Playing With Spencer by Izaia Winter

Chapter Two

Turner

Iraced home through the shopping center’s parking lot, dodging parked cars left and right and a few frustrated drivers who didn’t appreciate my presence. I didn’t care. Nothing could wipe the smile off my face. It had been a while since I’d felt butterflies in my stomach. It was like I was dancing on clouds and not running home to protect my stuff from Simon. Him alone in my house was the only thing in the world that could have pulled me away from Spencer. I sighed and dreamed of romantic dates and midnight kisses.

“Damn it, Simon,” I muttered as I looked both ways before crossing the busy street in front of the hobby store.

Simon was my best friend, but that didn’t mean I was immune to his flaws. He was like a mini-tornado. Disorganized and clumsy were just a few of the words I used to describe him. Everywhere he went, a mess was sure to follow. And if there was one thing I loved about my home, it was that it was orderly and neat.

Nearing the stately peach and white Victorian house that anchored the end of the shopping center, I slowed and skirted the building and raced toward the garage house hidden around back. Turner’s Treasure Chest —my boutique adult store— took up most of the property with my little house squirreled away behind it. The soft colors of the shop gave the building a touch of elegance and femininity. On my house, the colors just made it look cute. Separated from the neighborhood as it was, my house had a certain charm to it. With its shutter-trimmed windows and planters full of greenery, I liked to imagine I lived in an enchanted wood complete with talking animals and magic. It was perfect for me.

Sweeping open the front door, I stepped into the living room and looked for Simon. He wasn’t in his usual spot on the couch or sprawled over the sturdy rocking chair that had thick cushions covered in a particularly horrid ‘80s floral pattern. I knew it was an eyesore, but I loved that rocking chair too much to get rid of it.

The sinking feeling in my chest dropped to my stomach when I couldn’t find Simon anywhere.

“Simon!” I called out, tossing my puzzle onto the couch. “Where are you? What have you done this time?”

“Nothing, and I’m right here.”

I turned toward the kitchen, my eyes catching on the movement of his waving hand over the edge of the counter. Sighing, I dropped my gaze to find Simon kneeling on the floor, his head peeking out from behind the island. The sheepish expression on his face told me it was already too late. He looked guilty as hell. And his carefully styled hair, cute face, and innocent eyes weren’t going to save him if he’d messed up my house.

“What did you do?” I narrowed my eyes on him and made the fiercest face I knew how to make so he’d know I meant business.

“I spilled some milk,” he admitted. “But! But!” he yelled as he held up his hands to stop me from speaking. “I used a plastic cup, so it didn’t break when I dropped it. And! And! I already cleaned it up.”

Simon looked so proud of himself that I couldn’t burst his bubble.

“And how did that even happen?”

Standing, Simon placed his hands on the counter and kicked out a leg. “One of my shoelaces untied itself, and I forgot to tie it again.” Sure enough, the foot he held up in the air showed off his bright blue laces dangling beneath his shoe. “I tripped.”

“I can see that.” I narrowed my eyes on him as he lowered his shoe without tying it. “Were you going to eat my cookies?”

“No.” The guilty look was back. Reaching over, he slid the package of cookies off to the side. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yes, you would,” I argued back. “You did it last week!”

“That was different!”

“How?”

“They were your mom’s chocolate oatmeal cookies. You know I can’t resist those.”

It was true. No one could resist my mom’s chocolate oatmeal cookies. They were like tiny drops of heaven on Earth. Sweet crystallized sugar. Warm chocolaty goodness. Soft, chewy oatmeal. My mouth watered just thinking about them.

“And what’s your excuse this time?” I asked as I joined him in the kitchen and got a second glass. “These are just plain ones from the store.” Claiming the stool next to Simon, I sat down and peeled back the flimsy covering protecting the cookies. “They aren’t even the good, chewy ones.”

Simon shrugged as he poured milk into both our glasses. After putting the jug back in the refrigerator, he took the stool next to mine. “Hey, a cookie is a cookie. I’m an equal opportunity cookie eater.”

Nodding as if he’d relayed some sage advice, I dunked my cookie into my milk and waited for it to soften a bit. “So, what you are saying is you were going to eat my cookies without me.”

Simon took a bite of his cookie and glared. “You know, I’m feeling personally attacked right now, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“You should be, and I’m not apologizing, cookie thief.”

He gasped in outrage even as I laughed at him. “It’s not my fault. You weren’t here.” His indignation disappeared as quickly as it had arrived as his curiosity overtook him. “And just where were you? You’re always here when you know I’m coming over. You haven’t left me alone in your house since the Great Bowl Breaking of 2017.”

