“Well, like I said, she wanted kids and I didn’t. And it wasn’t just her pressuring me, but her family and friends, too. I also started realizing that our relationship wasn’t working for me the way it should. She was a very take-charge kind of person, and we started butting heads all the time, even over little things. She read a lot of romance books and one day I was home and off-duty and for the hell of it started reading one of her books.
“She read them as fantasy and pure escape, which was ironic. I realized that okay, this was fiction, but the hero in the book wasme. The guy in charge. I saw it as a blueprint. But when Itried to be more dominant with her, it blew things up even more. I researched reality, started figuring out what was truly wrong, and understood there was no way we could be the partners to each other that we needed. And when I was honest with myself, I also realized I loved her, but I’d never been ‘in love’ with her. The sex was okay, but she didn’t want anything but missionary.”
“And she read romance books?” Emmy snarked.
“Yeah. Like I said, ironic. But that’s okay, it’s what she wanted and needed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t what I needed and wanted. She’s not a bad person and never was. We grew apart in ways too different to reconcile or work around. She was happy with the way things were, and I wasn’t.”
“So she wasn’t a psycho bitch, is what you’re saying.”
“No, sweetie, she wasn’t. She handled the divorce better than her family and friends, to be honest. They were guilt-tripping me that I wouldn’t give her a baby. Sex grew less and less frequent because I didn’t want to get trapped. Hell, I used condoms that I bought myself because I wasn’t sure if she was really on the pill or would sabotage condoms or what. Shereallywanted a baby and the more she did, the more I did not.
“We were having a fight one night and she gave me an ultimatum that we have a kid or get divorced. I said okay, packed my stuff, and left. Which backfired on her because she didn’t realize how far out the door I already was emotionally. After the shock wore off and we started the paperwork part of it, she admitted one day she was relieved.
“Some of her family assumed I was secretly gay, or that there was something wrong with me, and I didn’t bother justifying myself or my rationale to them. Didn’t even tell my ex what I’d started figuring out. Just said a baby was a deal-breaker, which I’d said from the beginning despite her and her family insisting I’d change my mind as I got older.”
“You should have seen the look on Joe’s face when I stood up and walked out that night,” she said. “I told him when we first met and went out that I did not, would not,everhave kids. Full stop. Gawd, he was planning my whole future around having offspring for him.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Damned if I know, because I literally told him more than once when he ‘casually’ brought up the subject of kids that it wasn’t an issue for me because I wasn’t having them. Well, he turned out to be a stupid idiot. DDAF.”
“DDAF?”
She smiled. “Dumb Dick Ain’t Fuckable.”
I laughed. “I’m flattered you don’t think I’m dumb, but you haven’t seen me nearly fall over trying to put pants on when I’m half-asleep.”
A boisterous group of five Littles followed by an older woman wearing a Ranch uniform shirt entered the playroom at that point and Emmy motioned to me that she wanted to go.
“I want my swim,” she whispered. “And I want to be able to talk about ‘grown up’ subjects without worrying who overhears us.”
We had the indoor pool to ourselves and, yes, we did more talking than swimming. Mostly about her thoughts of what she’d seen and done so far there at the Ranch, and about subjects she was interested in learning more about.
Oh, yes. There would be many trips here in our future. Thankfully, we lived close enough we could easily drive over for mid-week classes even if our schedules didn’t allow for a sleepover.
By our third night there, Emmy had a growing wardrobe of Hello Kitty and Stitch clothes and other adorable accessories. Including several more packs of underwear.
No dresses, but a second robe, two bathing suits, a couple of shirts, a pair of denim shorts overalls, and three more PJ onesies. And three packages of hair scrunchies with various characters on them that she could wear in the office or during rounds at work.
When we finally curled up in bed that night, I sensed the changes in her.
“This has been eye-opening,” she said.
“In a good way, I hope?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her fingers drew abstract designs on my flesh. “Please tell me we’ll be sleeping together when we get home?”
“Probably not at first.”
Her head snapped back. “Why the fuck not?”
Yeah, she was definitelynota Little. “Because neither one of us have a bed large enough to comfortably stretch out on together. We need a queen-sized bed, at the very least. Your bed is a double. And while I am beyond grateful you moved me in with you, no offense? That guest-room bed is as hard as a fucking rock. I was not about to complain but I have been perusing mattress sale ads. I was just going to buy one and store the other one in the garage.”
It took her a second to process her righteous indignation and realize I wasn’t saying “no” because of any reason other than simple logistics. That’s when she started laughing, snorting, burying her head against me as I enjoyed watching her.
“Fair point, Sir,” she finally managed. “That was Lilah’s old mattress. She used it maybe a grand total of three months before she replaced it. I’d warned her to shop in person, but she wanted to save money and ordered it online.”
“And it’s also a moot point, because when we get home I will be turning around and heading to work for forty-eight,” I added. “The captain’s a great guy, but you sharing a bed with me at the station’s not going to happen.”
