“It’s amazing he survived.”
“And then he traveled to this country with a sixth-grade education and two dollars in his pocket. It wasn’t easy to succeed financially without help.”
“Tell me about your father. How would you describe your relationship with him?”
“We didn’t communicate much when I was a kid, because he was always completely wrapped up in his own world. Unfortunately, my grandfather taught him money is more important than relationships. But when our paths did cross, he was usually unhappy and tired. My father made it abundantly clear on a number of occasions that he didn’t want to waste a minute of his precious time with me.”
“Did he ever abuse you physically?”
My body stiffened. “If you’re asking if he beat me, the answer is no. I’m sure there are plenty of people who had it much worse as a child than I did.”
“You shouldn’t compare your experiences with someone else’s. There are many forms of abuse, and everyone’s situation is significant to them.”
“What if a father repeatedly tells his daughter that she’s stupid and worthless?”
“That would be considered bullying,” he said in a soft tone. “Are you comfortable giving me an example?”
“When I was five years old, we were on vacation in New Jersey and my parents let me walk to the bathroom by myself in the lobby of a hotel. Who would let a young child venture alone down a strange hall to search for a public restroom? Naturally, I made a wrong turn trying to find my way back.”
John’s concerned eyes studied mine. “And how did your father react?”
“He called me a dumb ass and kicked my backside for getting lost. For God’s sake, I was a little kid.”
“How did your mom respond to his type of parenting?”
“She never said a word.”
“I see,” he said with a calm resolve.
“Would you like to hear another warm and fuzzy memory I have of my dad?”
“Go on.”
One night I came home from a date and instead of asking me how my evening was, he cornered me in the bedroom and waved his heavy rubber tennis shoe in my face as though he was going to smack me with it. As usual, my mother stood in the hall silently while he ranted like a maniac and called me a good-for-nothing whore for absolutely no reason. There were many times my father verbally abused me, but she always kept her mouth shut. I think she was afraid of him. Afraid he’d leave her penniless if she didn’t agree with his every thought. He treated her in the same disrespectful manner my grandfather regarded my grandmother. History conveniently repeated itself.”
His nod was slow but steady.
“He’s a control freak, John. Just like some of the leading dominant men in my books.”
“But you need to understand the type of relationships you’re familiar with are not the same as the D/s couples you’ve been trying to pen. In the loving DD world my wife and I lived, she always had a voice. She always had a choice.”
“I’ve obviously had difficulty separating the two worlds, which is why I haven’t been able to successfully write a romance in this genre. It’s not that anything earth shattering happened to me as a child, but I have trouble relating to any type of positive family bond.”
“It was a lack of love which apparently left an empty space in your heart,” he said, taking my hand in both of his. “What you need is to feel the affection and care of a real Daddy.”
“Naturally, Jake thinks I need more experience. He said I need to understand that punishments and rewards only come from a loving partner. A protective partner.”
“That’s right,” he declared, his sparkling eyes connecting with mine.
“So, what’s on our agenda tonight, Sensei?”
Angling his head, he lowered his voice. “Your Daddy is going to bathe you.”
Jesus Christ.
At the end of the day, I trailed behind John to the guest bathroom, and my eyes were drawn to a few items sitting on the narrow shelf of the white porcelain sink: a woman’s wet/dry electric shaver, a disposable razor, and a can of shaving gel.
“That was so nice of you to supply me with toiletries, but I brought my own shaving kit.”
