Chapter 3
Lillian
I was so worried when Bryson picked me up, but for some reason, he calms my nerves.
I think it’s the fact that he keeps smiling at me.
He turned toward me often during the drive.
He held my hand on the way to the truck and then as we entered the restaurant.
And now he’s sitting across from me, holding my gaze.
He hasn’t glanced away. He’s the most attentive date I’ve ever been on.
Granted, I haven’t been on many dates. On top of that, every date I’ve ever had was with someone either chosen by or approved by my mother. Guys don’t tend to want to go out with a girl again after enduring the vetting process at Casa Lighton.
In any case, no guy I ever dated cared much about me. They were all either fulfilling a request from their own parents or seeing the dollar signs a connection with me would come with. It was maddening and frustrating, so I gave up on trying a long time ago.
Bryson’s eyes are dancing as he reaches across the table to take my hand in his. He strokes my knuckles with his thumb as he asks, “So, what’s the verdict?”
I giggle. I know he’s referring to my meal choice. “Definitely steak.”
“Whew. That’s a relief. I didn’t like the other options.”
“There’s nothing wrong with shrimp, chicken, or vegetarian meals,” I tell him.
His eyes keep wrinkling when he smiles. “Not at all. But I don’t like the idea of you being so nervous you’re afraid you can’t chew.
I would hate to think you thought the steaks here looked icky because that would mean my restaurant choice is horrible.
And most importantly, it would crush me if you ruled out kissing me at the end of the night. ”
I giggle, which has happened several times since he picked me up.
I need to stop it. Bryson isn’t interested in a silly girl.
He’s fourteen years older than me. He’s not a Daddy Dom.
If I don’t stop acting like a Little, he’s never going to want to see me again.
And I already know I want to go out with him again.
The problem is that I’ve been spending a lot of time with my sister, who’s Little. She’s living her best life. Until I arrived in Seattle, I had no experience with age play. I knew Simone was Little, but I hadn’t fully grasped what that entailed.
The truth is I’m jealous of her lifestyle. Not in a mean way. More like in an enlightening way. She has the most incredible playroom. It’s pink and frilly and filled with all the things she and I never got to play with growing up.
It’s not that we didn’t have toys. It’s that we rarely had the freedom to just be children and play.
There were always music lessons and tennis practice.
We went to etiquette school and learned Latin.
Latin, of all things. We had to be dressed at the dinner table and sit properly even when there were no guests.
If I never eat off another piece of fine china again, it will be too soon.
Nevertheless, I sober, schooling my face and smoothing my skirt with my free hand, vowing to stop acting like a Little. I’m not impressing Bryson with that.
Bryson narrows his eyes. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“One second you were laughing; the next second your face fell as if you remembered it’s not appropriate to laugh.”
I look down and shrug.
“Lillian… Look at me.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I lift my gaze.
“Talk to me.”
“It’s no big deal.” I shake off the weird mood I created and force a smile.
“It is a big deal. It matters to me. Tell me what’s going through your sweet head.”
I sigh. “I just figure you usually go out with older, more sophisticated women who don’t giggle. I’ll try to control myself.”
He leans in closer, reaches across the table, and holds his other hand open.
I slowly set my second hand in his, liking the way he squeezes both of my palms.
“I’ve known you for a month. At any point, have I ever insinuated I didn’t want you to laugh?”
“No,” I murmur.
“Your giggle is one of my favorite parts about you. I love that you’re carefree even after twenty-one years under an oppressive roof.
You make me feel alive. You’re refreshing.
Do not change one thing about yourself, and promise me you’ll never again behave in a way you think you’re supposed to in order to please someone other than yourself. ”
I lick my lips.
“Be yourself at all times. If things don’t work out between us, you want to be able to look back and know you were authentic. If you spend this dinner pretending to be someone you’re not, how long will you be able to keep that up? A lifetime?”
I slowly smile, feeling mischievous. “So, you’re saying there’s a chance I might get both a kiss and a second date?” I’ve never been so bold before, but it’s easy with Bryson. He pulls it out of me.
“Affirmative on both counts, but only if you promise to keep laughing.”
I tip my head to the side. “What if you stop being funny?”
He chuckles. “Sweet girl, I’m not the one who’s funny. You are.”
“Are you saying I’m laughing at my own jokes?”
