Six Months

"Nap? I... Isobel?" he was blinking rapidly, trying to clear away the sleep. "I... yes. I never nap...," he murmured, confused.

"Can't say that anymore," she giggled softly.

"Did I... God, did I squish you? I'm sorry...," he pushed up with his arms trying to lift up off of her so that she could be comfortable.

"It was the perfect squish," she said with a smile, "You did not hurt me and I enjoyed holding you." She helped him sit up and then rose to her feet, dusting off the grass and leaves before turning to face him. She held out her arms, then crossed them to take his forearms, "Ready?"

"I... suppose?" he offered as she lifted him up with a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach at not being in control of his own movement. Then, holding his hand, she got his cane and put it in his hand before resuming her place at his other side. "You... really are an amazing girl, Isobel..."

She nuzzled into his side, "I like being amazing for you," she offered, walking with him back to the house.

Dinner was fantastic and she happily complimented Helen on how wonderful it was. She offered Nathan quiet comfort during the meal and kept touching him gently. Her hand on his, her hand on his shoulder, or resting under the table on his thigh. Small, little touches that felt wonderful.

Afterward, he led her to the living room and sat down on a couch, patting the seat next to him. "So... you were saying something about a musical movie?" he offered.

"Yes," she curled up on the seat, then leaned into his side. She grabbed the remote and put it on, she put his arm around her so it rested on her rib cage and laid her head against his chest. It came on and while he couldn't see any of the movie itself, the music was moving and warm. Having a pretty little girl in his arms was also addictive.

"I... could get used to this, you know...," he observed softly.

"OK," she said easily. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing or just a thing that needs contemplation?"

"Probably the latter?" he offered honestly. "Just... promise me something, OK?"

"What would you like me to promise?" She asked curiously, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"Body language? Non-verbal cues? Really kind of lost on me. I need you to tell me what you're thinking. What you're feeling. I can't... read your mind, and...," he paused for a long moment. "I don't want to do something that upsets you on accident. Because I'll be honest... I've... never done... never felt anything like this before."

"I can promise that," she said simply. "I promise to tell you what I'm thinking and if you do something that upsets me I'll communicate it to you clearly, as an adult does." She smiled up at him, "As long as you promise to do the same." She shifted and he thought she was getting up, but instead, she just slid further into his lap.

"I will do my best. This is... well... I'm not sure I've got a very good frame of reference to talk about this, but... I'll do my best," he promised.

"You'll be fine," she smiled, "Just think about what you want then say it. If you want me in your lap you say I want you in my lap." She winked, "I'm your Kitten."

"I want you in my lap. Holding you like this... It's... I never knew...," he breathed softly.

"It's yours," she murmured, then lifted up to kiss his forehead. "It'll be yours for as long as you wish."

He held her against his body for long moments before the statement hit him. "But... the contract was only for six months...," he murmured, his brow furrowed.

"That doesn't change the fact or offer of my statement." She responded, then leaned her head back to look up at his face, lifting to press her forehead to his, "Or the fact that it doesn't start until tomorrow."

He looked into her eyes for long moments as the music continued to play in the background. Finally, he murmured, "You're... not doing this because of a contract. Are you?" None of what he said sounded like a question.

"Statement of fact."

He was silent for a long time, before settling back into the couch and tugging her with him, his arms tight around her and holding her like he was afraid that if he let her go, she would vanish into smoke. Eyes closed, he listened to the music in an attempt to ride out the confusing emotions in his own soul. He was not worried about her lying to him. Charles had recommended her, and he had been doing business long enough that he could hear a liar without needing to see them. No, she was not lying. He just didn't understand what it was that she saw worth chasing in him. She wasn't in it for the money. If she had been, she'd have started the next day and would have done the bare minimum. No, it was something else.

She calmly snuggled into him, sensing his need even if she didn't understand how. Her hand stroked up and down his arm. When the musical ended, she turned the TV off, eased from his lap, and helped him to his feet, "Let's go, I'll move my things to your room and get them put away, then we can cuddle more on a soft bed."

