by S. L. Finlay
He was only new to me, I tried to reason. I was reasoning with myself in that same way I always did. He was new to me, I'd be here even if he didn't pay me but I'd want changes in the relationship, I needed to address my upset feelings about his pushing my personal boundaries too far and coming to see me undress.
That little reasonable voice in my head had a lot to say, and it was all in stark contrast to what was actually going on inside my heart. It was in stark contrast to how I felt in such a big way, that it was hard to believe my head and my heart were both part of the same body.
I lay there for a little longer after I had popped a pain killer, and I thought about what I had gotten myself into. About how happy I was, and about how at the same time that I was so happy, I was also deeply unhappy. I thought about how the two could even be related, like how my head and my heart could even be related.
*
In the days and weeks that followed Daddy's awards ceremony, he was still busy with work, only now he would sneak time with me throughout the day. He would pick me up in his car after work and we would go to dinner - him always having dresses dropped at my flat during the day - he would ask me about English words that he had learned and how he could best use them in conversation, he would offer me help (financially) all the time.
The deal with the agency was that all money in the form of allowance needed to go through them, but Daddy said that he didn't care, if I needed more it would always be there for me. Did I want any gifts as well? He could fly me to different places, or pay for better French lessons than the ones I was currently receiving.
"They are good." He told me, "But I know a woman who could teach you not just French language lessons, but also about our culture and history in French."
Although the idea was appealing, I didn't want to take any more from Daddy than he had already given me. I wanted to spend time with Daddy more than I wanted his money, and if he enrolled me in more French lessons or flew me anywhere, I would get less time with him. That would hurt. I didn't want that.
Occasionally, too, I would go to Daddy's work functions with him. There wasn't anything as formal as the awards ceremony on the calender for the next few months, but there were plenty of dinners to attend where I would need to gossip in French and English to other ladies at the table while their husbands did business with my Daddy. I would also need to sometimes speak to those men myself, showing off how clever and well read I was.
Since Daddy and I started seeing one another, Daddy had encouraged me to read more. He didn't mind what I read, so long as I did read. He would send me books sometimes that he had found interesting, and he had an account at an English language bookshop where I could go if I needed anything. Back home, I would normally order all of my books online, but it was nice to go into this book shop and buy whatever I liked. It was nice to pick up different things on the shelf and read the back covers. The smell of books was nice. It was also great to walk back to my apartment through the streets of Paris with new books in a tote bag and to know it wouldn't take me long at all to read all of those. It wouldn't take me long to digest all of the words, to take in everything they had to offer.
Then, at the next opportunity to speak about those same topics, I could tell Daddy - and anyone he worked with who was present - about whatever I had been reading. I could tell them about what I thought of different topics, regurgitating things I had read in books or newspapers and seeing the smiles on their faces.
I was becoming more charming with every passing day.
Paris, Paris was the one who made me more charming. I could have said it was Daddy who did that, but it really wasn't him. It was my beautiful city, it was the land I had come to love and embrace. Paris had so much going for her, that it made me smile when I realized how much of this city was rubbing off on me.
I was becoming Parisian, and I didn't even realize it. Being on top of the world is one thing, being on top of such a beautiful world as that of Paris, was another entirely.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Things with Daddy were feeling more real - and less like some sort of arrangement - every day. As time passed, Daddy and I were spending more and more time talking, more and more time together laughing, more and more time together full stop. Daddy was making a space for me in his life, I could feel it.
Daddy was becoming part of my day life in big ways. He was there with me when I woke up (usually I would read text messages and emails from him before I got out of bed), then throughout the day he would set me little tasks to do. Apparently this was common for Daddies and baby girls. Having tasks to complete throughout the day was supposed to remind the baby girl of her Daddy. The tasks would be simple things like reading a passage of a book, watching a video online or going to a shop to pick something up. Then in the evening before bed, Daddy would call me to 'tuck me in'.
Through all this, I had bought up with Daddy how I had felt when he had stormed in on me when I dressed. Mostly, Daddy seemed keen to dismiss this. I didn't like that, because I had felt awful when he had barged in like that. But I didn't feel right. The way I had felt didn't match up with what Daddy said had happened. He said it was no big deal, and I wanted to go along with that, but it felt like a big deal to me.
Now, our relationship was growing, and if that happened now rather than at the beginning, I would be able to better deal with it because it wouldn't feel like this distant thing that someone else was ignoring that had made me feel bad, it would feel like something that happened that we could deal with together. That feeling that we were in this together was a new one, one I hadn't had at the start of our relationship.
I tried to dismiss it out of hand, Daddy and I did enjoy one another's company so much and after the awards ceremony, I had felt so close to him and almost as if it didn't matter anyway.
So there we were, becoming one another's daily habit when I was still resentful towards him for pushing to see my naked body. Oh, and there was one other thing: I wanted him to stop being my sugar daddy entirely.
