Chapter 7 #2
Aggie falls first. Emily goes down when we get a “remove right foot” followed by “right hand yellow” which puts her in an impossible position of reaching over both me and Cynnie.
Laughing, she falls to her side. Cynnie manages to balance on her right foot and right hand after the next “remove left foot” but she’s wriggling all over trying to hold position, brushing my body with every wobble, and wiggling so wildly my cock’s about to burst through my jeans.
“Left foot blue,” Logan calls.
That gets Cynnie stable again. With her free left hand, she reaches back and tugs my beard.
I collapse, laughing, and take her down under me.
“No fair!” she complains from under the sprawl of my arms and legs.
“Cowboy Daddy wins,” I crow, rolling to the side so I’m not crushing her, although she makes no attempt to get out from underneath me.
She turns on her side and pokes her finger into my chest. “You cheated.”
“Last person to the mat wins. Purty sure that was me, little lady.”
She dissolves in giggles and I can’t help but laugh with her.
“Would you like to have dinner with me after playgroup?” she asks when her giggles die down.
The awkward gap that follows is filled, thank God, by Emily, who pounces on me with a teddy bear wearing a blue coat and a big gold medallion that says “winner.” I admire it for a second and then turn it over to Cynnie.
“You were the real winner,” I say. “You wouldn’t have gone down if I hadn’t taken you down.”
She accepts the bear with a small smile, then climbs up off the mat and walks away.
I look to Emily, who shrugs. “I said we’d help Miss Ginger clean up.”
It’s not that I don’t want to have dinner with Cynnie. It just came out of the blue. And her sudden switch from giggling little playing Twister to big girl asking me out gave me whiplash.
I climb to my feet, put the cowboy hat in the hat box, and help Ginger collect plates and cups and sort them into the garbage and recycling.
By the time I look around again, Cynnie’s gone.
After the tables are cleared, I help put everything back the way we found it, then sit at a table with Logan, Emily, Warrin, Aggie, Jack, and Sammie.
Mary Lisa comes over and stands next to me with her stuffed puppy and purse in her hands.
I turn the chair so I’m facing her, and our conversation is a little removed from the rest of the group.
“I just wanted to welcome you to the group again, Max,” she says.
“Thank you, Mary Lisa. I really appreciate the warm welcome.”
“You’ll be back in two weeks, right?”
I nod. Despite the rocky moments today, I’m definitely coming back.
“If you had any questions between then and now, you could call me,” she offers. “Miss Ginger will give you a list of everyone’s number and if their Fetlife profile is public, their Fetlife name. You could friend me on Fetlife.”
“Okay, thanks for that.” I don’t have a Fetlife profile, although I’m aware of the site. I guess I know what I’m doing when I get home.
She stands there for a moment, looking down at her stuffie, then says, “Could I get a hug goodbye?”
“Sure.” I stand and hug her without pulling her to my chest. She doesn’t try to throw herself at me, either, and pats my biceps before she steps back.
“It was really nice to meet you.”
“You, too. See you next time.”
She smiles and says goodbye to everyone before she leaves.
As she goes, I see Ginger and Robyn picking up boxes and bags, presumably to take back out to their car. I offer to help but Ginger waves me off.
“You’ve been great today. Sit and get to know everyone for a minute and then I’ll be back in. I’ve got some things to give you.”
“Great, thanks.”
I sink back into my seat. Warrin leans forward and catches my eye. “Max, any questions?”
Hundreds, but I’m not sure where to start.
“Maybe process for a little and give me a call tomorrow?” Warrin suggests after I work my mouth for a moment but can’t come up with anything. “Or any of us. Jack’s been a daddy just as long as I have.”
I look over at Jack, who nods at me.
“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that. I don’t suppose the mommies and daddies ever go out for drinks?”
Warrin and Jack trade glances.
“We used to sometimes,” Jack says. “Then there was a thing. Eh, not really worth talking about since everyone involved left the group, but we haven’t gotten together without the littles since.
