His Jersey Girl

Chapter 1

Alyssa

Margaret’s stomach felt like there were a hundred mice having a dance party inside it. The house was quiet, and there was no reason anyone should suspect what she planned. She silently crept down the hallway and hoped the insanely loud beat of her heart wouldn’t give her away.

If her Daddy found out what she was doing, she would be in so much trouble. She couldn’t worry about that now. If she found what she was looking for, the spanking he would give her would be worth it. She approached the door of the office, opening it slowly. The files in the desk drawer would tell her everything she needed to know.

“Oh, my god! Are you working on your new book?” Grace squealed next to my ear.

I jumped as if a high-voltage wire had shocked me. Everything went flying, including my lucky pen. Not wanting to lose the purple fine-line, gel-ink perfection, I lunged after it. Unfortunately, coordination when startled is not a skill I possess, so I went sprawling to the floor. Embarrassment rushed over my face like a heat wave, and I groaned.

Thank god colorful foam mats covered the floor of the Little’s Playroom at the Dragon’s Tale. As it was, my knees stung, my hands ached, and soon my head would hurt because I was banging it against the floor in mortification. Seriously, when was I going to learn to be more observant or at least not get stupid scared every time someone talked to me when I was writing?

I kept my eyes closed, not ready yet to face my friend. A couple deep breaths and I would find the courage.

No really. I would.

Any moment now.

If I was living in one of my stories, this would be the moment where the sweet and tender Daddy would rush over to see if his Little girl was okay. He would scoop her up off the floor, cuddle her in his lap, and whisper tender, comforting words. His strong hands would run all over her body, checking to make sure there were no bumps and bruises that needed to be attended to.

“Sorry! I didn”t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

I mean, define okay. It’s actually a very vague word and completely overused in my opinion. I was mortified and had almost peed in my panties, but I would probably survive. Ok, I’d definitely survive since dying of embarrassment wasn’t a real thing or I wouldn’t have lived to be twenty-three.

Not wanting to hurt my friend’s feelings, I mumbled, “I’m fine.”

The word ‘fine’ isn’t as misused as ‘okay’, though I’ve been told by men it is. ‘Fine’ suggests that while a person isn’t perfectly happy, they accept their current state. Personally, I thought it was a grand word to tell someone without being rude that they have done something wrong and should alter their behavior accordingly. I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again. Grace wasn’t alone.

Of course she wasn’t. That would be too easy. The entire LJG crew was with her, which honestly, I should have expected. As a founding member of the Little Jersey Girls crew, I’d received an invite to tonight’s playdate. But I’d forgotten all about it when I’d gotten wrapped up in my writing.

How had I missed all of my friends coming out of the elevator? The five women are never quiet when they”re together, which is something I love and hate about them. I also love their warm hearts and kind personalities. So why was I sitting there pretending they couldn’t see me if I couldn’t see them?

I cracked open one eye. “Can we rewind time and pretend I didn’t just totally embarrass myself?”

The five girls giggled. We were all wearing the black sparkly tulle skirts that marked us as LJGs, but that was where the similarities between us ended. Zoe, our fearless leader, had a rainbow of sparkly braids that ran down her back and pulled her ebony hair away from her face. She was always in bright primary colors with a hint of sparkle. The glitter queen of the group was Julia who sometimes had so many sequins on her outfits the flashing lights could blind you.

Her complete opposite was Chantou, who loved everything soft and flowy. I often thought she was born in the wrong time period because she would have made a wonderful flower child. Grace and Lucia dressed similarly in ruffles and classic little-girl style, but that was probably because they were roommates and Grace often shopped for and dressed Lucia for the club. Me? I didn’t really have a style, at least not one I could afford.

None of us were what you would call rolling in it. We all worked our asses off at the casino, barely making ends meet. But lucky for us this club was owned by Angel.

No seriously, Angel was not only his name, but his personality. He’d met us at different times and in return for helping out now and then at events, he’d given us memberships to this amazing place pulled right out of a Little’s imagination. The Dragon’s Tail was an exclusive kink club that took up several floors of an office complex. If you didn’t know it existed, you would never find it on your own.

