She wriggled down a little against the armrest. You know when you sent me that text saying— What did it say? she asked. Put your shoes on, I’m calling you a taxi, or something like that. It was nice.
I’m happy you thought so.
Yeah, it was weirdly sexy. It’s funny, I think I enjoy being bossed around by you. A part of me is just like, yes, please, tell me what to do with my life.
He was laughing then, touching the inside of her thigh with his fingers. You’re right, he said, that is sexy.
It makes me feel very safe and relaxed. Like when I’m complaining to you about something and you call me ‘princess’， that turns me on a little bit. Do you hate me saying that? It just makes me feel like you’re in control of everything, and you won’t let anything bad happen to me.
No, I love that kind of thing. The idea of taking care of you, or you need my help, whatever. I probably have a thing about that anyway. Whenever a girl asks me to open a jam jar, I kind of fall in love with her.
She had the tip of her finger in her mouth. And I thought I was special, she said.
With you it’s a little bit more than that, though. Actually, I remember Natalie once said to me about you— This is probably a weird thing to tell you, but anyway. You were coming over to see us in Paris and I was like, worried about you getting on your flight, or whatever. And Natalie said something like, oh, Daddy’s little girl is all on her own, something like that. It was funny. I mean, I think she was kidding.
Eileen covered her eyes then, laughing. I have one, she said. I got a text from you one night, and Aidan was just near my phone so he checked the message for me. And when I asked him who it was, he showed me the screen and went, it’s your dad.
He was pleased, embarrassed, shaking his head. I feel like if I tried to explain this to anyone else they would call the police, he said.
Just because of the Daddy’s princess thing? Or like, you also want to tie me up and torture me.
No, no. But that would be a lot more normal, wouldn’t it? My idea is more like— I hope you’re not horrified with me saying all this. But I think the fantasy is just that you’re really helpless and wet, and I’m like, telling you what a good girl you are.
Coyly she looked up at him through her eyelashes. And what if I’m not a good girl? she said. You don’t want to put me over your knee and punish me?
He moved his hand over the thin damp cotton of her underwear. Ah, but not to hurt you, he said. Only to make you behave.
For a moment she said nothing. Then she said: Will you tell me what to do?
In his ordinary, relaxed, half-amused voice he answered: Will you do what you’re told?
She started laughing again. Yes. It’s funny how much it turns me on. It’s weird. I’m really excited to think what you’re going to do to me. Sorry if I’m breaking character.
No, don’t be in character. Just be yourself.
He leaned over then and kissed her. Her head against the armrest, his tongue wet in her mouth. Passively she let him undress her, watching his hands unbutton her skirt and roll down her underwear. Reaching up under her knee, he lifted her left leg over the back of the sofa and moved her other foot down onto the floor, so her legs were spread wide open, and she was shivering. Ah, you’re being very good, he said. Shaking her head, she let out a kind of nervous laugh. Lightly with his fingers he touched her, not penetrating her yet, and she pressed her hips down into the couch and closed her eyes. He put a finger inside her then and she exhaled. Good girl, he murmured. Just relax. Gently then he pressed another finger inside her and she cried out, a high ragged cry. Shh, he said.
You’re being so good. She was shaking her head again, her mouth open. If you keep talking to me like that I’m going to come, she told him. He was smiling, looking down at her. In a minute, he said. Not yet. He took his clothes off, and she lay with her eyes closed, one knee still hooked over the back of the sofa. In her ear he said: And it’s okay if I come inside you? With her hand she clutched at the back of his neck. I really want you to, she said. He closed his eyes for a moment, nodding his head, not speaking.
When he entered her, she cried out again, clinging to him, and he was quiet. I love you, she said. He breathed in carefully and said nothing. Looking up at him she asked: Simon, do you like it when I say that? Awkwardly, trying to smile, he said yes. I can feel that you do, she answered. He went on breathing, his upper lip was damp, his forehead. Well, I love you too, he said. She was sucking on her lip now, watching him.
Because I’m such a good girl, she answered. With the tip of his index finger he touched her. You are, he said. She closed her eyes again, her lips moving but making no noise.