"All right," he murmured, hobbling with her back toward their rooms. His foot and calf hurt. He had walked more today than usual, but he didn't complain. It was what had to be done sometimes. He went into his room as she went to get her bags, starting to shift around his things in the dresser so that there was room for hers.

She moved her things over, then put them away. She didn't have a lot of stuff, her laptop got put to one side. It was an ancient thing. She smiled up at him, "Time to strip and lay on the bed, face down." She paused, "You can leave your underwear on unless you're going commando."

He shook his head. "I... don't go commando to bed. Habit from when I was a kid...," he trailed off, sitting on the edge of the bed that was 'his' side and toeing off his shoes before slowly unbuttoning his pants and letting them down and then taking off his shirt. Finally, he took off his socks and took up his cane again to walk over to where the hamper was in the corner of the room to place his dirty clothes. Returning to the bed, he placed his cane in the usual spot, then folded down the cover and lay down on it, face first as she had directed.

She waited, not wanting to take his independence. She picked up his shoes and moved them to one side. She shook a bottle, then he felt a cool liquid drip on his back. "Are the bottom of your feet ticklish?" She asked as she started to gently massage him, working the oil in and the faint scent of vanilla filling the air.

He nodded into the bed, a muffled, "Yes," escaping.

"Have you ever had them massaged?" She asked, continuing slowly down his body, her hands firm and warm, soothing away the ache just as she had earlier.

He shook his head, speech already stolen from him with how good she was making him feel. "Mmmmph."

"So, I guess we'll find out." He felt more oil drizzled on his thighs and calves, then she started massaging downward, gently working the knots out of his muscles, pushing and pulling. She moved towards the foot of the bed, pushing from his ankles upward to relieve swelling. Then she drizzled more on her hand and started rubbing first his good foot, holding it as she kneaded it gently, then through his toes. Then she moved to his bad foot, gently massaging it and shifting the way she pressed so it was more on the ball and arch of his foot.

As she massaged his feet, he shivered like he was having seizures. The nerves in his feet had never felt that kind of touch before and it utterly confused them. They rebelled and made the rest of his body restless and uneasy with their signaling, drawing whimpers and whines from him. After several moments, however, they suddenly started to feel better and the signals quieted, his body stilled, and the whimpers and whines turned into soft groans of pleasure.

She continued working on his feet, then worked up to his ankles and calves again, his thighs, then once more on his back. She moved her hands higher to his shoulders, gently massaging and stroking outward, his arms and even his hands got the warm massage. Then she massaged his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. Her hands slowed as she heard slow, deep breathing along with faint snores coming from him.

She stripped out of her clothes, tossed them in the hamper with his, then crawled into bed beside him. "Sweet dreams, my own." She snuggled down into the bed and drifted off, content, comfortable, and feeling safe.

The house was filled with the smell of Helen's cooking at breakfast time and Nathan blinked himself awake. He was warm and wrapped around something soft. When his eyes opened, he saw a tuft of brown hair. Hands gripped his arms, tugging them around the softness as he realized that he was clutching Isobel with his entire body and she was wrapping herself in it like a blanket. "I... Oh...," he breathed, the sensation strange, yet as pleasurable as it was out of the ordinary.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, sniffing the air and her stomach growled. She giggled softly and snuggled tighter into his warmth, "Good morning. How did you sleep?"

"Wonderfully," he breathed, still wondering if he was lost in a dream world. They slowly got up and started the day with her bathing him.

The first two months passed in similar fashion. She was with him when he needed, happily cuddled him, and talked with him. She never got annoyed or upset by him, helping him when he wanted her to, and letting him be independent when he needed to. They received the first invitation to the Gala and she was on his lap, her brow furrowed. "I'm going to need to order a dress."

He shook his head. "Order a dress? Oh no... my Kitten does not... order... dresses...," he murmured. "Rodrigo?"

"Si, Master Nathan?"

"Tomorrow we will need to go into Reno to Georgiana's, please. Isobel here needs a dress or five."

"Por supuesto, Master Nathan [Of course, Master Nathan]."

Her nose wrinkled in confusion, then she shrugged and snuggled back into Nathan's chest, she was in his lap, she was safe and she was perfectly content there. "Whatever you wish, Master."