It's not that I didn't enjoy having him as my Daddy, it's just that, I didn't like having him as my sugar daddy. I wanted to have him as a partner. The relationship felt more like one I would have with a partner (even if the partner were a little bit kinky) than it felt like one I would have with a man who was compensating me so I would spend time with him. This felt more real, and less about the money.
In the time I spent reflecting on the whole thing, I had decided that because between the allowance and the extra money Daddy had given me, I had enough to live off comfortably now. I wouldn't need to have him be my sugar daddy any longer, and I didn't want him to be my sugar daddy either. I could simply live here in France (on some sort of budget so the money didn't run out) until the end of my visa. I could still learn French and spend time with Daddy, which was what I really wanted.
I had been grateful for that sugar daddy part of our relationship, so going forward, I wanted a different type of relationship to be grateful for. I felt sure, too, that Daddy would be happy with a different type of relationship as well.
Over time, I had fantasized about how I would have this conversation, but every time I had the kind of opportunity I was looking for - we were alone, the setting was just romantic enough, we were both relaxed enough to have a serious conversation - it wouldn't work out that way. Usually we would be interrupted right as I was building up to it, or I would lose my nerve and be unable to say anything.
It felt a little like I was forcing the issue, but if I didn't force it, I wouldn't get what I wanted and I wanted my Daddy, so I was going to push as hard as I could.
I had all the things I wanted to say already planned out. I would tell him I was grateful that he had been my benefactor, that it had allowed me to get to know him better, that getting to know him better had made me very, very happy. I would tell him that going forward though, I needed some changes. When he asked what I meant (which in every version I played this out in my mind he did), I would tell him that I didn't
want to accept his money as my benefactor anymore. I wanted to be his equal partner, rather than the girl he pays because she fits into the clothing that he fetishizes.
In my fantasies, Daddy would always be confused by this but he would only need me to do a little explaining that I wouldn't be taking his money anymore and that I would be expecting to be treated like equal partner going forward.
Essentially, I was being treated like an equal partner right now if you took out the money - which when I thought back, I had never really been one hundred per cent comfortable with - and when I thought about it too, I wanted to talk to him more and properly about how I felt about him storming in on me that time. I wanted to tell him that no matter how much it was no big deal for him, that it was a big deal for me. I had said no and he had disregarded that, storming in anyway.
I had everything I wanted to say percolating inside my head, but the moment wasn't coming up.
Two weeks passed where I didn't have the opportunity to bring up the problems and the changes I needed, when one day Daddy took me out to dinner. Before I left home, I had received the clothes Daddy wanted me to wear that evening earlier that day, and had done my hair and make up myself while thinking over this conversation that had become to routine in my own mind. I thought about what I would say, how I would say it, and exactly how Daddy might respond. I had gone over the same conversation in my mind that I had gone over ten thousand times. Every time I had thought we would have it, too, I had been wrong. Perhaps this time I would be right.
When Daddy's car arrived, the driver got out to open the door for me as he usually did, and as usually happened, when the black door with its tinted glass was opened, there was my Daddy, sitting in the big seat smiling at me. He was looking at my outfit - which he had obviously picked out for me as he had it sent over today - the look on his face as his eyes traveled over the outfit told me that he thought it looked good. I smiled at him but didn't say anything as I realized he was holding his cell phone to his ear.
I sighed inwardly, feeling a little annoyed Daddy was on the phone. He always seemed to be on the phone when I had something I wanted to say these days. I knew he was a busy man, and without needing to be told, I knew this would be a work phone call, but it was still difficult to have to take a back seat to that.
Speaking of back seats, I climbed in beside Daddy and fastened my seat belt. The driver closed the door and climbed in the front.
As Daddy was on his phone, I knew I could talk to the driver. Sometimes when Daddy had to take long boring phone calls for work, the driver and I would chat in French. This was a good way for me to practice the language as I would need to think of words to express myself in our chit-chat. Over time, I had to spend less and less time thinking of words, which was a great indicator to me of how fast I was learning the language. It's always positive to see improvements when you are trying to learn something, and here was one of those signs of improvement.
The driver and I chatted for a while about the weather and what kind of day we had both had - the driver being as charming as all French men seemed to be - before Daddy hung up the phone in a huff.
In French, Daddy talked to both of us about how annoyed he was with his work at the moment. I didn't understand all of what he said as he spoke fast, however, I did understand that he was frustrated and that he used a heap of four-letter words.
Once Daddy was done complaining, he switched to English to ask me how my day was, and to tell me how he thought I looked especially pretty wearing a cute, pink, frilly dress he had picked out for me.
I felt my cheeks reddening as I smiled at Daddy. "Thank you." I told him earnestly before going on, "I wasn't sure about the color looking good on me, but it seems to be okay."
