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Saoirse sighed happily as they walked out of the pod at the end of the ride.
“Would you like to come back before we leave?” Sutter asked.
She nodded. “It’s such a great view. When I’ve been here, I barely saw outside. I was always in the athletic centers.”
“Ready for something to eat?” Sutter was past the age where he was always hungry, but having worked a physical job all summer, he could usually be persuaded to eat at any time and kept very regular mealtimes.
Saoirse smiled at him wearily. “Is it lunch time? Breakfast time? My body’s so confused.”
Sutter laughed gently. “Lunch time here.”
“Something light?” Saoirse asked, her tone pleading, her hand pressing to her belly.
Sutter kissed her forehead. “Something light,” he agreed. “And then a nap?”
The lines around her eyes eased a fraction. “Yes, please.”
Sutter chuckled. “That’s the easiest I’ve ever had anyone agree to a nap.”
She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “I need no persuading. I slept on the plane; I really did. But it feels like I haven’t slept at all.”
“Sleep quality on a plane is lousy,” Sutter said. He tipped his head at a restaurant on the rain-washed esplanade that advertised “lighter bites” on its extensive Asian menu. “How’s that place look?”
Saoirse surveyed the menu and nodded eagerly. “They have seared tuna salad. That’s exactly what my stomach wants right now.”
They also had rice pudding for dessert, which Sutter thought would help keep her tummy settled and maybe appeal to her Little side. Although her Little had peeped out a few times while they were flying, including when she’d eaten the cola candies and when she’d picked a Pixar movie to watch before they tried to sleep, the stress of travel had kept her in a “Big” mindset for most of yesterday and today. Sutter was delighted to see her wondrous, wondering Little emerge again.
A polished, polite hostess showed them to a table overlooking the Thames. Although he’d have liked to keep touching her, Sutter chose to sit across from her so he could continue to enjoy the light in her eyes as she took in the view. When the waiter came to take their order, he ordered for both of them, slipping in a sharing plate of “mac and cheese bites” to start, since he’d noticed how much Saoirse enjoyed the Ranch’s mac and cheese, and the rice pudding at the end. He also got them both large bottles of water—he’d taken keeping Saoirse well-hydrated as a personal mission—since he knew a big part of jet lag was actually dehydration. Brionna and some of Sutter’s previous girlfriends would have protested his high-handedness in ordering for them in public, but Saoirse didn’t even grumble. She continued looking around with delight. As soon as the water arrived, she drank eagerly, without him even prompting her.
Such a good Little girl,Sutter thought.
“After we nap, I thought we might spend an hour or two in the British Museum, check out those mummies, and then walk through Covent Garden to Trafalgar Square,” he suggested. “It’s a good walk. It’ll clear out the cobwebs. And there’s lots to see. Will that be too much?”
Saoirse shook her head. “Exercise is always the best way to feel better.”
He wholeheartedly agreed. “We can have an early dinner and then I have a meet and greet with some V.I.P.s tonight at the club. If you’re tired, you can absolutely pass on that.”
“I’ll see how I feel, but right now, I’d like to go.” Neither of them had toured the club yet. A driver, presumably sent by Sutter’s aunt, met them at the airport. They’d quickly freshened up, had the driver drop them at the Tube, and sent their bags to the club with the driver while they continued into the City.
Despite her growing tiredness, Saoirse’s delight in their new surroundings never dimmed through their meal. The “mac and cheese bites” were small balls of mac and cheese in a light coating and fried until crunchy. Saoirse didn’t eat many of them, but her enjoyment of each creamy, cheesy bite glowed through the fatigue. Sutter let her feed him a few forkfuls of her seared tuna and sesame salad. It wasn’t what he’d chosen, but Sutter had to admit it was flavorful and the greens couldn’t hurt. Saoirse gave a little clap when the rice pudding, garnished with tart green berries neither of them were familiar with, arrived. He stole a few bites of that, too, but was so pleased by her delight that he encouraged her to polish it off.
They went for a walk along the river to let their food digest, but when Sutter saw Saoirse yawning again, he hailed one of London’s famous black taxis, which whisked them off to Fulham.
Winter’s Sin was tucked away on a side street a short walk from the center of Fulham and within sight of the bright lights of Stamford Bridge, a stadium where Chelsea Football Club played. Three old Victorian townhouses had been knocked through to create the club, with the ground floor bar and dance floor, dungeons in the basement, and private rooms on the upper floors. Sutter and Saoirse were staying in the Moroccan Suite. Although it wasn’t designed for Littles, Sutter thought the blue and rose draperies, liberal use of throw pillows, and obvious spanking ottoman might appeal to Saoirse.
While Saoirse unpacked, Sutter boiled water and made tea from the comprehensive tea caddy provided with the room.The British and their tea, Sutter thought with amusement. But he couldn’t fault the warming effect of a cup of tea on an unseasonably cold and chilly day like this one. He dropped tea bags into the boiling water—chamomile to help them sleep—and blew on Saoirse’s cup while he waited for her to finish in the bathroom.
Her drooping eyes widened when she came out and he gave her the tea. “How did you know?”
“That you like chamomile tea? I didn’t. Just a good guess to warm you up and help you nap.”
She stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s perfect, thank you.”
When they’d finished their tea, Sutter led her to one of the double beds. He’d specifically emailed the club’s hostess and asked for a room with two beds. He wanted Saoirse to know, unequivocally, that she had her own space on this trip and he wasn’t pushing for anything. Her eyes had gone to the beds as soon as they’d entered the room, and although he didn’t see any sign of relief, Saoirse definitely seemed very relaxed now, her face scrubbed shiny, wearing a cute but not revealing cotton sleepshirt, her eyelids heavy. Sutter had taken off his button-down sweater-vest and tailored shorts but kept his boxers and undershirt on.
He lifted the covers on her bed and tucked her in once she climbed in. “I think we’re both too tired for a spanking, so I’ll save that for bedtime,” he told her.
She nodded wearily. Plumping the pillow, she turned on her side and took his hand in hers. “A short story?” she asked, her eyelids drooping.
