Alan. "Okay, you so owe me a double with fudge and a cherry and whip cream!"

"Are you sure ‘whip’ is the word you wanted to use?" he said, smirking.

"Oh, shut up!" She slapped his arm playfully, winked back, and gave him a smile.

Even though she had got spanked, they had come to a new understanding, where her personal privacy was concerned. At least now he would know, if she needed a little time to prepare before telling, and she knew he’d listen and be very worried. She giggled, and shook her head as he put the car into gear. Hey, ice cream and a dad that cared... made the sore bottom seem not so bad anymore.

click here for pictures of Emma and Alan