Sensing her lack of understanding, he explained. "I presume you have never been to such events. A dress that one orders... is not nearly enough for such company. You must fit in, and on my arm, a girl would have custom-fit dresses of the finest variety. So... we will do so. Let me assure you. When Georgiana is done with you, your outside will be every bit as exquisite as your inside, and I already know that part of you well. She is an angel in a kitten's disguise."

Her nose crinkled slightly, "I've never had a dress custom fit," she whispered and snuggled into his chest. "As long as I'm pleasing you, Master. That's all I care about."

"You do, Kitten. More than anything. This is just another way I can show you," he murmured, pressing his cheek to her head.

"OK," she shrugged and snuggled into him, her ears tinkling softly as she rubbed against him.

The next day they headed for Reno and she was measured, fitted, and measured some more. She stayed still through the entire thing, "Two weeks," Georgiana said. "I will make the first dress for this beautiful girl. The rest will follow in two more after that" She paused, "You will come back for me to make wedding gown when you are smart man and ask." It was a statement, not a question. She nodded and turned, sweeping back into her shop.

Isobel just stood there blinking, then looked up at him, "I feel like I was caught up in a tornado."

"You were. But she's the best for close to a thousand miles in any direction," he shrugged.

"May we get some ice cream before we go back?" She asked softly, biting her lip and looking towards a small ice cream shop that was visible, not far up the street that they were on.

"Of course, Kitten. I...," he looked around, then pointed in a random direction, right into a brick wall. "That way, right?" he smiled winningly at her.

She wrinkled her nose and lifted up to kiss the corner of his mouth, "You're adorable." She tucked his arm into hers and walked with him to the ice cream shop. She put him in a booth, then sat beside him. "Thank you for the dress. I only caught one in three words that she was saying. She kept going off into French land."

He chuckled and shrugged. "I go, I do what she says, she bills me, and I'm told things turn out perfectly," he smiled.

"OK," she smiled at him as they ate the ice cream. "What are your plans for this afternoon?"

"Well... since we're here, there's a concert playing at the Atlantis. New York Symphony Orchestra. I thought... if you wanted... we could go. I... I have a private box there," he offered.

"That sounds fun," she smiled at him, "As long as I get to sit in your lap." She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, just casually touching him. "It's my favorite spot."

"Still? You're not... sick of it?" he asked softly.

"I don't think that's possible," she stated firmly. She leaned over and kissed his forehead, "We'll do dinner out too."

That night was easily the best date he had ever been on, she focused on him, cuddled him, and during dinner kept touching him. She didn't care that people were looking, staring at his cane, or the glasses over his eyes. She was happy and showed him her care. When they came back for the dress, in two weeks, she looked like a princess. The gown was blue with silver tinting and flowed around her body. Her shoulders and neck were left bare. "What do you think?"

He moved close, his head and his eyes traversing the very top of her body before lifting to look into hers once more. "I think that your outside matches your inside, Kitten. Breathtaking," he murmured.

A faint, rosy blush dusted her cheeks and she ducked her head slightly, "Thank you, Master," she stepped forward and slid her hands around him in a hug. "I had her add little bells to the bottom of the skirt. I didn't know if you wanted me to wear my ears or not."

He opened his mouth and then there were tears in his eyes. He clutched her to his body. "You... You wonderful woman... No. No, the ears are only for me. The rest of the world isn't worthy...," he said in a thick voice.

"As you wish," she held him tightly, then swayed from side to side, the soft tinkling of the bells filled his ears as she held him. "I've got you, are these happy tears?"

He nodded into her shoulder. "Yes...," he breathed. "I... I don't understand how you do it. How you can do everything right all of the time."

"I don't do everything right," she objected her nose crinkled.

"Do too...," he argued. "Charlie said I was never wrong, remember..." He blinked, trying to get rid of the tears.

She held him for several more moments, "OK, let me go change, then we'll go home. I think you need some cuddle time."

"All right." As she went into the back to change, he pulled out his phone looking at his account. Right on time, there was a charge from Georgiana's for twenty-five thousand dollars. "Worth every penny," he murmured with a fond smile before putting the phone away.

