Page 27 of Daddy's Little Librarian
And now, in the midst of all this seductive burning, that place between her legs was thumping and pulsing all over again, driving the already crazy heat inside her to burn even hotter. She didn’t think she could handle much more of this.
Worse, though… when Gopher finally backed off and all of this was over, how was she supposed to go back to normal? What if she never saw him again? What was ‘normal’ about that?
* * * * *
It was his first day on the job, and not only was Kurt the only pirate on the payroll in pink tights and a red and pink striped uniform shirt, but whatever laundry setting Scotti had used had shrunk the shirt three sizes. It not only fit him like a second skin, but the bottom hem stopped about two inches shy of being tucked into his pants. His midriff was showing. He looked like one of the Village People.
“Not quite the vibe we’re looking for here at Pirate Pete’s,” Captain Tommy said when he walked in.
“Yeah,” Kurt said, not quite able to stop himself from giving Scotti an accusatory stare as she slunk past him and found a quiet place to sit in the designated undersea dining area, better known as Mermaid Lagoon. “I was kind of hoping you had an extra uniform I could borrow.”
“No can do, big guy,” he said with a sympathetic shake of his head. “Those were the biggest I had. But… hang on, I think I’ve got something else that will do just as well.”
Which was how on his first day of work, Kurt found himself by being promoted. He still had to wear the pink tights, but the rest of his uniform was a nice dignified black and instead of a cabin boy bussing tables, he became Pirate Pete’s Birthday Boson. Not solely because he fit into what was supposed to be a baggy, loose-fitting outfit (and which absolutely was not on him), but because the existing Boson had quit earlier that morning and Kurt was the only employee Tommy could bully, force, or cajole into putting it on. It wasn’t pink, that was all Kurt cared about.
Or so he thought.
And then he had his first party.
It consisted of twenty-two four-year-olds and six adults, all of which were crammed into Birthday Cove—a shallow indention of fake rocks not far from the Secret Treasure Cave play place—along with an overflow of helium inflated balloons. The birthday boy was jumping up and down on the seat between his parents. He wore a paper pirate’s hat, an eyepatch over his right eye, and was waving a plastic cutlass over his head. Although they hadn’t yet cut into their Pirate Pete’s grinning pirate ice cream cake, if left up to Kurt he wouldn’t have given that kid any more sugar.
Of course, if left up to him, he wouldn’t have been here at all. Kurt sighed. There was no help for it. He needed employment, he needed a paycheck, he needed to keep one eye on Scotti, still sitting quietly in Mermaid Lagoon, sipping on a diet soda and coloring away on the paper tablecloth with a handful of well-used Pirate Pete crayons. He didn’t know if she was in full blown Little mode out there, but she’d been coloring for at least an hour now and hadn’t touched her Kindle.
She was a very well-mannered Little. He wasn’t used to that. Most of the Littles he’d played with in the past, both privately and at the BDSM dungeons he once frequented, they’d all been sassy, mouthy, loud, sulky and bratty. Scotti wasn’t any of those things.
None of which matters, because you still can’t have her.
Daddies fresh out of prison and employed in places like Pirate Pete’s can’t afford Littles of their own. And those who lived with their grandmothers while they tried to save up enough to afford a place of their own, did not get to be anyone’s boyfriend, much less their Daddy.
Do your job, Birthday Boson.
Holding the lyrics to the birthday song in his hand, Kurt turned his back on Scotti and waded his way through all the screaming children to the table of adults. There was safety in numbers, he thought, as the kids took one look at him in his Boson get-up and went totally insane with cheering, happy glee. The pitch of their laughing, shrieking voices was deafeningly loud within the Cove.
“How old’s the birthday boy?” he shouted, just to be heard over the noise.
The children almost bowled him over as they shouted back, “Four! Four! Four!”
“Four, got it!” He held up his hands to shush them all, and the room became so still and excitedly quiet as to be almost unbearable. Twenty-two children locked him the bull’s-eye of their bright, grinning gazes, and they waited. He surreptitiously glanced at the lyrics one last time. He’d spent the first half hour of his shift hiding in the bathroom, trying to come up with a good excuse for why he shouldn’t have to do this, and when that failed, the next half hour trying to memorize the words. Now… well, he was fairly well resigned to making a fool of himself, but while he would give in and sing the stupid song, there was absolutely no way in hell anyone could get him to do the silly dance that went with it.
Fishing his Boson’s harmonica out of his pirate’s coat pocket, he blew out the first musical note and drew a deep breath. To the deafening roar of twenty-two children erupting into screams of joy, he belted out,
“Oh yo ho ho!
I’m four years old
And I’m getting to be a grown-up little matey!”
As it turned out, he needn’t have worried about the dancing, because each and every one of those kids did it for him, flapping their arms, shuffling their feet, and wiggling their bottoms from side to side like twenty-two little washing machines stuck in the agitation cycle. Some of them even looked kind of cute doing it, and despite himself, Kurt started to smile.
Just a little bit.
“With my pistol and my sword,
I can swing aboard
Any ship in any kingdom’s navy!
But I say please and thanks,
