The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  “Here’s to good timing.” I clink our glasses again.

  “Sir,” she says softly, looking up at me. “Can I ask . . . how long have you been split up from your sub? The lady who wrote the letter?”

  “Miranda. I stopped topping her six months ago.” I take a long swallow of my drink, letting it burn down my throat and incinerate the lingering bitterness of her walking out on me. “Just so you know, we’re still in touch. I don’t cut people out of my life.”

  “Oh.” She sips her own drink and I give her a minute to consider. “It hasn’t been that way for me,” she says. “When it’s ended, it’s really ended. Sometimes not very nicely. I don’t stay in touch.”

  “No permanent attachments,” I say, remembering her sign.

  “No.”

  “Have you always been the one to break it off?” I ask.

  “No, sometimes it’s just ended. I stopped calling or he stopped calling. With one, we agreed we didn’t really have anything in common other than our kinks. And there was the guy who found someone else and showed up with her at the dungeon party I thought we were going to together.”

  “That’s very immature.” I tickle her chin with the captured curl until she smiles. “I like communication. I’m very open with my bottoms and I expect openness in return.”

  She nods. “No lying.”

  “No lying, no secrets. If you’re not happy, say so. If I’m not giving you what you need, tell me. Part of what I enjoy about topping is figuring out what really pushes my bottom’s buttons, but I don’t get it right every single time. If I’m missing the mark, let me know.”

  “Not so far.” She gives me a smile that’s very different from the sweet little girl smiles she’s been giving me. This is secret and sly and sexy.

  It pulls an answering grin out of me. “I should probably tell you that I haven’t been a daddy before,” I admit. “It’s working for me so far, and I can see there are things about it that I’ll really get off on. I did some research last night, so I think I understand the basics.” I did a lot of research last night, when I should have been researching the cruise job. The more I read, the more things clicked together in my head. “But if there’s something I’m not doing that you expect your daddy to do, let me know.”

  “Communication?” she asks.

  “Yup, communication.”

  She shakes her head slightly, not tugging her hair out of my fingers. “I kind of guessed that you weren’t a daddy. When we were at the expo, you seemed a little uncomfortable with it. But by the end, you were really smooth and today you’ve been amazing.”

  And we haven’t even had sex yet.

  “Nice to hear. Anything you want to ask me about the contract? You didn’t email me any questions, but maybe you’d be more comfortable talking it through face-to-face?”

  Her cheeks flush a gorgeous shade of pink and she shifts her shoulders. Embarrassed, but thinking. “There wasn’t much in there about what you want from me. I mean like, um, fellatio when you wake up in the morning, or calling you at specific times of day.”

  “I’d never say no to a morning blow job, but I’d rather develop our rituals naturally as we get to know each other. I will give you a daily schedule. You won’t ever be in doubt about what I want from you. You saw the part about returning all calls or texts within an hour unless you’ve already told me you’ll be out of pocket?”

  She nods. “Yes, sir. I’d do that anyway.”

  “Good girl. Anything else?”

  “There weren’t any hard limits for you.”

  “Mmm, scat play, bestiality and gas masks.”

  “I understand the first two.” She gives a delicate shiver. “Gas masks?”

  “They creep me out. Not a turn on.”

  She giggles softly as she takes a sip of her drink.

  “Anything else?”

  “It said punishments would be at your discretion but wouldn’t cross my hard limits.”

  “That’s right. Anything about that concern you?”

  “Um, just that my hard limits are really hard limits. I mean, you know that. It’s just that sometimes—”

  “Sometimes people aren’t respectful of hard limits?” I give the curl I’m holding a gentle tug before lifting it to my lips. “Baby doll, I will always respect your hard limits. Your safe word works always, not just when we’re playing. If discipline exceeds what you can take, I expect you to use it.”

  That gets me a wide, happy smile.

  * * *

  Manny rings the front doorbell as we’re finishing our drinks. He doesn’t need to; Manny’s keyed into my security system and all he has to do to get in is press his thumb to the sensor by the door. But Manny knows Emily’s with me, and he was raised right.

