Saving Little Amy (An Age Play Romance)

by Little, Becca

  “Want one?” Chloe asked as she walked outside and lit up a cigarette.

  “Sure, why not…” I took one from her pack and let her light it for me.

  “He’s going to be okay, you know.” She reached out and squeezed my hand.

  “I know, I just wish he would wake up.” I leaned against the wall and let the smoke roll out of my lips.

  “You two must really have something. I have to admit, I had my doubts about you. I never thought you’d stick around this long.” She tapped ashes off of the tip of her cigarette and shrugged.

  “He’s all I have.” I took another drag and waved to Marcus as he walked up.

  “Ladies…” He tipped his head in a nod. “Any updates?”

  “Nothing yet.” I said sadly. “The doctors are hoping his body will heal enough for him to wake up any day now.”

  “Mind if I go try to talk some sense into him?” Marcus flashed his usual wide grin.

  “Go ahead.” Chloe said with a shrug. “Tell him there’s a stripper waiting for him or something.”

  “Hey!” I said angrily.

  “Fine, just tell him Amy’s waiting on him.” She pushed my shoulder and smiled.

  Marcus wasn’t able to get through to him. I didn’t expect that he would. Eventually, he left with Chloe and I was back alone at his bedside. I prayed, begged, and even promised my immortal soul for his return, but there was no response from a higher or lower power. A full month passed and everything felt lost. His body started to wither away, and he looked like a shell of his former self. The weather changed and I had to trek through snow to get to him, but I only left his side when I had to. I walked into his room and sat down, just like I always did. I reached out and squeezed his hand, letting him know I was there. A second before I was about to pull away, I felt something. His hand squeezed back. I didn’t move, waiting to see if I was really seeing it or if I imagined it. I squeezed his hand and he squeezed me back again. I looked up to his face and saw a flicker of light. I nearly screamed when his eyes opened. Chaos ensued.

  “Mr. Crane. Mr. Crane, can you hear me?” The nurses pushed me out of the way and started to tend to him.

  “Somebody get me a cigarette…” He said angrily.

  He was back, or at least he was awake. He was moved out of intensive care and into a regular room. A parade of people came to see him, so we never really had a chance to talk. He was in and out of consciousness, medicated and sedated most of the time. It was several days before they started to wean him off of the medications and get him mobile again. They said he would have a long road back, but I knew he was strong enough to finish it. The doctors were optimistic and said he should be fine once he healed. They called it a miracle and said he was a lucky man. Chloe visited and after speaking to him for a while, she hugged me goodbye, leaving me alone with him for what felt like the first time in years. I pulled my chair close to the bed and squeezed his hand. His eyes slowly opened and he smiled at me.

  “You seem to be getting along nicely with Chloe.” He blinked a couple of times, his eyes lingering each time they closed.

  “She just wants you to be happy.” He squeezed his hand and kissed it.

  “I guess our cat is out of the bag, then?” He asked.

  “She’s okay with it.” I rubbed his hand with my thumb.

  “So have you been a good girl while I was knocked out?” He coughed a little bit and then looked back at me. “How is school going?”

  “I…” I sighed and looked at the floor. “I dropped out. I couldn’t do it with you in the hospital.”

  “It sounds like you’re going to be over my knee as soon as I’m strong enough to lift my arms.” He tried to sound angry with me, but he couldn’t muster the strength.

  “When you get strong enough to lift them, I won’t even put up a fight.” I squeezed his hand harder.

  “I guess this isn’t what you signed up for, huh? Now you have to take care of me…” His voice trailed off with another cough.

  “It isn’t about what I signed up for. I’ll take care of you until you’re better, and then I’ll be your little girl again.” I leaned into his hand and kissed it again. “I’m just happy you’re awake.”

  It took months for him to recover. Chloe came by almost daily, so I had to hide all of the evidence of my time as Little Amy. He got frustrated fairly easily, and I understood it. It wasn’t in his nature to depend on someone else. I did everything I could to take care of him and help him find his strength again. We cleared out the guest room and turned it into a gym so he could follow the doctor’s instructions and work out. Every day he got stronger. Once he was able to take care of himself without my assistance, he was ready to go back to work. The doctors didn’t clear him at first, but he spent a lot more time in the gym each day, and a month later, they agreed he could return. I laid everything out for him the night before, and got everything set. I knew he would walk back into his precinct a hero, and I wished I could be there to see it. As I finished up in the bathroom, I heard him calling for me.

  “What do you need darling?” I asked as I walked into the room.

  “What I need.” He tilted his head. “Is for a certain naughty little girl to get her ass over here.” He pointed at his knee.

