Daddy Issues Page 5
Stop it, I told myself fiercely. You’re not even in the front door yet and you’re already having repressed memories or whatever they call them. Do you want to prove Professor Stevens right about your “Daddy issues” before this case even gets started?
“I just don’t like it,” I said, frowning up at Salt. “I mean, I’ve got bows in my hair and shiny little patent leather shoes on my feet. It feels perverted.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “More perverted than the other where your body is on display? At least in this you are covered.” He nodded approvingly at the dress.
“Covered in a pedophile’s wet dream,” I muttered sulkily. “Come on, Salt, this is gross.”
“Look, Andi…” He blew out a breath in obvious frustration. “The reason I asked you to wear this one instead of the other is simple—the other is too distracting. We both of us must keep our minds on the case. I find that very hard to do when you are so exposed.”
His words made me pause. Could he mean what I thought he meant? Could it be that seeing me in the slutty school girl outfit was hard for him because he wanted me? Sexually? But surely not—we were just partners, weren’t we? Then I thought of the hard lump I’d felt under my ass when I sat on his lap the night before.
“Salt,” I said hesitantly. “Are you saying…what are you saying?”
He sighed and looked at me.
“I am saying you are very beautiful woman, Andi. Most of the time I can remind myself you are my partner and is easy to deal with. But if you are wearing that outfit, climbing me like tree and sitting in my lap…well, will be much more difficult.” He leaned forward and stroked my cheek gently. “So please…for me will you wear the dress? At least for a little while? Is much easier this way. Much less sexual.”
“Well…okay,” I said at last. I was taken aback because this was the first time Salt had admitted he found me sexually arousing. I mean, there were always little things like the comments about my eyes or telling me I was pretty but he’d never actually come out and said I made him hot.
I should have been upset or taken aback but, just like the night before when he’d gotten hard for me, I kind of liked it. It made me feel beautiful…powerful to know my partner was attracted to me.
Careful, Andi, I told myself sternly. You’re on a slippery slope here. Go too far in the wrong direction and you could ruin the best partnership of your life. Hell, the best relationship period. So be careful—be damn careful.
Yes, I would, I resolved to myself. I would watch what I said and did and if Salt found it easier for me to play this age than the slutty teenager, I could manage it. I would have to manage it.
“Come, is time to go. We will be late for dinner.” Salt got out of the car and came around to get the door for me, as he always did. When he opened the door and held out a hand, I took it with a coquettish smile.
“Thank you, Papa,” I said demurely—might as well get into character now. Salt seemed to feel the same way because he smiled and nodded.
“You’re welcome my little mishka.”
Tucking my arm through his, he led me through the parking lot around to the front of the building, which didn’t look much better than the back.
“Sheesh,” I said under my breath. “It’s not much to look at, is it? Are you sure we’re in the right place? It just looks like an old abandoned cigar factory.”
“This is it,” Salt assured me. “Hopefully will be better on the inside.”
“Hopefully,” I said. “It could hardly be worse.”
The big building was a dull, uniform gray with peeling paint and a rusty fire escape clinging to one side. The few windows at the front were boarded up like blind eyes. Only the broad wooden double doors at the top of the long row of crumbling brick steps gave any indication of wealth. They, at least, looked new and when Salt rang the bell soft, rich chimes sounded from within.
A small peephole I hadn’t noticed before slid open in one of the doors.
“Name?” a cultured voice asked.
“I am Viktor Saltanov from Moscow,” Salt said, deliberately deepening his accent. “I was told to be here at this time for dinner? Yes?”
“Oh, yes of course.” The small peephole shut and the front doors swung open, revealing an opulent hallway flooded with golden light—the exact opposite of the outside of the building. “Do come in,” said the butler—because he had to be a butler. Dressed as he was in black and white with white gloves there was nothing else he could be.
“Thank you.” Salt entered with me still on his arm.
I looked around, my eyes narrowed as I searched for possible threats. The Captain had told us that Berkley, the man who owned and ran the Institute, was a dangerous guy, possibly with ties to the Mob. We weren’t absolutely sure he was the one distributing Please, but it was a pretty safe bet he was involved in one way or another.
But all I saw in my scan of the entryway was a broad, open area with hardwood floors and an old fashioned crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. There were two curving staircases, one on either side of the entryway but I couldn’t see where either of them led. Expensive looking paintings hung on the walls as well as an antique mirror with an ornate, scrolled frame. When I looked at my reflection, I got a nasty shock. I saw a little girl wearing a fluffy party dress hanging on her father’s arm like she was about to go to a Daddy/daughter dance.
The Valentine’s Day dance—that’s why he bought me the dress! But he left before it happened. I never got to wear it and Mom threw it out. She said— I shut down the memory hastily and looked away. I really had to get hold of myself if this was going to work!
“We’re very glad to have you here, Mr. Saltanov,” the butler said. “Director Berkley is expecting you.”
