Page 44 of Daddy's Game

Her voice held annoyance, weariness, and a bit of affection in measures I couldn't untangle. I didn’t know which of the three she felt most strongly.

“Hey yourself. So, you think I was being mean when I let you out?”

“Yeah, I could have used a signal that we were moving on. You know, a game over sign or something to let me know it was time to transition. That and you didn't cuddle me at all, after.”

“After what?”

I heard her strangled grunt of frustration.

“God damn it, Brock, you know what. We sort of had sex in the limo.”

Ha. I’d gotten her to come right out and admit it first after all. I savored my triumph and pressed my advantage.

“I think that counts as sex. Though certain former presidents might not agree.”

“You know what I mean. We didn’t, uh, go all the way.”

“I think we did. My goal was to make you cum as much as possible in thirty minutes. I think I did okay.”

Silence, then the sound of squeaking springs. I could imagine her sitting on her worn out bed.

“You did more than just okay,” she said, affection winning out in the end. “It was just abrupt, that’s all.”

“You seem to think that the game is over. Kicking you out onto the street, as you put it, was not the end of the game, but merely my next move.”

“What? Your master plan is to leave me feeling frustrated and flustered while you go dominate the business world?”

“Yes.”

“For god’s sake, why?”

“Because I know you, Grace. I know how much you love the dance. How much you love the verbal sparring and the flirting and the smoldering looks that pass between us. You love the anticipation. Just like when you dip your spoon into your dessert, you take a long time to savor the experience.”

“Um, okay.”

She couldn't refute me. I knew I’d stunned her with my insight, or at least my audacity if I’d overestimated myself. Yet I felt it was time to strike the finishing stroke.

“You, my dear, love a little teasing now and again. How many sex toys do you have?”

“Whoah, there’s that transition thing again,” Grace said with a laugh. “How did you know I had sex toys at all? Been snooping around when I’m in the bathroom?”

“No. I was just asking a question. Zero would have been an acceptable answer after all.”

“Oooh,” she hissed. “I walked into that one, didn’t I? I see how you make all of your money. You’re a sneaky bastard.”

“Am I? I prefer to think of myself as creatively focused. Now, how many sex toys do you have?”

She sputtered with nervous laughter, then I heard the sound of a drawer opening.

“It’s going to sound terrible, but I don’t know off hand and I have to count.”

“That many, eh?”

“No!” Laughter overcame her, music to my ears. I smiled as the car rolled along toward its next destination.

“I have, well…I either have four or five depending.”

“Depending on what?”

---