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\\nMY YOUNGER LOVER CALLS ME \\u2026 HIS DIRTY LITTLE GIRL
\\nHe likes the very back booth in the diner, walls on two sides, both of us on the same bench, me in the corner.
\\nAt 29, almost five years younger than I am, he likes me to\\u2015he requires me to\\u2015call him Daddy; he calls me his Dirty Little Girl.
\\nThis is insane; or depraved; or sick; or...all of the above.
\\nAnd here we sit.
\\nI surrendered my panties before we left the apartment, just a block away\\u2015a simple transaction, nothing terribly new or different for us.
\\nHe requested; I rolled my eyes.
\\nI complied; he something between smiled and smirked.
\\nI rolled my eyes some more; he crumpled my panties\\u2015plain white cotton, not small, and dowdy\\u2015in his palm, sniffed them deeply, his eyes laser-focused on mine, before depositing them in his pocket, offering his crooked elbow, so we could link arms, and he could chivalrously escort me down the stairs, out into the street, and one-block-over, to dinner.
\\nAs he talks to the waitress\\u2015in a slow, sleazy, seductive tone; surely nothing she hasn\'t heard before\\u2015his hand is up my skirt, the tip of his middle finger firm, oscillating just a little bit, as though in indecision, on...
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