  I leave Emily with a kiss on the forehead to answer the door.

  He pushes off the doorframe when I open the front door for him.

  “Sharp,” he says, touching his plain black tie while looking at mine. “Pick me up one next time you’re in Walmart.”

  I grin at him. “Asshole.”

  He slaps me on the back, which doesn’t stagger me only because it’s his usual greeting, so I’m expecting it. Manny benches a mean three-eighty and likes to throw it around.

  I lead him through to the great room to meet Emily.

  And watch her curl into a ball of shyness. Although Manny’s a big guy, he’s got the handsome Latino bastard thing going. I’ve never seen him as intimidating, and women are usually all over him. Not Emily. Once she shakes his hand, she tucks her hands behind her back, puts her head down and nearly disappears into her blazer.

  Manny gives me a look that says, what’s up with your chica?

  I shrug as I fix him a drink. I haven’t seen her like this before. She was cool and reserved at the expo, sure, but I just saw that as a submissive’s natural caution. She came out of her shell immediately with me. Is she afraid of big men? Of strangers? Or is it just that she only responds to Dominants?

  I hand Manny his Corona with lime and put my hand in the small of Emily’s back. As soon as I do, she shifts closer to me and lifts her head, big eyes searching my face. I give her a gentle smile and say, “Manny’s a body man. Best in the City. He’s going to stick to the client all night so we can enjoy our date.”

  She glances at Manny. “Thank you, Mister Costa.”

  “It’s Manny, and it’s my pleasure, Emily,” Manny tells her.

  This is the point when women usually melt all over him. Instead, Emily looks up at me and asks, “Is your job dangerous?”

  Manny opens his mouth, but I cut him off before he says anything stupid, particularly about the times I’ve been shot at. “The worst things porn stars attract are paparazzi.”

  Manny grunts. “And rabid fans. They’re worse than the shutter bugs.”

  Emily drops her head again, effectively ending her participation in the conversation. I could bring her back into it, but I’d rather move on to our one-on-one time. I tip my chin at Manny. Taking the hint, he makes short work of his Corona and sets the empty on the kitchen island.

  “Guess we better get going,” he says. “Don’t want to be late to pick up the glitterati.”

  “Yup, let’s go.” I keep Emily tight to my side as we leave.

  Manny’s parked his black Lincoln on the street in front of my house, which is begging for a ticket, but his sister’s on the force, so he parks with reckless abandon all over the city. His limo’s an older model, with the bench seats in the rear facing each other, rather than at right angles. Manny and I agree that’s safer in a collision, and safety is our primary concern with our clients. We’re not escorting kids to the prom here.

  I help Emily into the back seat and Manny raises the glass partition between the front and back to give us some privacy.

  As Manny pulls away from the curb, I lean across to buckle Emily’s seatbelt. She watches me do it, eyes gleaming. Once she’s secure, she shifts in the seat, pressing close, the way she did during t
he taxi ride. I slide my arm around her shoulders.

  “Emily, Manny’s a good friend as well as someone I work with. I’ve known him for a long time. You can trust him, okay?”

  She looks up at me with the big eyes, which are going to be the death of me. “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t let his size fool you,” I tell her. “He’s a big teddy bear.”

  “Is he in the lifestyle?” she asks, her voice very small.

  Is that why she’s so uncomfortable? Is she afraid he’ll judge her? “No, but he knows all about it. We’ve been friends since the Navy.”

  “You tell your friends about it, sir?”

  “I do. Do you?”

  “My friend Gracie knows,” she says. “And my online kinky friends. But no one else. I tried to introduce my first Dom to my mother. It didn’t go well. After that, I didn’t try to mix my kinky life and my vanilla life.”

  I stroke her soft hair. “I’m sorry about that, baby. I don’t think anyone should have to hide. Don’t be afraid to be open about it around my friends. They’re all very accepting, or I wouldn’t be friends with them.”

  She nods. “And the other members of your club, they’re all Doms, right?”

