Page 9 of Tilly's Tutus
“And then there were two,” Tilly said as she turned her attention back to the man sitting across the table from her. “I guess we’re on our own, that is, if you still want to have dinner with me?”
“Of course I do,” Carter said with a smile. “I want to know all about you and your Little and how you became the maker of tutus and designer of dresses for Littles and their friends. I also want to answer any questions you have about me and my life and my Daddy Dom side.”
He knew his words sent her mind spinning as she sat back and let a breath whoosh out. As she was thinking, their waitress approached.
“Good evening, what can I get you to drink?”
Carter waited until Tilly asked for water, then nodded that he’d have the same. He was pleased that she was not drinking alcohol or caffeine so late in the day, though he could not stop her if she did. He wasn’t her Daddy. Yet. A status he hoped would change, if not tonight, then in the near future.
He'd spent a few minutes during the day looking around the internet and found Tilly’s website and other information, including the fact that she had a spotless record without even a parking ticket to her name. Yes, he knew he was falling more and more into the stalker category, but it wasn’t his nature to spend time with a woman without at least knowing the basics of her background.
“What are you going to order?” he asked once the waitress left to get their waters.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been here before. What are you getting?”
Carter smiled at the uncertain, almost Little girl, tone in her voice. “If you want to feed your Little, I’d recommend the mac and cheese with bacon and a side of the raw veggie salad with ranch dressing for dipping.”
He did a fist pump in his mind when she nodded and said, “That sounds yummy. What are you having?”
“The fish and chips, I think.”
“That sounds good, too, but only if they have tartar sauce and ketchup to dunk.”
“Hmmm, I’ve never had tartar sauce. I usually get malt vinegar.”
He chuckled when Tilly made a face. “Too salty and pickley.”
“Are you all ready to order?” Their waitress was back with two glasses of water.
“Yes, I think we are. I’ll have the fish and chips with tartar sauce, malt vinegar and ketchup, and the lady will have the mac and cheese with bacon and the raw veggie plate with ranch dressing.”
“No,” Tilly contradicted. “Could I have Thousand Island dressing instead of ranch?”
“Sure, honey,” the waitress said with a smile as she changed the notation. “It will be a few minutes, but I’ll bring everything out when its ready.”
“Thank you,” Carter and Tilly said at the same time, laughing together as the waitress walked away.
“You’re a nice man,” Tilly said once they were alone again.
“It’s part of the job,” he said with a wink. “No matter what you might think after watching television, most police officers are nice guys, at least the ones I work with. We sometimes get a bad rap, but we try not to go into every situation with guns blazing. Are you all right after your encounter with Bob? I know he frightened you.”
He watched Tilly shiver and then straighten up and take a breath. “He did scare me, but I won’t have nightmares about it. He’s just a sad, lonely man who needs some help.”
“I’m afraid he’s a little more than just sad and lonely. He’s been diagnosed with early-onset dementia, and that can sometimes make him suspicious of everyone, but he also doesn’t want to accept help. But enough talk about Bob. I want to know about you.”
“What do you want to know?” Tilly asked before taking a long drink of her water. By the time she set the glass down, it was half empty.
He made a note to keep an eye on her water intake during the next few days. If she was this thirsty now, she obviously had not drank enough during the day.
“I want to know everything. When you figured out you were a Little, how you got interested in designing and making clothes, what your Little is like, what you’re looking for in a Daddy. All of it. But let’s start with your favorite color. I’m guessing it’s not pink.”
Tilly giggled and looked down at the table as her face turned pink. “No, it’s not pink. Most pinks clash with my hair. My favorite color is purple, followed closely by yellow.”
“Yellow?”
“Soft yellow, like a buttercup. What’s your favorite color?”
Carter shrugged as he looked deep into her bright blue eyes. “I don’t think I have a favorite color, but right now, I’d say it’s cobalt blue.”
