Page 43 of Ted's Temerity
I nod, despite knowing that he can’t see me. “I’ve missed you, too, bud.”
After we hang up, my phone pings again, but it’s a text message from Zephyr. My heart squeezes as I read it.
‘Taking a 5 min break. Saw that you’re back in the group chat. I’m proud of you, Daddy.’
‘Are we still on for tonight?’I text him back, already thinking of all the ways I’m going to show him my appreciation for not running away at the first sign of my meltdown. I know I wouldn’t have gotten through any of this if not for him.
‘Sure are. I’m breaking in that pretty yellow dress you bought me.’
I grin, already imagining him wearing it and tap out my response,‘I can’t wait, kitten.’
* * *
“Another tea, Daddy?”
As promised, Zephyr and I are back in our usual routine. I helped him change into his new yellow sundress, delighting in how well the bright color suits him, and then settled in for a tea party. Even though I was a little concerned that our dynamic might be strange after he spanked me, it doesn’t feel like anything between us has changed.
He’s still my princess, still comfortable to indulge in his kink around me, and still happy to call me Daddy and allow me to join in his play.
The relief I feel at that is palpable.
“Yes please,” I lift my delicate cup up for him to pour a measure of water for me from the functional teapot I bought when Ash first started coming around regularly. The dolls and teddy bears on either side of me aren’t as lucky: their cups are full of air alone.
He chatters away as he’s prone to do when he’s being the host of such a gathering, and I’m once again struck dumb by how beautiful he is. I know that I’ve told him that I love him but, in moments like these, I don’t think the words properly capture how he makes me feel.
It’s like he was made for me. There’s no push and pull with him, just an effortless flow to our time together. He’s not demanding or needy even though he jokes that he is, and he knows exactly what to say or do even at times where I have no idea what I need from him.
I know he’s put two and two together and worked out why I keep our sexual relationship separate from our Daddy/boy relationship, but he’s been good about not pushing me to talk about it. Even before he learned about my past and about Aiden, he didn’t demand any further information from me after I safe worded. He understood that I was uncomfortable and left it at that.
He’s perfect. Utterly, completely perfect, and he’s rapidly becoming the center of my universe.
“Dance with me, Daddy?”
The question takes me off guard, interrupting my saccharine thoughts and I blink at him. “What, baby?”
Zephyr pushes to his feet and extends his hand to me. “Dance with me? Like we’re at a ball?”
In all the time that we’ve spent together, he’s never made this suggestion before. I’m not sure what to expect. Does Little Zephyr dance fluidly, with grace and poise and the professionalism that comes from years of training? Or does Little Zephyr step on his Daddy’s toes and stomp around a makeshift or imaginary dance floor with the enthusiasm, lack of coordination, and the blissful ignorance of youth?
Honestly, I don’t know which I’d prefer. I feel like the latter option would be adorable, but the former would be beautiful. Either way, I know this is something that means a lot to him. More than the too-casual request would have me believing, in fact.
“I’d love to.” I take his hand and smother a groan as he helps me back up into a standing position.
I might be healthy and fit for my age, but I’m still forty-seven. I’m just not built for sitting cross-legged on the floor for extended periods of time anymore.
Zephyr smiles a bright, childish smile at me before he prances over to the Bluetooth speaker on the bookshelf, turning it on and then reaching for his phone, fiddling until the ‘boop’ of a successful connection sounds out from the speaker.
Then he presses play on one of his many playlists and the sound of classical, orchestral music fills the air, violins at the fore.
“Strauss,” I recognize instantly, because even someone with zero classical training knowsThe Blue Danube.
My boy’s expression turns indulgent. “Clever,” he says, then grabs my hand and tugs me into the open space beside the bed, away from the tea party set up on the floor. There’s not a huge amount of floor space here, but we’ll manage.
Manhandling me until my hands are positioned the way he wants them, Zephyr steps in close, pressing against me as he leads us in a limited waltz to the music. I’m not at all disappointed to find that he’s dancing gracefully and not clumsily like one might expect from a child. This is ingrained into him, after all. And he began learning ballroom dance at an early age besides.
Step back, step to the side, slide feet together. Step back, step to the side, slide feet together. The motion is easy to follow, aided by the music. We glide across the carpet in our little contained square of space, and after a little while, Zephyr rests his head on my shoulder and turns us around, changing his movement, allowing me to suddenly lead the dance.Forward, side, come together. Forward, side, come together.
“You’re good at this, Daddy,” he murmurs against my chest.
