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Yes, if Dominick had been around this weekend, I would have totally blown it off, but the semester’s almost over and I’ve been so scatterbrained for months, it’s good to focus on school for a little while. Burying myself in research about Piaget’s stages of cognitive development is almost enough to keep my mind off everything at home.
We’ve managed family dinners twice since Dominick’s and my interlude in the library bathroom and everything has been, well…wonderful.
Dad smiles at the secret looks Dominick and I shoot each other. Both of them squeeze my butt playfully when I pass on the way to set the table or while we’re doing the dishes or heading to the den to watch after dinner TV. But that’s as far as it’s gone. Everything’s settled back into our normal routine—with just an edge of playfulness to it.
Dad helped me with my Statistics homework on Thursday and afterward stopped me with a hand on my arm. “I know the adjustment of Dominick and I coming to live with you must have taken some getting used to.” His voice softened. “Especially as we get even closer as a family and our relationships become complex.” He reached out and took my hand, his thumb my caressing my inner wrist.
“But I want you to know that getting to know you has been one of the best things that’s ever happened to us. It’s brought Dominick and I closer than ever before as well. You’re such a special young woman.” With that he gave my hand one last squeeze, leaned over and kissed my forehead. Then he got up and left the kitchen.
I stayed there at the table, feeling warm all the way through. Then it was followed by anxiety as I looked after him. What did all that mean? Would he want to come to my room tonight? Was I ready for that? But no, Dominick said it was only something they’d do together from now on. That calmed me down.
And true to what Dominick had said, Dad didn’t come that night. Was it just because Dominick wasn’t home? And did that mean that the first night both of them were there, they’d want to…? After all, Dominick had the vibrator because he said he wanted to train and prepare me for…
But both of them haven’t been home at the same time. Dominick’s still working crazy hours. Even Dad’s been gone more than usual as the hospital scrambles to get in as many donor dollars as possible by the board’s deadline if the new oncology wing of the hospital is to be a go. I know he’s stressed out by it all even though he tries to leave work behind at work.
I try hard not to let any of my own stress show. Yes, I have classes, but it’s also the lingering uncertainty about things here at home.
I’d hate for either Dad or Dominick to guess that they’re the cause of any anxiety. And the further I get from that initial sexual experience, the more convinced I am that I was just immature in my response to it all. Of course sex hurt the first time—I was a virgin for God’s sake. My hymen had to break. Um hello? Facts of biology much?
Plus, even though I haven’t seen as much as I’d like of Dominick—well, to be honest, I’ve barely seen him at all—he’s been leaving little treats for me in my bureau where I keep my hair and makeup things.
God, I blush even thinking about it. The first time I opened the drawer to pull out my brush and saw what he’d left me, I yelped and almost slammed it shut again. Like I was embarrassed someone else might see or something. Ridiculous, since obviously there was no one else there. I was still absurdly embarrassed about reopening the drawer and reading the note in Dominick’s messy doctor’s handwriting.
Wear this whenever you can over the next couple days. Leave it in while you go to school and think of me. Prepare yourself for me, beautiful.
Beside the note was a small anal plug and a small tube of lubricant.
Every few days, he’d leave a larger plug and a new note.
You can’t imagine what it does to me, imagining you walking around with my present inside you. I’m so hard all the time I can barely concentrate. Soon, beautiful, you’ll be mine in every way.
And after another few days, after the long weekend spent tucked away at the library on my paper, I finally see him. It’s Tuesday morning. I stayed up most of last night finishing the paper and barely had time to shower, then dash downstairs and grab a croissant before running out the door. He’s just coming in, looking exhausted after a night shift.
“Beautiful,” he says in happy surprise when he opens the door to find me on the other side, just slinging my backpack and purse over my shoulder.
