Page 15 of Spencer's Satisfaction
“There is nothing wrong with you,” I tell him, keeping my voice gentle, but leaving no room for argument. “But we’ll change the subject if that helps.”
He averts his gaze and nods. “Yes, please.” Then he finally looks back across the table at me and offers me a lopsided grin, “I swear I’m not a complete freak.”
Freak.
I hate that word. Loathe it entirely. But, instead of going into a lecture on why, I just shake my head and assure him, “I told you, angel: I like you a lot, and that includes these parts of you that you’re apologizing for – which I disagree with, by the way.”
Tony works his jaw for a few seconds, then reaches for a slider, taking a comically large bite which forces him to puff out his cheeks like a chipmunk while he chews.
That settles it. If this man isn’t a prime candidate for age regression play, I’ll eat my hat.
I get up from the table and head over to the fridge, pulling out a couple of cans of Coke. I set one in front of my seat, and then crack Tony’s open for him, relishing the hiss it makes as the air releases. He accepts the drink with a small, grateful smile and takes a sip immediately, washing down his too-large bite of food.
I can’t stand the awkward silence that’s descended between us, so, as I pick up my own little burger, I say, “You never did answer my question earlier.” He blinks at me, midway through another (this time smaller) bite. I smile reassuringly, “The books. What are you into?”
He blushes beet red all over again, but I can’t bring myself to regret asking the question, even if he does seem embarrassed by it. “Uh,” he flounders for an answer.
“Would it help if I told you some of my favorites?” I ask him. “Of the ones I’ve narrated as Spencer Rhodes, I mean?”
There’s immediate relief in his eyes. I hate that he thinks I’ll judge him for whatever it is he’s into. It’s just books, for Christ’s sake. What he likes to read doesn’t bother anyone else. And he has to know I’m not exactly vanilla, right? I mean, he knows I visit The Grove, for one thing, and he knows I narrate kinky novels.
“Okay,” I think back over the catalogue of books I’ve narrated, smiling as one stands out immediately. The first age play novel I ever narrated, which was my third book under the Spencer Rhodes stage name. I give him the title, watching his eyes widen, and then I decide if I’m in for a penny, I’m in for a pound, or however the saying goes, adding, “I’ll be honest, Tony. I’m a Daddy and I’m into age play. So, I liked narrating that one because I could completely relate to the characters and what they were doing on the page. That’s my kink.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows roughly. “You…really?”
I can’t read his tone. Is he surprised because I’m admitting I’m actually practicing some of the kinks I narrate? Is he shocked that, of all kinks, that’s the one I’m into? Or is he just surprised that I’m telling him this on a first date?
“Really,” I nod.
He bites his lip, averting his gaze as those cute cheeks of his turn pink again. “I…I’m re-listening to that one now, actually.”
I swear to God, fireworks go off inside my brain. It’s like a billion Christmases have hit me at once. Like a hundred old-fashioned slot machines paying out,ding-ding-ding-ing in my head.
Jackpot.
Trying to force myself to play it cool, I reach across our pretty much neglected meal and close my palm over his wrist in what I hope he takes as a gesture of support. “Have you tried age play?”
Tony’s reaction is immediate. He straightens in his seat, shaking his head vehemently. But he doesn’t withdraw his hand from under my grip, even though his gaze remains glued to where I’m holding him. “No,” he says. “No, I…I’ve never…”
“Never experimented with kink at all?” I keep my voice soft and low, trying to lull him into opening up to me.
“Jesus,” he breathes, “that’s your ‘Daddy’s being understanding’ voice from the book.” He completes his observation with a nervous little chuckle, then licks his lips and looks away. “No, I’ve, uh, I’ve never…” He squirms in his seat.
“Does it interest you?” I push, my enthusiasm making me interrupt him. I curse myself for that and remind myself to be patient.
The book I’d mentioned, the one he’sre-listening to, is one I favor because it doesn’t really exaggerate the lifestyle. All the age play interactions are believable and accessible. It’s a sweet introduction to the kink, but also gives a lot of information about why the characters enjoy role playing the way they do. If he says yes to my question, if he tells me that he’s interested in trying the things he’s already heard my voice talking about, I know without a doubt that I want to be his experimental Daddy.
“I…I don’t know,” he almost whines, then looks down at his lap, the hand not held by mine fiddling idly with the rim of his soda can, his index finger plucking at the pull-tab, making a tinny, echoing sort of sound that could almost be described as musical. “I’m a…I mean, I haven’t…It’s just that…”
“There’s no right or wrong answer,” I assure him softly, still not letting his wrist go. I’m only holding it loosely, and I stroke his soft skin with my thumb. “You can enjoy the books and not be interested in age regression in reality. I won’t judge you either way. And I’ll still like you either way, too.”
Tony’s eyes close and he tilts his head back to the ceiling, muttering, “It’s not even that.”
“Okay,” I finally realize that I might be pushing boundaries far too early, and I give his wrist one last squeeze before I pull back and give him some space, figuratively and literally. “I’m sorry. I just,” I rub the back of my neck and offer him a sheepish smile when he opens his pretty dark eyes again, “I got excited at the prospect that you might be into the same stuff I am. But,” I rush to add, “there’s no expectation of that, okay? None. Zero pressure.”
Real smooth, Spence.Says a voice in my head that sounds irritatingly like Chance.Keep it up. Are youtryingto make the poor guy run screaming out of your house on the first date?
“No, no,” now it’s his turn to attempt to reassure me. A fine pair we make indeed! Tony leans forward and shakes his head, pinning me with a wide-eyed, earnest stare that makes my stomach flip pleasantly. “I know. I got that. I just…ugh. I don’t know what I’m into. Like…um…I don’t know what I actually enjoy…like,at all.”
