Page 9 of Their Little House Tristan
What I really wanted were more of those sweet kisses. More of his time and more time for me to stare into his beautiful eyes.
I imagined us sharing movie time. Playtime.
There I went again, imagining a future that might never be.
Chapter Six
James
Eating popcorn with King was fun and relaxing, but as much as I loved my dog, his company had its limitations. Some good, as in he never disagreed with me on politics or religion. Did dogs even have those things? Maybe in the wild, pack politics, but only King could tell me if he believed in a higher power, and he chose to keep his piece.
But there were many other topics I enjoyed talking about, less controversial and more fun. Like the daddy/little dynamic, what to order for appetizers, and whether or not it might rain. I had overheard people passing Chained on the street and talking about rumors they’d heard about what went on inside. They were fascinated and for the most part wrong, at least in the part where I spent my time. True, all sorts of things did go on. Bondage, fire play, whipping, hot wax, the electrical fun of the violet wand… And, if I were to be honest, I’d tried most of them at one time or another just to see if I enjoyed them or to share the interests of a friend. But if they saw my friends and I sitting on comfy couches, sipping refreshing beverages and nibbling on the chef’s latest creations while littles zoomed cars around on the floor, they’d think they stumbled into the wrong place.
Most of the rumors were wild and crazy, and consent rarely entered into what they thought was happening, but I never considered stopping to correct them. The front of the building was very ordinary, no big signs, just the little one over the door. Not a single window faced the street where the snoopy could peek in.
No one but a member of Chained or its sister club Collared or a guest referred by someone would be admitted, so things were calm if passionate behind that door.
Mark’s and my conversation had gotten things stirring in my mind again. For all my denials that I wanted a new little in my life, I had begun to think I protested too much. My previous relationship had been all right. But we were more going through the motions by the end, satisfying one another’s basic needs without fully engaging, and I was determined not to let that happen again. We both deserved better. His moving just accelerated something that should have happened sooner, but inertia had held us in place.
And the inertia I’d fallen into since had kept me from striking out and seeing if there was something more for me. A visit every so often to the little room at Chained to scene or play barely took the edge off.
What kind of life was that for someone who found fulfillment in caring for another?
The ease with which I usually entered the club absent. I greeted Miss Lily in the lobby, chatting a few minutes before moving on. She was always friendly and professional, known for putting together incredible events, usually with a charitable aspect.
“James.” She held her hands out and took mine. “We haven’t seen enough of you lately. Busy at work?”
“Yes.” Although that wasn’t the whole story by any means. “But feels great to be here. Anything exciting happening?” As if it wasn’t always.
“You just missed an adoption event. We raised so much money for a local pet rescue. Our members are so generous.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” And very bad timing on my part to decide to be more open to another little right after the event.
Adoption afternoons were particularly popular, a kind of matchmaking only mommies and daddies and their littles could fully appreciate. There were games and refreshments and all sorts of fun, often culminating in a new couple or several and of course funds for a good cause.
The club was hopping, so to speak, as I made my way through the main room to reach the hallway leading to the little room as well as other specialty areas. The rumor mongers seemed sure that all kink was impact play.
Couldn’t be further from the truth.
The skill level involved in most of those things on both the doms’ and subs’ parts were well worth observing, but on this night, I had a goal in mind.
A whole different observation plan.
I knew better than to say I was arriving to find a little to be mine. That sort of thing would never work out. But what I did want was to sit back and watch the littles play and just see if there was anyone I could spend some time with, maybe get to know a little. I’d been too reserved even when I did play, and that kind of shutdown was unhealthy. Even for a scene, the littles deserved a heartfelt daddy.
The moment I entered, the vibe changed. The little room’s magic washed over me, and muscles I hadn’t realized were tense eased. Unlike the more erotic main room with people strapped to all sorts of equipment or rapt watching a fire master at work, things were light here. Littles able to let free a side of themselves the world at large wouldn’t understand.
I found my way to a chair against the wall and crossed one leg over my other knee. Some nights, the only daddies allowed in here were those accompanied by a little, but tonight, the sign on the door had indicated that it was all right to go in on my own and either watch or play.
Only a few minutes after arriving, my attention was drawn to two of the cutest littles I’d ever seen building a block tower together. Although they giggled and whispered together, their dynamic was not like most of the other play groups in the room, and I was galvanized by the energy between them.
They touched more than could be accidental, their breathing a little faster and shallower than I would expect from “just friends.” Also, the biggest giveaway something more was going on—nobody knocked the tower over. The locking blocks could go quite high, but the only time I’d ever seen that happen was in a competition. I’d spent many an evening building a structure for a little or a group of them while they watched with glowing eyes only to send it tumbling to the floor as soon as I moved my hand away.
I didn’t mind, even if I’d been into the whole thing and congratulating myself on my awesome castle. The littles rolling on the floor giggling were my reward. Their happiness my peace. These two built and built, until they both touched the same block and heat exploded. I’d seen littles kiss before, usually cheek kisses of friendship and even once or twice more, but these two were fire. I held my breath watching them, not jealous as in I didn’t want them to have the love and passion they were clearly expressing for one another, so much as I yearned to be a part of it.
Both of them drew me after a long dry spell, but as they parted and one looked over the other’s shoulder right at me, I cursed under my breath. They had each other, and I couldn’t approach them anyway. The little room was a safe space where littles held sway and only under certain circumstances, like an adoption event, could a daddy take the lead in an initial contact. I’d missed that opportunity. Had they been there and not found a daddy? Or was their relationship solid as it was and they didn’t need one? Most littles did, but like anyone, they varied and some just wanted a daddy from time to time—like the ones I’d played with lately; whereas, others wanted a mommy or took care of one another. Rare, but it happened.
I felt so helpless, hoping they would approach me but unable to do more than look back into those soulful eyes and try to send a message. Without being intrusive.