“That was my favorite cereal bowl!” I defended, still a little miffed Simon had broken it. And I still hadn’t found a suitable replacement. It had been the perfect size for a nice, big bowl of cereal. And it had been so pretty with a pink and teal swirl embedded in the glass.

“It was a bowl,” he said, rehashing the same excuse he always used every time it came up. “You still haven’t told me where you were.”

I threw back my shoulders and lifted my chin. “I was on a date,” I declared in a voice that was loud and proud.

“What?” Simon spun toward me so fast he almost dropped the cookie in his hand—almost. “You were on a date? You?”

“That’s what I said,” I replied defensively.

“What’s his name?”

I whipped my head around and glared at the doubt on Simon’s face. “I’m not lying. I really was on a date.”

“Then you’ll tell me his name.”

“It’s Spencer.” I’d thought about giving him a fake name, one that sounded silly and impossible but stopped myself. If I lied about one thing, Simon would never believe me.

“No last name?”

I bit my lip sheepishly. “He told me, but I forgot. Hey,” I said when Simon rolled his eyes. “I was a little busy drooling over the hot guy who’d asked me out.”

“If he exists,” Simon mumbled under his breath.

“He does exist,” I insisted. Pulling out my phone, I pulled up the picture Spencer had sent me. “Look,” I said, shoving the phone in his direction. “He sent me this so I could put his picture in my contacts.”

Wrapping his hands around my phone —my hand included— Simon pulled the device closer and studied Spencer’s picture. “Oh my sweet cookie heaven, he’s gorgeous.”

“I know!” My body vibrated in eagerness.

“That dirty blonde hair and those milk chocolate eyes. Damn. And is that a cake?” Simon said as he pointed at the screen hungrily.

“He bakes.” I still wasn’t over the idea he was going to make me something.

“What? You hit the jackpot!”

“I know!” I answered, our voices getting louder as our excitement bounced off each other.

“Are you seeing him again?”

“In two days!”

“Holy shit!”

“I know!” I could tell my smile was huge as I tugged back my phone and reached for another cookie.

“So, is he a Daddy? Did you meet him online or at that club you’ve been telling me about? You said you wouldn’t go without me.” Simon pouted. “Does he have a Daddy friend for me?”

As Simon spoke, I could feel all my newfound dreams come crashing down.

When I’d first noticed Spencer, I’d ducked back around the endcap, following my instinctual need to hide from the sexy man. I’d thought of walking away until he was gone and I could look through the puzzles on my own, but something about the frustration visible on his face had made me stay. I knew I couldn’t just leave him like that.

With a clear course of action, I’d thought nothing of interrupting. Sure, he was sexy as hell, but the odds he was gay weren’t that great. That he was gay and single was something my brain couldn’t even fathom. That he was gay, single, and might be interested in return? Never in a million years. Too many stars needed to be aligned to make all that possible. My luck couldn’t handle something of that magnitude.

But he had been. All of it.

As soon as I’d snapped him out of whatever had been irritating him, he’d been funny and charismatic. Instant crush-worthy. Then he’d asked me out for coffee. Caught up in the moment, I’d forgotten that I was a little and a submissive looking for a Daddy Dom. I’d forgotten I’d sworn off vanilla men forever.

I’d said yes, and to my surprise, it had gone great. Spencer hadn’t teased me about wanting hot chocolate instead of coffee as most of my dates had done—a few with a touch more anger than others. Spencer, though, he’d bought me a chocolate croissant, and he hadn’t eyed me funny when my little impulses had slipped past my defenses.

And in all that, I’d forgotten that Spencer wouldn’t want me if he discovered my little side. I knew it was something a great many people couldn’t understand. Sometimes I didn’t understand it myself. Looking at being a little subjectively, I knew it was weird. But I just… I just liked it. I didn’t think too hard about it or try to find the root of my littleness. I didn’t have some awful childhood I was trying to rewrite or any Daddy issues. I just liked being a little and the way it felt to leave all my adult problems behind.

In fact, Simon had been the one to introduce me to my little side. It had started innocently enough. I’d been hanging out at his place, bored out of my mind. I’d reached for the one thing I knew could distract me: the remote. I’d spent a good twenty minutes flipping through various channels, looking for anything even remotely interesting to watch, when I’d finally given up. Still bored, I’d done what anyone in my position would have done: I’d snooped. Realizing Simon’s coffee table was one of the fancy ones that lifted, I’d looked into the hidden compartment and had found his stash of coloring books and crayons. Leafing through them, I’d found a few of the adult ones, but most had been the cartoony type they sold at the grocery store for kids.

