Look but Don't Touch by Cara Dee Page A

as me, and we share many interests—just not the one I can't seem to let go of.
    In other words, the seed of doubt has started to grow. I've become more resigned tha n anything about my chosen path, and I've started spending more and more nights at Switch than I used to.
    "Nick!" Amanda calls from the kitchen. I sigh to myself and ste p away from the mirror. "Are you ready to go?" She appears in the doorway to my bathroom, her blond hair bouncing lightly with her movements. "You're so handsome." There's a small smile on her lips, but I can see she's still upset.
    "And you look pretty," I reply automatically as I fasten my watch.
    Amanda is already tall at 5'10 ", but with those heels, she looks even taller. Unnecessary if you ask me. Then again, I'm more into delicate ballet flats when it comes to girls— women . In my past, I've been very involved in what my Little Girls have worn, and now it feels odd to only offer an opinion. Not only that, but it has to be complimentary. Now, in an extremely revealing blue dress, Amanda does look attractive; it's just not something I would've chosen for her. Or the blood-red nail polish. Because I don’t go for bold colors when there are pastels. The black thong she put on earlier is another item I wouldn’t have picked out.
    I want soft cotton, coy smiles, adorable giggles, a round little bottom, baby smooth skin, pigtails, pert tits, and pleas for Daddy's thick cock.
    I almost have to close my eyes and take calming breaths to rein it in.
    "So, are you ready to go?" she asks aga in, tapping her foot. "We could share a cab."
    I shake my head no and roll up the sleeves on my shirt. "I'm not drinking tonight, so I'm driving. If you want, I can drop you off at the hotel."
    "Sounds good," she agrees, and we leave the bathroom. "By the way, we still need to talk more about my moving in here."
    T his again .
    "I've already told you I think it's too soon," I point out impatiently. She is here all the time, and I don’t mind it—much. The ad agency she runs is just a five-minute walk from here, so I see the convenience. Still, moving in together is a big step. One I'm far from ready for.
    "Too soon," she scoffs. "Be serious, Nick. It's time. We're not getting any younger."
    "So, that means we should rush into things?" I ask incredulously. I shake my head, refusing to get sucked into this now. "You know what? I don’t have time for this. Let's go."
    "Fine," she grits out. "But we're talking about it tomorrow. We need to move forward, not take steps backward."
    I pretend I don’t hear that and walk toward the hallway, wondering how long I can take this—the faking, the pretending everything is okay. Because while we've exchanged "I love you"s, I'm not there, if I'm being completely honest with myself. I care for her; I enjoy spending time with her, she's good in bed—albeit a little too demanding for my tastes—and I've agreed to meet her family, but I'm struggling to feel something more, something deeper.
    "Are you even listening to me, Nick?!" Anger's evident in her voice as she calls from behind me. "I won't be ignored!"
    Tensing my jaw, I turn around and speak through clenched teeth. "We will not discuss this now, Amanda. Are we clear on that?"
    A huff is what I get in return.
    *
    About fifteen minutes later, we're on our way in my black Mercedes, and while the silence is fine by me, it's not for Amanda. I'm still irritated beyond words about her previous behavior in the apartment, yet she starts yapping about her family as if we didn’t just have an argument.
    Perhaps it's the excitement of seeing her family again that makes her forget the past half hour, so that means I have to listen to her going on and on. Only her sister and she live here in San Francisco; the rest reside in Oregon. But everyone is down for Amber's wedding tomorrow, including uncles, aunts, cousins, countless nieces and nephews, parents, and grandparents. It will be the first time I meet any of them.
    "…bu t