She never had a Daddy in the first place, so she’s yearning for someone to take care of her.
But is she interested in me? As a man? Because I’m certainly interested in her as a woman. Sure, I’m a Daddy in the fetish community. I left out a lot of information when I said Collette liked me to take care of her. Including the fact that I liked it even more.
I was in my early twenties when I realized I had this kink, and it took me several years to find out there was an entire community of people who enjoy age play. I like to take care of my women, in every imaginable way.
But, they have to want it too. It has to be something they crave, being taken care of. It’s not for everyone. For Collette and I, we had that connection. She was a truly amazing little and I was just the right kind of Daddy for her. However, we clashed on a few issues, and in the end, we were struggling. When I got this job in Seattle and told her, I knew she wouldn’t be going with me.
I’m also aware it takes years to find a woman who totally meshes with my kink. For some Daddies, it never happens. I know I’m overzealous with Britney. Irrationally pressuring her to be someone I desperately want her to be. I have to slow the fuck down, I remind myself.
I’m not going to tell her about my trip to the club because I don’t want her to completely freak out, but I do want her to know her apartment was ransacked because she needs to feel the fear.
I sit in the middle of the couch, leaving half a foot between us. I’m not willing to give her more space than that. Or maybe I’m not capable of more distance.
“Don’t you need to leave for work soon?” she asks. “Can you drop me off at the shelter? I can get my car then too, and—”
I shake my head and interrupt her. “I took the day off. So did you.”
Her mouth drops open.
“I called Cindy. It’s okay. She’ll get someone to cover for you for a while.”
“For a while?” My voice raises. “Davis, I can’t miss work. I’ve already lost one job. I can’t lose this one too. As it is, I can’t possibly pay my rent off my salary from the shelter. I need to find another job waitressing or something.”
Now I’m glad I’m sitting this close, because I reach out and set a hand on her thigh. “Britney, slow down.” I meet her gaze.
She’s breathing heavily, feeling frantic. Her legs are curled under her, but her spine is straight now and she’s gripping the arm of the couch with one hand and the back of the couch with the other. Her knuckles are white.
“Sweetie, I need you to listen to me. Okay?”
She nods slowly.
“You’re not safe.” I hate to be blunt, but there is no option. She needs to grasp the severity of the situation. “When I went to your apartment last night, it had been ransacked.”
She gasps. Her eyes are blue saucers.
I shuffle closer to her and keep my hand on her thigh. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
She’s shaking now.
“First of all, do you have any family anywhere?”
She shakes her head.
“No one?”
“No. Why? What does that have to do with anything?” Her lip is trembling. I hate it, but I can’t blame her, and I really, really want her to grasp how serious this is.
“I suspect your boss sent someone to your apartment in hopes they would find you there. When they didn’t, their next job would have been to figure out where you might have gone. Do you have friends you could have called? Is there anyone who could have helped you?”
She shakes her head again harder. “If I had family or friends, I wouldn’t have been sleeping in my car,” she points out, her voice cracking before she glances away, flushed with embarrassment.
“Good. That means your boss’s men didn’t find anything. I’m certain that would have been their goal, to gather information and then hunt you down at a relative’s or a friend’s house. I just wanted to be sure no other person might be the target of your disappearance.”
She nods but tears are slowly sliding down her face. “At least my pitiful self didn’t involve anyone else,” she murmurs.
I’m done with the distance, as slight as it is. I reach for