But my days of letting my little head get me in trouble were years and a nasty divorce in my rear-view mirror.
I spend enough time around fire professionally; I don’t need to go around recreationally slapping my hands on stoves.
I took the elevator downstairs and browsed through the gift shop while thinking about what Emmy had asked me. Hell, I had Star Trek and other collectibles—which I didn’t fail to notice Emmy had made space for on their living room shelves the day after I moved in—and that didn’t make me a Little.
Except my childhood trauma no doubt differed greatly from hers and I wouldn’t begin to try to claim I knew what she’d been through.
I hadnoclue. And I would remain clueless until she decided to open up to me, and that required her trust.
Being a patient man, I would absolutely bide my time and build that trust with her.
No lie, it would be cute to see her wearing one of the Hello Kitty dresses in adult sizes that graced the shop racks. Maybe there’d be a shopping trip in her immediate future after class ended.
The thought of picking out things for her to wear while we were here—not just fun clothes like that, either—twisted my crankhard.
Of course I wouldn’t pick out her work clothes. But if she decided to cede control of certain aspects of our private life to me?
Yeeaah, I’m a sick fuck, I guess. I’d love to spank her bare ass while she twisted on my lap with her Hello Kitty dress bunched up around her waist.
Hmm.
Maybe I’d just defined a new fetish for myself I hadn’t considered before.
Maybe? Wait, that wasn’t a maybe—that was adefinitely.
I returned to our room and kicked back on the bed with one of the shibari books I’d purchased on my previous visit to refresh myself on my ropework. It was less than twenty minutes beforethe class was scheduled to end when my room phone rang, surprising me.
I answered. “Yes?”
“Jack? Derek. Classroom—now.”
Perhaps it was over twenty years of training and experience but I don’t remember jumping off the bed and I didn’t even put my shoes on as I bolted for the door. I didn’t wait for the elevator and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Derek stood at the classroom door talking with the instructor. Beyond them, I spotted Emmy standing at the end of the hall and staring out a window, her back to them, hugging herself and her shoulders shaking like she was crying.
Derek snagged my arm as I tried to run past him and dragged me back. “They were talking about safety and trust within dynamics when she stood up and walked out,” he whispered in my ear. “I was already up here—it just happened a couple of minutes ago.”
I nodded and he released me so I could make my way to her.
“Sweetheart,” I said, not touching her yet for fear of spooking her. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t answer me. In the window, I watched her reflection, the tears sliding down her cheeks.
I was vaguely aware of the classroom door closing but Derek remained standing there, now leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
My training kicked in and I struggled between the firefighter and the?—
Well, boyfriend, right?
We still hadn’t officially defined or labeled that, though.
We hadn’t defined anything yet. Not really. Not beyond friends, although we’d both stated we wanted to see where this could lead.
“Emmy, talk to me,” I said, dropping into a more professional tone I’d use on a patient. “What’s happening? Are you having chest pains? Trouble breathing? Are you dizzy?”
She slowly shook her head while I stood waiting.
I’d wait, because it’d become increasingly clear to me over the past few weeks that she was worth waiting for.
