Big Beautiful Little (12 page)

“Oh, yes, daddy,” she said. “More than anything in the world.”

* * *

The house was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. By the time they reached the sunny parlor, Tiffany was feeling much better. The experience of such full submission had made her feel more like a little girl than ever, and meeting Fiona Baxter only made the day better.

Fiona was as trim as Tiffany was lush. In fact, Tiffany thought it would be quite easy to mistake the diminutive brunette for an older child. Her figure was so lithe as to appear pre-pubescent, and her large eyes and heart-shaped face gave her a doll-like appearance.

It was clear from the outset that Dr. Baxter doted on his little wife, who also differed from Tiffany in her extroverted enthusiasm.

“Is this the new friend you told me about, papa?” she asked, leaping to her feet from where she’d been playing on the floor. Tiffany wasn’t used to being hugged by strangers, and shot Lance a nervous look as Fiona ran up and threw her arms around her neck.

“I like her! She’s soft!” the smaller woman exclaimed.

“I like her for the same reason,” Lance chimed in.

“Uncle Lance!” Fiona turned and launched herself at Lance then.

“Someone’s excited,” Dr. Baxter observed, then his voice adopted a tone of mock consternation as he took hold of Fiona and pulled her away. “Now, now,” he scolded. “Let’s curb the enthusiasm a bit, shall we?” He looked at Tiffany. “My little one can be a bit overwhelming at times. Your daddy knows all about that.”

“Your daddy’s my uncle. That makes us cousins and my papa can be your uncle, too!”

Tiffany was feeling overwhelmed. She knew Lance was friends with the couple, but had no idea they were this close. She thought about the handsome doctor being her uncle and flushed.

“Let’s have some dinner, shall we?” Dr. Baxter was turning and heading from the room now as the others followed. In the dining room, a table was set for four, but for the women there were pink plates, adult-size sippy cups, and pre-cut food. The meal was delicious, though, and Tiffany noted that Dr. Baxter—like Lance—obviously followed a healthy regimen for himself and his little.

“So how is business?” Lance was asking.

“Busier than I could imagine,” the doctor replied. “I don’t know if it’s the open-mindedness of the region or an interest in age play or both, but I can barely keep up with the number of clients I’m getting. I’m hiring a nurse and she starts next week. But I’m thinking it may be time to do something even more ambitious.”

“Oh?” Lance asked.

“I’ve been in contact with some people on the East Coast. They run a program—the Eden Institute. Have you heard of it?” When Lance shook his head, his friend continued. “I’m not surprised. It’s pretty hush-hush. They started by selecting and screening inmates from minimum security correctional facilities—non-violent white collar crime types or people on drug charges—and they recruit those inmates for training as partners for men and women like us. The sentences were waived and every couple that’s been matched at Eden has remained together. It’s quite a few.”

“Is that legal?” Lance asked.

“Well, it’s definitely dicey, even with some heavy-hitting government contacts covering for them,” Dr. Baxter replied. “But the heads of Eden are thinking it’s time for a change. They’re considering making a move to something a little less risky.”

“Like what?”

“Like a planned community—a place where couples can live, and other couples can come.”

“Where?”

Dr. Baxter smiled. “Here.”

“Here? In Washington State?”

“Why not?” Dr. Baxter leaned back in his chair. “The Eden folks are wealthy and would appreciate the cultural progressivism of the area. As you know, my parents left me not just this house, but lots of land. I’ve been thinking of something to do with it, and why not develop a community?”

“A new Eden,” Lance mused.

“Not a new Eden, but something different. Something better. And it would be much larger than Eden since it would include couples from here.” Dr. Baxter smiled at the two women who were listening to the conversation. “What would you girls think about that? Living in a community with other couples just like us?”

“It would be neat,” Fiona said.

Tiffany nodded, thinking of a world within a world, where she never had to even pretend to be an adult.

After dinner, the couples retired to the parlor again. The men continued to talk about the possible community while Fiona took Tiffany over to show her some of her toys. Tiffany could not help but marvel at how Fiona adopted all the mannerisms of a little girl.

