Finals were coming up, but instead of studying like I should have been, I’d spent way, way too much time trying to figure out what the heck a “Daddy” was, how I could be the perfect one for Jordan, and accidentally along the way finding out way more than I’d ever expected to know about the type of porn I usually X’d out of as fast as possible if and whenever I inadvertently ran across it online.
On the one hand, all that leather, whips, and ball gag stuff seemed a lot less intimidating now that I’d done my due diligence, but on the other, I was really glad that hadn’t been what Jordan had said he was looking for in that video, because I didn’t think I could do it.
I stared off into space, and Ellen turned her head and nipped my thumb.
“Sorry,” I said, resuming petting. “It’s just that I don’t think I’d ever be able to actually hurt him, you know?”
She meowed, gave me a slanted look, then suddenly shoved one of her legs over her head and started licking her ass.
“Hm,” I said, sitting back in my hair and grinning at her. “I’m not sure what to make of your advice here, Ellen. Are you talking about the spanking thing he asked for? Because I guess I don’t count that as hurting him. Not if I do it right. It would just be...”
Jesus. It would behot, was what my dick had thought when I’d watched Jordan composing his “letter to Santa” on his latest video. But then, after wading through miles of Daddy porn (also hot, if I was being honest) and finally finding what felt like some legitimate information on the dynamic, it felt like it could also be so much more than just hot. It felt like it could actually be kind of perfect.
“He’s asking Santa for a Daddy,” I pointed out to Ellen when she stopped licking and peeked up at me, her ear twitching. “So it’s not really stalking to throw my hat in the ring, right? See if I can give him what he wants?”
Hadn’t that been exactly what had sent me down this road in the first place? Trying to fulfill my fantasy of giving Jordan whatever he asked for?
“I mean, chances are, the app won’t match us up anyway,” I added, hating to admit it out loud now that I’d come as far as actually inputting my information into Cuffd. “So it really can’t be counted as stalking if I swing and miss.”
Ellen sneezed, then went back to her ass.
“But what if,” I said, my finger inching toward the keyboard again. “What if I swing andconnect? What if I knock it out of the park? Ellen—” She looked up. “—what if I really am the perfect answer for him, just like I thought back in high school? What if we’re meant to be?”
She blinked, then rolled to her feet and stalked off, hopping down from my desk and heading in the direction of her food dish.
I sighed, slumping back in my ergonomically supportive desk chair. “You’re right, probably not.”
Honestly, what was I thinking? Lizzie hadn’t let up on this idea and Kate had started texting me about it, too. The girls’ enthusiasm plus my own teenage fantasies had started to give me a false sense of hope, but the truth was that my dating history was a sea of failures and my sexual history was as vanilla as it came. And if a Daddy was what Jordan actually wanted… well, I looked nothing like the Daddies in all the porn I’d skimmed through, and even once I’d gotten to actual lifestyle blogs, every last one of them had been an older man who already had a lot to offer his “boy,” not one like me who was still working on that.
Still, what those Daddies had actually had to say about their relationships? It hadresonatedwith me. I could see all the things that had never felt like they clicked when I tried to date in what they said, and I could totally see myself being one of them... in twenty years or so. But right now? If that was what Jordan was looking for, he probably wouldn’t respond to me.
I drummed my fingers on the desk, staring at the Cuffd profile I’d filled out until my eyes crossed, trying to see it through his eyes… weigh it against his wants… measure it up against his needs. Compare it to thatletter, which I’d watched him talk through with his friend in the video at least a dozen times already, but which he hadn’t actually read in full onscreen.
“Areyouwhat I’m looking for, Daddy?” he’d said directly into the camera at the end with a saucy wink as he’d clicked a button in front of him, presumably posting the Dear Santa letter on the Cuffd site. “If you think you are, then you know where to find me. JustAPrettyFace. Click like on this video and be sure to subscribe...”
I’d been torn between filling out the Cuffd profile as honestly as I could and trying to tailor my answers to what I thought would appeal to Jordan. In the end, I’d had to admit that—just like back in high school—I didn’t actually know him well enough to do the latter, no matter what I thought I remembered from when we’d been teenagers or how many of his current videos I’d already watched. Besides, if by some Christmas miracle we did connect through the app, I’d only let him down if he picked me under false pretenses, and that idea didn’t sit right, either.
So, in the end, I’d just gone with the truth. Not very kinky, but genuinely me, for whatever that was worth.
Maybe nothing.
But on the other hand… what if I’d always been right about him?
“Dammit, Ellen,” I called out, slapping the desk. “I’m doing it.”
I wouldn’t stalk him. If I wasn’t what he wanted, then I’d back right off. If we never connected on the app—which was likely—I’d let it go. But I wasn’t an awkward teenager anymore, either. I wasn’t going to let my chance just slip away without eventrying. And sure, I may not have been classic Daddy material, but I knew what I wanted—maybe even knew a little bit more about what Ireallywanted now that I’d fallen down this particular rabbit hole and discovered a kind of relationship that ticked so many boxes I hadn’t realized I had before—and bottom line, if there was even a tiny fraction of a chance, how could I not take it? After all, this wasJordan Wendt, and now that I’d found him again, I didn’t want him to be just a fantasy anymore.
I wanted to be his Daddy.
4
Jordan
Paolo was still in a snit,I guess I’d fucked something else up with the dishwasher the other day, and I’d just about decided to stop hiding out in my room and go out to a club for the night when my phone buzzed. Nichol.
“Duuuuuuude,” I said, grinning as I flopped down on my futon and answered it, stabbing at the video button so I could see what color her hair was this week. “Blue ombre. Nice.”
“Do you actually like it?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “Because I wanted teal, but this shit is like, periwinkle or something.”