His eyes dance again. “I think the reason you giggle is because you’re making up for twenty-one years of seriousness.
I think it’s because you spend a lot of time at Camden’s house, where giggling is the norm.
I suspect you’ve learned it’s okay to relax and enjoy yourself.
There’s a noticeable difference in you from when I met you until today. I like it. Don’t change.”
“Okay.” I try not to fidget, but it’s hard. He’s so intense.
A shadow looms over us, and Bryson turns toward the waitress. Without flinching or releasing my hands, he orders for both of us. He gets me the fillet and a side salad, glancing at me to ask how I like my steak, what dressing I prefer, and if I want a potato.
I think I’m in love by the time the waitress walks away.
He returns his full attention to me. “We didn’t discuss wine. To be honest, I’d rather have a clear head while I’m out with you, but I still should have asked.”
I wrinkle my nose. “The only time I tried alcohol was at a party my senior year in high school. My parents would freak if they ever found out I’d been at that party. The drink was gross. I never tried anything else.”
“What was it?”
I shrug. “It was clear. Vodka or gin or something.”
He laughs. “Those are very different drinks, sweet girl.”
I lift both shoulders. “Whatever.” I love how he calls me sweet girl. He’s never done that before tonight. It’s endearing. It’s also not helping me feel any less Little. If he wants me to stay away from age play, he’s failing with that nickname.
“Someday, I’ll introduce you to a delicious white wine, but not tonight.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure I’ll like wine, but I’d try it if he wanted me to.
He releases my hands and sits back. “Tell me about your day.” Bryson asks this every time we talk. He always looks and sounds interested to hear the boring details, too.
“I spent several hours at Simone’s. Her friend Natasha came over, too.”
Bryson nods. “I know Natasha. I met her at Surrender one night. I’ve known her Daddy, Jameson, for years. Good guy.”
I’m fascinated by the way Bryson doesn’t flinch when he refers to Jameson as her Daddy.
He doesn’t say boyfriend or her man. He calls him her Daddy.
I guess it’s because he’s used to the terminology from belonging to a kink club.
Even though he’s not a Daddy himself, he definitely doesn’t judge other people or ignore their titles.
I’ve heard him refer to the owner as Master Roman. It’s a title. Bryson is respectful.
Bryson takes a sip of his water. “What did you girls do at Simone’s?
” He flinches. “Sorry. I should say women or ladies. I’m used to referring to Simone and her friends as Little girls.
I mean no disrespect by including you in that particular kink.
It suits you, and I’ll admit I’ve started thinking of you as Little even though you have not specifically told me you want to identify as such. ”
I clasp my hands in my lap. “And that doesn’t bother you?”
“What? For you to identify as Little? Of course not.”
“But it’s not your thing,” I point out.
“It doesn’t have to be my thing for it to be yours, sweet girl.”
I stare at him, searching his face. I’m not laughing now. This is serious. I really like him. Perhaps I’m being absurd, but I’ve never been attracted to any man before. Bryson is the first. We’re going to be incompatible in the end, and that makes me sad.
“Lillian…” he admonishes. Does the man not realize that he often talks to me like the Daddy he insists he isn’t capable of being?
Finding my brave side, I inhale deeply. “I feel like we’re straddling two worlds here.
We have been since we met. But tonight is different.
Before, we were two acquaintances who became friends and enjoyed each other’s company.
We listened to and supported each other, but now we’re on a date.
It doesn’t really matter if I’m Little or not because no matter how much research I do, I can’t see myself wanting anyone to strip me naked, strap me to one of those crosses, and swing a whip at my backside until I have welts on my skin and howl in pain.
I can’t give you that, even though it’s what you need. ”
Bryson holds my gaze, though his brows furrow slowly.
Finally, he draws in a breath. “Lillian, I’m not going to claim to have all the answers.
I hear you. I have the same concerns. However, I also really like you, and I want to explore this thing between us.
Perhaps we can agree to focus on what we have in common and ignore the elephant in the room for a while. ”
I nod. “Maybe. I mean I’d like that, too, but the elephant is huge, and eventually he’s going to fart and stink up the place.” I can’t keep a straight face as those words come out, and suddenly, I’m back to giggling.
Bryson’s eyes are dancing again as he laughs. “See? You’re so refreshing; I can’t get enough of you.”
I can see that. But how long will it last before the fart drives us both running in opposite directions?