“So I am and it’s good to see you got here safely.” A tall man with iron gray hair suddenly appeared, smiling at Salt. I realized he must have come up to us while I was staring in the mirror, having morbid thoughts. “You had a comfortable flight from Moscow, I hope?” he said, holding out his hand.
“Moderately comfortable.” Salt made a see-saw gesture with one hand. “First class is not what it once was. Still, my little mishka was happy. She loves plane rides. Isn’t that right, mishka?”
He looked down at me affectionately and I tried to return his smile but the sight of the two of us in that damn mirror kept tugging at me. There was a long silence and I realized Salt was waiting for me to agree with him.
“Yes, Papa,” I managed. “It was fun.”
It sounded lame, even to me but it was too late to take it back.
“Well…” Director Berkley smiled and bent down, putting his hands on his knees. “And this must be your Little,” he said in singsong voice as though he was talking to a small child.
“Yes, this is my mishka,” Salt said. “She is…how do you say? New to the concepts your Institute is founded on. We are both here to learn.”
“Is that right?” Berkley looked at me with interest. “How long have you been your Daddy’s little girl, my dear?”
“Just a few months,” I said tightly. I knew I ought to act shy or coy like a real little girl might but this guy’s simpering, condescending attitude was getting on my nerves and the image in the mirror seemed to be mocking me.
“And do you like it?” Berkley persisted.
“Sure,” I said flatly. “It’s great.”
He stood upright, frowning. “You don’t seem too thrilled about it, my dear.” He looked at Salt. “Mr. Saltanov, I hate to ask, but are you certain your Little is as c
ommitted to this relationship as you are? We want only happy Daddy/Babygirl couples here at the Institute. One unwilling or unhappy participant can spoil the mood for everyone.”
“My little mishka is simply tired from the long trip,” Salt said quickly. He drew me against his side, his arm firm around my shoulders, making sure I couldn’t get away. “Is a long flight from Moscow. Very long.”
“I see.” Berkley still didn’t look convinced. “Well, as you’ve come all this way we will of course, give you a trial as we do all of our participants.”
“Thank you,” Salt said with dignity. “I believe we were supposed to arrive in time for dinner. Are we too late?”
“Not at all! In fact, you’re a bit early.” Berkley smiled. “Why don’t I give you a tour of the Institute while we wait for dinner to be served?”
“Very well. I am eager to see all of your facilities.” Salt nodded.
“Good! This way if you please.” Director Berkley led us through the entryway, past the two staircases.
“What’s up the stairs?” I asked in impulse.
He frowned at me. “Young lady, in the future it’s better to remember that Littles should be seen and not heard. But since you’re new here I will answer your question. The right hand staircase leads to the guest suites, one of which has been reserved for you and your Daddy. The left hand staircase, however, leads to the punishment areas. Never fear—you will see those soon enough.”
Punishment areas? That sounded ominous. I grabbed Salt’s hand just like a real little girl would and felt instantly better when he entwined our fingers and squeezed. Then I felt ashamed of my reaction. We’d been on plenty of dangerous missions before and I’d never felt the urge to hold Salt’s hand. Why should I need his reassurance now? But the fact remained that the touch of his big hand on mine made me feel better and try though I might, I couldn’t make myself let go.
“Now this is the main hallway,” Director Berkley was saying. “Most of the other public areas lead off from it. This is the way to the dining room,” he pointed at one door. “And further down here you’ll find the playroom. Does your Little like play-dates with other Babygirls?” he asked Salt. “We always have two or three Babygirls playing there during the afternoons. All we ask is that everyone play nicely.”
He shot me a sidelong glance as though he wasn’t sure I was capable of that. I didn’t even try to smile back—the man was seriously creeping me out with his talk of play-dates and Babygirls.
“Mishka always plays nicely with others,” Salt said firmly and squeezed my hand again.
“Um, yeah. I do,” I chimed in.
Berkley shot me another disapproving glance and nodded. Huh—had it been wrong of me to answer? Did he really mean that seen and not heard crap? What a load of bullshit! Still, there was nothing to do but try to smile at him—I wasn’t very successful—and go on with the tour.
“So then, further down on the other side is the Institute costume shop.” He pointed to a wooden door which had the thespian sign of two masks—one sad and one happy—painted on it. “Anything you need or desire for any age can be found there,” he told Salt. “And there’s no need to pay right away—it will simply be charged to your room.”
“Thank you—is good to know,” Salt said. “Mishka and I had to pack lightly so we have not many outfits for her.”
“Leave it to Deirdre, our costume lady,” Director Berkley said cheerfully. “She has impeccable taste. Now further down the hallway we have a private indoor swimming pool, sauna, and spa. Littles can have beauty treatments just like big girls.”
“Do you have a masseuse on staff then?” I asked without thinking. I was thinking that the patent leather little girl shoes that went with the damn dress I was wearing were pinching my toes like crazy. A foot massage right about now would be nice.