“Excuse me,” she finally asked, not knowing any other way to satisfy her curiosity. “But are you like this all the time?”

“Like what?” Fiona was sitting cross-legged on the floor and didn’t even look up as she pulled a dress off her American Girl doll and went through the wardrobe case for another.

“Like… like a kid…”

Fiona looked up. “Why?” The brunette’s tone was guarded. “Do you think there’s something wrong with it?”

“N-n-no!” Tiffany said. “I mean… I’m new at this, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be like you.”

Fiona smiled now, and her expression took on that of a knowing adult, even if her tone continued to be innocent. “You are supposed to be what Tiffany and her daddy want,” she said. “That might be different than what Dr. Baxter and his little want. Does that make sense?”

“So it… varies?”

“Of course, silly,” Fiona said. “Look at how we already vary. My papa likes skinny girls. Your daddy likes curvy ones. My papa said you have a job as an artist. My daddy doesn’t want me to do anything but play all day long and let him take care of me. I guess in a way, being his little girl
is
my job!” She paused. “Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Tiffany said. And it did, and she understood now why Lance had brought her here—not just to prepare her for the next stage of their physical relationship, but for the next phase of their emotional one as well. He wanted her to understand that they could craft their own relationship.

It was, she realized, another way he had of taking care of her. It was all part of his training.

Chapter Ten: Saving the Princess

Even under normal circumstances, it would have been hard to get back to the real world after a weekend away. But for Tiffany, the magical weekend she’d spent with Lance and the Baxters cemented her faith that the relationship she had with her daddy was the right one for her.

It had been their third weekend with the couple. After the initial meeting at which she’d seen Dr. Baxter for her appointment, they’d been invited back, and she and Fiona had gotten on so well that another invitation had been issued. The women were becoming fast friends, and Lance and Tiffany had begun talking about moving into the community that John Baxter envisioned.

On the way back home, she’d broken into a fit of giggles, and when Lance had asked her what she found so amusing, it took her a moment to compose herself enough to answer.

“I’m so glad Nick dumped me,” she said. “If we’d stayed together, I’d have missed all of this.”

“Well, I’m glad he dumped you, too, princess. A man like him wouldn’t deserve you. I can’t say I’m sorry he was stupid enough to give up so easily. The last thing I want is to deal with some jaded ex-lover, not with a gym to run and a little to take care of.”

“I don’t think that’s something we have to worry about,” she said, cuddling up to him as they drove. She shifted in her seat as she did so. Her bottom was slightly sore from the plug he’d inserted the night before they’d left—the first of her ass trainers. Tiffany closed her eyes as she remembered how she’d leaned over the bed, her legs spread and her pussy dripping, as he’d worked the largest plug into her bottom. Lance had lubricated it with her own copious cream, and then afterwards had fucked her pussy hard, as she’d bitten the pillow to keep from waking their hosts. She’d worn the plug until just before they left, but the tenderness in her bottom was a nice reminder.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you carry your bags inside?” he asked when they pulled up to her townhouse.

“No,” she replied. “This will be my workout for the day.”

“That’s what you think, princess,” he said. “I’ll be back at five to take you to the gym. Be ready.”

“I will, daddy.”

She watched him drive away, and hummed a happy tune as she headed up the walk to her door. Inside, she put the suitcase in the hall and was just about to hang up her jacket when she noticed the overturned chair in the living room.

Instinct told her to go back outside, but the house was quiet and she went against her better judgment and walked forward.

She gave a little cry at what she saw. To say her living room was trashed would have been an understatement. The couch cushions were thrown on the floor, and coffee grounds and other contents of her small countertop compost container were ground into the fabric. A lamp lay busted by the chair and her DVDs lay strewn around the room, some of the cases open and the discs inside scratched. Her refrigerator was propped open, and she was sure the contents inside were likely spoiled. But worst of all was the damage to her beloved Winnie-the-Pooh art and her workstation. The framed cels were slashed, and her art table upended, the paints and pencils scattered all over the studio floor.

