The Institute, Daddy Issues(18)

But even in those kinky clubs, my little girl out­fit would have stood out as odd. I’d been will­ing to ac­cede to Salt’s re­quest to wear it in­stead of the slutty school girl out­fit, mainly be­cause I felt shy about wear­ing the trans­par­ent blouse without a bra on un­der it. But the more I looked down at my­self in the plain light of day—well, the dy­ing light of the even­ing, any­way—the weirder I felt. Hadn’t I had a dress some­thing like this, back when I was a kid? The memory was hazy but it seemed like maybe some­thing my father had bought for me be­fore he skipped town and never looked back…

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.”