And above all, I didn’t want to get hurt.
These were my rather morbid thoughts as my partner drove me through the darkened Tampa streets, headed for an unknown destination.
“Salt,” I said, trying to put the depressing thoughts from my mind. “About that Pearson’s case—”
“No.” He held up a hand and shook his head. “No talk of work tonight, please. And you will call me ‘Papa’—Da?”
“What?” I looked at him uneasily. “Come on, Salt—you know we don’t do that outside—don’t call each other those names where anyone can hear us.”
“Because no one else would understand. I know.” He nodded. “But we are alone tonight and I would like you to call me Papa—is that clear, mishka?”
I felt the familiar twist of pleasure in my belly at his low commanding tone. It was time to put all the doubts and worries out of my head—it was clear that at least for now, Salt wasn’t tiring of our little game—not a bit.
“All right, Papa,” I said contritely. “So can you tell me where we’re going?”
“No, I cannot. You must find out for yourself.” He gave me one of his rare smiles and then turned the car into a darker street.
“Where are we heading?” I couldn’t help asking again. I hoped he wasn’t taking me to an Age Play convention or something like that. I had seen such things on the Internet but I had no wish to “play” with anyone else in any kind of public setting. I’d had enough of that at the Institute to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. Just being “mishka” to Salt’s “Papa” was enough to satisfy my cravings without involving anyone else.
“You’ll see soon enough,” Salt told me. “In fact—we are here.”
He turned the car towards a darkened building—well, mostly dark—one area of it seemed to be lit up and that was the part he headed for.
“What is this?” I asked, frowning. Then I caught a glance at the sign out front. Parker Davis High School for Gifted Youth, it said. “Hey, why are you taking me to a school?” I asked, looking at Salt, completely mystified.
He gave me a mysterious smile.
“You will see. Is private school and they rent out their auditorium for events sometimes.”
“Events?” I looked around the deserted parking lot as he pulled in. “What event? We’re the only ones here.”
“Which is the way we like it, Da?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “We have agreed that others would probably not understand the way we like to be together so this is a private event—only the two of us.”
“But what—?”
He got out of the car and came around to open my door. This being February it was a little chilly—about as cold as Tampa ever gets. I shivered at the blast if cool air as it gusted into the car, lifting my short, frilly skirt.
“Come inside where it’s warm, my darling,” Salt said gently. He offered me his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. I took it, still completely mystified, and let him lead me towards the auditorium.
My little girl sandals crunched over the gravel in the parking lot and I saw that the lights leaking out of the building were dim and multi-colored. It was the same kind of lighting I remembered from the school dances I’d been to back in high school.
We got to the door and Salt drew a key out of his pocket and opened it with a flourish.
“Come, mishka,” he murmured. “Come inside.”
I stepped in, completely bemused by his strange behavior. The auditorium was a small one but it seemed large because it was just the two of us inside.
After Salt closed the door and my eyes got adjusted to the dim light, I looked around and saw that all the chairs had been arranged around the edges of the floor, leaving a large, open space in the middle. There was soft music playing and the colored lights were coming from above, slowly blinking and changing as they illuminated the makeshift dance floor. Heart-shaped balloons and silver and red streamers decorated the walls and in one corner a small round table was set up with a punch bowl filled with pale pink punch. From the ceiling, a banner was hanging.