As she sits down, I see her wince. Then I see her small smile. Yes, that’s the smile of a happy masochist.
“Is this where you want me to read and sign the non-disclosure and sexual services contract you’ve conveniently prepared and brought along?” she asks, dunking her peppermint teabag into the steaming mug.
I make a show of checking my pockets. “Now where did I put that?”
“It could be on your phone,” she offers.
I chuckle. “No.” Although that’s not the worst idea, and I will email her a contract when I get home. I know they’re not legal. I know a contract wouldn’t protect me from assault and battery charges if she changes her mind. But the Navy made me a pencil-pusher, I guess, and contracts make me comfortable. “This is where I tell you what you need to pack.”
Her blush spreads down her throat and I watch in amusement. She tucks a non-existent strand of stray hair behind her ear and asks softly, “What do I need to pack, sir?”
As much I like hearing her call me “sir,” I wish she’d call me “Daddy” again. That was an amazing moment. I could feel her trust like a warm hand settling on my chest. Tomorrow night, I’ll get her back to that place.
“An overnight bag. You live near here?” At her nod, I continue. “Can you come into the City tomorrow night? We can get to know each other somewhere other than in a public bathroom.”
She grins and hides it in her tea.
“Take the train down and I’ll pick you up at Penn Station,” I tell her. “We’ll have dinner, maybe do a low-key scene if you feel up to it. You can stay overnight at my place. I have a guest room, so don’t feel any pressure.”
“Thank you,” she says, but her eyes don’t lift to mine. I think she’s disappointed. Good. Sex and sleeping with me should be rewards.
“Now, as to what you should pack, do you like to play dress up, little girl?” I drop my voice into my deepest register on the last two words and watch her shiver. She flinches as her bottom rubs along the booth’s hard seat. I grin into my own tea, which I only bought so I don’t have coffee breath when I kiss her goodbye. Which I am definitely doing.
“Yes,” she says, choking on the word.
“Do you have a schoolgirl outfit?”
She nods. “Plaid uniform with white socks or all black?”
I feel a tiny flare of annoyance at finding her so well-equipped. Her sign said she was experienced, and that’s what I need from her. Still, Daddy will dress his girl in the future.
Where the fuck did that thought come from? Yes, I’ve dressed my bottoms before, in satin and sparkly shit, not the baby doll dresses I’m imagining her wearing.
She’s staring at me, so I pull myself back to what I should be doing. “Plaid. Bring pajamas and something comfortable for the train home. You’ll be sore.”
“I’m sore now,” she whispers into her tea, which makes me grin. “Anything else, sir?”
“No. Good girl for asking.” The praise makes her blush to her hairline again. “If we’re both happy with how tomorrow night goes, then you’ll need to pack for two weeks. Cruise leaves from L.A. on Friday. Plane from Newark to LAX on Thursday afternoon.”
“One more audition,” she says, looking into her tea as she dips the bag again.
Definitely performance anxiety. “It’s not an audition. Think of it as a first date. You might want to know a little more about me before you give me two weeks of your life.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve given two weeks of my life to dumber things.” She glances up, horror creasing her features. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to suggest that this was dumb—”
I chuckle. “It’s okay. I didn’t take it that way. For the cruise, pack light. Bathing suits and shorts. Little dresses. It’ll be hot. Bring some pretty things for the evenings. There are three formal dinners each week. And if you have any favorite toys, bring them. I’ll be bringing some things for you, too, so don’t worry about not having the right things.”
“Okay.” She gives me a shy grin.
“One other thing you need to bring, and two things you need to do.”
She sips her tea and watches me over the rim of the paper cup. I can feel how intently she’s listening.
“Thing you need to bring is your passport. The ship goes to Mexico. Bring it with you tomorrow as well. I’ll need to add your name and passport number to the plane and cruise reservations.”
She nods. “No problem.”
“Needs to be at least six months left on your passport,” I tell her, remembering when I ran into that issue two years ago.
“I just renewed it in February. The two things I need to do?”
“First, when you get home, take a hot bath and painkillers, if you need them. I’d usually do your aftercare.” Aftercare’s one of my favorite things; I hate that I won’t be able to do hers. “And I will call you later, but I need to get back to the City tonight, so I can’t stick around to do it.”
She shakes her head, ponytail swishing. “I don’t need much aftercare.” Her eyes flick to my face, taking in my frown; she shifts on her seat, and winces. “Sorry, sir, I mean, I will take a bath. And I would like it if you called me, but