Julia clapped her hands in response to my question. “Okay! Let’s do that!”

I was so confused. My friends nodded and laughed and started making funny noises as they slowly backed away. I smiled as I finally realized what they were up to—giving me a re-do. These girls were the best!

I jumped up from the floor and found my pen and purple notebook. I sat myself back down at the table and moved the pen as if I was writing.

They stopped pretending to be rewinding and skipped toward me with huge smiles on their faces. Grace cleared her throat and leaned over. “Oh my god! Alyssa, are you working on your new book?”

With deliberate calm, I placed my pen down on the paper and smiled up. Using my very best posh voice I said, “Why yes Grace, I am. How good of you to stop by.”

Zoe snorted and that set us off into a round of giggles. I looked around. When I’d first come in, I’d been the only one in the very large room. Most nights I was the first one in the doors other than the staff. If I were being honest, I spent more time at the club then at home. The Dragon’s Tail was only a few blocks walk from my work and then only a few more blocks to my crappy apartment.

My roommates were jerks who seemed to be obsessed with making me miserable, so I avoided the apartment as much as possible. Unfortunately, my job didn’t pay well enough to afford my own place so living with them was my only option. Well, it was my only option because I spent every free moment I had writing instead of looking for somewhere else to live. Since I only had to deal with my roommates when I went there to sleep, it wasn’t unbearable.

My routine was comfortable. Monday through Friday I got up, worked as a massage therapist at the casino, sat at a nearby coffee shop till the club opened at six, then stayed there writing or playing until it closed at two. On Saturdays I went to the library during the day and used their computers to type up my stories until the club opened. Sundays were hard because the club wasn’t open, but the all-night laundromat let me hide from my roommates and get my laundry done until they would be asleep. Okay, my schedule sucked, and I was always tired, but it worked for now.

The club was both an inspiration and a sanctuary for me. I wrote Daddy Dom books and after almost two years of publishing, I was finally starting to get a following. If the ratings could be believed, my latest series, Little Detectives might actually make it possible for me to find my own place, but I wouldn’t know for a few months when the money got deposited. Someday I would be able to quit my day job and become a full-time writer.

I’d made a big mistake in choosing to become a massage therapist. Making people feel better every day should have been the perfect job but the reality sucked. With only a few exceptions, the clients were often mean or sleazy. They rarely tipped and when they did, they usually expected extra attention to areas of the body I had no intention of touching. I might need money, but not that badly.

“I don”t know how you get any writing done here, it”s so noisy.” Chantou shook her head and hugged her stuffed unicorn to her chest.

I shrugged. “It’s not like I have better options. Most coffee houses require you buy something to hang out and they close way too early. Plus, if I ever need ideas this place is full of them.”

“Oh, have you ever gone downstairs for ideas?” Julia asked.

While Zoe was our leader, Julia was definitely the most adventurous of our group. She lived her lifestyle openly, sharing both her Little side and makeup tips on Tik Tok and daring anyone to say something. If only I could bottle her confidence and use some of it for myself.

“A few times. But I usually lose my nerve after a few minutes.” The downstairs of the club was for people who enjoyed the more traditional side of BDSM, and the third floor was private rooms which had to be reserved. I’d never yuck anyone’s yum, but I wasn’t brave enough to stay in the dungeon for long. The sound of a whip crack or scream was enough to send me hurrying for the elevators as fast as I could. Up here you might see a spanking or paddling, but nothing extreme.

“I wondered about that after I read Jackie’s story where she snuck into the club to follow her suspect.” Zoe smiled and leaned in.

“You read that one?” It was the second story I’d ever published.

“Of course!” Zoe looked offended. “We’ve read all your stories, they are amazing!”

I couldn’t help the blush I felt coloring my cheeks. A few months ago, I’d told my friends about my writing, and they’d been super supportive. In the beginning they’d probably been my core readership. Julia had an impressive and devoted following on social media and often gave me shout-outs. But the fact that they’d gone back and read my early stuff was surprising.