Finally with something to do, I’d picked out a book with some dinosaurs on the cover, found a picture I’d liked, and had started coloring in a cute T-rex. I hadn’t colored since I was a kid and had found it surprisingly relaxing. It was simple and mindless. As I’d colored, I’d felt my worries evaporate into thin air. I’d pushed aside the pile of laundry waiting for me at home, the grocery shopping I’d been putting off, and the stack of statements from my accountant that needed looking over. All I’d had to worry about was what color I wanted to use next.

When Simon had found me coloring peacefully in his living room, he’d stammered and blushed as he’d tried to excuse his babyish hobby. I’d eyed him blankly while he’d gone on and on about relaxation and meditation. He’d only given up when I had invited him to join me, and the next time I’d visited his apartment, he hadn’t bothered hiding them.

Then he’d invited me in a little further.

A few weeks after the coloring book incident, I’d showed up to his place uninvited and had found him sitting on his couch in his pajamas watching cartoons. Not the kind of cartoons marketed to adults but the kind that appealed to young children. They’d been a step above the educational cartoons that aimed to teach kids how to count and read but only just.

Watching me as I watched the show, Simon had given me that look that said he was trying too hard to be casual, like he wanted to know my reaction to his choice of entertainment without making it seem like he cared. In the end, I’d done what any good friend would have done—I’d made him restart the entire series so I could watch it with him from the beginning.

We’d had fun and had since made a habit of it. Cartoon marathons were every other Sunday, and what had once started as a simple, lazy day watching cartoons had morphed into an elaborate ritual. Pajamas had to be worn at all times. Phones were not to be used to spoil the story. (That last rule was for me. I loved looking up spoilers.) We had sugary cereal for breakfast and ordered pizza for dinner with snacks filling the hours in between. It was awesome and absolutely wrecked my otherwise healthy diet.

After a couple of months of cartoon watching and coloring together, Simon had finally had enough. After sitting me down one night, he’d come clean about being a little and all that it entailed. Simon had bombarded me with acronyms and explanations. As he’d talked and I’d listened, something inside of me had shifted into place, as if I’d been waiting for something to come along and show me what was there the whole time.

When I’d turned eighteen, all my friends could talk about was going to clubs and hooking up with hot strangers. I’d laughed and pretended I’d wanted the same. In the eyes of the law, I was an adult. I thought I should want those things, but inside I felt like a child playing at life. I wanted to stay home and do puzzles and watch stupid videos on my phone. The closer I got to thirty, the more worried I’d been about still not feeling like an adult. As Simon had talked, I’d felt the pressure to grow up gradually slip away. For the first time in years, the anxiety I lived with was gone. I didn’t have to be an adult all the time. I could be a little too.

Then he’d explained that littles were just one side of the coin. I’d been captivated by the idea of a Daddy. I’d dated enough self-centered assholes that the concept of a man who was in charge but caring was almost too much for me to grasp. It had pricked that part of my brain that yearned for safety and security in a partner.

Dropping the hand that reached for another cookie, I sighed as I tapped my fingers against the counter. “No. I met him at the game store. I helped him pick out some puzzles for a friend, we made small talk, and then he asked me out. I just… it was so natural between us that I guess I forgot.”

“Turner—”

“I know.” I lifted my hand and waved at him to stop as I shook my head, unwilling to see the pity on his face. “I know,” I repeated. “I lost my head for a minute.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked, his voice soft and understanding.

“I don’t know.” I closed my eyes and rubbed at the headache I could feel building behind my forehead. “I already said yes to seeing him this Saturday. I’ll break things off with him after our date.”

“Are you going to tell him why?” he asked softly.

I shook my head emphatically. The idea of telling Spencer I liked to pretend I was a little kid and that I wanted my partner to be my Daddy made me want to vomit. I could already imagine the disgust twisting his features. “I’ll have to think of something else, something believable.”

“Like that you were abducted by aliens and are now pregnant with an alien king’s baby,” Simon said as he wiggled his eyebrows. “You only agreed to the date to make the king jealous, and it worked. A little too well, if you know what I mean. Now, he’s on his way back to Earth to take you away to his home planet to make you his consort.”

Laughing at his ridiculousness, I hugged my sides as the image of Spencer’s bewildered face popped into my head. I pressed my forehead to Simon’s shoulder as my giggles slowed.

“Thanks,” I whispered, knowing Simon’s stupid story had been nothing more than a ploy to lighten the heavy mood that had overtaken us both.

