Sweet and Spicy

It’s very late and the remaining party guests are either reluctantly resigning themselves to going back to “reality” or adamantly insisting they stay for just ten more minutes to prolong their time in this magical play space. I watch as couples help each on with their coats, covering fetish wear, whip marks, and love bites before they board the last night bus. Their faces look tired but content. It’s been a good night. We’ve all had a lot of fun.

An exasperated Daddy attempts to hurry their partner into her jacket and shoes but the bratty girl is making a fuss: deliberately getting her sleeves twisted and stepping out of her pink glittery sneakers before the laces have been tied. I catch the Daddy’s eye and smile gently, “Do you need some help?”

“We’ve got a taxi coming. She’s refusing to leave.” The Daddy and I know each other from previous parties. We’ve never played together but I’ve admired their calm strength and strict adherence to their role. Tonight, however, I can tell the effort of being the one who makes things happen is beginning to take its toll. The party is over. It’s time to go home.

I walk over to the girl and gently straighten her sleeve so she can slip her arm in. “Do you want Mommy to help you?”

She glances over to her Daddy for reassurance and then says, “Yes, please,” instantly compliant and demure.

“Good girl,” Daddy tells her as they button her jacket...