“Wouldn’t it be a sour reminder that you’re not a father any longer in the clerical sense?”
“No,” Jude said with conviction. “Whenever you used it, even in the confessional, I never heard it as a religious honorific for some reason. Perhaps because I was already detached from the Church. Or maybe…” Jude waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind. I’m not sure where these things I’m rambling about are coming from.”
“What?” I pressed. “What were you going to say? Because I might have an answer for you.”
“When you call me father by itself, without my name attached, like Father Jude, it’s as if you’re showing me respect.”
I managed not to gasp at Jude’s explanation because it was too good to even consider. Instead, I asked, “Have you ever read or seen anything regarding BDSM?”
“Some,” Jude said. “One time I had a weird thought about why wearing the clerical collar made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. And that led to thinking about why submissives want to be collared. Tell me if I’m wrong, but the collar gives youfreedom to be yourself, right? Knowing you have a dominant or in some cases, a Daddy controlling you but also taking care of you.”
“I’ve never been collared but yes, if I were ever so lucky to have a Dom desire me in that way… well, I’d be in fucking heaven for sure. I’d never want to take it off. In a genuine D/s relationship, that’s synonymous to wearing a wedding ring.”
“Hmm,” Jude hummed thoughtfully.
“Would you do me a favor?”
“What?” Jude asked.
“Before we meet again, find BDSM sites that are legitimate. Not only chat groups or personal websites. And do some research on the meaning of being in a Dominant/submissive, or D/s relationships. That is, if you’d be open to exploring more in BDSM.”
Jude eyed me curiously. “I guess I would, but why?”
“Read up on it and we’ll talk when I see you. If my intuition is right, you’re going to feel right at home with the information regarding being a Dominant.”
“All right, I will.”
“Good, thank you,” I said as we made our way to the small foyer and Jude opened the door for me.
“In the meantime, sweet dreams, baby.”
I flushed as a craving seized me when an alternative endearment came to mind. I wanted it so badly now that I’d had a chance to be with him in person intimately. Playing with the keys in my pocket, I let them go and finally admitted in a whisper, “Instead of father, I’d like to call youBabbo. It translates from Italian into father or papa. I’ve never been interested in being in a Daddy/boy relationship. I’ve only ever called a Dom either Sir or Master. But they seem too stiff and unrelenting for you. What do you think?”
“I can’t make it sound as sexy as you do, spilling from your lips, but yes…” Jude nodded his head and then kissed both my cheeks and laid a brief kiss on me, with tongue. “Yes, baby, I like that a lot.”
I must’ve fucking glowed like a Halloween lantern the way my face burned red. And when I heard the click of the door behind me, a whoosh of air left me. I was still stunned by the events of the night and made it outside to the main entrance when suddenly, my legs wobbled. Thankfully, the hotel provided an area designated for smoking not more than five feet from me. I sat down gingerly on a bench and let the images of me with Jude float through my inner vision like a leaf floating on slow running water. Leisurely, contemplatively.
Before Luca… before Thorne and Napa, there had been a boy. We were both seventeen, freshly graduated from high school and figuring out the ways to be with each other sexually. Even back then, I gave the other boy the lead. We’d learned a lot from each over the summer before we went our separate ways to college.
His name was Ben, and he was the only other person to call me baby. I treasured the endearment from Ben because it was so like him. He’d been kind and caring in his dominance even when we’d explored light impact play. He’d inflicted the pain that I craved but without roughness or cruelty.
Jude reminded me of Ben, and maybe that was why being with Jude sexually came easy. And why Jude calling me baby felt special, despite the label being overly used.
I let out a stuttering breath. After so many years of celibacy, of missing out on the pleasures of sensual contact, I’d been with a man. I’d kissed Jude with a fierceness I hadn’t experienced since Ben. He’d dazzled me and I was his baby. I instinctively understood that’s why calling Jude “father” had slid out so naturally. Father was an authority figure, similar to that of a Dom. Or maybe even a Daddy Dom. I never consideredaddressing a Dom as Daddy. However, Jude was clearly a caretaker.Babbofelt right.
When I felt steady, I walked to my truck, mesmerized by the sky glittering with stars and the thin, finely shaped arc of the moon. A new moon that marked the beginning of a lunar cycle, and a metaphor for a fresh start in life, wasn’t lost on me. I’d wondered during all the years of therapy if I’d ever not be taxed by guilt—a heavy burden that had gradually made my shoulders slump under its weight. That evening, as I moved under the canopy of the moon and planets, I felt light and emboldened. It was a good feeling, one that stayed with me for the rest of the night and into the next day.
FOURTEEN
JUDE
The next day was horrid,beginning with the ringtone that indicated my mother was calling. I accepted that I had to speak to her. On a Monday morning, and a workday, I wasn’t sure that my dad would be there to balance her outcry. Nevertheless, I bolstered myself with thoughts of Ethan and the life that I envisioned eventually. “Hello, Mom,” I said, keeping my voice strong.
“Hello? Is that all you have to say?” As usual, her tone was cutting.
“I’m assuming my secretary emailed my letter to you,” I said, working at keeping my voice steady. “Is that why you’re not at work?”
She screeched so loud, I had to pull the phone away from my ear. Thankfully, she hadn’t initiated a video chat. “The last thing on my mind is work. Where are you? Your father and I are going to take you back where you belong. And then you’ll beg forgiveness from Father Matthew and the bishop.”
