Chapter Twelve

The smell inside the beach house was the same as the last time I'd been there, a combination of salt and sea breeze and the faintest scent of coconut and suntan oil. I was surprised the house didn't smell mustier, since no one had been here in a while except for the cleaners, as far as I knew.

Dropping my bag, I went immediately to the big glass doors leading out to the patio to pull them back and let in the soft, summer breeze to seep in and circulate gently through the rooms. It was only a forty-five-minute drive here from Ft. Lauderdale, depending on traffic. We could have been coming up every weekend. But Michael never seemed to have the time, and if I brought it up, he'd say, "But wouldn't you rather go out? Go to the club? I want to show you off."

It was summertime—the perfect time to go to the beach. Especially if you had a house like this one. In the city, it was hot, sweaty and humid, keeping one, as Jane Austen said, "In a state of constant inelegance."

I'd always liked Austin, though most guys my age didn't read her books. They preferred action novels or Tolkien or mysteries like Lee Child or Raymond Chandler. But once I'd had a vague idea of becoming an author like Austin. Fiction novels, or maybe even romance. But that was when I was still in college, before I dropped out because I couldn't do all the work and manage my finances. As that doctor guy on TV would say, "How's that working for you?"

And I'd have to reply, "Not at all, thanks for asking, and fuck you very much."

I'd hoped to go back to school eventually to get a teaching certificate, but that was a whole other story, and probably just a dream. It was way too depressing to dwell on today.

I stood at the double doors, gazing out at the beach instead. The view was one I never got tired of seeing—the endless line of the gray, white-caps, the waves crashing on shore like some Titan far out of sight and out at sea was endlessly throwing giant pitchers of water toward the shore. I loved the sound the waves made as they splash-landed. It was a restful sound to me—one I badly needed to help turn me off my brain. To give me just a little space and time to stop thinking about what I'd lost. No, what I'd just thrown away. Because if I really concentrated on that, I was afraid it might just kill me.

I went to the bar cart and found the expensive whiskey he always drank. He drank it on the rocks, but I didn't have any ice, so I went to the sink to add some water right out of the tap and then threw it back, relishing the burn in my throat.

I hardly ever drank, but I wanted to today. And it was another way to keep all this at bay. To bury it as deeply as I could so I didn't have to think about how I'd just left him without a word. I'd taken his car and broken into his beach house as the icing on the cake.

Was it still breaking in if you used a key? Probably not technically.

I poured another drink, even bigger than the last one and threw myself down onto the oversized sofa, closing my eyes, letting the breeze and the sound of the waves just wash over me for a long time. I was feeling drained from all the emotion and drama of last night and this morning. Drama I'd caused—I had no illusions about that.

I had tried for a while now to be something I wasn't, and I'd lied to Michael about it, which was the worst thing. It just wasn't working any longer, and I couldn't make it work no matter how hard I tried. I loved Michael so much I couldn't wrap my head around it sometimes. No one had ever been so important to me.

When he had finally known the truth, he'd tried to be nice about it, like I knew he would. I thought he might wait a few days and then offer to find someone else for me. But what we had between us was over. I just wasn't what he wanted, and I had to face facts. I probably wasn't what anybody wanted.

Okay, that was a little over the top, but it was how I felt just then, and it was as simple and devastating as that. Michael and I were over and high time I faced it. I'd come here to do just that. To this place I'd once upon a time been so happy, so I could try to convince myself to let him go.

This was our getaway, our magical place, and every time I thought of it, the words from the theme song of Camelot played in my head. " In short, there's simply not, a more congenial spot, For happily-ever-aftering than here, in Camelot."

Happily-ever-aftering … I used to think we'd have that, and it would last a lifetime. I guess everybody thinks that when they're in love.

Unable to stand it a second longer, needing to hear his voice, I fumbled for the telephone on the side table and dialed his number. It rang only once before he picked it up, sounding a little out of breath.

"Cruz? Is that you, baby? I came home to check on you and found you gone. Where are you? Are you all right?"

"Hi. Yeah, it's me. And I'm fine," I said in a soft voice. "Thanks for answering. I wasn't sure you would."

"Cruz…what are you talking about? Listen to me, baby, just tell me where you are, and I'll come get you."