Her first thought was to call Lance. But then she remembered the conversation they’d had in the car—how he’d expressed relief at Nick’s being out of her life. How had he put it?
The last thing I want to deal with is a jaded ex-lover
.

She called 911 instead, and stayed on the phone with the dispatcher until a squad car arrived. By the time she opened the door for the cops, she was crying.

As one walked through surveying the damage, the other questioned her. Had she touched anything? No. Had she noticed anything suspicious outside? No. Did she have any idea who could have done something like this? She said nothing. All signs pointed to Nick, but he was in Texas. It seemed unlikely even to her that he would spend money on a plane ticket just to trash her house.

The second cop called to them from the living room. When they walked in, he pointed to the DVDs.

“Some of these are removed from the cases and scratched and some aren’t. Ms. Barlow, can you look at these and tell me why you think these were destroyed?”

Tiffany wiped away a tear. “The destroyed ones are my favorites,” she said, pointing to the
Winnie-the-Pooh Christmas
Special
DVD,
The Little Mermaid,
and
Cinderella
.

“Roy,” the other cop called from the back of the house. “It looks like someone forced their way in through the back door. She has a privacy fence so they were able to get in without the neighbors seeing.”

“Look, miss,” the cop said. “This crime looks personal. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me who you think might have done this?”

She shook her head.

“Well, I can’t force you to tell, but the person who did it may be back. Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”

“I…” Tiffany looked around. She tried to imagine Nick doing something like this. She’d not talked to him since their last angry conversation. But she had talked to Ruth Anne. She instantly dismissed that possibility as well. Ruth Anne was pregnant, making her doing this more unlikely.

“Listen, officer,” she said. “I really think this is just a coincidence.”

“Is anything missing?” he asked.

“No.”

“Miss, I really urge you to stay with someone tonight.”

“I can’t,” she said, and looked at the clock. “In fact, if you’re done here I really would like to just clean this mess up. I trust that with a break-in you’ll be keeping an eye on the neighborhood.”

“We already plan to talk to the neighbors,” the officer replied. “And we need to dust for prints at least, so don’t touch anything.”

From that point, the day dragged on. After they left, Tiffany set to cleaning up. She worked quickly, not wanting Lance to see the mess, not wanting to tell him. Having him show up two hours earlier than she expected ruined those plans. And when she saw his face, she realized her day had gone from bad to worse.

As soon as she opened the door, he brushed past her and began to look around. When he turned back, he was obviously livid.

“You had a fucking break-in and didn’t call me?” he asked. She jumped. He’d never raised his voice before. “Why not?”

“How did you find out?” she asked, exasperated and eager to change the subject.

“My friend Trey works on the force,” he said. “He saw the fucking report.” Lance turned away and ran his hand through his dark hair before turning back. “Jesus, princess, if someone had been in here waiting…” He stepped forward and pulled her to him in protective hug that made Tiffany feel better until he spoke again. When he did, his tone was quiet, stern.

“Pack a bag. You’re coming to my house tonight, but only after I let Trey know the problems you’ve had with your ex. But that’s only after we talk about why you didn’t cooperate with the cops when we both know Nick had something to do with this, and why you didn’t call me. And I have a feeling this talk is going to end with a very sore ass. Understand?”

The words gave her a shudder, and she left the room to pack her bag.

* * *

While she was out of the room, Lance called Trey. Using the information he’d gotten from Tiffany when he arranged to get her car back, Lance tipped his pal off to where Tiffany’s ex lived and worked. Trey told him he’d make some phone calls and see what he could find out.

When Tiffany came out of the bedroom, she looked sufficiently chastened, and Lance knew she regretted not calling him. But he also knew that there was something at the heart of her reluctance, something he was going to have to correct if they were to move forward.

“Sit down, princess,” he said, and she complied, staring at her hands where they lay folded in her lap. He was quiet for a moment as he watched her fidget.