  “Um-hmm. Everyone you’ll meet tonight is either in the lifestyle or a guest who knows about it. Rick is a top, and the lady he’s bringing with him, Daisy Blue, is, too.”

  “I’ve heard of her,” Emily says, then flushes a sunset red. “I mean—“

  “You’ve watched some of her films,” I say gently.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Her voice is so small, and her cheeks are so red, my adorable, embarrassed baby doll.

  “Did you like her films?”

  Emily nods, biting her lower lip.

  “Do you watch a lot of porn?” I ask gently.

  “I watch some,” she admits. “Porn’s complicated for me.”

  “It is, huh?” Porn seems pretty simple to me, but I’m not a woman and I can understand how a woman might see it differently. “Tell me why, baby doll.”

  “I think people should be free to do what they want with their bodies,” she says slowly, and I can tell she’s considering each word. “That includes watching what they want to watch. And I understand that as long as there’s a demand for something, there will always be someone willing to provide it. I don’t condemn porn. Not the people who watch it, or the people who make it. And there is some I like. Where it’s respectful to the actors. But I feel that the industry as a whole exploits women. And some of the porn I’ve seen made me feel sick.”

  That is complicated. “It exploits women by making them sex objects, or because what they do in the films is demeaning?” I ask.

  “The first one, sir. I mean, as long as both parties want what’s happening, it’s not demeaning. I’m in no position to judge; lots of people would say what I want is demeaning.” She shrugs in a self-deprecating way I don’t like. I rub my hand up and down her arm until she continues, “Some of the films I’ve seen start or end with interviews. Those made me feel the best, no matter what happened in the film itself, because I felt like the actors were being treated like people instead of things.”

  She didn’t list it on the contract she sent back to me, but it sounds like objectification might be out for her. “What made you feel sick?”

  She inches a little closer and whispers in my ear. “Do you know what bukkake is?”

  “I do. The Japanese are masters of weird-ass sex, aren’t they?”

  “Totally. I mean, tentacle hentai, what’s up with that? But I don’t mind weird alien tentacle sex. Bukkake, on the other hand, eww. It’s creepy. All those guys standing around.” She shudders. “I also saw one video where the guy was, um, ramming his, uh, penis, down the girl’s throat. He’d stop every minute or so to let her vomit and then go back to it. That just, ugh, I couldn’t watch it. How could you even want to keep doing it when the girl’s just vomited? Big yellow chunks, too. It was so foul.”

  No vomit, I make a mental note. Not that I find vomit a turn-on. “Yeah, you got me, there. Not much erotic about yellow chunks.”

  That has the desired effect and she giggles. I curl her a little closer so I can kiss her forehead. “I’m proud of you, baby doll.”

  “You are, sir? For telling you I think bukkake’s gross?”

  “For not being judgmental. For remembering which words I don’t want to hear out of my baby girl’s mouth. And for your good taste when it comes to Japanese circle-jerking.”

  She turns her face into my neck. Her lips brush my skin, then she draws back. “May I kiss you under your jaw again, sir?”

  “You may. Good girl for asking. Very good girl.”

  She buries her face in my neck and presses her mouth into the curve under my chin. I hold her there, enjoying her warmth and the softness of her lips on my skin. When I finally let her up, she asks, “Sir, what about you?”

  “Do I think bukkake’s gross? It doesn’t bother me the way it does you, but I’ve never done it, or watched it. Nor do I plan to.”

  “Oh, good. When you said you belonged to a gentlemen’s club, I thought maybe—“ She trails off.

  I shake my head. “No circle jerking. You might see a Dom ejaculate on his sub during a scene now and then, but it’s not a regular thing. And so you’re not surprised, we have some women members, too, and one post-operative transsexual. ‘Gentlemen’ is an inclusive term in the twenty-first century.”

  She smiles hesitantly. “What about porn? What do you think of it?”