"No, I-I can't. I just needed to hear your voice and tell you I'm sorry for running out on you. That makes twice now. I'm sorry. Sorry about everything. But I'm gonna go now. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"No, baby, don't hang up. Don't do that— please . Tell me where you are so I can come get you."

"I know you're just being nice, but… you don't have to. Don't worry about me. I'm okay. Really. Nothing to worry about." To my horror, I felt my throat clogging with tears and a single sob escaped despite my best efforts. I'd meant to be strong and act like nothing mattered, and here I was crying. My face burned with shame.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," I said, choking out the words. "I think I just need to go now, okay?"

"No, just hang on a minute. Baby, have you been drinking?"

"I had a drink, yeah. Maybe two."

"No more, okay? Not until I'm with you. Tell me where you're calling from, and I'll be on my way to get you."

"No. I shouldn't have called and bothered you. I'm sorry. I just wanted to tell you that."

I hung up, whispering "I'm sorry, Daddy."

But he was already gone. I'd hung up on him even as he was still talking and begging me not to. Because I was tired from the long drive here and fading fast, I decided to lie down and rest for a few minutes before I took the car back to him. I needed to just close my eyes. I managed to set my drink down on the coffee table and fall back against the sofa cushions. I tossed restlessly onto my side, trying to relax and listen to the waves hitting the shore before being dragged back out to sea. I tried to think of nothing else, but it was so hard to stop the thoughts racing through my head. I stuck my thumb in my mouth and tried to find that place in my head that soothed me. I guess I fell asleep still searching for it, because the next thing I knew, someone was turning me over roughly and shouting down in my face.

"Cruz! Did you take something?" Michael was shouting at me. "Tell me what you took!"

"I…what? No, I didn't take anything."

"Are you telling me the truth?" he asked frantically, peering down into my eyes.

"Yes. I just had a couple of drinks and I'm not used to it. They kind of knocked me out."

He fell back against the sofa beside me and heaved a big sigh. "Thank God. You scared me to death when I called your name, and you didn't wake up."

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. I was just going to lie here for a little while and then head back to Ft. Lauderdale to bring you the car."

"But why did you come here in the first place? And why wouldn't you tell me where you were over the phone when I asked you?"

"I'm sorry." It seemed like all I could say. "How did you find me?"

"You called from the house phone. I recognized the number you were calling from."

"Oh."

"Damn it, you scared me to death."

"I didn't mean to. After you left this morning, I noticed the key on your keychain, and I wanted to see this place one more time. I loved it so much when we came here."

"What the hell are you talking about, one more time? Are you planning on leaving me? On running out on me again ? I won't let you do it again, Cruz. What do you think about that? I'll come after you and drag you back home! I'll lock you in the bedroom if I have to."

"W-What? Drag me home? But why would you want to? I know I'm not what you want."

"Did I say that? Did I say that even once?"

"Well, no…"

"No, and I never will! I'm not done with you yet, and if you think I am, then you're wrong. I don't release you, boy. I refuse!" He turned away then, but not before I saw the wetness in his eyes. I grabbed his arm to turn him around, but he pulled away and got to his feet, storming over to the glass doors looking out on the beach. His back was to me, but I could see his shoulders shaking a little. I was amazed at how much my words had affected him.

Then suddenly his shoulders slumped, and he leaned his forehead against the glass.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby. I was wrong for trying to make you do things before and I guess I'm still making the same mistake. You want someone who will take care of you and give you what you need. Someone who would be able to see the difference in a sub and a Little." He whirled around and stared at me, his eyes reddened with emotion. "I never took the time to find out what you needed. What kind of Dom does that make me? I failed you, baby. I never even gave you a choice."

"No," I cried out, jumping to my feet. "I should have had the courage to tell you. To say what I needed. I know you're not a mind reader. It was my fault, and never yours. I should have said I needed a Daddy."

He came over to stand in front of me. "Listen to me. If anyone is going to be your Daddy, it's going to be me. I don't think I could stand the idea of someone else taking care of you. I have a lot to learn—I realize that. But I want to do this for you. If you'll have me."

"But-but you'd be miserable."

