CHAPTER SIX
Micah
After five weeks, I still find Vanessa’s voice enrapturing. I still find everything else about her thrilling as well. She has taken to being a little naturally and perfectly, but I love more than anything that there is still plenty of fire in her. For many little girls, the beginning of a relationship starts out where they give up almost all of their personality, as though they feel like they have to just blindly accept whatever Daddy says.
Vanessa isn’t like that at all.
She takes to being a little, and she enjoys the girliness of it. She enjoys calling me Daddy and she enjoys that she feels safe with me. This I can tell. She also lets me give her some guidance but she’s recalcitrant about that, careful about how far she lets me see into her mind. She doesn’t fully trust me yet, not with everything.
That will come in time.
I love her strength and her passion. Naturally, I love it regarding sex. In fact, all of these thoughts occur to me as I’m showering after a particularly breathtaking bout of sex that left me almost unable to stand. I definitely love her passion when it comes to sex, no doubt about it at all.
But I love her passion about other things as well. I love the way she approaches life with an almost all or none attitude. She’s either one hundred percent involved in something or she’s not involved at all. So, she’s either uninterested or completely committed. When she’s committed, the effect is almost overwhelming.
She’s never happy. She’s overjoyed.
She’s never sad. She’s inconsolable.
She’s never angry. She’s furious.
She’s a bundle of wonderful, powerful extremes.
I don’t think I have ever met a more wonderful, exciting, or powerful creature. I am so glad she’s not just a cookie cutter girl who fits into some little girl mold and bats her eyes at her daddy like an innocent little stereotype.
God, she’s everything I’ve ever wanted!
I get out of the shower just as she steps into the bathroom.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asks with a smile. Then, she pouts and adds, “Daddy, I’m still hungry!”
I think it’s a wonder that I even survive the shower!
She has hours left before she will sing but I head into the club to get things rolling. Everyone has welcomed me, and, except for a few minor issues, I have no problems with the employees. There was a little dispute between two servers over tips and Mark, a new bartender, kept messing up with the daily specials. The little kitchen runs without much input from me, and the club is so well organized it’s really a breeze for me to handle.
After an hour, the early patrons arrive for lunch and cocktails, and it takes a great deal of effort to not just run over and pop into her place for a few more minutes with her. It’s a great kind of need, though, a wonderful kind of longing. I feel a lot like a kid with a crush, filled with that all-consuming excitement that somehow pervades every aspect of every day.
I’m a lovesick sap.
God, she has a temper! She doesn’t resist every aspect of guidance or direction but when she does, it’s like she lights up in flames as red as her hair and as hot as her body. Like a match, the flames burn very hot, only to flare and disappear.
I think back to Kelly, how she was so utterly compliant and sweetly submissive. I think about how she eagerly worked on every suggestion. I think about how one day I discovered her name wasn’t even Kelly and she’d done everything just for a thesis, what she hoped would be an expose on the lifestyle. It devastated me, of course.
She never wrote her thesis. A frank conversation from my lawyer ended that.
But back then, I was in love with her.
What I felt for not-Kelly is nothing compared to what I feel for Vanessa. I realize the fact that Vanessa doesn’t just blindly accept everything I say has a great deal to do with that. She makes me earn her trust every single day and when she undertakes a plan of action we might come up with, she does so completely committed to it. God, it can be a battle to get there, though.
I realize I’m smiling like an idiot just thinking about her. I move down to where Mike is putting away bar glasses to help him. He looks distracted.
“What’s up, Mike?”
He shakes his head.
“Come on,” I say. “If something’s wrong, I want to help.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says with a nervous laugh. “It’s just there’s a girl who comes to the club every now and then. I just…” His words trail off, but I know exactly what he means.