Jackson
A week passes and I still can’t wrap my head around myself. I like Sara Jean a whole hell of a lot. Everything about the girl is perfect and she wants me. Well, she did anyway. Who the hell knows if she wants me anymore? I don’t know what the hell my problem is. All I know for sure is that I ought to have my damned head examined. That girl is everything I want in a little girl.
Forget about the physical side, although she’s just about perfect where that is concerned. Her body still flashes through my mind all the time; from her incredibly pretty face to her perfect breasts, remarkable ass and… Well, Jesus, this girl is everything a man could want physically. However, it’s the rest of her that really attracts me. She’s smart. She’s exciting. She’s funny. She’s sweet. Sara Jean is everything I want in a little girl.
How the hell am I supposed to tell her that’s why I couldn’t take her up on her offer?
I know being hurt is nothing new. People are hurt in relationships time and time again. However, most people don’t come home one night and discover their forever little girl with another man’s cock in her mouth.
“Oh my God, Daddy!”
“Don’t call me that.”
That’s the last conversation I had with Tina. I didn’t bother trying to figure out the reasons. I can still recall how difficult it was to move all of my things out and get my name off the lease, without ever once talking to her. That was a hell of a lot easier on me, though, than returning the engagement ring she would have seen a week later.
The guy she slept with was her ex-boyfriend, and I guess that makes it better than… Hell, nothing makes it better. Eight months later, I’m still terrified of putting my hopes and dreams in someone else’s hands. The worst part about it is I would have screwed Sara Jean like an animal if not for the fact that she’s perfect. If I can want her body without wanting anything else, I can enjoy her body. I can’t, though. I don’t see her ass and her breasts and her perfect little pussy. I see Sara Jean.
Okay, I’m a man. I see all of that. The point is I can’t see all of that without also seeing the Sara Jean who is everything I want in a little girl.
Damn.
I couldn’t form words to say the right thing. How fucking hard is it to say, “I broke up with my fiancée, and I’m not ready yet,” for fuck’s sake? If those words came out, she wouldn’t have been so hurt. Sure, awkwardness would still be there but…
I need to get some air. I also haven’t eaten in a day and a half. I leave my place and call Thad. He knows nothing about what happened, at least not from my side. I have no idea about what Sara Jean might have said to anyone.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“Where’s that diner you were talking about? I’m hungry and don’t feel like cooking.” I don’t add that I haven’t eaten for as long as I have.
“How about the club, then? I can meet you there in an hour.”
“Nah, man. I don’t feel like being around anyone I know either. Just let me know where the club is.”
“Hanson and Devoe,” he replies, “but…” I hang up before he can try to convince me to hang out. I feel slightly guilty about that and I feel really guilty for how I turned down Sara Jean, but didn’t explain. Damn it, going out is just as mind-killing as staying in was. I’m so hungry, though, there’s no turning back. I drive to the diner and the hostess, a girl who appears very sweet and perky with a nametag that reads Tabitha, smiles at me.
“You can seat yourself. You look familiar.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
“I think I’ve seen you at the club.” She hands me a menu. There’s only one club in town, and since I’ve only been there on the few days when it’s all ageplay – apart from the date that blew up with Sara Jean – it’s a safe assumption that she’s a little girl.
I smile and say, “Maybe. That lady who sings there is incredible.” I give her a nod and hurry away. I don’t need to talk about ageplay, even in the veiled way people in the lifestyle always do when nobody is around. I sit at a booth and put the menu down. I already know my order. A cup appears in front of me and fills with coffee. I don’t look up at the waitress. “Two eggs over easy. Bacon, sausage, hash browns, and rye toast.”
“Will there be anything else, sir?” the waitress asks coldly.
Holy shit. “Sara Jean,” I say and look up.
She stares at me with the most disinterested look I have ever seen and repeats, “Will there be anything else, sir?”
I mean to get up and just leave. Instead, I say, “I broke up with my fiancée a few months back and I wasn’t ready. I didn’t get a chance to tell you. It really was me and not you. That wasn’t a line.”
She stares daggers at me and then her expression softens. “Really? Someone had you but let you go?” Oddly, what should have sent daggers of pain through me actually comes across as sweet. Maybe it’s the disbelief in her voice.
“I… this is going to sound stupid. If… I could have slept with you if you weren’t…” I shake my head. “I could have but only because I want more than just that from you, and that’s what I wasn’t ready for.”
“Was.”
“Huh?”
“You said, ‘wasn’t’ and so you weren’t ready. Did you mean you aren’t ready still?”
I take a deep breath and say, “The date was perfect, and until we got there, I thought I’d love to give things a chance but then… but then, I just got…”
She smiles and even blushes a little. “You thought the date was perfect?”
I nod. “I wish it hadn’t ended the way it did.”
“I’m off in an hour. Why don’t you eat and then follow me to my place. We’ll pretend it’s the end of our date from last week.” She leans down and kisses my cheek. “I’ll change into something comfortable when we get there but I promise I won’t disappear into the bedroom and come out nude, okay?”
I chuckle and say, “It’s a deal.”
I don’t think any meal ever tastes as good as the breakfast plate I eat while I wait for her to finish her shift.