If we were standing up, rather than sitting together in the car, I would have done a little twirl so Daddy could see all of my dress, and see the way it moved when I twirled. I had twirled a whole lot this afternoon when I realized how good the dress looked as it spun.
"Daddy," I asked, "Where are we going?"
Daddy's smile was cute and cheeky as he answered, "you'll see, princess."
I hated the mystery, when Daddy wouldn't tell me things. But then, I didn't want to upset him and take away from this thing that made him happy when he had so obviously had a difficult day at work.
Usually, things were not a surprise with Daddy, so I guessed I could sit still and wait this one out, see what the surprise was when it happened. I could handle one surprise, after all.
Daddy wanted to know a few things about America, which wasn't usual for him. He often asked me about home, and would ask me the odd question about American slang out of his own interest after he had been watching American television (something he did more of than I imagined most French people did, and something I wondered if he ever did as much of before we had met).
We passed the time until we arrived at our destination talking about America. I had been too distracted to realize that we had been driving for a long time - we had left Paris.
It wasn't until we pulled into the drive of a large chateau surrounded by lavender fields that I could only just make out in the dusk light. It was then that I realized we were not in Paris anymore.
Like Dorothy in Oz, I was a little concerned for this change of locale. I had grown comfortable in Paris, even as I was in a foreign country, and didn't want to be somewhere else. I didn't want to be in provincial France because it felt like something that was foreign, whereas Paris had become familiar.
But, here I was. I tried to shake the shocked feeling away when we had stopped and the driver was opening my door. When I climbed out, he smiled down at me and Daddy appeared beside him.
"Come." Was all he said, and I followed him.
I searched my mind, trying to think of a time when Daddy had mentioned a chateau in provincial France, but couldn't think of one. Surely we weren't that far away from Paris I thought as I struggled to think how long we had been talking.
That was the problem with this relationship, that no matter what happened, I never really could pay attention to anything else in the world as long as he was there with me. I knew it was one of those annoying coupley things, to not pay attention to anyone else in the world aside from your partner, but I couldn't help it. I just did this. I thought like this, and I behaved like this. I didn't want to be that annoying person, yet I was.
I guess the one positive about this blossoming relationship was that Daddy and I were spending most of our time one-on-one, so our coupley-ness wouldn't annoy anyone else. Whereas my high school boyfriend - as much as that felt like a million years ago - was someone who when we were getting to know one another, I had spent a whole lot of time with in a group, and our friends had to deal with our annoying behavior, being part of this new exclusive club for two.
Part of the reason why we were one-on-one so often was, I'd say, the fact that this had begun as an arrangement - no matter what I wanted it to be now - but also because Daddy was my Daddy and I was his baby girl and because I really didn't have any friends in Paris outside of the people in my French classes and all of Daddy's friends were tied up in his work.
I wondered if this would ever change as I took Daddy's hand and was led around the back of the chateau to where a table for two had been set up in a beautiful garden that was decorated with fairy lights.
Taking everything in, I was reminded of an outdoor picnic for fairies somehow. Because everything was so beautiful and set up the way it was, it bought that feeling back.
Daddy and I normally dined at expensive restaurants in Paris, so I was a little surprised that we were here when it was so different to where we normally ate.
Smiling at Daddy though, I took the seat at the table he had pulled out for me, and allowed him to drape the napkin over my lap like all those maitre d's in Paris had done for us. The idea of Daddy being servant class though made me chuckle. He was so not servant class, and he was so not going to let me get away with my little chuckle.
"What's funny, girl?" Daddy asked in a voice that told me there would be a spanking coming my way if I didn't watch myself.
I smiled at him with my sweetest smile and told him the truth, "It's just so funny, to have you waiting on someone else for a change." I told him as he sat and shook out his own napkin, draping it over his own lap.
"There are plenty of things that you would find surprising, baby girl." He told me with an air of indifference, "for example, you might be surprised by whose chateau this is."
I looked at the large brick building with lights on upstairs and thought for a moment. I really couldn't imagine whose it would be so I looked back at him and he gave me a quick, curt answer, "mine."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Of course, it wasn't any surprise to hear that Daddy owned things. He was a wealthy man, but even though I knew he owned this place, I wondered why he had decided to take me here, rather than to the usual arrangement of fancy restaurants. I had my own news - or at least questions I wanted to ask for myself - but had my doubts now if this was the time to ask those questions.
Throughout the dinner - which was home-style versions of the French classics I had grown to love while living in America, served by a butler - Daddy told me about this place, and the other properties he owned. He told me about how having money had its perks and mostly just babbled about being one to own things.
Something about the conversation made me feel uncomfortable, yet I pushed on.
When our dessert arrived, I told Daddy, who had gotten pretty wound up in this romantic dinner he had arranged, that I had some things that I wanted to talk to him about.
"What's that?" He asked after a time.