Page 50 of Spencer's Satisfaction
I love this side of him, when he feels free enough to be a little bit silly and cheeky. I quirk an eyebrow, “Oh, really?”
“Trust me. You’re going down.”
I laugh as he says it but, twenty minutes later, he’s thoroughly wiping the floor with me. He’s not playing a perfect game, but my boy can bowl better than anyone I know. With a handful of strikes, a couple of spares, and a few stray sevens and eights, Tony has definitely lived up to his earlier playful trash talking.
“Where’d you learn to bowl like this?” I ask him as I line up for my third to last turn for this game.
I wriggle my hips, earning myself an amused laugh from behind me, and then take two quick steps, swing the ball at my side and release it down the middle of the lane with force. It hits the polished timber with a crack, then hurtles towards the pins…before wobbling at the end and curving towards the gutter with only a few inches to spare.
Fuck you, gutter ball.I glare at the ten pins that still stand tall and proud, mocking me.
I turn to find Tony trying to hide his amusement behind his hand. When I raise both eyebrows at him, he snickers, then elects to answer my question, “It was the one sport I actually enjoyed when I was growing up. It’s an indoor sport, it’s non-contact, it’s small teams, and it doesn’t involve running or hitting things. So, this is what I played to pass PE. Got pretty good at it.”
I look up at the screen displaying our scores and nod. “I’ll say.”
He turns a little shy. “I can give you some pointers if you like?”
“I’d love that, sweetheart.”
I want him to know that our relationship isn’t a one way street. I’m only human: I can learn from him, too. Even if it is something as simple as improving my non-existent bowling skills.
My ball has returned, so Tony steps up to the lane with me. He shows me where I’ve been going wrong, twisting my wrist as the ball releases from my grip. He also suggests that I try a lighter ball to make the swing and release motion easier. After pretending for a few swings, he gets me to try for my spare.
I knock down nine pins.
We cheer and embrace like I’ve won a championship game, and I lose a little bit more of my heart to this beautiful man.
It’s probably the best date I’ve ever been on.
* * *
“…Daddy?”
Tony’s soft question comes as I’m changing him after another post-shift wind-down spent in Little space. Though he hadn’t been in tears when I picked him up tonight, it was obvious he was still agitated after another rough day at work. Being Little really does seem to help relax him, though, and I adore these moments together as much as I love our adult dates.
“Hmm?” I ask him, fastening the tabs on his fresh diaper. He asked me earlier to prolong the experience, and I had no reason to deny him. I really am coming to enjoy change time almost as much as Charlie does, not that I’ll ever tell my friend how right he is. There’s no need to inflate his ego.
Tony sucks on his lower lip before he starts to babble, stuck somewhere between headspaces as he tries to communicate what he needs, “Can…um, can you please read to me tonight? A bedtime story? I don’t mind if it’s grown up or for Littles, but…um, usually when I’m stressed, I listen to books -listen toyou- and I just ‘membered that I’ve got the real thing now, not just the nice voice, and it’s okay if you don’t wanna, ‘cos I know you spend all day reading for work, but-”
“Baby, breathe,” I chuckle and bend forward to kiss the exposed flesh of his belly, grinning against his golden skin when he giggles. “Of course I’ll read to you. I’d love to read a bedtime story to my boy.”
In fact, why haven’t either of us thought to do this yet? I knew he enjoyed my narration, obviously. And is there anything more comforting than cuddles and bedtime stories?
His big, brown eyes glimmer and his voice cracks as he asks, “Really?”
“Oh, angel,” I pull him up into a seated position so I can wrap my arms around him, heedless of the fact that he’s only half-dressed. He tucks his face into the crook of my neck and I kiss the side of his head. “I will read to you every single day if you want me to. Twice on Sundays, even. No,threetimes.” My ridiculousness is rewarded by another giggle, even though it’s a watery sound. I squeeze him tight. “I’m sorry I haven’t done it yet. I know you like my reading voices. And, let me tell you, I doallthe character voices.”
He pulls back and gives me an exaggeratedly solemn nod, his eyes thankfully mirthful again. The tension bleeds back out of him as I watch him slowly settle back into his Little space again. “I didn’t ‘spect anything less, Daddy.”
“Cheeky,” I admonish lightly, my heart fluttering at the grin on his face. “Come on,” I guide him to lay back down, “We’ll get you dressed, and then we’re getting a bottle, choosing a book, and going to bed.”
And that’s what we do. Frank follows us back up the stairs once I’ve got Tony’s warm bottle in hand, and then we choose a book (well, we choosetwobooks, because I’m a pushover when it comes to getting the puppy eyes from my boy) and head into my bedroom.
While I’d usually hold him in a nursing position to give him his bottle, that’s not going to be conducive to reading, so instead I prop myself up against the headboard and have him snuggle in beside me, holding his own bottle so I can wrap one arm around him and hold our first book with the other. Turning pages will be tricky, but years of being a Daddy have helped me perfect the art.
With only the dim light of the bedside table illuminating the pages, and Frank’s fat furry butt squished in the sliver of space between Tony’s legs and my own, I start to read.
Tony chose a story about a puppy who gets separated from his Mommy at the grocery store and encounters all sorts of other animal characters on his journey to finding her. As promised, I deliver all the voices differently -a deep growly voice for the bear, a high pitched voice for the mouse, a nasal voice for the frog, and so on- and Tony giggles around the teat in his mouth with each one. When the puppy finally finds his Mommy, Tony’s finished the bottle and his eyes are drooping as he continues to suck in air.
