by Ava Sinclair
“Your regular table?” She smiles knowingly as she turns. Her mane of straight glossy blonde hair hangs in a shiny streak down her back. She’s poised, comfortable, seductive. She looks back and smiles at Eli. He smiles back and it feels like a knife in my heart.
I’m jealous. Of a hostess. It’s a different kind of shame I feel now, a different kind of helplessness. Eli pulls the chair out and I sit.
“The regular for you, Dr. Crane? Chef Michaels got the salmon in fresh this afternoon.”
“Of course, Melanie.”
“And for the… lady?”
I flush as she begins to rattle off a litany of dishes, some in a foreign language. I feel panicky.
“I’ll just have what he’s having,” I say quietly.
“Then two poached salmon with lime crème fraiche sauce it is.” She pauses. “It is so nice to see you again, Dr. Crane.”
He thanks her and she walks away. I watch Eli watch her go. When he looks back at me, I dart my eyes to the tablecloth, pretending I wasn’t looking.
“You don’t like her,” he says.
I feel embarrassed. “No, it’s not that. I just felt…”
“Jealous?” He reaches over and takes my hand. “No need. She’s a flirt. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, there’s only one woman in this room, and she’s sitting at my table.”
“Why am I in this room? Why am I here, in this place? In this dress?” I shake my head. “Is this some kind of test? An exercise?”
“You overthink things, Sugar. It’s not a test. It’s a revelation. I’d have brought you here eventually. All the women from the manor come here. But I brought you sooner because I feel like your… our progression, is going faster than I expected.”
“Progression?”
“What we offer is radical. It’s a blend of old-fashioned structure combined with cutting edge technology developed by the military. When I came into this with Dr. Brockman, the goal was to change lives. We recruited men who wanted what we wanted—a chance to give society’s oppressed women what they’d been denied. It’s a man’s world, Sugar, and it’s gotten worse as laws favor the wealthy male power structure. We wanted to find a way to heal women like you and the others. But I didn’t count on wanting to be one of those men. I was a manager. I ran things. When Dr. Brockman found Mitzi, I had to admit what drew me to start this project. It was more than charity. I need a certain kind of woman in my life, a unique kind of woman.”
“What does that have to do with me?” I ask the question haltingly, but under the table, my fingers are crossed. A childish gesture, I know, but I’ve fallen for this man. Hard.
“I’m drawn to you, Sugar. I could see feeling about you the way Mitzi and Penelope’s daddies feel about them. But their evolution was slower. You’re such a… natural. You’ve been able to admit your needs, to ask for them, far sooner than I anticipated. But the purpose of this program is for those going through it to grow up and leave, to become independent. I don’t want to deny you that chance, Sugar. That’s why I brought you here.”
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“Look around you,” he says. “It’s the adult world. Look at Melanie. Look at the other diners.”
I do as he says. At a table across the room, a group of young professionals laugh over afternoon cocktails. At another, a couple sits quietly talking. At another, an obviously professional woman taps out something on her phone as she sips a sparkling water.
“You could graduate our program to be any of these women. I’d pay for your schooling, help set you up in an apartment, always be there to advise you. I don’t want to rob you of your future. I know you’ve been hurt before by men, that you’ve been used. I don’t want you to see me like you see a guy who bends you over the hood of his car in the bar parking lot while his friends watch. I don’t want you to see me as the daddy who walks out the door while you cry on a dirty floor.”
I stare at him, lost for words. I had a bad childhood. I had plenty of drunken sex, but what he’s describing is an exaggeration. I quickly overlook it, though. I’m too focused on what he’s offering, if it’s what I think it is.
“What are you saying?”
He falls quiet. A waiter has arrived with our food. It smells divine, but I wonder if there’ll be room for it in a stomach so full of butterflies. He waits for the waiter to leave before answering.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you, Sugar. I feel… drawn to you. To your submission.”
“Are you saying I could have what Penelope and Mitzi have?”
He sighs. “Yes. But it would be 24/7. I’m a daddy dom, Sugar. Do you know what that is?”
“I think so. It’s like an… alpha guy who wants to act as your substitute father?”
“Yes, but you’d also be my lover. And if things work out… more.”
More. He’s not proposing marriage. I think we both know that even with the potential for what’s budding between us, it’s too early to be hearing wedding bells. But I can imagine it. I can imagine living like I’ve been living at the manor.
“I… I think I’d like that.” I feel a smile spread over my face. “I’d like that very much.”
“No, Sugar. I don’t want you to answer yet.”
“What do you want?” I’m confused now.
He leans over and takes my hand. “At this moment? I want you to enjoy this delicious meal. It will please your daddy.”
Chapter 15
Eli
Although we’re not at the manor, I’m pleased to note how quickly Sugar returns to that frame of mind, even if she is dressed like a glamor model. She cleans her plate under my watchful eye. Afterwards, we go back to the car, but we aren’t heading back to the manor. We’re going in the opposite direction, towards the city.
