Page 29 of Kissing Kayley
I picked up the menu and glanced around the dining room. There were people dressed in regular clothes and a few people—men and women and each accompanied by someone in regular clothes—dressed like tweens, kids, and even a couple as babies. Those two sat in adult-sized highchairs.
I forced myself not to stare and leaned in close so I could whisper to Vic. “I don’t have a problem with Littles,” I said. “Live and let live. It’s not really much different than furries or cosplayers, just… not publicly accepted like those tend to be. But I’m going to tell you right now that it’s notmything, okay?”
He chuckled. “Not my thing either, don’t worry.”
Unlike some people in my profession, as long as an adult activity was enthusiastically consented to by all parties involved, and they were all adults, and no one was getting harmed, I didn’t care if someone dressed up like a refrigerator and shoved a banana up their ass and called themselves Joan of Arc while tap-dancing on a table. I didn’t have to “understand” a thing I wasn’t into to accept the validity of that activity to other people.
Take skydiving, for example. I think people who do it for “fun” are out of their goddamned minds, but I don’t have toagree with it to acknowledge it’s a valid activity to them and brings them enjoyment in some fashion.
Just don’t makemedo it and everything’s cool.
I sat back and perused the menu, determined to thoroughly indulge myself. I normally wasn’t much of a breakfast person unless it happened during one of my interludes with Vic. In the morning, I normally drank two or three cups of coffee and grabbed a cheese stick, or nuked two frozen sausage patties, or something similarly quick and easy. My lunches were usually larger, followed by a slimmed down dinner, unless I was going out with friends. There were days all I ate was lunch because I got wrapped up with work, student consults, or researching and writing my book.
When I go to my parents’ house, or out to eat with them, I rarely eat during the day because I know Mom will make sure I don’t leave until I’ve stuffed myself to her satisfaction. And if it was a time when Leo and Jordan were visiting—before all of this, obviously—she usually went overboard preparing Jordan’s favorite dishes straight out of his beloved grandmother’s cookbook that Leo had sent a copy of to Mom years ago ahead of the first time Leo brought him home to meet us.
I’ve never obsessed over my weight. I’ve always managed to balance walking or jogging or hiking with my love of food to stay on the fluffier end of healthy. When my previous doctor insisted—without sending me to radiology—that the new and persistent pain in my knee was due to twenty-five extra pounds he considered offensive to my frame, I walked out and found a new doctor the next day.
She immediately sent me for an MRI and discovered I’d torn a tendon during a hike the previous weekend.
One outpatient orthopedic surgery later, I healed quickly and resisted my mother’s urgings to sue my previous doctor for malpractice.
Wasn’t worth it.
Especially when the head of the guy’s practice was Brian’s nephew, and all I had to do was complain in Brian’s presence and smile with satisfaction a week later when Brian gleefully told me the guy’d been fired.
“What are you thinking of ordering?” Vic asked, snapping me out of my reverie.
“Trying to decide what decadent breakfast treat I want.” I glanced at him over the top of my menu. “Unless that’s something you need to dictate for me?”
I thought that would earn me a smile but instead he set his menu down, hooked a finger over the top edge of mine, and gently pulled it down to force me to look at him.
“We haven’t had those conversations yet,” he softly said. “If you’re saying you want me to choose for you, please saythat.”
“I wastryingto be playful,” I mumbled, tugging my menu free and returning to it so I could hide behind it.
He once again pulled my menu down, meeting my gaze. “Kayley, I need you to understand that whatever we agree on regarding a power-exchange dynamic, it has to be something mutually satisfying. Please don’t start acting passive-aggressive now when you never have before.”
I laid my menu on the table and stared back at him. “I wasjoking, Vic. That wasn’t me being passive-aggressive. That was me trying to be funny in a way you’ve laughed at a hundred times before. Did us walking through the doors of this place deactivate your humor filter?”
He studied me for a moment before nodding. “Sorry, baby.” He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Duly noted. I just don’t want you to feel pressured into anything.”
“Believe me, I’ll tell you if I feel that way.” My stomach picked that moment to loudly grumble, making him smile. “So can we go ahead and order?” I asked. “Sir?”
Yes, I threw more than a little snark into that last word.
He sat back, shaking his head in amusement. “Get whatever you want, sweetheart.”
“I’m… stuffed.” I surveyed the remains of my meal. I hoped Vic didn’t want to make love again right now because I didn’t think I could do anything but maybe succumb to a pancake coma.
When I’d had trouble deciding what to order, the server helpfully pointed out an option I’d missed that allowed me to order small portions of several items, so that’s what I’d done. Crepes, french toast, several varieties of flavored dollar-sized pancakes—and more.
Vic ordered after me and I noted how he downsized what I’d normally expect of him.
Smart move on his part because he helped me finish mine.
“What do you feel like doing now?” Vic asked after glancing at his watch. “We have a lot of time before we meet Derek.”
“Can we just look around the place?” I asked. “It was so late and I was so fried last night I really didn’t take anything in.”
