Page 6 of Mindy
“What’s the matter, Baby girl?”
“I need to go potty. I’m going to have to hold it until my nails get a bit dryer, or I’ll mess them up.” The thought of holding it made her need grow by the second.
“Why don’t I check to see if there’s a private nursery available. I could diaper you, and then you wouldn’t have to worry about messing up your nails,” Tricia declared as if this was the simplest solution in the world.
Mindy held her breath, staring at Tricia.
“Have you ever worn a diaper during age play, Baby girl?”
Mindy shook her head rapidly. She’d thought about it sometimes, but she’d never tried it. Diapering herself felt like a lower level of taboo than what she already had added gradually to her life.
Mindy had sippy cups, plastic plates, stuffies, the binky she pulled out only when she was really stressed, footed pjs, and cute clothes to wear to the club, but she’d never let herself go to the extreme of diapering herself.
“It’s hard to manage being that Little when you live alone, isn’t it?” Tricia suggested.
Mindy shrugged.
“You’re not alone tonight, Baby girl,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m here. You can be as Little as you want. Why don’t we get a private room where you can spend some time more fully regressed without having to worry about anyone or anything?”
Mindy considered Tricia’s suggestion for a few moments and then took a deep breath. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to do this. It didn’t have to mean anything. She could indulge her Little and remain inside her head, not letting it bother her that Tricia was a Mommy and not a Daddy.
“What do you say, Mindy?” Tricia encouraged.
“Okay, Ma’am.”
Tricia beamed. “Good girl. Can you sit right here without moving while I go check out a room?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Tricia rose and hurried across the daycare and out the door.
Mindy felt her panic rise as she waited. Was this a good idea? It was outside of her comfort zone. And why hadn’t a Daddy asked her to play at a younger age? That would be more appropriate than a Mommy.
She admonished herself silently as she waited. She knew in her head there was nothing wrong with doing a scene with a Mommy. It didn’t have to mean anything. It was just a scene. People in the club did scenes with same-sex partners all the time.
Besides, Mindy wasn’t judgmental. She didn’t care who anyone was attracted to. As long as it wasn’t herself. Doing a scene with a woman didn’t make her gay. Experimenting didn’t either. Everyone did it. Most of her friends did in high school.
She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to block out the memory of her last fight with her mother. She’d been attending junior college, living at home, trying to be what her mother wanted her to be. She never drank or smoked or did drugs. She never got into trouble.
But that wasn’t enough for her mother. The woman had wanted her to date and find a husband. Mindy hadn’t been interested. It didn’t mean she never would be. It was just that she’d known she was Little for a few years by then. What man wanted to be with a woman who preferred to sleep in footed pajamas hugging a stuffed animal?
Now that Mindy was on her own and had found a club where she felt more at home than anywhere she’d ever been, she realized there were men like that. They were called Daddies. She just hadn’t found the right one yet.
There were Mommies too. She knew that. There were also Little boys. Not just girls.
Mindy was careful not to smudge her nails as she rubbed her palms on her thighs and squeezed her legs together. She stared at her nails as she thought about Eva Jacobs. She’d met her at the junior college, and the two of them had become fast friends.
Mindy suspected Eva was also Little, though they’d never discussed it specifically. What they had done one afternoon when they’d been studying together in Mindy’s kitchen was kiss.
It hadn’t been planned. It had just happened. They’d been talking and admitted neither of them had ever kissed a boy—or a man for that matter—and they’d decided to see what all the fuss was about.
Unfortunately, Mindy’s mother had arrived home from work at that exact moment and walked in on the experiment. She’d lost her shit so badly that Eva had quickly packed up her things and left.
Mindy had stood in the kitchen, reeling from both the kiss and the shock of her mother’s outburst, and listened to the long lecture for over an hour.
Something had snapped inside Mindy that day. She’d been twenty years old. Not a child. Sure, she’d known she was Little, but her mother hadn’t. And her being Little hadn’t changed the fact that she was a grown adult.
Her mother had gone on and on about how Mindy’s life was ruined, how she wouldn’t support such an abomination. In the end, she’d given Mindy two choices: seek counseling to get her head fixed or move out.
