12. Arlo

CHAPTER 12

Arlo

I've never been little for this long.

It's glorious.

Until now, I've only ever indulged in age play by myself, like in the bath or in my room when my parents have gone out for the night. Basically—anytime I knew I could lock the door and not be interrupted. Even then, there was always an underlying worry that someone would catch me.

Not today. Not with Thomas.

As promised, we played in the blanket fort and also got in the hot tub for a while. Daddy always has the funnest ideas and never runs out of enthusiasm. But unfortunately, it has been a very long day, and I am getting tired. So even though I grumble, I don't protest too much as we get out of the tub and dry off. It doesn't take long in this heat, even if it's the evening now and the sun is setting.

I really wanted to go down to the beach again, but Daddy said it was too late for today. I felt myself getting cranky, but Daddy promised that if we wanted, we could spend the whole day at the beach tomorrow.

Sometimes, it's difficult for me to remember that we don't have to do everything all at once. I guess the freedom is just making me giddy. But knowing that I've still got the next several days off from my real life makes me feel like I can breathe properly. My regular routine is so stuffy and drab. Here everything is colorful and there's no pressure.

Daddy has a very quick shower before ushering me into the bathroom. He's got a towel hanging up for me and my wash kit from my bag is ready by the sink.

It's almost on the tip of my tongue to ask if he'll wash and dry me. I'm only a little baby, after all. I need help with these things. But I don't—this time, at least. I've never showered with anyone before, even though it's something I've daydreamed about. It seems very intimate. But the idea of Daddy washing my hair makes me want to melt into a gooey puddle.

So much has happened today already, though. That feels like a really big step to take. Besides, I could use the time alone to think.

That conversation we had just now was…surprising. I hadn't been expecting it. But it was so much easier as Lolo to tell Thomas about some of the things that happened to me in the past. Complicated, confusing things.

But saying it out loud helped me to remember some important details. Like how much I really did enjoy having sex. Sex is great.

It's just not nice if, afterward, the person you were intimate with laughs at you and calls you a slut—and not in the fun way.

I like being a slut. I don't think there's anything wrong with having lots of safe, consensual sex. But if you trust yourself with someone (or lots of someones) and they ridicule you after…goodness, that's the worst kind of empty, sick feeling.

It wasn't like that with Chris, though. It's not as if we dated. I've never had a boyfriend, so I wouldn't know what that feels like. But Chris always respected me and told me how good and sweet I was for him, even if we pretended like we didn't know each other in public. He made the secret fun. I felt special.

But even that pales in comparison to how good Thomas makes me feel. My first real Daddy. I thought I'd be terrified to open up to someone on this trip—and that was if I even met anyone I liked. However, I kind of just fell into Thomas's lap somewhat literally, and it's been like a dream ever since. Part of me worries that it's too good to be true.

The other part of me knows one should never look a gift horse in the mouth. I need to appreciate something rare and precious while I have it.

By the time I get out of the shower, dry off, and dress in my jammies, I'm feeling more centered and back in my own age again. There's a temptation to cling onto little headspace all the time. But Thomas is right. I can be little again tomorrow, just like we can go to the beach again tomorrow.

"I hope you don't mind," he greets me as I come out of the bathroom and hang up my damp swim shorts. "But I ordered room service for us. It was getting late, and I didn't know how long it would take for them to deliver it."

"Oh, wonderful," I chirp with a grin. The feeling of being taken care of seeps through me even more than the hot water from the shower did. "That was good thinking. What did you order?"

"Curry. I hope that's okay?"

I nod. As much fun as it is eating food intended for little palates, sampling local cuisine is actually very important to me. "Yummy!" I declare.

The food arrives not long after that, and we eat on the patio as the chairs inside are still very much being used as load-bearing walls in our blanket fort. But I think it was the better idea to sit outside and watch the last of the sun set over the jungle and the ocean as we eat.

The curry is apparently a classic Indonesian blend—yellow from turmeric, spicy, but also rich from coconut milk and cashew nuts. It's accompanied by fluffy white rice and some crunchy crackers. We wash it down with tropical juice. I could have enjoyed some wine after the day we've had, but I love that Thomas maybe didn't know what kind of head space I'd be in and didn't want to make things too grown up.

There's always tomorrow night for wine and other grown-up things.

After I've eaten all I can, there's no more fighting the bone-deep jet lag that's weighing me down. Thomas insists on tidying up our plates so I can go brush my teeth, but before I do, I open up a can of food for Jolly and put it in his new bowl that we cleaned after lunch.

"Here you go, baby," I coo at him as I place it down on the decking.

He sniffs at it like he did the last time at the restaurant. I was worried that he'd only like fresh meat and wouldn't be interested in the more processed stuff. But I stifle a little gasp as he plunges in, gobbling down the chunks in gravy with gusto.

"If you were my kitty," I whisper to him as he eats, "I'd buy you the very best food and brush you every single day." He licks his lips and looks up at me. I like to imagine he knows what I'm saying.

I'm aware it's going to be tough to say good-bye to him in a week. At least Thomas can text so we can still talk if we want to. But I assure myself that while I'm here, I can do my best to take care of this feisty wild kitty.

