The house will be better than any other in the neighborhood is. However, the street abuts a luxury neighborhood, so it won’t be too out of place. I’m going to end up way over budget, but the results will be worth it and the value of the place will justify the added expenses. I’ve done more to the place than necessary. That breaks a few cardinal rules about fixer-upper situations but I have plans to make it much nicer than it needs to be. I can’t deny it has everything to do with wanting to extend the time she lives there; the time she and I spend together. It will be hard to part with the place, not only because it will be a far nicer house than any I’ve put together, but also because parting with the place means parting with Gwen.
As promised, I give her a call after I hit the road, at two in the afternoon. She seems genuinely surprised that I kept my word, and I wonder how many people in her life were so untrustworthy.
“If the traffic’s fine, I’ll be there around five-forty-five, but it could be crazy. I’ll hit Fountain Springs right at rush hour. Might take an hour and a half to get through there. In any case, I’ll call you.”
“Thank you, Paul,” she says. There’s something bubbling in her voice now, something beneath the surface. Again, I wonder how in the world so many people could have destroyed her faith in expecting honest behavior from anyone. When we hang up, I think about how she deserves to feel better about herself, about life in general and about people.
It’s silly, because it means I spend the next two hours building myself up for a fantasy that isn’t going to happen. Then, I get stuck in traffic in Fountain Springs, and by the time I’m moving freely again, it’s already after five o’clock. The delay makes me feel doubly horrible because of all the images and ideas running through my head. I give her a call to let her know I’ll be closer to six thirty.
She says, “I’ll be waiting for you.” Her words feel like a kiss.
I finally get close and it’s six-twenty-three. I call her and tell her I’m fifteen minutes away and she cries out, “Yay!” like a little kid. My heart leaps in my chest. After I hang up, I realize I’ve fallen hard for this girl. I know that means I’m headed for heartache, but I can’t help it, and I resolve at least to make the most of the time I’ll still have with her, and to give her as much guidance as I can without overstepping the mark.
Even with that resolve, I feel a profound sense of melancholy mixed into my thrill, as I park the truck in the driveway. The time I have left with her is just so short! As quietly as I can, I empty the bed of my pickup and put all of my purchases in the storage container on the lawn. Then, realizing I can’t delay the bittersweet inevitable, I do my best to put on a happy face and go up to the house. I hesitate for one last second on the front porch, take a deep breath, and open the door.
Perhaps if I live to be a thousand years old, I will no longer be surprised by the sight that greets me. I doubt it, though.
Gwen is naked. Gwen is on her knees, her cute little ass resting against her heels and her back straight. She has her head bowed very slightly, but her eyes look right up at me. I stare at her in shock, and I realize that, as lovely as she is with her clothes on, she is close to perfection without them.
Then, she says something that is, without question, the most perfect and beautiful thing I have ever hear.
“I want to submit to your care and protection, Daddy.”