“It’ll be okay,” Simon said as he laid his head on top of mine. “You’ll see. We’re going to go to that club, and you’re going to find yourself a real Daddy. Someone that’ll want you just as you are. Someone you won’t have to hide from.”

Turning my phone back on, I stared at the goofy picture of Spencer and his cake. “I know you’re right, but there was just something about him, Simon. It felt like he fit me.” I wanted to ignore the regret welling up inside of me but couldn’t. “He said he was going to take me camping.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice infused with remorse.

Confused, I looked up at Simon only to find him staring off into the distance, his eyelashes fluttering as if he was trying to hold back tears.

“Hey,” I said as I pushed against his shoulder. “What do you have to be sorry for? None of this is your fault.”

“It feels like it is.” Simon laughed, and I cringed at the hint of bitterness he couldn’t entirely hide. “If I’d never told you about littles, you’d still be excited for your date with him,” he said, gesturing toward my phone. “He sounds like a great guy.”

“And if you’d never told me about littles, I’d still be a nervous wreck.” I shot him a pointed look. “You know it’s true.”

“Okay, fair.” Simon laughed and dodged my hand as I reached out to swat him for agreeing so quickly. “Are you sure about seeing him again, though? A clean break would be better.”

“I know, but I already agreed.” Dropping my head onto the counter, I groaned in defeat.

My excuse was flimsy and weak, and we both knew it. I’d once canceled a date with a guy because I’d stubbed my toe on the corner of my couch and had convinced myself that I’d broken it. That I’d kicked my couch on purpose and not that hard was beside the point. I wasn’t afraid to look stupid to get out of doing something I didn’t want to do. Especially for a stranger I knew I’d never see again.

“It’s your funeral,” Simon said with a shrug as he devoured another cookie. “Hey, it’s the last one. You want it?”

I rolled my head to the side and eyed the sweet currently being shoved into my face. “No,” I said mournfully, still wallowing in my pity party.

“I think you want it,” he sang as he danced the cookie in front of my face. “It will make you feel better.”

Trying and failing to smother the grin stretching my lips, I snagged the cookie and took a bite, comforting myself with the taste of vanilla and chocolate. It worked for as long as the cookie lasted, which wasn’t very long. “Spencer said he was going to make me confetti cookies with caramelized white chocolate. I didn’t even know caramelized white chocolate was a thing.”

Rolling his eyes, Simon pushed himself up from the counter and grabbed my shirt. “Come on. I know what you need.”

“And what do I need, oh wise one?” I asked sarcastically as I followed him down the hall and into my bedroom. Flopping down face first onto the bed when he let me go, I listened as Simon made himself at home with my dresser.

“Here,” he said as he slapped something against the back of my head. “Put these on. We’ll cuddle on the couch and watch some cartoons and forget all about Spencer.”

Toeing off my shoes as I rolled onto my back, I awkwardly wiggled out of my shirt. “Your answer to everything is to watch cartoons,” I said, not disagreeing with his plan in the slightest.

Slipping the oversized sleeping shirt over my head, I looked toward Simon to find him changing into his pajamas and pouted. “Why do you get the unicorn ones? I’m the one who has to dump a hot guy who bakes and doesn’t think I’m weird after talking to me for five minutes. I’m the one who should be getting the unicorn pajamas.”

Simon tried to look innocent as he smoothed his hands down his shirt and the glittery unicorn that graced the front, but the evil light in his eyes gave him away every time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought you liked the kitten ones the best.”

Tugging the matching pants up my legs, I felt a reluctant smile bloom as I studied the cute kittens that covered my body. “They are cute,” I admitted as I traced my favorite one. I’d named him Fluffy, but I didn’t tell Simon that. Fluffy was my little secret.

“Are you coming?”

I looked up to find Simon waiting for me in the doorway. His antsy feet were bouncing as he watched me impatiently.

“Yeah,” I replied as I bounced off the bed and shook off my funk. It was as Simon had said. Maybe Spencer wasn’t the right guy for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t find someone just like him at the club, someone who could appreciate my littleness. My quirks. My awesomeness.

Grabbing an armful of pillows off my bed, I followed Simon into the living room and dumped them over the back of the couch onto the cushions. “I’m going to get some blankets,” I said as Simon jumped into the pillow pile. “Find something to watch.”

“Yes, sir,” Simon yelled back.

Pulling the comforter from my bed, I wadded up as much as I could in my arms and made my way back to the couch, walking extra slow so as not to trip over the bits that trailed along the floor.

“What did you find?” I asked as I studied the couch and Simon.

