“So, you are looking for a relationship like that.” I shuffled from one foot to the other. “Someone who is little all the time, like them.”
“I can’t really say.” He sat down. “I assumed when I met someone and if they were little, they would get to decide what kind of little they were. I would feel honored if they allowed me to take care of them.
Oh, that was a really good answer. A jolt went through my chest, sharp and unexpected, and for a second I forgot how to breathe.
But my brain was ready to remind me what he was and who he worked for.
His phone rang, and he stood up.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” He left without another word.
I nodded and waved. Still reeling from his answer. It was so him answering a direct question and leaving me with less knowledge than if I’d not asked in the first place.
He was a Daddy Dom. He had to know what kind of little he wanted, right?
There’s age ranges to consider. Did he want someone in diapers, or maybe a middle was more his type? Did he like them bratty or perfect little angels? Did he want them to have a more traditional BDSM submissive side as well? How far did his kinksstretch across the spectrum? Questions. So many questions. I needed to know.
No, you don’t. You’re not volunteering to be his little.
I scowled at my own thoughts, annoyed with the part of myself that was always so ruthlessly practical.
I guess I could ask those questions of myself. I didn’t really know a lot about my little. While I enjoyed playing with daddies and other littles, my little wasn’t well defined outside of the club. To really know your little, you need more time than the few hours I gave her every few weeks. That was the issue back in New York, but at least she had that outlet. Here in Las Vegas, she hadn’t been out to play in months. Maybe I should look at other clubs in the area. That would give my little the release she craved, and I wouldn’t be pining for every Daddy Dom who spoke nicely to me.
I headed back to my office and waved at Collin as I passed his desk.
He was speaking loudly into his phone. His demeanor was always animated.
“Oh, yeah, she’s super cute.” He laughed. “Kylie.”
I turned around. Collin waved me over.
“Kylie, this is Tyler.” He turned the phone to face me. I knew the name and the face. “He’s another Grant brother.”
“Hi Kylie, welcome to the family.” He sat on a couch in front of an enormous picture window with a view of lots of buildings.
“Nice to meet you Tyler and thank you.”
“So, you’re the little girl Patrick has a crush on.”
Collin pulled the phone back. “Dude, shut up.”
“What? She doesn’t know he has a crush?” His voice came through the phone.
“Who has a crush on me?” I held my hand over my heart.
“Nothing, no one.” Collin shook his head and waved me away.
“On our cutie patootie Patrick.” Tyler giggled. “I don’t blame him; you are adorable, and you can handle a weapon from what I hear. You’re a catch.”
“Girl, you better not let Maddox hear you talking about Patrick like that. You’re practically married to a cutie patootie”
“Maddox is hardly a cutie.” Tyler swooned. “More like a handsome, rugged, manly man. He doesn’t do guns, but he does have a lot of power tools.” He and Collin cackled. “But for real, Patrick is a good man. She couldn’t do any better.”
Tyler and Collin laughed, but then his face dropped when he saw mine. It was as if a secret I didn’t even know about was let out of the bag.
“Oh, shit.” Collin turned the phone toward me. “Tyler, I’ll call you back.”
“I’m sorry—” Tyler said before the phone died.
