“Of course, I am,” he replies. “When have I ever been wrong?”
“You really want to go down that road?” I tease.
“Maybe later. First, you need to go talk to Vanessa.”
I fire off a crisp salute, which he returns, laughing. I walk over to where Vanessa sits with Chrissy and the other little girls. They giggle and whisper as I approach then chorus, “Hi, Grayson,” in sing-songy voices.
Vanessa blushes and looks shyly up at me. She is so beautiful I can barely focus enough to smile and say, “Hi. We haven’t officially met before. I’m Grayson. I’m friends with Timothy.”
I extend my hand, probably the most awkward thing I’ve ever done, and am relieved when instead of laughing at me, she simply takes my hands and replies, “I’m Vanessa.”
“Vanessa,” I repeat, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Da—Grayson.”
She blushes bright red at the mistake and the other girls have to stifle their giggles. My own anxiety, on the other hand, has disappeared and I have no trouble talking with Vanessa through the rest of the barbecue. After the awkwardness of the introduction, she becomes far more comfortable and I learn she’s a fry cook at a local breakfast diner that serves the best chicken-fried steak this side of the Rockies, or the other side for that matter. She enjoys her job but I get the sense that she’s not entirely fulfilled.
After the barbecue, I take her for ice cream at a local shop. I order chocolate chip cookie dough for Vanessa and rum raisin for myself.
I offer her a taste and she wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think I’d like raisins and ice cream.”
“It’s good to try new things,” I reply. “You’ll never know what you’re missing otherwise.”
She looks coyly at me. “And what other things should I try besides rum raisin ice cream?”
I smile at her. “Did you have something in mind?”
She blushes but maintains eye contact. “Well, Chrissy told me that you’re like Timothy. I mean you’re a—” she hesitates.
“A Daddy,” I say.
She blushes and nods.
“She’s right,” I confirm.
We discuss the lifestyle on the way back to her place. It turns out Vanessa actually knows a lot about DDlg. A lot of girls I’ve met—and men too for that matter—think DDlg is just a weird sex kink but the sex is probably the most minor part of the lifestyle. I’m gratified to learn that it’s the rest of the lifestyle that appeals to Vanessa at least as much if not more than the sex.
When we reach her apartment, I walk her to the door. “I had a wonderful evening, Vanessa,” I say. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
She turns to me and smiles seductively. “You know,” she says, “The night’s not over yet—Daddy.”
I feel myself begin to respond to her flirting but don’t accept her implied invitation right away. “Are you sure about this?” I ask. “I’m a little stricter than the Daddies you’ve read about.”
She unbuttons her shorts and lowers the zipper all the way. “I can’t wait to learn.”
I grin. “All right then, little girl.”