Page 4 of Kiren

Then I thought back to last week and the party the night before Thanksgiving. Max. The guy who’d bought me Dirty Shirley.

It was only Monday. Our first day back after four days. I hadn’t seen him. But I had thought about him. He had been far too handsome for a boy like me, out of my league. A supervisor. Plus, there was the whole non-fraternization thing without HR’spaperwork and approval. Would he have done something like this?

I settled into work, but all afternoon I couldn’t get Max off my mind.

When the workday ended, I grabbed the truck and my computer and left. I did think about hanging around in the lobby to see if I could spot Max but chickened out.

When I got home, I put the red truck on my special shelf with my other toy cars and trucks. Some were from my childhood, but I still collected them, so some were also new.

After I took a shower, I used a soft cloth to spread the special cream on my scars, some of which were super hard to reach. I put on my rocket ship pajamas with feet and made myself the completelyhealthydinner of frozen chicken nuggets mixed with mini corndogs. I poured grape juice into my favorite blue sippy cup and took the meal and my bestie teddy, Brobear, to the couch to watch cartoons.

I’d spent a lot of days and nights recuperating on my parents’ couch. The habit had continued when I moved into my condo. It was my safe space where nothing could harm me, where I could curl around my pillows and my bear and find peace of mind.

I had plenty of time over the past two years to think about everything I’d missed out on after leaving college, and feeling sorry for myself. But I’d grown used to my time alone, indulging myself in having no demands, no interruptions until work began the next day.

But college still called. The men there. It had been the age of exploration. Discovery. I’d quickly found out I was a bottom. I boldly and proudly took the label. Every time I had sex, I liked to pretend that I was a virgin, young and untouched. It really turned me on when guys treated me like a prize.

Then I encountered daddy kink. That was it. I loved it. I wanted praise and aftercare and spoiling. I wanted toys andcomfort, pillows and a warm body holding me down. I’d barely explored the deeper end of that kink, which had possibilities. Such as diapering, pacifiers and onesies, all things I never got the chance to try before my college days were cut short.

I dreamed of those things sometimes.

Tonight, I watched the cartoons cackle across the flatscreen and put my thumb in my mouth. That sensation, sucking, kept me even emotionally, allowing me to relax with no stress.

If I had gone down another path, perhaps never been injured, I might have a daddy now. But those thoughts were put away. Hidden. For another time. I wasn’t ready.

But as I looked at my window at the frosty night, the month of November ending and the path through December toward Christmas beginning, a pang of longing hit me.

A guy like Max might be fun to have around, but I was okay. I was alone. For now. I was safe. Happy in my private bubble.

3

Max

Itaped the cellophane-wrapped gumball to the yellow plastic whistle. As everyone left for lunch, I hummed softly as I walked past Kiren’s cubicle. No one noticed me dart in, drop the whistle on his desk, and dart out.

I noticed the red truck was missing.

I smiled. He’d either thrown it away or taken it home. He seemed like the sort who would keep it. Maybe he had other goodies at home, and it was now sharing space with them. Fingers crossed. Even though he didn’t yet know it was me leaving the gifts like a secret Santa, when I did get caught—and I fully intended that to happen—it would be all the more delightful.

I couldn’t figure out where Kiren went on his lunch hour. He was never in the break room. Nor did I see him join up with groups who went out to eat. Maybe he ate in his car. Was he that shy?

That was fine. I could handle that.

I continued out of the office to join some of my team for lunch.

After work, I went shopping for more tiny toys. I bought slightly better ones, intending to increase their worth with every drop off.

The next toy I left on Kiren’s desk was a tiny plastic wind-up Santa. Its black-booted feet moved back and forth and it was able to walk a few inches before it had to be wound again. I bought a snowman one, too. I couldn’t resist the two-inch Christmas tree that lit up when a button was pushed at the base.

Day by day, I left the gifts. I wished I could spy more and see his reactions, but I worked too far away from his department to not be obvious about my interest.

Maybe he’d figure it out on his own. By the sixth day, I thought maybe he needed help. I bought a teeny picture frame and printed out a photo of Shirley Temple around age six. It fit perfectly.

But the day I planned to leave that on his desk, I got sudden cold feet. I dropped a large candy cane on his desk instead and practically ran out to lunch.

I still wasn’t even sure Kiren was gay. If he realized it was me, the game would be up, and I was enjoying it too much to end it.

I tossed and turned in my bed that night, seeing Kiren’s face in my mind, disappointed in myself for not being bold and simply asking him out. Leaving toys as bait for a man who I fantasized might be a little was pure procrastination. I needed to be the true daddy and take charge.

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