“Naturally not.” Berkley glared at me but refrained from telling me to shut up—barely. “That job is reserved for the Daddies or Bigs, as we sometimes call them.” He nodded at the doorway again, which had a little wave sign on it. “You can find any kind of massage oil or cream you need to soothe or stimulate your Little.”
Ugh. I shivered involuntarily. But then I thought of Salt rubbing me all over with massage oil, of those big, warm hands caressing my bare back and then moving lower… Suddenly my disgust melted away to be replaced with interest.
But no—we were trying to keep this assignment as unsexual as possible. I needed to stop having thoughts like this—it was too weird and confusing.
“Tell me,” Salt asked Berkley. “You say you have things to stimulate the Littles. Do you perhaps have something to stimulate libido as well? Mishka and I have been taking things slowly but maybe with a little help…”
Berkley frowned. “If you’re talking about an aphrodisiac, no certainly not. We do not have a doctor on staff, so it wouldn’t be safe to dispense medication.”
“I see,” Salt said neutrally. “But I have come all the way from Russia because you promise something different here. Something stimulating.”
Berkley nodded. “Well, Mr. Saltanov, we do have a nurse in our medical wing. She can recommend various salves that we have mixed at a local apothecary which will give your Little new and stimulating sensations. I think you’ll find the results are most satisfactory with even the most reluctant of Littles.”
He shot me a glance which I returned blandly.
“Why do you have a medical wing if you don’t have a doctor?” I asked. To hell with the little girl persona—he already thought I was a horrible Little anyway. Might as well get some answers.
“Because, young lady, some of our Daddies and Babygirls like to participate in medical play,” snapped Berkley.
“Medical play?” I asked, squeezing Salt’s hand more tightly. “What the hell is that?”
“Young Lady.” Berkley was positively glowering at me now. “While you are here at the Institute, please be aware that any swearing is severely punished.” He looked at Salt. “If your Little cannot curb herself, Mr. Saltanov, I’m afraid you will be required to.”
I stared at the man. Was he really that upset because I’d said “hell”?
“I am sorry, Director Berkley. Will not happen again.” Salt turned to me and held up one finger. “Mishka, I realize you are tired after long journey but this kind of behavior is unacceptable. You will start behaving at once.”
“But—” I began
Salt leaned even closer, his ice blue eyes blazing into mine.
“Mishka,” he rumbled. “This is your last warning. Do not make me put you over my knee.”
I felt my heart rate start to quicken. Was Salt serious? Would he really spank me? Surely not but… I saw no levity in that ice blue gaze, no acknowledgement that he was just talking to make Berkley happy. For a moment, I was convinced that he really would put me over his knee, pull up my skirt, push down my panties and whip me until my backside stung.
“All right, Papa,” I said, trying to sound contrite. “I’m sorry. I was just…just curious.”
“Well, let us satisfy your curiosity about our medical facilities at once,” Berkley said. “It’s upstairs along with the other punishment areas. I think we have just enough time for a quick tour before dinner starts.” He glanced at his watch—a Rolex by the look of it. Clearly the Institute was making bank—or else he was making a tidy profit from pushing Please. I didn’t buy his protests that they didn’t dispense any medication around here.
We followed him back the
way we had come but I couldn’t help noticing there was another hallway leading off the main one that he had failed to mention. What was back there? Was it just service areas? Or maybe a secret lab full of chemistry equipment for cooking Please?
I nudged Salt and nodded at the other hallway.
“What is there?” he asked Berkley, pointing.
“A private office,” Berkley said shortly. “And you should know that I am showing you all of the admissible areas at the Institute on our little tour. We warn all our guests—our curious Littles especially—that other areas are off limits for safety reasons.”
“Safety reasons?” Salt rumbled.
“Of course. The kitchen, for instance. We don’t want any of our Littles cutting themselves on knives or getting burned on a hot stove. It’s purely common sense.”
“Oh, of course.” Salt nodded but I cast one last glace at the private hallway and promised myself I would look into it later, when Salt and I didn’t have Berkley to contend with.
We came back to the entryway and the director led us up the left hand curving staircase. My little black shoes clattered on the wooden stairs and I winced as they pinched my toes unmercifully. Maybe we could visit the costume shop and find me something more comfortable—I swore these were going to give me blisters if I didn’t get them off soon!
The staircase ended in a forbidding looking set of double doors, both painted black. There was a sign hanging on one that said, Naughty Girls.
I tried not to roll my eyes. Were they serious with this crap?
“Here we are,” Berkley said in a hushed voice. “Come right this way.” He opened the Naughty Girls door and stood back, waiting for Salt and I to go in before him.
Though I had scoffed to myself about the door, I was strangely reluctant to enter the punishment wing of the Institute. But Berkley wanted to show us and we needed to look everywhere for traces of the drug we had come to find. This was actually a good opportunity, I told myself. Still, part of me didn’t want to go past that black door.