“You guys are the best.” My words were choked up and I stood and opened my arms, wanting a group hug. They closed in and we laughed as we bumped heads trying to squeeze each other. I stepped back and smiled. “Well, this one is going to be a bit scary. Hence why I jumped like a crazy person when you startled me.”

“Ooh, Are you writing another Little Detective book?” Grace squealed.

“Yeah, I got a great idea yesterday and I haven”t been able to get it out of my head.” It was surreal that people were as into my stories as I was. I loved losing myself in my imaginary worlds, but it was hard to believe others did as well. “I was hoping to get more done tonight but…” I shrugged.

Now that they were here, there was no way I would be able to concentrate on writing. Don”t get me wrong, I enjoyed Little time with my friends. We colored, had tea parties and forgot our boring day jobs. Usually one of the Daddy Doms at the club would put on a cartoon and we would snuggle in a big pillow fort near the TV. But when I was alone, writing allowed me to forget everything but my own special worlds where anything can happen and there is a perfect Daddy waiting for every Little.

I hadn’t had much luck finding my own forever Daddy. The ones I’d met had either been looking for a sugar baby or something casual. When I finally give myself to someone, I want the possibility of forever. I want someone who will love my imagination and support my writing while being responsible for all the boring parts of life. I wasn’t sure if finding such a thing was really possible. I”d had one Daddy tell me writing stories was too grown-up for a Little and I would have to give it up if I wanted to find a Daddy.

His words had hurt and it had taken weeks and lots of cuddles from my friends before I could write again. I hated when people judged what “real Littles”” should and shouldn’t be. Littles are as varied as wildflowers, and no one should put us in stupid boring boxes. At least that is what I said in my books. Reality was much, much harder.

It was totally unfair if you thought about it. I mean, I dreamed of having a Daddy to set rules for me and touch me and give me baths just like the next Little girl. The desire to let go of adult expectations and find joy in life should be enough. The willingness to hand over your trust to a special person to take care of you, letting them set boundaries and employ punishments should be the only criteria. I mean a box of eight crayons was okay, but I wanted the hundreds of colors found in the mega pack.

“We’re sorry. We can leave you alone if you want.” Lucia’s voice was so soft and worried I had to reach out and give her a hug.

“No! I was at a good stopping point. Margaret was breaking into her Daddy’s office to look at his client files.”

“Oh my god! I was hoping you”d write her story. She”s so spunky.” Julia clapped. “Is her Daddy the stern mysterious type or a sweet pushover?”

I laughed. “Neither. He’s a Brat Tamer. A lawyer who loves her sass because he gets to redden her behind.”

Julia let out a dreamy sigh. “Oh if only we had one of those here. None of the Daddies here appreciate the fabulousness that is a Brat.”

“It’s a shame you can’t write at home. I worry about you walking home so late every night.” Chantou squeezed her stuffie as she shivered dramatically.

Zoe pursed her lips. “You know if Angel knew you were walking home alone every night he would find you a ride.”

“He’s done enough for us. Don’t you dare worry him. It’s just until I find another place.”

“You could always stay with Lucia and I,” Grace offered.

I shook my head. The two of them shared a futon in a studio apartment the size of a shoebox. No way was I going to make things even more crowded. “I’m fine.”

I hated lying to my friends, but there really wasn’t much choice. It was too embarrassing to admit I had to lock up everything I owned or risk having it stolen. The drugs and other things I’d found laying around the apartment were all too scary to discuss. Besides, those were my problems, not theirs. But, maybe I did need to start looking harder for a new place to live.

“Enough! We can bug her tomorrow at work about this stuff,” Zoe declared. “Tonight is supposed to be a fun night for the LJGs, and I know exactly what we need.”

Thankful for the change of subject, I clapped along with the other girls. “What are we doing, Zoe?”

The look in her eyes said clearly we were all going to soon be in trouble.

“Pillow FIGHT!”