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My routine was comfortable. Monday through Friday I got up, worked as a massage therapist at the casino, sat at a nearby coffee shop till the club opened at six, then stayed there writing or playing until it closed at two. On Saturdays I went to the library during the day and used their computers to type up my stories until the club opened. Sundays were hard because the club wasn’t open, but the all-night laundromat let me hide from my roommates and get my laundry done until they would be asleep. Okay, my schedule sucked, and I was always tired, but it worked for now.
The club was both an inspiration and a sanctuary for me. I wrote Daddy Dom books and after almost two years of publishing, I was finally starting to get a following. If the ratings could be believed, my latest series, Little Detectives might actually make it possible for me to find my own place, but I wouldn’t know for a few months when the money got deposited. Someday I would be able to quit my day job and become a full-time writer.
I’d made a big mistake in choosing to become a massage therapist. Making people feel better every day should have been the perfect job but the reality sucked. With only a few exceptions, the clients were often mean or sleazy. They rarely tipped and when they did, they usually expected extra attention to areas of the body I had no intention of touching. I might need money, but not that badly.
“I don't know how you get any writing done here, it's so noisy.” Chantou shook her head and hugged her stuffed unicorn to her chest.
I shrugged. “It’s not like I have better options. Most coffee houses require you buy something to hang out and they close way too early. Plus, if I ever need ideas this place is full of them.”
“Oh, have you ever gone downstairs for ideas?” Julia asked.
While Zoe was our leader, Julia was definitely the most adventurous of our group. She lived her lifestyle openly, sharing both her Little side and makeup tips on Tik Tok and daring anyone to say something. If only I could bottle her confidence and use some of it for myself.
“A few times. But I usually lose my nerve after a few minutes.” The downstairs of the club was for people who enjoyed the more traditional side of BDSM, and the third floor was private rooms which had to be reserved. I’d never yuck anyone’s yum, but I wasn’t brave enough to stay in the dungeon for long. The sound of a whip crack or scream was enough to send me hurrying for the elevators as fast as I could. Up here you might see a spanking or paddling, but nothing extreme.
“I wondered about that after I read Jackie’s story where she snuck into the club to follow her suspect.” Zoe smiled and leaned in.
“You read that one?” It was the second story I’d ever published.
“Of course!” Zoe looked offended. “We’ve read all your stories, they are amazing!”
I couldn’t help the blush I felt coloring my cheeks. A few months ago, I’d told my friends about my writing, and they’d been super supportive. In the beginning they’d probably been my core readership. Julia had an impressive and devoted following on social media and often gave me shout-outs. But the fact that they’d gone back and read my early stuff was surprising.
“You guys are the best.” My words were choked up and I stood and opened my arms, wanting a group hug. They closed in and we laughed as we bumped heads trying to squeeze each other. I stepped back and smiled. “Well, this one is going to be a bit scary. Hence why I jumped like a crazy person when you startled me.”
“Ooh, Are you writing another Little Detective book?” Grace squealed.
“Yeah, I got a great idea yesterday and I haven't been able to get it out of my head.” It was surreal that people were as into my stories as I was. I loved losing myself in my imaginary worlds, but it was hard to believe others did as well. “I was hoping to get more done tonight but…” I shrugged.
Now that they were here, there was no way I would be able to concentrate on writing. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed Little time with my friends. We colored, had tea parties and forgot our boring day jobs. Usually one of the Daddy Doms at the club would put on a cartoon and we would snuggle in a big pillow fort near the TV. But when I was alone, writing allowed me to forget everything but my own special worlds where anything can happen and there is a perfect Daddy waiting for every Little.
I hadn’t had much luck finding my own forever Daddy. The ones I’d met had either been looking for a sugar baby or something casual. When I finally give myself to someone, I want the possibility of forever. I want someone who will love my imagination and support my writing while being responsible for all the boring parts of life. I wasn’t sure if finding such a thing was really possible. I'd had one Daddy tell me writing stories was too grown-up for a Little and I would have to give it up if I wanted to find a Daddy.
His words had hurt and it had taken weeks and lots of cuddles from my friends before I could write again. I hated when people judged what “real Littles'' should and shouldn’t be. Littles are as varied as wildflowers, and no one should put us in stupid boring boxes. At least that is what I said in my books. Reality was much, much harder.
It was totally unfair if you thought about it. I mean, I dreamed of having a Daddy to set rules for me and touch me and give me baths just like the next Little girl. The desire to let go of adult expectations and find joy in life should be enough. The willingness to hand over your trust to a special person to take care of you, letting them set boundaries and employ punishments should be the only criteria. I mean a box of eight crayons was okay, but I wanted the hundreds of colors found in the mega pack.
“We’re sorry. We can leave you alone if you want.” Lucia’s voice was so soft and worried I had to reach out and give her a hug.
“No! I was at a good stopping point. Margaret was breaking into her Daddy’s office to look at his client files.”
“Oh my god! I was hoping you'd write her story. She's so spunky.” Julia clapped. “Is her Daddy the stern mysterious type or a sweet pushover?”
I laughed. “Neither. He’s a Brat Tamer. A lawyer who loves her sass because he gets to redden her behind.”
Julia let out a dreamy sigh. “Oh if only we had one of those here. None of the Daddies here appreciate the fabulousness that is a Brat.”
“It’s a shame you can’t write at home. I worry about you walking home so late every night.” Chantou squeezed her stuffie as she shivered dramatically.
Zoe pursed her lips. “You know if Angel knew you were walking home alone every night he would find you a ride.”
“He’s done enough for us. Don’t you dare worry him. It’s just until I find another place.”
“You could always stay with Lucia and I,” Grace offered.
I shook my head. The two of them shared a futon in a studio apartment the size of a shoebox. No way was I going to make things even more crowded. “I’m fine.”
I hated lying to my friends, but there really wasn’t much choice. It was too embarrassing to admit I had to lock up everything I owned or risk having it stolen. The drugs and other things I’d found laying around the apartment were all too scary to discuss. Besides, those were my problems, not theirs. But, maybe I did need to start looking harder for a new place to live.
