Page 45 of Spencer's Satisfaction
“Last week? Must have been Thursday because you had that late recording session.”
I feel a bit bad now, because the visit completely slipped my mind by the end of my shift. It wasn’t like I’d had much time to stop and chat with the two men at the time, either. We’d been swamped again (it was happening more often than not nowadays) and outside of a short, awkward exchange, nothing about the encounter had stayed with me.
All of this spills out of me with a sense of urgency, and Spencer is quick to hold me close and assure me that I haven’t done anything wrong.
“I don’t need reports on who you speak to or when. I didn’t mean for you to feel like I was questioning you. I’m just going to strangle Chance when I see him next.”
I snort. “To be fair, I just figured they were heading over to The Grove for Littles’ Night or something, and we’re still the only decent place to grab a bite nearby.”
“Hmm,” he doesn’t sound completely convinced, but I also don’t know his friends like he does. After a beat, he exhales and fills me in, “The guys are all worse than stereotypical matchmaking grandmothers. And they’re nosy as fuck. I love them, but they can be a bit much.”
“That sounds like me and Tanya,” I muse with my own fond smile.
“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding. “I am closer to them than my bio-brothers, for sure.”
I don’t know if that’s supposed to be reassuring for when I finally meet these people…or intimidating.
* * *
Intimidating is how it ends up feeling when the day to officially meet Spencer’s friends arrives. His friend, Ted, has offered to host a get-together at his mansion (Spencer’s word, not mine, but I find it’s appropriate when we drive up). Apparently with the expansion of their social circle in recent years, it makes more sense to head to the larger space.
Ted’s home is stately and takes my breath away on first glance. It’s all dappled brickwork on a sprawling two-story house that stretches across a giant block of manicured lawn and gardens, with a cobblestone path leading to the giant double front door.
It’s the kind of place that looks like it could eat both my apartment and Spencer’s house and not make a dent in its available surface space.
“Ted’s place is over the top,” Spencer tells me, squeezing my hand as we walk the path to the front door, “but he’s totally down to earth, I promise.”
I can only bob my head, my heart hammering against my rib cage. I don’t belong in a place like this.
As it is, I’m already afraid I’m going to be too weird to fit in. I don’t have friends of my own, and social situations terrify me.
But Spencer has not only met Tanya, he’s made an effort to include her in our dinners when she’s been off work, and I feel like I owe it to him to at least meet the people he sees as found family.
Plus, I remind myself when Spencer rings the doorbell and butterflies take up residence in my belly, I’ve met Chance and I liked him. Josh seemed perfectly nice for the two minutes I spoke with him, too. And apparently I’ve met the others as customers.
I just hope none of them were the mean, yelling kind. That could be awkward.
But I don’t think Spencer could be friends with anyone like that, so I’m sure it’s okay.
Right?
The door swings open to reveal a gorgeous person wearing a green dress. They are tall and slim, with smooth, dark skin, sparkling brown eyes and a genuinely welcoming smile.
“Spence,” they greet warmly, lunging forward to grab my boyfriend in a hug, “you made it on time, I see.” They smirk after the lighthearted jibe, then turn to me, yanking me in for a tight hug, too. “Tony! It’s so nice to meet you properly. Spencer’s been totally cagey about you in the group chat.” They step back and sweep their hand over the glossy timber floors. “Come in, come in. Everyone else is out back.” They close the door behind us and start ushering us forward. “We’re just waiting on Charlie and Ash, and Cherie and Kate. Charlie and Cherie were caught up doing something work related. I wasn’t paying much attention.”
This person is a whirlwind of exuberance and it’s hard not to immediately like them, even if they have just invaded my personal space. It surprises me that their unexpected hug wasn’t too unsettling, and that I find myself instantly comfortable around them. They are just likable. Especially when they stop and smacks their own forehead with an open palm. “Shit, where are my manners? I’m Zephyr. I’m Ted’s-”
“Tiny dancer,” an older man approaches, his lips twitching. I’d guess that he’s maybe in his late forties, and quite handsome. He looks familiar to me, with his neatly cut brown hair streaked almost artfully with silver at the temples. He’s staring at Zephyr with an indulgent expression. “Language.” Then he turns to me and offers his hand to shake, which I do quickly before pressing myself back into Spencer’s side. “Ted,” he introduces himself, seemingly not bothered by my behavior. His smile is as calming as Zephyr’s. “It’s good to meet you again.”
Zephyr sighs before I can say anything, responding to Ted’s earlier light admonishment, “Sorry, Daddy.”
Reflexively, I grip Spencer’s hand just a bit tighter at the exchange. I’m excited to see other Daddies and Littles interacting so casually, but it still makes me anxious.
“This is a safe space, angel,” Spencer says, as if he’s reading my thoughts. “You can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.” He turns to exchange a quick hug, complete with back thumping, with Ted, then nods at Zephyr. “Nice dress, Zee.”
On closer inspection itisa nice dress. It’s cut in one of those 50s swing dress styles, tight in the body and flaring out over their insanely narrow hips, the material no longer than their knees. It has teardrop cutouts around the neckline, and it looks like they are even wearing a petticoat underneath it, with the way it swishes when they move.
Zephyr beams at Spencer and curtsies. “Thanks, Uncle Spence. Daddy bought it for me last week.”
