Chapter 23
twenty-three
LOGAN
My little girl is a miracle.
Somehow, in the two hours that I napped, not only did she mobilize the entire playgroup to join us at the Museum of Natural History but she also broke through to True.
When I come downstairs, True’s sitting at the dining room table between Theo and Maude.
They’re on a video call with True’s social worker and the biker Mac pulled out of his back pocket who is somehow law enforcement and a certified foster parent.
I take in the expressions of the three people I can see—amused, defiant, and out-for-blood—and decide I don’t need to be involved right now.
Mother Maude is on the war-path. My work here is done.
Instead, I intercept my little miracle-worker as she’s heading into the kitchen to make lunch for everyone. I send her off to pack a day-bag for Livvy, which takes her all of two seconds because she’s so organized but at least it prevents her from preparing another seven-course meal.
I thumb over to the caregivers chat and post that we’re going to the Deli at West 76th to pick up sandwiches before we head into the museum.
Everyone quickly agrees on the Deli as a meet-up point.
Warrin organizes sandwich orders to call in so the Deli’s not overwhelmed when we descend on them.
Bravo says he’ll bring chips and snack packs for the littles since he’s got an industrial supply.
Henry offers to bring drinks for everyone who is non-dairy or no-carbonation, which is the majority of the littles.
Emmy, reading over my shoulder, volunteers a bag of oatmeal cookies, so I throw that into the chat.
I’m used to how things get done in large groups of people because of my years in the Navy and at Blunts but the playgroup is a different experience.
Maybe it’s because we’re caregivers. Maybe it’s because Blunts is something of a rich man’s club and the members are used to being catered to instead of caring for their subbies.
But it’s a completely different mindset.
The mommies and daddies of the playgroup just get shit done.
There’s no waiting for a committee vote.
There’s no delegating to an assistant. Someone gets an idea and they do it.
I haven’t felt as confident in the competence of a group of people since my days serving under Mac.
Although I’d planned to take the train up to West 79th and then walk back to the Deli, somehow Manny and his limo have been conscripted.
Probably Emily. True’s eyes nearly swallow her face when the big, black limo pulls up and we all climb in.
Theo death-glares the kid when she starts opening the cubbies across from her seat but I wave him off.
If she wants a can of pop, she can have one.
She should have the complete limo experience.
Manny doesn’t stock alcohol in the limo except when it’s been pre-ordered, so there’s nothing she can get into that will hurt her.
We stop in Hell’s Kitchen to pick up Cappa and Fleur, who seem to have become honorary playgroup members. Brenna pulls Fleur into her conversation with True and, before we hit the edge of Central Park, I can see True’s got another friend among the subbies.
Warrin’s waiting for us outside the Deli with a sandwich for Manny.
Once we all climb out of the limo, the group of caregivers and littles staying warm inside the shop emerge.
There are hugs all around for Aggie, Amy, Robyn, Yummy, Sammi, Henry’s little Leda, red-headed Matty, and a reserved, black-haired newcomer named Saoirse.
We’re our own crowd as we start off down the street toward the museum.
Sandwiches in crinkly butcher paper get passed around along with warm drinks.
I steer Livvy’s stroller so that Emmy can enjoy her sandwich.
She reserves meat for dinner, usually, and rarely eats red meat but the hot roast beef from the Deli on West 76th is an exception.
I’ve gotten it, too, souped up with horseradish gravy.
The Deli’s rare roast beef is so good it should be its own food group.
Emmy’s eyes roll back in her head with her first bite and I wrap my free arm around her waist to keep her from bumping into anyone.
She chews ecstatically ten times and smiles up at me with her eyelids fluttering. “Omigosh, Daddy, sooo good.”
“Orgasmic, baby doll?”
“Not Wolfy-Daddy big Os.” She shakes her head, curls bouncing under the adorable blue beret she’s popped on top of them. “But sooo good.”
On Emmy’s far side, safely sandwiched between Brenna and Fleur, True exclaims over her own hot roast beef sandwich.
She’s gotten hers with crispy onions and her cheeks bulge like a chipmunk’s as she chews her mouthful of beef and onions.
Nothing wrong with the kid’s appetite. Either she’s naturally small and skinny like Emmy or she just hasn’t been getting enough food.
If it’s the latter, I’m pretty sure this group is going to ensure that changes.
