Page 2 of Daddy's Tiny Little Dancer

Eventually, the pleading turns to threats. Then more pleading. Then bitterness when the offers dwindle as the prestigious theaters abandon me in favor of more willing dancers. Finally, my teacher sends a long, angry email to me, denouncing me as a failure and a waste of her time and claiming that I ruined her career by sapping her strength and energy when she could have spent her time training someone who actually deserved it.

My parents are kinder, but I can tell they are disappointed as well. They no longer talk about me with pride or beam proudly at me when I visit. We still talk but our relationship is almost perfunctory. We see each other on holidays and that’s about it.

I don’t blame them. I am a failure. I don’t need to wonder what Shakespeare would do if he never picked up a quill. I know exactly what he would do.

When I reach the house, I am utterly exhausted from the mental punishment I’ve put myself through. I strip out of my clothes and head for the shower. As the warm water cascades over me, I comfort myself with the thought that this isn’t so bad. I’ll be okay. I always am.

I try to tell myself that but as usual, I don’t manage to believe it.

CHAPTER TWO

Hunter

“Are you sure it’s no problem?” I ask.

“Stop being an idiot,” Cliff says. “You’d do the same for me, and I’m glad you asked.”

“I can stay at a hotel.”

“I swear to God, man! If I could reach through the phone and punch you, I would.”

I smile and say, “Well, I’m lucky then. I shouldn’t be longer than a week or so.” I’m moving into town from way across the country, ready to put some distance between the memories of a relationship that ended badly.

“You can stay as long as you like, Hunter,” Cliff says, “and you’ll be happy to know there’s a thriving community here. Well, there. I’m about to get on the plane.”

When he talks about a thriving community, he means there are Daddies and little girls. DDlg. It’s essentially a BDSM community, a lifestyle choice. Domination and submission. There is age play involved but it isn’t some weird incest thing. Daddies are dominant and their little girls are submissive. There’s a lot that goes into it.

I’m a Daddy.

I’m a Daddy without a little girl.

That makes me glad there’s a thriving community here because I definitely feel the loss of having a little girl in my life. I feel that loss pretty damned profoundly, in fact. I just don’t feel complete without someone to love and care for.

My last little girl couldn’t handle the lifestyle.

Maybe a better way for me to put that is that my last little girl had nobody other than me in the lifestyle. She wanted it but it’s hard to live in a bubble, to have no friends who understand it, and nobody to talk to about the relationship other than me. She wasn’t lonely from a romantic perspective but in all other regards, she was desperately lonely.

I don’t think I loved her. I don’t think she loved me. Oh, we both care a great deal for each other and perhaps with another year or two love would be the result but instead, we broke up bitterly and that’s why I’m five minutes from my best friend’s house far away from her.

“One of Charity’s friends is housesitting, but she has a life so if she isn’t there, you can get the key. It’s hidden in a false bottom in the mailbox.”

“All right man,” I say, “As long as you’re sure.”

“I swear to God, man, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Okay, okay.”

“They just called our flight. Make yourself at home man. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Charity just sent a text so her friend knows.”

“All right man. Thanks. I’ll see if I can find a place really…” I stop talking when I realize he’s already off the line. I set the phone down and see my exit. Five minutes later I pull into the driveway of his ranch house. I sigh and get my suitcase from the trunk. I walk to the front porch and knock on the door.

There’s no answer. I knock again and when there’s still no answer, I look for the key and hope that none of the neighbors see and decide that I must be breaking into Cliff’s house. Fortunately, the key is exactly where Cliff says it is and I am soon inside the house.

I choose the first available bedroom and undressed. I am exhausted from the long day of traveling and I close my eyes for a few minutes. I don’t nap but when I get out of bed, I am refreshed. I pull on a pair of sweatpants and say a silent prayer of thanks that I’m the only one in the house after all because it means I don’t have to put on anything else yet.

I head downstairs and walk into the kitchen. I chuckle when I see the large glass-front cabinet with multiple shelves lined with booze. I wonder why he keeps so much here. He drinks on occasion but he’s not an alcoholic. Why would he keep over three thousand dollars of booze in the house when it will take him a lifetime to drink it?

Well, that works in my favor, I guess. I’m also not an alcoholic but a little booze to take the edge off doesn’t sound like a terrible thing just out of a breakup. I pour myself a shot of sixteen-year scotch and when I look up, I see a coupon for pizza on the refrigerator. I’ll have to owe Cliff a pizza when he gets back.

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