My phone vibrated lightly against the counter, the screen brightening with Hal's message. It had been almost a full day since our date—one filled with nervous excitement—and now the conversation flowed smoothly, like a river carving a new path.

"What's your favorite candy?" his text read, simple yet carrying that hint of mischief I was starting to recognize.

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the keyboard. "I don't really have one," I typed back, thoughts drifting to my childhood, where sweets were a rare luxury. Mom never let me indulge much—just the occasional crumb of chocolate, carefully rationed and stripped of wrappers so I wouldn't obsess over them. By the time I hit thirteen, even those small treats had vanished altogether. Our tight-knit neighborhood meant everyone knew everyone's business; my mom would've heard if I tried to sneak sweets. And with no friends to share secrets or candies, I grew up without a favorite.

The little convenience store where I worked was a modest sanctuary. Here, surrounded by rows of colorful wrappers and sweet-smelling aisles, I felt a strange kind of joy—though even now, I didn't have a favorite candy.

"-don't have a favorite candy," I finished typing, sending it off.

Hal's reply came almost instantly: "Then I can help you find it." The promise made me smile, warmth spreading behind my cheeks. He always had a way of turning simple things into something special.

Just then, a customer approached the register. I set my phone aside and slipped into my role—scanning her items, a few personal care products, bananas weighed carefully, and a pack of Cadbury Oreos. She handed me her card; I tapped it on the reader.

My phone buzzed again against the counter, but I resisted the urge to check it until she left. After wishing her a pleasant day with a genuine smile, I quickly grabbed the device and saw Hal's message: "Can I see you tonight?"

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, heart pounding. "Yes," I replied shyly. "I close by five." Flushing, I hit send.

The response came immediately, electric and encouraging: "Fancy another date?"

"Yes :)" I typed back, barely able to keep the smile from spreading as I set my phone down and greeted the next customer.

Stanley strolled over shortly after, a knowing glint in his eyes as he reached for my phone. "So... glued to your screen, huh?" he teased, raising a brow.

"It's just a friend," I said softly, trying to sound casual.

"A friend you've been texting nonstop since yesterday," he countered, holding the phone just out of reach.

"Stanley," I whined, reaching out. He lifted the phone higher; I leaned back and huffed, a playful battle going on between us.

Eventually, he relented and handed the phone back, chuckling. "You close by six tonight," he said.

"I know," I muttered, cheeks still warm.

He leaned in, lowering his voice kindly. "My husband brought you two truffles from the fridge, plus some side dishes he made. He dropped them off a few minutes ago." A genuine smile spread across my face. Charles's cooking was a rare delight—every bite felt like a comforting embrace.

The first time Charles gifted me his homemade meals, I was suspicious—paranoia from years of loneliness made me question everything. But when I finally tasted his food, carefully reheated, I was blown away. The flavors, the love in each dish—it was the best home-cooked meal I'd ever had. Charles deserved a medal.

When the clock hit six, I pulled two truffles from the fridge, slipping them into a small bag before heading to the employee room. True to Stanley's word, a large paper bag sat waiting beside my laptop case, filled with those familiar and irresistible side dishes.

I gathered my things and stepped out of the store, the cool evening air wrapping around me. Just then, a sleek light blue Porsche pulled up, the door opening smoothly as Hal stepped out. He moved with a calm confidence, every motion deliberate, like he was in slow motion just for me.

"Baby, how are you?" he asked, his voice rich and warm as he approached. He wore a tailored grey suit, a simple round-neck shirt underneath, gleaming black shoes, and a watch that caught the fading sunlight.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I couldn't help but smile back. "I'm good. How are you?" I asked, grateful for the easy rhythm between us as he led me towards the passenger side.

"Better now that I've seen you," he replied softly, buckling my seatbelt with practiced care before sliding into the driver's seat. He paused, not eager to rush away, and reached back to hand me a small white paper bag.

"What's this?" I asked, curious.

"A little something for my baby boy," Hal said, his grin widening.

Gently, I pulled open the bag, my eyes lighting up at the colorful assortment inside. Gummy bears, rainbow swirl lollipops, candy canes (odd in this season, but charming nonetheless), and an array of other sweets spilled out. My heart fluttered at the thoughtfulness.

"Hal..." I murmured, overwhelmed.

"It's just a snack for you. And later, a much bigger surprise awaits," he teased, shooting me a wink.

"Thank you," I whispered, touched by how carefully he considered my happiness.

"You're welcome," he replied with a smile.

Playfully, I picked a gummy bear and held it up to his lips, blinking slowly as if in a silent conversation. Hal parted his mouth, and I slid the candy inside with a gentle touch.

"You don't have to feed me, darling. The candy's yours," he chuckled.

"It's nice to share," I said, digging into the bag and throwing a handful of sweets into my mouth, savoring the burst of sugar as I hummed happily, swaying slightly in my seat.

"That happy?" Hal asked, amusement shining in his eyes.

"Very," I grinned. "Where are we headed?"

"I thought we’d take a walk in Favor Park, get some ice cream, and you can ask me anything you want," he said gently.

I nodded, the warmth of the evening sun on my skin and the prospect of a quiet stroll with Hal filling me with a peaceful anticipation. A few questions had been swirling in my mind since our last meeting—things I’d even looked up online: Daddy Dominant, Little... terms that sent strange but compelling feelings through me.

Hal pulled into a small parking lot near the park, easing the car to a smooth stop. As always, he stepped out first and offered his hand to help me out. I placed the candy bag carefully on the seat before following him along the winding paths.

It was nearly seven in the evening, and the park held a gentle quiet, the sounds of rustling leaves and distant laughter mingling with the soft padding of dog paws. Elderly couples ambled nearby, their contentment adding to the serene atmosphere.

"What's your favorite ice cream flavor?" Hal asked, glancing down at me with a playful smirk.

"Oreos," I replied without hesitation.

"Oreos it is," he chuckled, sliding my hand into his as we walked side by side. I shuffled closer, feeling the simple joy of our connection.

After a few moments, I found the courage to ask, "Can you tell me a little about yourself? I thought about googling you, but I'm not sure I should—or if I could even trust what I'd find. People say everything you do is just a PR stunt." My voice was tentative, vulnerable.

Hal stopped, turned toward me, and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. The touch made my stomach flutter.

"That's understandable. Ask me anything, always," he said softly. "I'm twenty-seven; my birthday’s October 31st. I’m CEO of Janvier Inc., which I run with a friend who serves as COO. Music keeps me grounded—mostly classical. Oh, and blueberries—I'm allergic to them." He smiled, eyes twinkling with humor.

"I've been part of the BDSM community for five years. In that time, I've only had two littles."

"Only two?" I echoed, surprised. Five years felt long; what if I wasn’t enough? What if I stumbled and he walked away?

Hal's gaze softened, sensing my unease. "What are you thinking about, Kitten?" he asked gently.

I bit my lip, wrestling with whether to voice the tangled thoughts in my head—the fears, the hopes, the strange mix of excitement and hesitation that had settled there.