Cynnie: I’d love to eat outside.
With a smile, I go back to chopping the garlic for the green beans. Following Emily’s suggestion about green beans with sesame oil, I found a recipe online that looks good and has some of the same ingredients as the main course, so I figure they’ll taste good together. I found dairy-free mochi when I got the groceries for dinner that will do for dessert until I know whether Cynnie has a sweet tooth.
I also picked up a surprise which is sitting in its wrapping on the counter. I feel the eyes of the figures on the plate looking at me as I move around the kitchen. Maybe it’s too soon? We haven’t even talked about the Daddy/little thing yet. Am I asking too much from her too quickly?
I pick up the package and put it in the cabinet. It’s too soon. On my next circuit of the kitchen, I take it back out and put it on the counter again so it can stare at me some more. I’ll introduce it gently. When I’ve snapped the ends off the green beans and washed them, I unwrap the package and hand wash the set: sippy cup, plate, bowl, utensils. I dry them off and put them in the cabinet again. Too soon.
I’m still undecided when the door buzzes.
I tap my phone, check the building camera just in case, and do a double take. Cynnie smiles back at me but her purple and blue hair is gone. Silky, black strands blow around her cheeks and shoulders in the evening breeze. I gape at her for a moment, then collect my brains and tap to buzz her up.
I meet her at the apartment door and tamp down my frown when I see her coming up the stairs. Not only is the colorful hair gone, but she’s wearing a black sack zipped all the way toher neck that falls in a stiff A-line to just above her knees, not revealing a hint of her curves. It’s obviously expensive from the sheen to the fabric but I’ve never seen an uglier dress.
Did she wear it to make some kind of statement—that she doesn’t want to be little with me tonight? The only thing even vaguely “little” about her outfit are a pair of pink Docs. Maybe I’ve read this all wrong and it’s not even a date?
Despite the weird get-up, she greets me happily as she reaches the landing for my floor. “Hi, Max!”
“Hey, right on time.”
Her face stiffens and I kick myself mentally, remembering her conversation at the playgroup about her lateness.
“I meant, perfect timing. Dinner’s ready.”
“Oh, good.” She stops in front of me and when I gesture into my apartment, stretches up on her toes and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Is that okay?”
“Sure is.” I open my arms to her and give her a warm hug when she steps into me. I feel a too-brief press of the curves the black sack conceals before she steps back and takes my hand.
“Want a quick tour?” I ask.
She nods enthusiastically, peering around at the living room, dining nook, and stairway up to the loft.
I draw her into the apartment and close the door behind her. She pauses at the line of hooks on my entry wall.
“Do you mind if I take this off?” She tugs at the black sack and nods at a free hook.
“Of course not.”
She unzips the sack and pulls it off over her head. Underneath, she’s wearing an outfit similar to what she wore to playgroup: a fringed duster over a thigh-length, floral dress over lacy bike shorts. Everything’s in shades of peacock blue, pink, and gold.
I sigh in relief. “Thank God.”
“Huh?”
I kick myself mentally again. “Sorry, I just wasn’t sure what that meant.” I gesture at the black sack.
Her magical giggle rings out, filling my apartment like sunlight. “I can’t wear little clothes on the train.”
“Of course, you can’t. Sorry, I didn’t think.”
She grins and takes my hand again, bouncing a little on the pink Docs as I show her around my apartment. She oohs and aahs over the trees in the loft and spends a few minutes examining the foliage, turning the leaves over to trace the veins on the underside with her fingertips. I’ve turned off my rig again, so my office only gets a glance before I lead her through the kitchen and out onto the porch. The screen of flowers gets more exclamations of delight and she scoots all over the padded bench, examining the planter and the view down to the street from every angle.
“Are you okay out here for a minute while I bring out dinner?” I ask.
She nods, clasping her hands together and looking at me seriously. “I’m okay being big tonight.”
Ihatethat idea. With a vehemence that surprises me.
I kneel next to the bench so I’m at her eye level. “If you want to be big tonight, you can be. But if you felt comfortable being little, I’d love that. I got you something if you’d like to be little, but I’ll save it for another time if you’re not up for that.”
