“Hi,” he said in a steady, smooth low voice.“Oh hi,” I said with a noticeable quiver.“Mind if I join you?”“Errr no, not at all.”He sat close to me. Closer than you normally would with someone you hadn't met before and were sharing a steam room with.“I just have to say you have amazing legs,” he said with a grin on his face.Normally, I'd find this a pervy thing for someone to say but I could literally feel the honesty and confidence dripping from this guy. He wasn't just dropping me a bullshit line.“Thanks,” I chirped, “you're not so bad yourself!”With that, he just held my gaze, gave me a knowing smile with his eyes and moved up even closer alongside me. My heartbeat rocketed and I could feel it thumping hard against my chest, so much so I was actually afraid he'd be able to see it. He lifted his arm and ever so gently stroked the back of his hand across my cheek, sweeping aside a strand of hair from my face.“That's better. Now I can see properly how really beautiful you are.”I was. ’ The only reasonable answer: one weaves facts like the how I love you into the fabric of a life, even though true love is, by definition completely unreasonable. So I will be your muse and I would readily embody Hathor and Lakshmi for your pleasure. But I will also always be your little girl and, yes, Daddy, your submissive because those, too, are facets of my person. Part of meeting me on my own terms is embracing all those facets. You do that so very well and you do so without judgment. You set me free. I’ve listened to you songs, Daddy. I’ve heard your recordings and I’ve heard the songs that aren’t recorded. They all reveal that you are a hopeless romantic. I think it’s what gives your song and poetry power. In contrast, perhaps, I’m like a mad scientist. I see the world as it is, or so I like to think. I like to think I see things clearly. I seek the concrete like a quest and perhaps it’s Quixotian madness to do so. You are open-ended. You are a dreamer. You build your house.
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