I think we definitely should, though. Finding a night everyone’s free is impossible, so maybe we could do it Thursday the week before playgroup and Tuesday the week after? ”
We all agree and Jack takes out his phone and sends a text to what I assume is a playgroup chat. Hopefully, Ginger will let me join it.
As if conjured by my thought, she sits down across from me, slightly out of breath. I wish she’d let me help her.
She takes out an envelope and hands it to me.
“My mission, should I choose to accept it?” I ask with a wink.
She gives my joke the smirk it deserves.
“A welcome pack I put together. A number of our members are willing to share their telephone numbers and Fetlife profiles, so you’ll find a list with numbers and profile names in there.
I haven’t included the numbers of our most vulnerable members, but I ask that you exercise discretion and judgment in calling people, particularly the littles.
” At my nod, she continues, “The venue’s offered a ten percent discount if you come back for a meal with a friend, so there’s a discount card in there.
And I usually schedule a follow-up call in a day or two just to check in and see how you liked the playgroup, so there’s a card in there for you to complete and give back to me if you want the follow up. ”
I do, so I open the envelope and fill out the card, which is just my name and contact number, and hand it back to her.
“That’s great. I’m really big on feedback, so if you have any constructive criticism for me, we can talk about it during my follow up call. I’d just like to apologize again for not going over the no-touching without consent rule with the littles before you arrived.”
“No harm done,” I reassure her.
“Great.” She pats her hands on the tabletop. “Robyn and I have to jet but we’ve got the room for another thirty minutes so don’t feel the need to rush out.”
I offer her my hand, which she shakes. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you.” She says a hasty goodbye to everyone before she and her little leave.
While everyone’s involved in goodbyes, I check the telephone list and frown. Cynnie’s name isn’t on it. Not that I intended on calling her immediately. I just didn’t like the way we left things. Maybe a quick call to make sure I didn’t hurt her feelings.
When a small, warm hand slips over mine as I’m holding the paper, I look up. Emily’s squeezed in next to me. She leans in to whisper, “I can ask Cynnie if I can give you her number, if you want.”
A knot of tension in my chest eases. “Yeah, please.”
She nods and pats my hand, just before Logan scoops her onto his lap. “Gossiping, baby doll?”
“No, Daddy,” Emily says honestly.
The small group breaks up shortly afterwards when a server pokes his head in to see if he can clean up the room.
As we leave, Logan asks if I want to join them for dinner, but I shake my head.
People are not always my best thing, and I’ve had enough for today, even Logan and Emily.
I want to check on Ty and then spend some quality game time.
“I know Ginger’s going to debrief you tomorrow and Warrin and Jack have offered to answer questions, but you know you can call me about anything,” Logan says.
“I know, man. When I can figure out where to start. Today’s been.” I wave my hand around vaguely.
Logan grins. “Oh, yeah. I know that feeling. Let it sink in. Come over tomorrow and we’ll lift and you can ask me anything you’ve come up with.”
I tip my chin at his injuries. “You’re up to that?”
“I didn’t say I’d be lifting much.”
I hug him again, still feeling like I’ve come much too close to losing my best friend. “See you tomorrow.”
I give Emily a hug before they head one way and I head another. The playgroup’s almost mid-way between Logan’s and mine. Convenient.
It’s a sunny, summer day in the city. There’s a bit of a breeze that cools the sun’s fierce heat.
I’m not even sweating by the time I reach my building.
My mood’s dipped as I’ve walked, despite the weather.
A weight’s grown on the back of my neck that has nothing to do with the sun beating down.
It’s the prickly feeling that I’ve done something wrong by not responding to Cynnie’s invitation.
Not even several hours of Dutiful with my favorite wingman and several bottles of microbrew shakes that prickly feeling.
Whether cowed by my threat, or just wanting to sleep in her own bed, Ty’s mother is home for once and I send him back to his own apartment at ten with a stern warning not to drink any soda before bed.
Since he can’t stop talking about seeing Dakota tomorrow, I think he’ll try to get a decent night sleep so he’s not stumbling for the bus in the morning.