  I stretch and scratch the back of my head while I consider her question. “I think it’s always been around and always will be. You’re right that as long as there’s a demand, someone will supply it. So, until we evolve beyond sex, there will be porn. And maybe even then, look at all those tentacle creatures. They’re horny bastards.” That gets the giggle out of her that I want. “I don’t have any issue with people watching it, or making it. There’s a lot of porn that doesn’t do anything for me personally, but I don’t have a problem with it being out there. Different strokes for different folks. What I do have a major issue with is safety. I’ve stopped watching anything that’s not done with a condom. I think they should be mandatory. That’s a taboo subject for tonight, though. Rick’s against mandatory condom use. He’s got all kinds of reasons. Condoms break; they don’t prevent all STIs. He says it should be up to the parties involved.”

  “Oh.” Emily’s silent for a second. Then she asks, “What about you, sir? Why do you think condoms should be mandatory?”

  “Mmm, I understand they break, and that they don’t prevent all infections, but they do prevent some, and testing, particularly for diseases like hepatitis, isn’t mandatory, either. Some protection is better than none. I also think that not being mandatory disadvantages the most vulnerable people in the industry. The really young girls and boys, just starting out, are not going to have the power to negotiate for a condom. So I think it shouldn’t be negotiable.”

  “Wow,” she says softly, then presses more kisses into my throat after I give her permission.

  “Wow?”

  “That’s really thoughtful, Sir.”

  She sounds impressed. I’ve impressed her by telling her my views on condom use in porn. I like that. “I only look like a big ape, baby doll. I try not to think like one.”

  She giggles and worms her arm between my waist and the seat so she can hug me.

  * * *

  Rick knows Manny’s car, so I shouldn’t have to collect him and his guest from his concrete block of a post-modern apartment building in Murray Hill. But I know Rick; he likes to feel important. I unwind myself from Emily reluctantly, get out of the car, and open the atrium door for them.

  Daisy Blue shimmies past me in skin-tight white vinyl, projecting sex out of every pore as she struts along on six-inch, blue velvet platforms, which puts the top of her head, adorned with her signature blonde-and-blue ringlets, above my eye level. Rick knows damn well that we dress
conservatively at the club. Either he couldn’t control Daisy, or he didn’t bother to tell her.

  I didn’t vote on Rick’s membership application. Given our long working relationship, the committee asked me to abstain. But my brothers’ decision not to admit him makes plenty of sense to me at moments like this.

  Rick himself is wearing an electric blue, slim-fit suit with an open-necked, white silk shirt underneath. I’m not sure if they planned their outfits, but it’s a little too matchy-matchy for me. I’m glad I kept my coordination with Emily subtle.

  I hold the car door for them to slither into, which Daisy does somehow without flashing me. As I close the door, I see Daisy take the seat next to Emily. I scowl at Rick, who gives me a thumbs-up through the window.

  I’m not having that.

  I walk around the back of the car, open the other door, and slide in on Emily’s far side. The seat is wide enough for three of us, but Emily’s buckled in where I need to sit. I unsnap her seat belt, shift her over and buckle her back in. Then I put my arm around her and draw her firmly against my side. I’m not sure what kind of game Daisy’s playing, but she should know better than to invade my bottom’s physical space without asking me.

  Emily shifts a fraction into me. Glad she agrees.

  “Aren’t you going to buckle me in, too?” Rick asks from his lone seat across from us.

  I grimace at him. “Rick, Daisy, this is Emily. Emily, Rick Errol and Daisy Blue.”

  Daisy offers Emily a hand tipped with white talons that must be three inches long. Emily bravely takes it and shakes. “I’ve watched some of your movies,” she says. “I really liked the Scarlet Sin series.”

  “A fan,” Daisy crows, winking at Rick with false eyelashes so long they look like feathers. “What’d you like about them, doll face?”

  Emily flushes beet red, and I wrap my arm tighter around her in silent support.

  “I felt like they were for women,” she says. “I mean, the camera was on the guy a lot of the time, his back or whatever, not just the, um, moving parts.”

  “The female gaze,” Daisy says throatily. “You got it in one. Wasn’t it hot watching Zack and Andy’s asses work? Doesn’t Andy have the tightest butt?”