Baby Girl

by Hildreth, Scott

  “I never missed my father. I never knew him, really. My mother dying caused me to miss her. I still miss her today. I miss talking to her, seeing her, listening to her talk, her cooking, her smiles, everything. But I have never missed anyone else in my life, ever. Male or female, people come and people go. It is all part of life. I have never sat at home and wanted to see someone in particular. I have been bored with being alone, and wanted to see someone, but I never cared who that someone was,” he paused, looked down, and rubbed his forehead.

  “Until I met you.” He continued.

  But. Where’s the ‘but’? The however? This cannot be happening. He’s falling for me. Oh. My. God. Is he falling for me? Seriously?

  “I have effortlessly floated through life while everyone else around me is frantically flapping their arms to keep their heads above water. I have never wanted much out of life, and never expected much. My lack of expectations has allowed me to live with minimal disappointments. I have always wanted to keep it that way. Kelli, I have no expectations of you, but I know this, when you’re gone, I miss you. I want you to come back. For the first time in my life, I know what it is like to have someone leave, and want to say, ‘no, wait, come back, I don’t want you to go’, he took another drink, and didn’t immediately speak.

  I didn’t want to say a word. I wanted him to keep talking. I wanted to know everything he was thinking, had thought of previously, and may think of the future. I sat with my chin resting in my palms, and looked at him, trying not to smile.

  “Before I met you, I never knew what it was like to think of someone - and smile; for no real reason. But, I sit and think of you, and I smile. If I am exercising, and I think of you, I smile. I walk through the grocery store, and have a recollection of something we have done, and I smile. I don’t sit here, now, and have any expectations of you staying forever. I don’t have thoughts of being married or anything like that, but I sure can’t fathom having a life without you in it. I guess that’s it. So, what are your thoughts?”

  I sat for long moment and thought. I thought about what he had said. I thought about Columbia. I thought about my father, and what he would say about me being in an actual relationship with someone that was fifteen years older than me. I thought about kids, and the fact that I hated kids. I thought about Erik changing his mind, and tossing me aside after he got mad, or bored, or just decided enough was enough.

  I thought about how he made me feel. I thought about living life without him. I thought about what I would feel like if he or I walked away from this.

  “You scare me, Erik. Your willingness to toss me aside, your willingness to do without me at a moment’s notice, those things scare me. I wonder about your sincerity, long term, with this. I want, more than anyone, what you’re talking about, and I guess time will tell. I don’t feel like I can give you my all, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally, and then chance losing you. That, without a doubt, would crush me. I am just like you. I have never been in a real relationship. Not a loving, caring relationship - add to that that the fact that you’re dominant - and all I have experienced is one grain of sand from the beach of your sexual desires,” I stopped, thought of what to say, I didn’t want to make him mad, but I had so much to say..

  “What you’re saying excites me and scares me both. I guess I feel the same way you do,” I looked up from my tea glass and batted my eye lashes.

  “So, tell me about what else you’re going to do to me, sexually. I want to know,” I said, wanting to know the depth of the sexual portion of the relationship.

  “I’m not going to do anything to you, Kelli. We are going to do things together, experience things together. We talked about this before. We will, at length, discuss the elements of this relationship from a sexual standpoint. What we agree on will be agreed upon. What we don’t agree on will be excluded from the options. It’s that simple,” he said as he tried to get the attention of the waitress.

  Waiting and not knowing has never been a huge strength of mine. I liked knowing what was going on, or what might go on in my day to day activities. I have always been able to come to terms with the fact that life will bring me the unexpected or the unknown; it is part of living life. Simple things like this made me anxious. I wanted to know what we were going to do. We had been together, for the most part, for six weeks. He would probably just fuck me forever and never say anything if I didn’t bring it up.

  “Well, I am ready. Let’s make a list,” I said as the waitress approached the table.

  “Can I get a refill of water and a cup of coffee, please? Kelli do you need anything?” Erik asked.

