That’s what made Kylie showing up a month after we were just at FBI HQ New York impossible to ignore. And her making small talk with the girls made me even more curious.
Her background was interesting.
Graduated from Georgetown with a double major in Mathematics and Spanish, but she spoke French and Italian, too. The FBI recruited her, but she had accepted a job with a think tank in DC. Before starting the job, she disappeared off the grid for six months, which coincided with her sister’s disappearance from a luxury resort in Colombia. When shereturned to the world, she took the FBI up on their offer and became an analyst. The sex-trafficking task force was her latest assignment.
Agent Stanley gave her a ringing endorsement but with a word of caution: she was smart, capable, but a little too dialed in when she needed to let go, and she had no social life from what he knew. Confirmed by my own research, she lived alone and went to and from her apartment in New Jersey daily by train. She had no friends, no boyfriends, not even a cat.
Yet, once a month, on a Friday, instead of going home, she took a cab from New York across the bridge to Brooklyn to a brownstone in the middle of a block on a nondescript street near Park Slope. It took me no time at all to figure out it was a play party for daddies/mommies and littles. The invitation list was highly secure and exclusive. The caregivers paid a membership, but the littles applied and were selected to attend for free. Though the place was open every weekend, and even had rooms to rent for overnight guests, Kylie only allowed herself to visit once a month.
While I got little vibes from her the first time I saw her, she wasn’t open about that side of herself. And she didn’t allow herself to indulge too much. It made her even more intriguing. I wanted to find out why. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful. She was on the short side but had an athletic build. Thankfully, her FBI physical training didn’t take away her curves. Her outfits were more resort and stylish than the other times I’d seen her. She was on vacation after all.
But even in the FBI uniform, a typical dark suit, didn’t dampen her looks. She was stunning and adorable all at the same time.
A staff member approached me with a pizza box in hand.
“Oh, goodie.” Rayna clapped her hands. I nodded, and he sat the pizza slice box between the girls.
“Wow, that was fast,” Kylie said.
“It’s the Quadrangle magic; ask and you shall receive.” Rayna wiggled her eyebrows. I tried to keep mine from rolling.
“Come join us.” Tinley waved at Kylie. She peeked in my direction but didn’t wait for me to acknowledge her before standing, grabbing her drink and hopping on the bar stool next to Tinley.
“Does the magic work for everything?” Kylie leaned over the counter, ogling the slice of pepperoni with light cheese. Tinley had a problem with some foods since living on very little for two years.
“It seems to only work with food and clothing items, an occasional toy, but not for good things like ninja stars or samurai swords.” Rayna answered.
Kylie’s eyes grew wide, but she recovered quickly. “No weapons, got it.”
A small to-go container of hot honey was in the box. Elizabeth brought a bowl of ranch from the back.
“Do you want a taste?” Rayna asked while taking a knife and cutting off the bottom half of the slice of pizza and putting it on a plate for Tinley. “Do you like crust? Tinley usually gives me her crust, but you can have some too.”
“Yes, please.” Kylie’s smile lit up her entire face. Her blond hair was tied half-up with a brown clip. The rest hung halfway down her back and shone bright even in the muted light of the restaurant. The t-shirt dress she wore skimmed across her hips and flared at the bottom. She wasn’t dressed little, but with what I knew about her, that’s all I saw.
“My name is Kylie.” She held out her hand toward Tinley, who was relearning social cues. She looked at it before Rayna reached across and shook her hand.
“I’m Rayna.” She nudged Tinley. “This is Tinley.”
“Hi,” Tinley waved and lowered her gaze to the greasy goodness in front of her, flicking her thumb and forefinger.
“How do we do this?” Tinley asked. Both girls turned to Kylie with wide eyes and waited.
“I drizzle the hot honey.” Kylie picked up a fork and dipped it in the sticky amber sauce and waved it back and forth, creating a zig-zag pattern of honey across the slice. Delighted, the girls also followed suit. “Then dip it in the ranch.”
“Same time.” Rayna gathered her slice. Tinley did the same with two hands. Without the crust, her slice wasn’t as rigid. They all three dipped and brought the slice up to their mouths. Tinley and Rayna stopped and watched. Kylie blew on the slice and took a bite. Her cheeks flushed red and her eyes fluttered shut as she slowly chewed while letting out an uninhibited moan.
Fuck, the sounds a woman could make. It had been a while. The tone set off something in my brain, and the air seemed unreasonably warm. Her soft pink lips, with a small bit of ranch on the corner, conjured up thoughts that had no place in a public restaurant, and I had to look away and adjust myself. I thought I had grown out of theboner when the wind blewstage, but she had my body reacting younger than my actual thirty-five years.
Rayna and Tinley giggled and followed suit, falling into their own moment of bliss. “Oh, my goodness,” they said in unison.
Kylie gave a knowing nod and finished her third of the slice.
“Hot honey.” Rayna picked up the small plastic container and kissed it. “Where have you been all my life? Patrick?”
“Yes, Rayna.”
She turned the bar stool around to face me. “Remind me to put this on our weekly grocery list.”