Our progression to and through the museum is slow with a group this large but it’s marked by excited chatter and laughter.
Such a contrast from Blunts, where most large scenes and gatherings are quiet except for moans, groans, and the slap of flesh.
Although many things about kink are serious, I wonder if the club hasn’t lost the sense of fun, of play, that’s the heart of kink.
Maybe the Nursery opening will bring laughter back to the club’s halls and dungeons.
I’m not the only one enjoying the group’s exuberance, I discover, as we linger in the Hall of Gems. Matty and Faolan, who are some combination of geologist and archeologist that I didn’t quite understand when it was explained to me during our outing to the corn maze, are holding forth on why some of the sapphires on display have stars in them and some don’t.
“Oohs” and “ahhs” rise from the excited littles and teenager.
Even Livvy is gummily cooing at the gems as Emmy holds her up to the glass.
A tall blond man stops near me, watching the group, his eyes lingering on the black-haired little, Saoirse. He looks vaguely familiar but I can’t remember if he’s been to playgroup or if we’ve met at an outing.
“It’s good to see them enjoying themselves,” he says.
I nod. “The laughter of littles is a balm to the soul.”
His green eyes flick to mine.
“Well said.” He holds out his hand. “Sutter James. I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet. You’re Logan, Emmy’s Daddy, right?”
“Yes, good to meet you, Sutter. Your face is familiar. Have you been to playgroup?”
“Mmm-hmm. I think we missed you that week. But we have another connection. You voted me in at Blunts last week.”
It takes me a minute and then I place his face: on a picture attached to an application I barely read.
There were four applications voted on during the meeting but I gave them cursory attention, consumed by the vote on Mac.
“I remember. You came to Blunts on a recommendation from a club in England, right? Winter’s Sin? ”
The man gives me a megawatt smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes and for no reason I can name, it reminds me of De Leon, even though Sutter maintains eye-contact in a way Myles avoids.
“Winter’s Sin is my family’s line of clubs. My aunt runs it. She’s friends with Chess.”
“Ah,” I say, noncommittally. I know, of course, that there’s a lot of “good old boy” networking at Blunts.
It’s a little surprising Chess would welcome someone who’s basically playing for the other team, even if that team’s across the Atlantic.
There certainly wasn’t any mention of it when Sutter’s application was voted on.
It was barely debated at all. “Did you put on your application that you’re in a caregiver relationship? ”
“No.” A dangerous gleam lights his eyes. “Was I supposed to?”
I scratch the back of my neck. These are choppy waters. As a committee member, if I find out that someone’s withheld information from the club, I’m supposed to bring it to the committee. But on the other hand, I’m happy to have another daddy at Blunts.
“Did you check age-play and DD/lg on the kink list?” I ask, referring to part of the membership application.
He nods.
How the fuck could Ten and his cabal have missed that? Were they as wrapped up in Mac’s application as I was?
“No issue, then,” I say, pleased at getting one by Ten and his pack of assholes. “Are you coming to the Nursery’s grand opening?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. We’ve played in there the last two nights. I’ve already ordered an adult cradle for home, my little darlin’ loves the one at Blunts so much. The Nursery’s awesome. I’ve never seen anything like it anywhere. I heard you and your little designed it?”
“With a lot of help from Brenna,” I nod at the blue-haired submissive, who has her arm draped over True’s shoulders as they exclaim over gemstones bigger than their fists.
“Get ready for a stream of requests to design nurseries at other clubs. I predict word of Blunts’ Nursery will spread through the kinky world like a shot.”
That wouldn’t be the worst thing. Emmy and Bren make a great team. I can see them designing a nursery here and there once they’ve finished the book they’re collaborating on. Something to while away the short days and long nights as winter settles in.
I shrug. “We’d be open to that. Designing the Nursery was a lot of fun. I’m glad to welcome another caregiver to the club. We’re a bit of a rare breed.”
“I’ve heard,” Sutter says. He nods at his submissive. “My baby girl used to work at Blunts. She never explored her little side there because the members condemned age-play. I put my application in expecting to have to knock some heads together but I see the revolution’s already underway.”
I chuckle. “Yes, it is.”
Sutter’s eyes wander away from mine, over the group of caregivers and littles. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you have a few more applications after the Grand Opening, either.”