  “No, I am fine, thank you,” I responded.

  He finished his water and set it at the edge of the table as the waitress walked away. A small plane flew over the runway very low and fast, and we both turned to see what was going on. Erik turned back around, and as he started rearranging his silverware, I asked him again.

  “Let’s make a list, I am ready. Let’s talk about it,” I asked anxiously.

  “Well, Kelli, this isn’t something that we just nonchalantly discuss. It’s something more intended to be a serious discussion, we will need to make notes of what we discuss, and make lists…it’s fairly complex,” he said, trying to dismiss the subject.

  “Now, I want to do it now,” I said, again, anxiously. I moved forward in my chair, and reached out toward him with my right hand.

  He reached toward me and touched my hand with his fingers, eventually clasping it between his fingers and thumb. He began to rub my palm with fingertips. I love it when he touches my hands.

  “We can get a start, I suppose, but it’s just not that easy, baby girl. Let me ask you some quick questions, and you answer yes or no. We won’t go into detail now, just answer yes or no to the questions. Some of these things we have talked about before, some we haven’t. Let me see…” he let go of my hand, and touched his palms together as if he were praying. He opened his hands, revealed his face, and began to speak as he twirled his butter knife in between his fingers.

  “Let say, for the sake of answering these questions, we will have four categories. Yes, maybe, soft limit, hard limit. Soft limits are not now, but maybe later you’ll consider it. Hard limit means you’ll never consider it. So, yes, maybe, no, and hell no. Understood?” he asked.

  “I read, and I am aware of the soft and hard limits, yes. Let’s get on with this,” I said, trying to get him to get started.

  “Anal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bondage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wearing a collar.”

  “Yes. Are we going to go in alphabetical order?”

  “You little smart-ass. No, I was just going from memory, and alphabetical order was easiest. Nipple clamps, clamps in general, and being beaten?”

  “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “Being gagged in any fashion, wearing a leash, being humiliated?”

  “Yes, yes, yes.” I got turned on as I thought about him putting clamps on my nipples.

  “Role play, piercing, marking, making videos?” he asked, leaning closer to me, smiling.

  “Yes, yes, yes, and yes,” I responded, leaning toward him.

  He extended his arms, palms up, toward me. I reached across the table, and placed my hands in his. He lightly squeezed my hands. I loved the size of his hands, the shape of them, and how he held my hands in his. Firm, but not too firm. I watched as he held and massaged my hands.

  “Threesomes, being electrocuted, and beatings?”

  “Yes, depends, and you already said beatings, and I said yes,” I said, scowling a little at him over the electrocution question.

  “I said bondage. I hadn’t said beatings. And electrocuting depends?” he asked.

  “Well, fuck yes, it does. A little electricity sounds sexy. Actually being shocked would probably make me go into convulsions and pee,” I said, laughing.

  “Well, we’ll call it a soft limit - or maybe a curiosity for now. Speaking o
f peeing…”

  “Let’s just cut it short. I will make it easy. No animals, and no crapping on me or making me do anything with crap, that’s it,” I said, smiling proudly.

  “Well, that’s easy, but you may not be thinking of everything,” he responded, smiling back at me.

  “Cutting, marking permanently, like a tattoo or scar, piercing permanently, or temporarily, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, watersports,” he asked, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

  “Yes to everything. But, everything involving other people, we’d have to discuss at length. I meant what I said. No animals or shit. Oh, and nothing illegal. Other than that, I want to be yours. I want to make you happy. But, I will tell you this, if you tattoo me, scar me up, and have all of your buddies fuck me, and then leave me, you will be the world’s biggest asshole. Ever,”

  “I’m not saying I would want other people involved, I was trying to prove a point that you weren’t going to do everything…or well, that you weren’t willing to do everything. And I would never mistreat you like that, Kelli. I already told you that,” he said as he squeezed my hands.

