Page 8 of Ted's Temerity
Chapter Four – Zephyr
Ihad absolutely no reason to deny Ted when he asked me out a third time. Not after he so sweetly reassured me that my additional kink wasn’t an issue for him. The relief I felt in that moment surprised me; I honestly hadn’t realized how attached I already was to the idea of dating him until I thought that he might actually change his mind.
So, when he followed up his declaration that he was still into me with another idea for a date, I readily agreed. Even though he changed it from going out to something that sounded far more intimate and personal: dinner at his house, with the potential for some Daddy/little play if we’re both feeling it.
That was on Tuesday. Today is Saturday and the day we’d agreed for our date, and even though we’ve spent the rest of the week texting during the day and talking on the phone at night, the pre-date jitters are starting to kick in for me.
It’s been a week since we met. Somehow, that simultaneously feels like no time at all and far too long. Our conversations have been fun and flirtatious, easy, and effortless. We’ve talked about everything and nothing. In the lead-up to tonight’s date, we spent last night talking about our hard limits as Daddy and Little, and we went through the negotiation chat that really should happen before any BDSM interaction begins.
Considering Ted’s experience in the lifestyle, I shouldn’t have been surprised that his hard limits are few and far between. He’s not into bondage at all but doesn’t mind light impact play for fun. As for diapering, he’s okay with wetting but draws the line at anything beyond that, which is beyond fine by me. Most of my little time is spent hovering at a slightly older mindset. I’m much more interested in pretending I’m a princess than being babied, and I prefer pretty panties to diapers anyway. On the off chance I wear them, I don’t do wetting. Additionally, pacifiers and bottles don’t do it for me at all, and Ted didn’t seem upset by that, either.
So far, it sounds like we might actually be well suited to each other, at least where our kinks are concerned.
Yet, I’m nervous. I don’t want to screw this up. I actually like this guy.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt so intensely about another man. Before my injury, my affairs were casual at best. It’s hard to find Daddies when you’re touring, the tight quarters and constant presence of the same people day-in, day-out not helping much. Neither do the hours you have to keep, especially between rehearsals and performances and actually being on the road. Then, after my injury, I went through a dark period, where age play wasn’t even on my radar. I just wanted to get off and go home, and I didn’t care with whom or in what order of events that happened.
My return to the BDSM scene has been tentative and slow. The night I met Ash and Chance, I was wearing a fairly standard outfit for a little boy, not giving anyone any inkling about my desires to dress up in pretty dresses or play tea-parties, just dipping my toes back in to the world I’d left behind during the worst year and a half of my life. In fact, tonight will be the first time since my injury that I’m even considering trying.
It hits me that maybe that’s a big part of why I feel so anxious.
What if I put on one of my old dresses and don’t feel the same way that I used to? I used to feel pretty, and delicate, and magical. What if tonight all I feel is silly? What if that spark is gone? It’s been such a big part of who I am for so long, I’m terrified of what it might mean if I’ve lost it. If I’ve changed irrevocably.
When Ted picks me up because he insisted on doing so, he gives me a hug in greeting. Then he seems to pick up on my inner turmoil immediately.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, gently tilting my head to look me in the eye. “Is going to my place too much, too soon? I’m happy to change our plans if you’d rather something more public and casual.”
There’s something in the almost rushed way he speaks that has me blinking in surprise. With a jolt, I realize that he’s nervous, too. Immediately, some of the tension I’ve been feeling fades away. His nerves are a sign that he’s interested in me for more than just a quick fuck, right?Right.
I shake my head, then impulsively step forward and crane my neck to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re sweet,” I tell him, grinning at the way his cheeks pink from the praise, “and, no, it’s not too much or too fast for me.”
It’s not like we’replanningon sleeping together yet. We’re just planning on testing our compatibility. But I won’t complain if that happens to develop into more. Not if we’re both on the same page, anyway. I know how quickly BDSM interactions can become intense. How unexpectedly relationships can turn serious simply because of how vulnerable you are being with each other.
“Then what’s wrong?” He’s a bit like a dog with a bone. I shouldn’t be surprised, not with his chosen career. He picks up the overnight bag I packed, which is full of my little gear, and sets it on the back seat of his BMW.
Becauseof coursehe drives a BMW.
I sigh and come clean. “I haven’t indulged in any of the femme play since before my injury.” Licking my lips, I consider my explanation. “I’m just a bit anxious about it. Like…what if I don’t feel the same way anymore? It’s probably stupid to worry, but if I’ve been able to just, I don’t know, shut it off for the last eighteen months, is it even still part of my identity?”
“Hey now,” Ted pulls me in for a hug, carding his fingers through my hair. With my ear pressed to his chest, the steady beating of his heart calms my jangled nerves. “It sounds like you haven’t really had enough time to properly explore your kinks at all, let alone since your accident. The fact that you still think about and still have the urge to do it says more about how much you enjoy it than you’re aware.”
I’m only half processing his words, too swept up in the feeling of being wrapped in his embrace. His chest is warm and solid, and he smells so good. His cologne is sweet and subtle, soothing in its own right. Then there’s his voice, pitched low and smooth, rumbling through his chest beneath my cheek and ear. All combined, I feel overwhelmingly safe in his arms. Cared for.
He’s not the first Daddy to have ever held me, but I can’t recall another Daddy ever making me feel this way. At least, not without the additional post-orgasm endorphins to help.
I try to shoo away the path that thought wants to take me down, but it’s too late. I’m immediately wondering how it might feel to be cradled against Ted’s body in the afterglow of sex.
Thankfully, he distracts me before I can get too lost in those ponderings. Giving me a little shake, he asks, “Zephyr? Are you okay?”
He sounds genuinely concerned and I reluctantly step back so I can smile at him and nod. “I was just enjoying the hug. It’s, uh, it’s been a while.”
Wow, that sounds pathetic.
But there’s no pity in his expression. Instead, he offers me a rueful smile of his own. “I can relate to that.”
Well done, Z. First rule of dating: don’t bring the mood down. And what did you do? You brought the mood down.
Rallying, I try to turn it around. “Well, if all goes well, maybe we’ll both be seeing more hugs in the near future.”