  I couldn’t get my pajama pants off fast enough. By the time he was done with me, my bottom was scorched and I was a tear soaked mess, but I didn’t care. I had missed being his submissive little girl. He made love to me that night like it was the very first time. Because I had been neglected for so long, he had to stretch me out again and open me up for his girth. Thankfully, it didn’t hurt as much as it did the first time. Feeling him explode inside of me felt like a victory, even if my bottom was still burning when he slid between my thighs. His thirst for me was nearly unquenchable and we barely got any sleep that night. As he drifted off with only a couple of hours to go before he had to return work, I snuggled close to his chest. I was once again his Little Amy, and he was once again in charge. A smile crossed my face as I drifted off to sleep. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

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  SOLDIER’S LITTLE ONE

  It wasn’t fun being a woman without a country. I was born in Russia, and lived my life in the cold tundra with a father who drank vodka until he beat us mercilessly or passed out. My mother was weak and would never stand up to him. She just took her licks, and then climbed into his bed to satisfy him every night if he still had anything left after the vodka settled in his veins. I lived in fear of my father from the moment I could walk, and rightfully so because he was a very dangerous man. He was the product of the old Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, but found a place in the new empire when the old one crumbled. Being his daughter meant I got to rub elbows with some of country’s elite. Most of them knew how dangerous my father was, and even if they suspected something beneath my black eyes and busted, scabbed over mouth, they kept theirs shut. Well, everyone except Lenny. He didn’t give a shit about my father, and he seemed to have a strange infatuation with my mother. I saw my mother begging and pleading with him one night and the next thing I knew, I was being taken from my home in the middle of the night.

  I thought for sure I was going to be taken to a spot in the woods and raped—possibly murdered, but my fate was going to take a different turn. My mother had conspired with Lenny to get me away from my father, and I was taken to a school in Ukraine where my old life faded away. Outside of my father’s grasp, my life flourished. I found my voice, and my teenage years were nice. I dated a boy that I loved with all of my heart, and I graduated with some of the highest grades in my class. Lenny arranged for me to stay with a nice family that he knew, and paid them a nominal amount each month to make sure I was taken care of. I found out later that Lenny and my mother ran away together. Getting rid of me was the beginning of her new life. I was conflicted by the fact they didn’t take me with them, but thankful she did
n’t choose to leave me alone with my father. After I graduated high school, I went back to Russia so that I could go to college. I worked odd jobs and Lenny sent money when he could.

  The final point of my independence came the day I found out my father had died. He had a nice insurance policy due to his work with the government, and my mother put it all in a bank account for me. I wasn’t allowed to touch it until I was twenty five or I graduated from college. Knowing I had some form of an inheritance waiting pushed me to finish college. The boy I had dated in high school drifted away from my life as the years took their toll on our long distance relationship. I really didn’t have time to date, and I was suspicious of suitors after word got out about the money waiting on me when I graduated. My roommate at the time found the bank statement and leaked the story all over school. After graduation, I used the money to buy a house, a car, and I started to look for a job. As luck would have it, I ended up working for the government just like my father. One of Lenny’s old connections gave me an interview and I did everything I could to impress him.

  After a few years of working for the government, I found myself really interested in foreign diplomacy. I had learned to speak English while I was in college, and my translation skills were superb. Once again, Lenny’s connections helped, and I ended up getting an offer to work at the Russian Embassy in America—right in the heart of Washington, D.C. My mother often spoke of America as the land of milk and honey where everything was perfect and no bad things happened. I wanted to see the paradise for myself, so I found a renter for my house, and put my car in storage. Taking a flight for the first time was a little scary, but I made it thanks to a nice glass of wine. I refused to be a slave to alcohol like my father, but I did enjoy a few drops every now and again. It helped to forget the things from my past which haunted my dreams many nights. Despite being happy to return to Russia after my time in Ukraine, I was ready to get away again. Walking the same steps as my father and rubbing shoulders with men and women who knew me as the sad little girl with bruises on her face ate away at me.

  Washington D.C. was amazing. The first night I was there, I decided I wanted it to be my new home. My days were filled with what appeared to be meaningless diplomacy. I mostly just settled stupid squabbles or helped those visiting from Russia when they had trouble. The job was a lot easier than what I left behind in Russia. When the work day was done, I was free to do whatever I wanted. In Russia, my evenings were usually filled with paperwork I couldn’t possibly finish during work hours. I let myself get consumed by the American culture, and I enjoyed it. I met a few nice men that showed interest, and some that were a little scary. One who seemed to be nice at first, but quickly turned out to be nothing more than a spitting image of my father was a man named Lloyd Adams. He was a high ranking member of the American military with some age on him, but it wasn’t enough to take away from him rugged looks. He ensnared my heart me for a little bit, but when I witnessed him getting loud and angry after a night of drinking, I decided I couldn’t see him anymore. He wasn’t willing to give up on what we had, but he also wasn’t willing to give up his whiskey for my hand, so we circled each other at a safe distance. He said he would let me have my space, and I gave him a chance to find his own path of redemption.

