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"You might not have a Daddy of your own yet, but that doesn't exempt you from the need for discipline. If I find you causing trouble here," he warned, his stern gaze holding mine, "I won't hesitate to discipline you, right here, in front of everyone."
Rather than deterring me, his warning had an unexpected effect. I felt a flutter in my chest, a strange warmth spreading between my legs. It wasn't fear, but a strange anticipation. It deepened my longing for his discipline. My mind began to wander. What would his method of discipline be? Would he choose the corner time, that lonely and humbling punishment that wore down your resolve as you stood with your face to the wall? Or would it be more personal, more intimate, like an over-the-knee spanking?
The thought made my breath hitch. The image of being taken over his knee, feeling the sweet sting of his strong hand on my bare ass... It was strangely appealing. I wondered if he was the kind of Daddy who could get lost in the act of punishing, his stern exterior melting into something more potent… something sexual.
I could only hope he was. The thought only made me want to misbehave and find out if Hank was one to hand out idle threats.
Mike's voice jerked me out of my musing, his hushed whisper brushing against my ear, "Ready, Lina?"
I nodded, feeling a thrill run down my spine. As Mike began his act, I took on my role, aiming to channel Hank's strict demeanor as best I could.
As Mike grumbled about the service, perfectly imitating Joe's low, gruff tone and sour expression, I struggled to keep a straight face. "Can't believe how long they're taking with our order. It's a wonder this place hasn't gone under yet!" Mike barked, crossing his arms over his chest, his frown deepening.
It was uncanny, his impersonation, right down to the slouch Joe often had when he was disgruntled. Laughter bubbled up around us, infecting the otherwise quiet diner.
Giggling behind my hand, I put on my best 'Hank' face. I straightened my back, set my features into a stern look and raised a chastising finger at Mike. "Now, Mike," I said, dropping my voice lower to mimic Hank's authoritative tone. "That's no way to talk about our hosts. You ought to show some respect."
Mike looked at me, eyes wide, feigning surprise. His mouth opened and closed, mimicking Joe's speechless moments to perfection.
"Everyone's doing their best, even if it's not up to your standards," I said, remembering the way Hank often tempered his firmness with kindness.
A ripple of stifled laughter swept through the diner. I could see Hank watching us, an unreadable look on his face. I hoped he was enjoying our little show.
Then, it was almost surreal, the way Mike transformed into this picture of stubbornness. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he theatrically pulled out a blue binky from his pocket and started sucking on it, an innocent protest against his 'Daddy'—or, well, me in this whimsical little game of ours.
"Daddy," he started, using the deepest voice he could muster to mirror Joe's, "I'll stop being naughty if you promise no punishment."
Joe burst into laughter. I looked over at Hank, hoping this playful spectacle would make him see the lighter side of things, make him rethink his unbending sternness. But his face remained an unreadable mask, though I thought I saw a twinkle in his eye.
Returning my attention to our ongoing act, I put on my sternest 'Daddy' face, firmly plucking the binky from Mike's mouth. "Now, Mike," I began, copying Hank's strict tone, "there's a time and place for everything. This is neither the time nor the place for your binky."
With the binky removed, Mike's face instantly crumpled into a pout, an exaggerated version of Joe's disgruntled expressions. A mock tantrum ensued. His exaggerated cries seemed to echo around the diner, eliciting more laughter from our fellow patrons.
Even the waiter, who arrived just in time with our orders, couldn't resist joining in on the fun. His usually stoic expression broke into a broad grin as he placed our plates on the table.
As our grand act came to a close, I couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. Not just from the joy of entertaining others, but from the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, I had nudged Hank towards a more forgiving, playful perspective.
I then took a moment to assess the aftermath of our grand performance. Joe's face had transformed into a delicious shade of beet-red, the embarrassment seeping through his gruff exterior. But despite the flushed cheeks, his eyes sparkled with barely concealed amusement.
I turned my gaze to Hank, hoping for a similar reaction. To my surprise, his typically stern expression was softened by a faint blush. Our eyes locked, and I felt an unexpected surge of warmth fill me.
"You're quite the performer," he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Both of you have audacity, I'll give you that."
"Ah, come on, Uncle Hank," Mike piped up, giving his Daddy a cheeky grin. "I bet I could impersonate Daddy in my sleep. He's just so grumpy all the time."
Joe's mock-glare softened into an affectionate smile, and he playfully pinched Mike's bottom. "You're in for it later, young man," he grumbled, but there was no missing the fondness in his voice. Mike squealed in surprise from the pinch, dissolving into fits of giggles, his carefree laughter spreading throughout the diner once more.
With a swift, unexpected motion, Joe bent down to give Mike a quick peck on the lips. "Don't think you're off the hook yet, little troublemaker."
The sounds of satisfaction from the neighboring booth pulled my attention away from the ongoing celebration. A man, grinning from ear to ear, rose from his seat and approached us. "That was quite a performance!" he announced. "You two should put up a show at the club. It would be a hoot!"
Mike, the mastermind behind our impersonation, beamed at the man's words, his chest puffing up in pride. "Well," he replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "better buy a ticket for our next act. They sell out fast!"
The man's gaze fell on me, and his smile turned slightly suggestive. "I hope I'll see more of you at the club," he said, a glint of flirtation in his words.
My smile faltered for a moment, but before I could reply, the man left. My eyes flickered to Hank, and the sight that met me sent a jolt of surprise through my system. His face was hard, and there was an unusual intensity in his gaze. He looked... jealous?
"Lina," Hank's voice was a low rumble. "You don't have to talk to that guy if you see him at the club. Only if you want to."