He’d evenly distributed the pillows against both arms and had taken his customary side. Seeing me with the blanket, Simon closed his eyes and lifted his arms. “There’s a spooky marathon running right now. They’re playing all kinds of stuff that has ghosts and goblins and ghouls. The three G’s.”

“Oh, my favorite.” Shaking out the comforter, I tossed it over Simon and the rest of the couch. Pulling back my side as Simon got comfortable, I crawled under the blanket with him.

“I know. That’s why I picked it.”

Stretching my legs out next to his, I rolled onto my side and snuggled my pillow. “You’re the best.”

“Yep,” he replied with a knowing grin.

“And humble,” I added with a sly poke of my foot.

“Mmm? Not so much.”

Both laughing, we settled down and focused on the cartoons playing across the screen. Simon’s plan worked for a while, but I found my thoughts circling back to Spencer way too often. It had been so long since I’d had a genuine crush on someone that I’d almost forgotten what it felt like. The excitement bubbling in my veins. The sincere interest in getting to know someone. The heat that came with touching someone new, from learning what they liked. A date with Spencer would only deepen those feelings leading to further heartbreak down the line.

“I think you’re right,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as Simon grabbed the remote to skip the commercials.

“About what?” he asked absentmindedly.

“My date. With Spencer,” I clarified. “It’s not a good idea.”

“So what are you going to do?” he asked just as casually as I had begun the conversation.

“I’ll text him later and back out. Say I’ve thought about it, and I don’t think we’re a good fit.”

“Sorry,” Simon whispered as he rubbed his foot against my leg.

Ignoring his apology since there was nothing for him to feel sorry about, I offered up something better. “Hey, I have to go to The Church next weekend to finalize the rest of the paperwork. Maybe you could come with me, and we could hang out for a while afterward. You know, scope out the place and look for guys with real Daddy potential.”

The Church was a local BDSM club located downtown that Simon and I had both been oblivious to until one of the owners had come into my shop looking for some toys for his submissive. Foster had opened my eyes to the club’s existence while at the same time offering me the opportunity to work with them.

When Spencer had asked about my boutique at the coffee shop, I’d expertly danced around the subject. It was kind of hard to tell a guy on a first date that I owned an adult toy store. Some guys thought it was weird, and some thought it meant I was easy. I’d learned to avoid the topic altogether until I got a better read on a guy. Turner’s Treasure Chest was third or fourth date material.

After perusing what I offered and picking out a few things for himself, Foster had offered me a contract with The Church. Foster and his business partner weren’t in the business of selling sex toys to their patrons but needing fully stocked rooms meant to anticipate all kinds of kinky play kind of came with the territory. My job was to fill the gap between the permanent, multiuse equipment The Church supplied and what the club members brought with them in their personal gear kits.

Need a slightly bigger dildo? Take one from the cabinet conveniently placed in each room and pay for it later. Need a better vibrator? We have that in stock. Batteries? We got ‘em. Nipple clamps? Check. Left your rope at home? We have some available in a variety of colors and textures.

After various talks between our lawyers and accountants, we were finally ready to move forward with the deal. All that remained to cement our partnership were a few documents that we had to sign in person.

“Of course I’ll go with you,” Simon said in response to my invitation as he paused the television. “Are you sure they won’t mind if I tag along on a business meeting? I don’t want to screw this up for you.”

Rolling onto my back to get a better view of Simon, I lifted a hand and waved away his worries. “You’ll be fine. I was on the phone with Carson the other day, and his boyfriend came in and just started talking a mile a minute.”

“And?”

“Carson told him to stop talking, or he’d get a spanking.”

Simon’s face turned wicked as naughty thoughts floated through his brain. “Are you saying they’ll try that with me?”

“I think both Carson and Foster are taken, but I’m sure they can find someone to put you in your place.”

“Awesome,” Simon replied, but I knew him well enough to know he’d be on his best behavior. “Saturday or Sunday?”

“Sunday,” I confirmed. Turning back to the television, I nudged Simon with my foot. “Press play. I’m sure the monster is Mrs. Agatha.”

“The little old lady who works the front desk?” Simon shook his head as he snuggled back down with the remote. “No, it has to be Mr. Beansworth. He’s been giving the kids trouble all episode.”

“What? But he’s so nice. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“You’re crazy. He’s got evil eyes.”

“Evil eyes?” I squinted at the television. “No he doesn’t.”

“You owe me half of your mom’s next batch of cookies when you’re wrong.”

“Deal,” I said, taking Simon’s bet and putting Spencer firmly out of my thoughts.