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“That sounds lovely,” she said.
“And afterward…” Alastair swirled her around in his arms. “How would you like to see my house?”
Her eyes softened. “I would love that.”
“Pick you up at seven?”
“Seven sounds perfect.”
Chapter 11
She fretted over what to wear. Compared to the other Littles at the ranch, Dora’s wardrobe was limited. She ended up cobbling an outfit together from a blue pleated skirt, white blouse, and pink cardigan. She paired the outfit with a pair of knee socks and loafers. A classic outfit to wear out with her classic-looking boyfriend.
“You’re going out?” Kit looked up from the sofa where she was binge-watching some sort of reality show.
“Yeah.” Dora looked at her shyly. “Do I look okay?”
“You look super cute.”
“Thanks…” she paused. “I may… um… I may be home late.”
“Oh,” said Kit, then her eyes widened. “Oh… wow. You guys are moving fast.”
“I know.” Dora brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “It feels right, though. We-we understand each other, you know?”
“That’s nice.”
“So, what are you doing tonight?”
“Going to hang out with Mavis.” Mavis was a short service sub who lived in the room down the hall. Dora didn’t know much about her other than she used to be a former gymnast who tended to be perpetually chatty and specialized in knowing something about almost everyone at the Ranch. “I won’t wait up.”
Alastair had made reservations. The little table sat by a window overlooking a pool. Fireflies danced around the water’s edge as the sun sunk behind the towering mountains. Dora thought her new Daddy had never looked more handsome in his tailored suit with tweed vest and bow tie. His perfect hair was swept to the side.
“You look scrumptious,” he said as he pulled out the chair so she could sit down. The soft strains of classical music provided a backdrop for their easy conversation. Over chicken alfredo they learned more about each other’s upbringing. Dora’s upbringing was colorless by comparison, but Alastair teased information from her in a way that uncovered little facets of her life she never realized were beautiful in their own way, like the artwork she did as a child or how she volunteered to read to elderly residents at the nearby rest home or how she managed to get a scholarship to art school and graduated with honors, even though she never could get a job in her chosen field.
Alastair told her about his past as a Domme when he was Alice, but beside that spoke very little of his life as a woman. “It feels like a different person now. I kept the best of her personality—the sense of justice, of protectiveness, my appreciation and love for women.” He acknowledged that he had it easier than most transgender men. “I never was super feminine. Small breasts, no curves. It was a blessing, really, especially when it came time for top surgery. Healing was quick.”
There was a large bowl of pasta between them. Alastair piled more on each of their plates and Dora was suddenly struck by the realization that this was the first time she’d not felt self-conscious eating in front of another person. With Alastair, she could enjoy her food without worrying that she’d be judged or teased.
The wine was rich and red and a perfect complement to the pasta. Dora got the giggles from it, which seemed to delight Alastair. The waiter brought sweet black coffee with the tiramisu which was creamy and delicious.
After dinner they strolled across the Ranch hand in hand. The cool evening air was scented with hay growing in the nearby fields and some kind of night-blooming plant that smelled vaguely spicy. The buzz from the wine lifted, but the good feelings of being with a man who loved her only intensified.
It was nearly a two-mile walk to Alastair’s cottage on the Ridge. It was everything Dora imagined it would be, with bookshelves, classical furniture, and tasteful art adorning the walls. Alastair walked her from painting to painting, telling her of its origins. They were in front of a gold-framed painting of a black horse when he turned to her.
“Would you be terribly offended if I told you I didn’t invite you here to show you my artwork? Or that since you’ve walked in all I can think about is kissing you?”
“No.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t be offended. It makes me feel better, actually, because when you were showing me that picture with the bowl of fruit, I couldn’t stop looking at your hands and thinking how they feel.”
Alastair smiled. “Would you like to see Daddy’s bedroom?”
She put her hand in his and he led her down the short hallway to his room which contained a king-sized sleigh bed with matching bureau and a chair by the small fireplace.
He took both of her hands in his. “My body. It’s different than what you may expect.”
“I know. You told me.”
“Telling you is one thing. Seeing is another.” He paused. “Once my clothes are off, if you decide that what you see is… if it troubles you…”