There's a strange sort of electricity between Thomas and me as we take turns brushing our teeth. Part of me wonders if I overreacted by not wanting to sleep in my own villa. But one look outside at Jolly and the image of those rowdy boys jeering as they ran away flashes through my mind.

No. They know so much about me from my passport, like my name and birthday, but at least that doesn't have my home address on it. The fact that they know the resort name and my villa number is just too unsettling.

Like Thomas suggested, I might go back to reception tomorrow and see if I can transfer to a different room. For tonight, though, staying here is the safest option.

Still, it's a pretty intimate thing to do with someone you've only known for a couple of days. I slept in shared dorm rooms when I was younger, but I've never shared one-on-one. I've certainly never slept in a bed with anyone.

Thomas tucks me into his bed and turns out the lights. I chew my lip as I watch in the dim moonlight as he fusses with pillows and blankets, my thoughts a hurricane in my head.

I want to protect myself. But when we talked earlier, Thomas made me feel so safe.

"Daddy?" I say, sitting up in bed and clutching the duvet to my chest.

"Yes, baby boy?" he replies in the near darkness.

I take a breath and give myself a moment to back out.

I don't want to.

"Daddy come sleep in Lolo's bed."

There's a pause. I deliberately used my new little name to tell him what I want—or what I don't want. Not yet, anyway. I'm not ready to be intimate. But I'm not having him throw his back out by sleeping on the blasted floor, either.

"Lolo," he says carefully, but I'm beyond tired, and he doesn't have to worry about this anymore.

It's easy to regress as I shake my head, even though he probably can't see much more than a lump on the bed. "It's bedtime, Daddy!" I cry, slapping the mattress beside me. "Come sleep now! We're going to count flying fish until we go night night."

He chuckles. "Is that right?"

"Yes, Daddy," I say smugly. Then I can't help but yawn. "Bedtime now. Lolo sleepy."

I hold my breath and start counting. But before I can get to ten, he starts extracting himself from the blanket fort, making his way over to the other side of the bed. I release my breath and grin, throwing the duvet back for him.

"Yay! Thank you, Daddy."

"Thank you, Lolo," he murmurs back, slipping between the sheets.

With the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead, it's cool enough to snuggle under the covers and not get uncomfortable. But Thomas is radiating heat, even while wearing boxers and a T-shirt. I'm so ridiculously hyperaware of him, so much so, I don't want to move and make the mattress bounce.

He chuckles again. "Relax, baby boy," he tells me. "Take a deep breath and get comfy for Daddy."

I'm glad it's dark so he can't see my sheepish expression. I insisted he get into the bed with me, then immediately freaked out about it. But I do what he says and inhale before squirming around to settle on my side. It's slightly easier with my back to him, like there's a tiny wall separating us.

"Night night, Daddy," I whisper.

"Night night, good boy."

I beam, even with my eyes closed, his praise filling me up until it spills over everywhere. It's easy to let go and fall into unconsciousness when I feel like I'm floating on these feelings.

After everything that happened, it's not so surprising that I have more of a lie-in the next morning. I'm heavy with sleep. If I roused during the night, I don't remember it. But I must have moved at some point.

Because I know I fell asleep with my back to Thomas and now I'm facing the other way. As I blink my eyes slowly open, fumbling my way into consciousness again, I see that he's also facing me.

He's watching me.

He bites his lip as he realizes I'm waking up, but as soon as I see him, I smile. His hair is glowing like a halo around his head in the early morning sunshine. That would make sense, seeing as he's my angel and all.

"Hello," I rasp.

Admittedly, if it were anyone else, I'd be spooked at being watched while I slept. But this is Thomas. I trust him, and I'm relieved when he stops looking worried and starts smiling back at me, too.

"Hey, baby boy," he says, his voice all sleepy and warm. "You okay?"

I nod. The room is so quiet. There's just the thrum of the fan above us accompanying the beat of my heart.

Why am I hesitating? What am I so worried about? It's as if a good night's sleep has rinsed my brain out, taking all my old fears and doubts down the drain. I might only have a matter of days that I can spend with Thomas. Why am I wasting them?

There are so many unspoken words hanging between us, but I realize I don't want to talk. Actions speak louder than words, right?

So before I can overthink anything, I slide my hand down the mattress under the covers. My fingers entwine with Thomas's, my palm softer and smaller than his. Then I bring both our hands back up and nuzzle my cheek against his knuckles.

He sucks in a short, surprised breath, his eyes widening. I'll be honest, I'm not really sure what I'm doing here. I just know that I want to be close to him and that I'm not afraid.

When he tugs slightly on my hand, I let him move it over to his side. He mimics me as he rubs his scruffy cheek against my fingers, making me giggle.

"Baby boy," he whispers reverently.

Then he drags both our hands down just a fraction…before placing a chaste kiss on the sensitive skin inside my wrist.

My heart skips a beat as I forget how to breathe. This is it. He's giving me the chance to back off, to slow things down, or say no altogether.

Instead, I launch myself forward, crashing our mouths against one another, finally letting myself be completely free of my past.