She’s not been here since her arraignment. As she watches the buildings, I watch her. I can see her tense when we pass the court complex where she was sentenced. The tension eases when we move away from that part of town, to be replaced by a sense of wonder when we enter the shopping district. Sugar stares through the windows at people exiting tony stores or drinking coffee on sidewalk café tables. At stoplights, she watches the business people. As we pass a park, she stares quietly at mothers and children. She’s seeing what I brought her to see. She’s seeing normalcy. She’s seeing life as part of a society that has yet to let women of her social caste in. She’s seeing the life she can have should she complete the program that would fill in the emotional gaps left by a missing childhood and provide ongoing support should she join the adult world.
I want her to see what she’ll be giving up if she stays with me. I’m offering her the chance live in the childhood I’m giving her. She can be the little girl she wasn’t allowed to be for as long as she wants. But I want her to be sure. I want her to be mindful of what it will mean. Sugar was right when she said what happens at the manor isn’t normal, but I’m not normal and neither is she.
We head back. When the manor comes into view, she cranes her neck and smiles. It’s the smile of a child glad to be home. My cock stiffens in my pants. I want her so badly, and it occurs to me that I could take her here in the back seat of this car and she’d let me. But I want it to be special. I have already decided that if she wants to move on, I will let her. I love her enough to let her go.
“Did you enjoy your outing?” I ask.
“Yes. Thank you.” She pauses. “But it’s good to be home, Daddy.”
“My sweet little one.” I take her face between my hands and plant a kiss on her forehead before helping her from the car. It’s past dark. It’s time for her to go to bed. I lead her up to her room. I’m about to ring Nora when she stops me.
“No,” she says. “Don’t bother her.” She drops her eyes shyly. “Can you help me change for bed?”
My little temptress. “Sure I will.”
“And tuck me in?”
“If that’s what you want.”
She walks to the wardrobe and kicks off her
shoes before opening a drawer and pulling out a gown. She goes into the bathroom and leaves the door cracked. Through it, I can see her washing her face and letting down her hair. She exits in her bare feet, clutching the gown. When she reaches me, she tosses the night dress on a nearby chair and raises her arms. I reach for the hem and pull the dress over her head.
“It’s pretty, but I prefer my other clothes,” she says quietly.
“Hush, little one,” I say. We’ve agreed that she’ll take several days to consider my offer. I plan to prepare for the possibility that she may want to stay on track to leave, in which case I will still fill the role of a firm father figure, but will have to distance myself emotionally and physically.
But it’s difficult, especially when she reaches back to remove her bra and then slips off her panties.
“I forgot to get some that match the gown,” she says, handing me the ones she’s removed. I long to put them to my nose, to inhale the scent she’s left behind. Instead, I take her underthings and put them on the chair before fetching her a pair of pink panties. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed. I slip the panties on, looking up to see the smooth mound of her pussy, longing to slide my tongue into the deep cleft and flick the clit I know is likely already hard in anticipation. Instead, I stand and lift her legs, moving them over. I pull the blanket over her and look down into her eyes.
“Sugar, I want you to take your time. This is an important decision. You don’t have to give me an answer right away, but I think it’s best if we not be physical if you decide you want to move on eventually. It won’t be for lack of desire. I just want you to have the best start in a new life if that’s what you choose. I don’t want you to be conflicted or confused. I want you to have the best life.”
She’s disappointed. I can tell. But she nods.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“I have to work in the morning, but I should be free in the afternoon.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Goodnight, little one.” I lean down and kiss her. I glance back once before exiting the room, just in time to see her slip her hand under the blanket to satisfy the ache I’ve left her with.
Chapter 16
Sugar
I’ve hardly slept. How can I? Eli Crane has offered me something I never knew I wanted until I experienced it.
Rules. Spankings. Bedtimes. Hours of leisure. Hugs when I need them. I didn’t see anything out those car windows that could compare with what I have here with the gorgeous man who wants to be my daddy.
Although I have been up well before dawn, I’m full of energy. I’ve been watching the wall clock as the hours drag by. I can’t wait for Nora to bring me breakfast. I can’t wait to pick out a pretty dress and run down to Eli’s office and tell him that I don’t need time, that I know what I want. I want to throw myself into his arms and thank him for being so tuned in to me that he knew what I needed before I did.
By the time Nora arrives with breakfast, I’ve laid out my outfit for the day. It’s a white blouse, red pleated skirt, white knee socks, and patent leather black Mary Janes.
“Someone’s cheerful this morning.” Nora offers me a motherly smile as I force down the last bite of my Belgian waffles, thinking how Daddy said he likes to see a woman with a healthy appetite. No dainty picking for me. As Eli’s little one, I can enjoy my food. It’s another bonus.
“I’m just feeling happy,” I say. I push away from the table. “Do you think Daddy will like this outfit?”
The nurse shoots me a quizzical look. “Daddy? My, but you have come a long way in a short time, Sugar. And yes, I think he’ll like it very much.” She walks to the dressing table. “How about we braid your hair today. And put matching red bows on the end.”
I remember how I resisted the idea of hair bows. Now all I can do is imagine how Daddy will compliment them. I dress quickly and sit at the table, enjoying this session far more than the one that made me look like a grown-up starlet.
