Dear Diary (Love, Daddy)

I pull back, tugging her by my side, walking this stunning girl around the open kitchen first.

“Wow, again.”

“All for you.”

On the gleaming white granite counter there are bags of flower, sugar, cake pans, a new commercial copper KitchenAid mixer, measuring cups, spoons…everything I could think she might need to be twirling around this kitchen baking, I had delivered.

“This is crazy.” Her hands press to her cheeks as I keep the tour going, showing her around the guest bedrooms. My office. A comfortable little home theatre and then onto the terrace. She covers her breasts as the early evening air hits her body.

I shake my head.

“No one but me gets to see you, baby. I’d kill anyone who laid eyes on your body. Every inch of you exists for me.”

Her shoulders straighten. She squeezes one breast lightly before releasing it. I notice the twinkling gleam in her eyes.

I turn her to head back inside the terrace glass doors. “There’s more to see.”

I pull her behind me along the living room and push open the massive double doors that lead to the bedroom that will now be ours.

She sucks in a breath, her eyes wide. “Wow. Again. Wow number three.”

“We can redecorate it however you’d like. I think your fuzzy beanbag chair would look great over by the window.”

When I moved here five years ago, I took a few hours, looked through some recent Architectural Digest magazines and picked out a decorator who had just finished remodeling and decorating some whop-tee-do old-money trust-fund brat’s penthouse not far from my building. I didn’t care about the who’s who of it all, but I wanted my place warm and inviting but polished and sleek.

As well, I didn’t want to waste a lot of my time on the back and forth, do you like this, do you like that…I wanted to point to a few pictures, say ‘this is what I like, now make it happen, here’s your budget’ then get back to work.

That’s what I did, and the caramel, off-white, warm wood and bright modern art have been comfortable for me. But if Chastity wants the place to look like an old farmhouse or a gold-gilded Austrian palace, so be it.

“Are you serious?” She gives me a puzzled look. “I mean, we really just met. I appreciate you helping me. The hospital for starters, saying I live here now… But truth, I still have this feeling this is some sort of game and I’m the only one that doesn’t know I’m playing.”

I pull her to my chest. “No game. But, truth? I know it doesn’t make sense. All logic tells me so. But here,” I point to my heart then to my mid-section, “and here in my gut, there’s something I don’t doubt, and it’s a feeling I’ve never had before. Like you are family, a lost part of me that I know I’ll never live without again.”

I feel her body fill with a long breath as she shakes her head. “I’m walking around naked. And, I feel comfortable. It’s all so strange.”

“There’s nothing wrong with strange. I’ve been a risk taker all my life and I’ve done pretty well with it so far. This is my biggest risk yet, but you know what, baby?” She looks up with those trusting green eyes. “It’s also going to be the biggest payoff ever.”

“This bedroom is bigger than my apartment. Two of my apartments.”

She’s looking like a little girl walking around, touching everything. A little girl I want to corrupt.

I turn toward the paneled wall and press into the wood with both palms. The controls activate, and the walls slide apart with a muted whirring sound.

“My secret.”

I watch her eyes widen, looking to me then back to the open secret walk-in closet.

“Wow number four.” Her gaze drifts around the items inside. “No one knows?”

I shake my head. “I don’t believe so. There are lots of people in the world that would like to see me fall. This could certainly give them an opportunity to exploit what should be something perfect and special and make it depraved.”

“It’s not depraved.” She steps forward as I turn to watch.

Inside the small room, in the center, is something I am sure will break her or secure her even deeper into my heart. Along the walls are shelves with things I’ve collected over the years as well as things I’d hoped would find a home in and on my precious girl if she ever materialized. Many of the things purchased in the last few hours while she worked and I made arrangements for our home.

“Is that a gold cage?” She lets out a soft giggle as she turns to give me an incredulous look.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” I reply, because it’s clear that it is a cage. “That one, I’ve had for a while. It’s a golden girl cage.”