Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
I answer him every time. I smile every time too. I remind him I don’t like anything red. I like pizza but not with red sauce. Yes, I like chicken alfredo. Yes, I like salad but not tomatoes or croutons.
I jump in my seat when my mom calls at lunchtime.
“Hey, Mom,” I say as I push the button to put her on speaker. She calls me every day at noon. It’s nice because usually she’s my reminder to take a break and eat lunch. Today I’m nervous.
“Hi, honey. How’s your day going?”
“It’s… slow. I’m having trouble focusing,” I tell her. I’ve never been much of a fibber.
“Chase seemed nice. Do you like him?”
I rub my hands on my thighs. “Yes. I mean I think I do. Do you think I should?”
She chuckles. “I can’t make that kind of decision for you, honey. You’re a grown woman. I know your dad and I sometimes smother you. We worry about you. But we love you, and we just want you to be happy. Just be careful.”
“I will, Mom. Don’t worry. I’m not sure there’s even anything to worry about. He says he’s bringing dinner over after he gets off work. Do you really think he will?” I’ve always been an open book with my mom. I wonder if that will change now. I sure don’t want to tell her that Chase helped me in and out of the bath last night or that he kissed me. Those things seem private. I’m glad she doesn’t ask.
“He seemed very kind and sincere to me, Josie. I can’t see any reason to doubt him. Has he called you today?”
I giggle. “He’s texted me several times.”
“Then I bet he’ll be there. If you like him, it’s good to spend time with him. Give him a chance. If he can’t handle your sensitivities, he’ll figure that out quickly. Just don’t…” Her voice trails off.
“Mom, I don’t need a lecture about sex. Like you said, I’m twenty-two. I know about sex.”
“Okay, just be careful. Use protection. Just because you’re on birth control doesn’t mean you should have unprotected sex. Remember, when you sleep with a man, you’re sleeping with everyone he’s been with before you too.”
“Mom!” I gasp. We’ve never had this kind of discussion. I’ve never had a man in my apartment. I’ve never had a man even look at me. Or talk to me. Not like Chase did last night. And he’s a Daddy.
“Well, I’m just reminding you—”
“Mom, stop. I’m an intelligent, educated woman with a college degree. I know I have some quirks and I enjoy age play, but I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were, honey. It’s just that you’re my child, and I worry about you.”
I know she worries about me. She and Dad both do. And I appreciate it. Usually. But this conversation is getting too weird. For the first time in my life, I feel like we’ve hit a topic I’d rather not discuss. Or maybe I only want to discuss it with Chase.
Except what am I thinking? I can’t discuss sex with Chase either. And he told me last night he didn’t want to have sex with me.
No, he didn’t. He told you he didn’t want to have sex with you last night.
“I have to go, Mom. I need to get my lunch and get back to work.”
“Okay, honey. Call if you need me.”
Somehow I don’t think I’ll be needing my mom tonight. I’m having dinner with Chase. It’s like a date. Is it a date? He’s bringing dinner to my house. Is that a date?
I know he’s a Daddy, but suddenly I wonder if he only sees me as a Little. Maybe he realizes I’m rather pitiful and just wants to dominate me. That would suck because I certainly see him as far more than a Daddy.
By the time Chase knocks on my door at six-fifty, I’m beside myself from pacing and fretting and wringing my fingers together. He texted me several times to let me know what time he would arrive and update me on the exact time. It was thoughtful.
I’m fascinated by the amount of knowledge he seems to have about my disorder. He said his sister also has sensory processing disorder, but it can look drastically different in two different people. Chase seems to get me more than anyone I’ve ever met.
I look through the peephole before unlocking and opening the door. “You’re here.”
He’s holding a pizza box and smiling. He’s also wearing jeans and a tight, long-sleeved, cream-colored shirt. I notice it has no buttons which pleases me. I’ve been thinking about the possibility of maybe leaning against him this evening, and every time I pictured it, I worried I might not be able to do so if he had buttons.
I hate that about me. I hate that I spent time worrying about my date showing up with buttons. I hate that I spent time wondering if this is a date or if Chase thinks of me in that way at all. Maybe he’s just a kind man who likes to take care of people. Maybe he sees me as a project.