  “I would say if it didn’t involve a dog, horse, snake, or a pile of shit, I will do it. As long as it’s what you want. I want to make you happy. I want to make you happier than you have ever been, or ever thought you could be. What have other girls been willing to do?”

  “I am not going to talk to you about other women I have been with, Kelli. But I will say this: they have not been as willing as you are to please me. You stand alone in that regard,” he let go of my hand as the waitress handed him a cup of coffee and a glass of water.

  “I really like your tattoos,” the waitress said as she handed him the coffee.

  “Thank you,” Erik responded to her, smiling a half-fake smile.

  This happened almost every time we went out together. Some girl would tell him that they liked his tattoos. Oh my God, I love your tattoos…Your tattoos are so pretty…I really like the way your sleeve looks…I really got tired of hearing it. It was bad enough that he was gorgeous, and a Channing Tatum double. The tattoos just gave random people a reason to talk to him.

  “What about kids?” he asked.

  Oh, this was easy for me, but I wondered what he wanted me to say. Kids --I fucking hate kids. Every girl I know couldn’t wait to have a kid. The thought of having or being around a kid made my stomach ache. When I was in public, and I saw someone with a kid, I wanted to leave – have them leave, something. I detest children. I decided to roll the dice.

  “I’m undecided on that; I guess it depends on the person and the status of the relationship. You know, if I felt comfortable, I would consider it,” I said, trying to look naturally happy. I may have even smiled a little.

  “You just lied,” he said. His pursed his lips, and his mouth formed a little smile, like he had caught me stealing something. He shook his head.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “Because you did. Your eyes. You lied. Let’s do this correctly, Kelli. No lying. No trying to tell me what I want to hear. I can’t stand kids. Kids make my skin crawl. The thought of children makes me ill.”

  “Okay, I am sorry. I lied. I hate kids too. They make me sick, and that will never change,” I said, relieved.

  He added cream and sugar to his coffee and stirred it. “Let me get a few drinks of this, and let’s get started,” he said, looking up from his coffee as he took a drink.

  “Get started on what?”

  “This relationship, baby girl,” he responded.

  ERIK. The mention of me being in a relationship, just six weeks ago, would have made me laugh out loud. Today, I was actually eager to see what may happen between Kelli and I. The thought of it truly working was exciting to me. As we pulled out of the airport, and began to accelerate up the road, I smiled.

  Not having children was probably the single most important thing to me regarding a relationship. Children bring a certain responsibility that I wasn’t prepared to attempt to manage. Over the years, this one thing, subconsciously, kept me out of several relationships that I may have entertained being in. Kelli not wanting children was a tremendous relief. Even though she was adamant in her declaration of hatred toward children, I wondered about her sincerity.

  We would spend some more time discussing children in the future; if I was certain that she didn’t want children, being in and maintaining a relationship with her just may be something that I could do. The thought of being in a relationship with her was comforting. Traveling, vacations, going to different countries, different states, and sharing all of that with someone that I enjoyed spending time with – the thought of doing that with a woman was appealing.

  I had decided when I was young – maybe as young as sixteen, that I did not want children. That feeling never faded. I felt, being an only child, and being the son of parents that were only children, that bringing a child into this earth would be wrong. If I were to die, and at some point in time I certainly would, that would leave a child in this world no different than me – without any form of elder to lean on. No family. Alone.

  Having Kelli on the back of the motorcycle was another comfort that I would not have guessed I would enjoy. In the past, the thought of having a woman on the back of my motorcycle was repulsive. Having a woman on my motorcycle was something that I looked at as being intimate. I differed from a lot of men in that respect. Most men that I rode with would give any woman that asked a ride on their motorcycle. I purposely rode a motorcycle without a permanent back seat. Unless I added the seat on the motorcycle before I left the house, there was not an option for a person to ride on it.

  Not having the seat saved people’s feelings and saved me a lot of grief. I could count on one hand the amount of women that had ridden on the back of my motorcycle in my lifetime. It would require a tremendous amount of time, calculator, a pen and paper to count the amount of women that could have ridden on it.

