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“Probably into belly dancing these days,” she joked.
“Pardon me?”
“I just… was trying to think of something worse than drinking… but not actually worse, l like belly…”
Please could the earth open up and swallow me right now?
“I’m just teasing,” Bob said. “You Brits have such a dry sense of humor.”
She took another sip. “That’s why I need this drink. To, um, wet myself.”
Oh my god, why do you have to make it worse with every sentence that comes out of your mouth?
Millie’s inner critic was always whirling away, looking for ways to make her feel worse about herself, but her critic had been working overtime ever since she arrived in the States. She felt constantly observed, as though the kind, welcoming people she’d met on her journey could sense her discomfort and self-hatred.
“You’re a strange one,” Bob said, “but it’s a pleasure to have you in Littlecreek.” Another tip of his hat, and he retired to the bar, before turning up the sound on a television that was showing sports.
Millie took another sip of beer, then slipped her hand into her pocket. Her little friend, Edgar, was in there. Edgar was a stuffie she’d had since she was a young girl. He was a small duck, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, but chunky enough to be nice to stroke. Edgar was totally green, with a bright yellow beak.
Her father had given her Edgar. Yikes. What would her dad think if he knew she was in a place like this?
Growing up, Millie had been surrounded by aristocracy and wealth. She literally went to school with and was best friends with aprincess. Her own father — Boris Reynolds — was a supplier of horses to the royal family, as well as to champion racehorse owners up and down the country.
Millie thought back to the countryside around her family’s Berkshire estate — the gentle green hills, the coppices of oak trees dotted on hill-crests on the horizon. She might as well have been from a different planet.
Luckily, her father had no idea where she was right now. After what she’d pulled before she’d run away, she hoped that he would never catch up with her.
Even though she was out of her depth, at least she had a purpose here — something to try to swim toward.
She checked her watch. She was meant to be meeting a representative from Littlecreek Ranch here in five minutes. Enough time to finish her drink, thankfully.
Millie lifted the glass to her lips, but before she could drink, a voice rang out from the door.
“Young lady, that’s quite enough.” The accent was thick, but not American — if anything, she’d have guessed that this guy was from the Mediterranean.
Her eyes shot to the source of the sound — an imposing-looking silhouette of a tall man in a long coat. He gazed at her with intensity and cracked his knuckles.
What had Millie gotten herself into?
*
Chuck shook his head.Changes. That was the understatement of the damn decade.
In so many ways, Littlecreek Ranch had utterly transformed over the past half a year. Things were so drastically different that some days, Chuck could barely believe his eyes.
New buildings had gone up in the blink of an eye. A visitor center. A brand new barn. A quiet cabin. And, to his amazement, a playhouse.
When Takis had explained his grand vision for the ranch, it had taken Chuck a while to get his head around it. He knew about age play. Both his brothers were heavily involved in the lifestyle. His older brother, Trent, had learned about Littles and Bigs in New York, while he’d been finding himself as a college student. And Duke, like he always did, got into whatever Trent was into. Despite their differences, Duke looked up to Trent so much that it made Chuck jealous.
For Chuck, though, age play — and BDSM in general — had never really figured in his life. It wasn’t because he didn’t find the thought appealing. He could see the attraction of being that intimate and open with a sexual partner. But these days, Chuck didn’t think about girls.
He thought about horses. He thought about work. He thought about paying tribute to his parents’ memory.
Everything else was just… noise.
“Doesn’t matter how much everything else changes,” Chuck grunted. “Horse shit still smells of horse shit.”
He was in the stable. His father had built this place with his bare hands almost fifteen years ago. It was one of the few places that Takis hadn’t considered updating and altering. Chuck loved it so much that he took great pride in its maintenance and cleanliness.