She came out, the dress was wrapped in tissue, then placed in a box. Rodrigo promptly took it and carried it to the car. Georgiana looked at Nathan, "Jewelry, silver, and sapphire choker, teardrop sapphire earrings, maybe a tiara, she is a princess." She nodded firmly, then turned and kissed Isobel on the forehead, "Your next dress will be ready before the second gala. It will be a work of art."

"Next dress?" She breathed, her brow furrowed as she looked at Nathan.

"Yes, new one for each gala," Georgiana said. "This is how it is done, you can cycle through them next year. Year after that, new dresses." She nodded, "I will do the wedding gown. And tux." She pointed at Nathan, "ONLY I," She pronounced grimly before turning and walking back in murmuring, "I'm tired, leave me."

Nathan shook his head absently. "Pushy woman. If she wasn't so good...," he muttered. Then, reaching out, his hands pawed at the air as he searched for Isobel.

She giggled and stepped forward so his hands fell on her breasts. "I'm here, Master."

He smoothly slid to her sides and pulled her closer. "You...," he started, a shocked smile on his face. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked her with a look that seemed to be reserved only for her. One that spoke of a bottomless gulf of affection, one that seemed to be increasingly swirled with love.

"What pleases you most?" She tilted her head and held him with a soft giggle. "Of course, I could start logicing at you until you spank me." She teased, "I'd enjoy that."

"Don't you know?" he asked as he cocked his head to the side. With one hand on her waist, he knew right where her face would be. Cupping her cheek, he responded, "You. You please me the most, Kitten. I thought you would have figured that out by now..." He paused for a moment, stroking his thumb over her cheek. "Have I been too... subtle?" he asked softly then.

She giggled and nuzzled into his cheek, "I know that I please you, but you asked, 'What am I going to do with you?' The answer is, whatever pleases you most." She winked up at him, "You could have all kinds of lovely, wonderful desires hiding behind your smile just waiting to slake your lust on poor, unsuspecting little kittens. Like tying them up and pleasuring them until they're nothing but whimpering, moaning messes begging to be bred."

Nathan grunted softly as he felt himself harden at the thought. "And if I did? If in the dark I did... imagine such things? Would you not run?" he asked softly.

"I would not," she responded simply, lifting up and brushing her lips across his ever so softly and gently. "I would never run from you," she murmured. Her forehead pressed to his as she stared up at him. He could see the love and adoration she held for him. "I would enjoy moving in that direction with you."

Slowly, he tilted his head up slightly until his lips found hers. His mustache and beard tickled at her skin as he kissed her softly. "One day at a time, then," he murmured as their lips parted. "And we'll see where this new path leads."

She pressed her body to his, feeling his arousal as she did so, then kissed his lips again gently. "One day at a time," she agreed with a small smile. "Shall we get moving?"

"Of course, Kitten. Are you ready for the Gala tomorrow?" he asked. "My tango is still a bit rusty, but...," he teased softly.

"I think so," she murmured, "I've got shoes and the dress. I don't know what she was babbling on about jewelry. I don't have any." She shrugged and snuggled into his chest, sighing as she closed her eyes and enjoyed his warmth. Her hips rocked slightly, enjoying the feel of his hardness pressed against her soft mons even if it was only through her clothes.

"I have... several sets. For such occasions," he murmured, trembling in arousal at her touch.

"OK," she agreed, then rubbed her body against his again. "Let's go home."

They got back in the car with Rodrigo and drove back home to his mansion. Dinner was, as it was every night, a culinary delight, and the conversation with Rodrigo and Helen was friendly and familiar as always. Estelle, as usual, returned home to her family, but greeted Isobel with a friendly kiss on the cheek and fondly patted Nathan's forearm on her way out beforehand.

That evening, she stripped him down and massaged him once more, she spent her time pampering and lavishing him with love, affection, and attention before she removed her own clothes and crawled into bed beside him. She guided him over to rest on her chest and held him tenderly. "I've got you, I'll always have you."

Having done this frequently, he was not as susceptible to it putting him immediately to sleep as he had been. He lifted his head and looked at her, her face just barely at the edge of his field of vision. "You... really mean always, don't you?" he asked softly.