  Kelli riding behind me felt natural. She was petite, and did not weigh very much, so she wasn’t even noticeable when maneuvering the motorcycle. Her arms wrapped around my waist provided a reassurance that she was there. Not just on the motorcycle, but as a part or an extension of me.

  Riding a motorcycle had become, at an early age, part of me. It was not something that I did because I enjoyed doing so; it was a part of who I was. For me, it was a type of therapy. I could have the worst possible day, take a thirty minute motorcycle ride, and rid myself of all of the thoughts associated with the day. Being on a motorcycle separated me from all of the realities of life; money, bills, requirements, people, rules, and regulations did not exist when I rode. To describe the feeling of riding, to me, would be the same as a bird describing flight. A mode of transportation and a certain feeling of freedom combined.

  The small airport where we had eaten lunch was in a rural area between two cities. A series of paved county roads and a highway tied the airport to the major city. I had opted to come to, and leave the airport on the county two-lane roads. On the way to the airport, I had seen a large home for sale directly off of the paved road. There were several fenced acres of grass, a long driveway, and what appeared to be a very nice two story home marked by a realtors sign. As soon as I noticed the sign in the distance, I began to slow down the motorcycle.

  I decelerated until we reached the driveway to the home, and turned into the drive. As we slowly rode up the driveway toward the house, Kelli spoke into my right ear. The exhaust noise of the motorcycle typically made conversations impossible while riding, but at this slow speed, there was virtually no wind and no noise from the exhaust.

  “What are we doing? Do you know this guy?” she asked.

  “No, we’re just looking,” I responded.

  She sat back in the seat and relaxed. As I approached the home I revved the throttle to create as much of a disturbance as possible. The driveway circled around the front of the home, and tied back into the entrance. I pulled directly in front of the front po
rch of the home and killed the engine on the bike. I placed the kickstand down and secured the bike on the asphalt driveway.

  “Go ahead and get off, Kelli. Be careful of the exhaust,” I said, pointing to the exhaust pipe beside Kelli’s leg.

  “Okay,” she said as she got off the motorcycle.

  Standing beside the motorcycle, she admired at the home.

  “This place is huge. What are we doing?”

  “I saw it was for sale, I was just pulling in here to take a look,” I responded as I got off of the motorcycle.

  I began walking to the front door of the home, and Kelli followed. Standing on the porch and looking into the window of the home, it looked vacant. All of the lights were off, and there were a few local newspapers on the porch. I knocked on the door and rang the doorbell.

  “So, do you want to buy this place?” Kelli asked as we stood on the porch.

  “Not necessarily. I was just seeing if anyone was home,” I responded as I picked up the welcome mat and looked under it for a key.

  “What are you looking for?” Kelli asked as I picked up the mat.

  “A key,” I responded.

  “Oh my God, why?” she asked, with both her eyebrows raised in wonder.

  “Because I am going to take you inside and fuck you senseless, and if I can’t find a key, I will have to break a window. To tell you the truth, I would rather not break a window, so I am looking for a key.” I responded as I ran my hand along the structure of the awning of the porch.

  “Holy crap, are you serious?”

  “Totally,” I said, still feeling for a key along the wooden structure.

  “And you don’t know these people? This isn’t a joke? You are just going to take me inside and fuck me? In some random house?” Kelli asked as she looked through the window into what appeared to be the living room.

  “That is correct. I have no idea who lives here. All of the grass appeared to be recently cut, but there weren’t any garage doors open when we rode by earlier. It’s Saturday, and most people with this much grass to cut would be up cutting it this morning. The fact that it’s already cut means that someone did it in the last few days. More than likely they’ve hired someone to take care of it, and they’ve already moved elsewhere. The newspapers you’re stepping on mean they haven’t been on this porch for at least a few days. Now, it is Saturday, so the realtor could arrive any minute with a client…here we go,” I said as I felt a key along the structure.