  I really thought I could take care of myself. Growing up in Russia, the streets of Washington D.C. seemed to be quite safe. One night, I got a little turned around and I found myself walking through a strange part of the city. The man was on me before I even had a chance to react. He smelled like cheap cigarettes and some form of whiskey I didn’t recognize from the odor. His hand clamped across my mouth and I was pulled into the darkness of an alleyway. My body was slammed into a wall and his hand started going underneath my dress. He wasn’t strong, but he caught me by surprise. He started to whisper the terrible things he intended to do to me and exactly where he was going to put his filthy body parts. I lost it. My vision went red and I started fighting back with everything I could muster. I dislocated his grip and then drove a knee into his groin. He caught me hard with a punch and then I felt myself slam into the wall again—he didn’t hit anywhere near as hard as my father. My fingers dug into my purse and I wrapped around the only thing I could touch, which was an iron nail file. I drove it into his neck so fast that I didn’t even really think about it. Blood splattered everywhere. My dress was soaked, my hands were covered. He dropped to the ground and I knew he was dead or dying. I ran away as fast as I could.

  My shoes came off, and my feet pounded the pavement so hard I thought they would bleed. I ducked into the darkness at every turn, just trying to avoid the main streets. Once I found a familiar part of town, I realized I was less than a mile from Lloyd’s place. I hoofed it there as fast as I could under the cover of darkness and pounded on his door. My mind was clouded and fogged; I couldn’t even begin to think straight. I didn’t know if he was awake or asleep, but I needed him. I needed him more than anything I had ever needed anything in my life. He would know what to do. Death wasn’t strange for him; he had fought in wars and he had killed people. He didn’t come out and say it to me, but I knew it. It was the things that went unsaid which often spoke the loudest. That part of him didn’t bother me. I had grown up around men who killed, fought in wars, and often gave orders for executions—I had just never been there to see it firsthand. I was almost in tears by the time his porch light came on and his door opened.

  “Lana? Is that you?” He started to wipe sleep from his eyes as he opened the screen. He had either been asleep or passed out.

  “Lloyd, can I come in. Please let me come in.” I begged as I looked around, hoping nobody saw me standing on his porch with blood on my dress.

  “You’re covered in blood. Oh my God! Come inside right now!” He flipped off the light and quickly scanned the neighborhood before taking me in his arms and bringing me inside. “What the hell happened?”

  “There was this man… He attacked me. I fought back…” I just started rambling off pieces of information.

  “Are you hurt? Is this your blood?” He took my face in his hands and started to inspect the bruises that were forming around my eyes.

  “No, it isn’t blood.” I pulled my hand up to my face and started to weep.

  “Is he alive? Did you kill him?” He walked over to his bar and poured two glasses. He offered me one and I drank it without thinking. The dark colored liquor burned the sensitive membrane at the back of my throat.

  “I don’t think he made it.” My tears turned into sobs. “We have to call the police.”

  “No!” He said quickly. His words were so harsh that they startled me out of my state of crying for a second. “You’re not an American. If you killed an American, they will only focus on the fact you’re a Russian who killed him on American soil. You know how tense things are right now.”

  “Okay.” I squeaked out my words. He was right. The moment Russia rolled their tanks into Ukraine under the direction of Vladimir Putin, things changed. Calling the police was probably not a good idea.

  “Come with me.” He said as I finished my drink.

  I followed him into the bathroom where he removed my dress. He had seen me naked before, so it wasn’t a big deal. I still did love him, even though I was scared to try and build a life with him. His touch actually eased my fear. He ran a bath with warm water and helped me into it. I sat there and let the heat remove the chill from my bones while he used a sponge to remove the blood from my body. He disappeared with my clothes and came back a short while later with another drink, which I quickly finished. I wasn’t even thinking straight enough to refuse pure liquor, which was something I never liked. He was gentle and kind, which was exactly what I needed in that moment. I felt lucky to have a man like him who would take care of me in my moment of despair. Once I was clean, he wrapped me in a towel and took me to the living room. He lit a fire in his fireplace and the poured another drink. I wanted to ask him to slow down, but I didn’t feel like it was my place. He sat
down beside me with a cigar and held me tight while I stared into the flickering flames. I wanted to forget everything, but it was still fresh on my mind.

  “Did you leave anything behind? I see you have your purse.” He motioned to my handbag, which was casually discarded on the floor. “Did you leave any fingerprints?”

  “I… Yes!” I started to cry as I remembered my nail file in the man’s neck.

  “Okay, tell me everything. Where did this happen?” He grabbed a piece of paper and started taking notes.

  I gave him every detail I could remember and then he disappeared. I heard his motorcycle roar to life in the garage and then he was gone. After he drove away, I began to think a little clearer. I was a Russian national, and as long as I stayed in the Embassy, the United States government couldn’t touch me. I knew that I had to get back there as soon as possible, regardless of what Lloyd managed to do. I looked through his closet and found an older ARMY STRONG t-shirt that would fit, and a pair of sweat pants I was able to tie around my waist tight enough that they wouldn’t fall off. I lay back on the couch and tried to get a little rest so I could go home as soon as he returned. I felt a sense of dread when his motorcycle hummed to silence in the driveway. I sat up as he entered the house. He looked at me and nodded with a smile.