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I don’t dwell on it. We’ve already decided to slow down. There’s no point in thinking about it anymore. I park in front of the dance studio and walk to the door.
It’s closed. Bolted and padlocked. A piece of paper taped to the door informs me the property is sold to KNM Property Management pending successful completion of the escrow.
Well, it’s over now. I can’t even fantasize about being a dancer now.
I manage to keep it together while I drive home, but as soon as I park, I burst into tears. I get out of the car and rush into the house past a surprised Hunter. I head straight to my room, throw myself on the bed and weep profusely. After a few minutes, I feel Hunter come inside the room and put his arms around me. I turn into him and weep into his shoulder for a long time, unable to do anything but hold him and cry.
CHAPTER SIX
Hunter
It takes a while to get her to talk and I’m frankly really relieved. I guess I’m a pretty damned egotistical asshole to think everything is about me. She isn’t crying about the overly sexual nature of our relationship at all, though. I let her talk and cry and then finally decide I’m either going all in or not at going in at all.
I go all in.
“Little girl,” I say sharply. “That’s enough!”
She immediately stops crying and stares at me in shock, wonder, and a little bit of fear. I reach forward and stroke her cheek. “I would like you to be my little girl. I want more than your body. Will you give it a try?”
She nods, her bottom lip trembling a bit. I say sternly, “Use your words, little girl!”
“Yes, Daddy!” she says.
I can tell her mind is off the dancing now. That’s good. On the other hand, I’m bringing it right back. “Will you let me help you with your dancing?”
“Help me?”
“I can help you stop believing you’ve screwed up your dream. I can help you discover if it’s really your dream. I can help you work toward it instead of just feeling horrible about not being a dancer. If you want me to, I’ll do that for you.”
“You know about dancing?”
“I don’t know a damned thing about dancing,” I say, “but I know how to be a Daddy and how to help a little girl achieve her goals.”
She looks for a moment like she’s going to burst into tears again. She doesn’t. Instead, she throws her arms around me and holds tightly to me as she says, “Yes! Yes, please! Yes, Daddy!”
So just like that, I have a little girl.
She starts crying again so I don’t do anything other than hold her and stroke her hair until she’s finally cried out. Once she is, I kiss her forehead and say, “Okay, princess. I want you to go clean up and I’m going to take you to dinner.”
She nods but before I can tell her to use her words, she says, “Yes, Daddy,” and gets up. There’s some brightness back in her eyes and some spring in her step as she leaves the living room. I’m human enough to stare at her ass as she leaves. God, it’s a perfect ass.
I guess, actually, everything about this girl’s body is perfect.
Not just her body. She’s sweet and smart as well. The conversations we’ve had before now tell me that. I guess she’s even more attractive to me now because there’s something I can do for her, a way I can be a help to her as a Daddy. I check my phone for nice restaurants and pick one primarily because it looks easy to get to. I walk to the room I’m using, and I get a small pocket notebook to bring. When I return to the living room, she’s there and she’s beautiful.
She’s dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. The cut is modest, but it still flatters her perfect body. Maybe it’s just that I know what her body looks like underneath the shirt. Maybe it’s just that the smile on her face seems hopeful and not sad anymore. In any case, when I say, “You look amazing, little girl,” I mean it and in the literal sense.
She is amazing.
She is perfect.
At dinner, I ask if she will let me order or her. She blushes and agrees, and I order her a Chilean sea bass with steamed broccoli and rice pilaf on the side. She eats with relish and when she’s done, she says, “Wow. I never would have ordered that for myself, but I’m glad you did.”
“Why wouldn’t you have ordered it?” I ask.
“Well, I’ve never had sea bass before,” she says. “I didn’t know if I would like it.”
“But aren’t you glad you tried it anyway?” I ask.