“Can I go see Penelope?”
“I was going to suggest that,” Nora says.
I feel guilty about lying. I’m really planning to go to Eli’s office, but I don’t want Nora to tip him off.
“One more thing,” I say. I lean forward and pick up the necklace he gave me. “Can you help me put it on?”
“Sure.” Nora clasps it at the back. As soon as it’s done I leap from my chair.
“No running on the stairs!” Her voice follows me as I do just that, although I’m careful. I head down, stopping to walk when I reach the floor where his office is. I imagine canceling on Penelope so I can spend the afternoon with Daddy. I imagine the look on his happy face when I tell him I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to grow up, I want to be his.
The door is shut. I lift my hand to knock, but don’t. Instead I test the knob, and when I find it’s unlocked, turn it and hop into the office with a “BOO!”
It’s empty. He’s not here. I frown. He was supposed to be working. I look at his desk. He has two cups of coffee at breakfast. The cup on his desk is empty. Maybe he’s gone to get more. I can wait.
I walk around, looking at pictures I’ve seen before. There are some framed on his desk. I walk over. One shows a young boy on a boat with a man who looks very much like Eli looks now. It must be him with his father. I pick the photo up, run my finger across the picture and put it down. As I do, it nudges the computer mouse and the monitor, which had been in sleep mode, comes to life.
The screensaver is a sunset against a mountain ridge. At the top of the screen are folder icons, and I’m about to look away when I see something that catches my eye. Under one folder is a label: PROJECT_SUGAR.
I haven’t had much experience with computers. I was taught to use them in school, and it was mandatory to use them at public check-ins since updating employment records is required. I stare at the folder. I shouldn’t click on it. This is Daddy’s office. But it’s my folder. It has to be.
I find my hand moving to the mouse, positioning the little white arrow on screen over the folder. I double click. It opens.
More folders, with different labels. RECORD. MEDICAL. STATS. The fourth one makes me pause. MEMORY_DOWNLOADS.
I feel a sudden unease. I look to the door and then back at the screen. I don’t pause this time. I click on that folder. Small video players fill the screen. I move to the first one and click. It starts to play and I sink into the chair as I realize in an instant what this is. I remember what I’m seeing. I remember those boots. That voice. The sound of that crying. I remember the sound of my own voice. There’s a graph at the bottom gauging the distress, both the memory and my reaction obviously recorded when it was stolen from me.
My hand is shaking as I move to the next player. I feel like I’m going to throw up. The room is spinning. These are things I’d pushed from my mind, coming back now as I watch them. Childhood abuse. Gnawing hunger and loneliness. I see a few happy moments, too. My biological father gives me a necklace with a flower on it. I feel sicker as I glance down at the one on my chest. The stuffed cat, Sandy. I’m crying for it in another memory clip.
Oh my god.
I want to stop watching, but I can’t. I keep my finger on the mouse, my queasiness turning to outrage and betrayal when I find a memory of a drunken incident where a man bangs me over the hood of the car. I can hear laughter from his friends.
This is how Eli knew. He didn’t know me. He has gathered intelligence, using my deepest, repressed stolen memories to offer me the antitheses of what they held.
I stand up, gasping for breath as I suppress a sob. With a cry of rage, I rip the necklace off and fling it across the room before clearing Eli’s desk with a furious sweep of my arm. Framed photos and the computer holding the memories—my memories, crash to the floor.
How could he do this to me? How could he have violated me like this? What we offer is radical. It’s a blend of old-fashioned structure combined with cutting edge technology developed by the military. Why didn’t
he tell me? I had a right to know.
I have to get out of here. I look up at the ceiling, noting a small globe. There are cameras everywhere. I walk over to stare into one.
“Fuck you, Dr. Crane,” I say. “Your little girl is running away from home.”
Chapter 17
Eli
“Eli, we have a problem. Where the hell are you?”
I usually keep my phone in my pocket, but for some reason I left it on my front seat when I was picking up mail that needed an official signature. There was a line, and I’d found myself irritable as I’d waited. When I got back to the car I saw six messages, all from Chance Brockman.
I opened them, my anxiety mounting. The first one that appeared on the screen was the latest. I scrolled back to read the earlier ones that had come in between frantic calls.
“We have an incident.”
“There’s a problem with Sugar.”
“I need to hear from you. Come quickly.”
The last thing I need is a speeding ticket, but I’m willing to risk it. As I weave in and out of traffic, I push the button dialing Chance’s office. He picks up right away.
“Eli. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I see that. What’s wrong? Is Sugar hurt?” He’s so quiet that for a moment I think I’ve lost the connection. “Chance, what’s happened?”
“Just come back. It’s better if I tell you in person.”
He hangs up before I can reply. I gun the accelerator as I hit the open stretch of road outside the city. I take curves with no thought to the risk. All I can think of is getting back to the manor. What has happened that was so bad my partner couldn’t tell me on the phone?
I bring the car to a screeching halt in the circle driveway in front of the huge house, taking two steps at a time as I run inside. I head directly to Chance’s office, which is on the ground floor. I find him sitting at his desk, looking weary and concerned.