"Who said I would? I'd still be in the club on other nights, if I got the urge to be a different kind of Dom. Not to make love to anyone else. That's only for you. But to use the flogger or the cane on willing subs. A lot of people have relationships that don't include sex. There's no reason I can't."

"The last time I saw you doing that, I didn't react well."

"I know, baby. We both have to make adjustments. But we can take things slowly. A relationship between a Dom and a sub can be completely non-sexual. Doms aren't boyfriends."

"I know. In my brain—but in my heart, I guess I don't want to see you with anyone else."

"I think we can make this work, if we both try. I want to give you what you need."

"Being a Little isn't about sex, you know. Though I still want to make love to you."

"I do know that much. It's about caring for you and seeing to your needs while you're in Little headspace. There's no one better for that job than me. We can go to the Littles Room at the club or do it at home or both. Whatever you need. I'd like it if you still wore my collar. As a symbol of commitment and to show what we are to each other, but it's up to you."

I touched the collar around my neck and smiled. "I'd love that. I don't need a collar to feel owned, but I consider myself to be yours when I wear it."

"I love you, Cruz. I don't know if I've told you that lately, but it's true. One thing though…"

"What's that?"

"You scared the hell out of me last night and again today. You need discipline for that."

He held up a hand as I started to protest. "You were a bad boy, and you know it. I know you don't want pain, so I'll have to think of something else. That will be at my discretion—agreed?"

"Um, yes, I guess so."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Better. Now come over here and apologize for scaring me half to death and for drinking my bourbon without permission and for running away from me. Sit here in my lap and tell me how sorry you are and make me believe it."

"Yes, Daddy," I said, blushing a little. "Anything you say."

He smiled at me. "Good. I think I like this side of you already."

****

Michael

I did as I'd promised, and the next day after we returned to my condo, I went to see Jerry, my manager. I'd thought I'd known about Jerry. That he was some kind of submissive, though we'd never discussed it. It wasn't my business, after all. To learn he was a Little was surprising, but to each his own. I could see that his job had stressors that he might need relief from, and I'd been really impressed with Master Lawrence when I'd talked to him. He'd been a good friend to Cruz, too, and that really earned my gratitude and respect.

We talked a long time after Jerry called Lawrence in to talk to me. Jerry had politely stepped out when Lawrence came in to give us privacy.

Lawrence got right to the point. "I think it would be a good idea to come observe other Daddies in the Little Room a few times. Daddies don't do anything out of the ordinary. We're just there to support our boys and see to their needs. Whatever those might be."

"I can do that."

"I have no doubt you can. It's a bit like aftercare for subs, in a way. You have to know your boy well and know what they like and need. You have to be attentive. Some need more than others, but all of them need their person to be there with them, looking out for them while they're vulnerable."

"What will he do in the Littles Room?"

Lawrence laughed. "Whatever he wants. He might color or play with toys, or just sit next to you or in your lap and watch the others. He'll know what it takes to get him in that head space that he craves. He's the best judge of that."

"I see. That's different."

"For a Dom like you, yes. You're used to gauging what your sub wants and then giving him what you want him to have based on both your needs. A Daddy still has to figure out what their boy needs and wants, but they have to trust him to know too. At least in some areas. Littles can be notorious for not eating properly or taking enough rest. You may have to enforce and set rules around dietary needs and naps and personal hygiene. If your boy has bad habits he's been allowed to get into, then a good Daddy will take control of that and help him break those bad habits. But always gently and keeping in mind that a Little is not into pain or a lot of humiliation."

"Cruz sucks his thumb, which is unsanitary to me. Not good for his teeth, either. Can I break him of that?"

"Yes, but it depends. Like does he need it to get into the right headspace? If he does, then you may have to substitute a pacifier and take it slowly. He might not like it at first."

"If he misbehaves?"

Lawrence smiled. "He probably will. I have some methods I can share with you if you want me to."

"That would be great. I love the idea of taking care of him. I'd like to get started right away."

"I don't see why not. But go slowly. You're an experienced Dom, but this is different in some important ways. You can always call me and ask questions, and I'll help if I can."

"Thank you, Lawrence. And thanks for being there for him the other night."

"My pleasure. He's a sweet boy. I really hope this works out for the two of you."

"I do too. I'd like to see him happy."

"That's a good way to begin."