“You did not actually call him!” Ah, Jaxson had found Vane out. There were the sounds of a scuffle on his end, and he laughed harder.
“You deserve this for your laziness,” I said primly. “We’re still on the clock today.”
“I’m working hard!” Vane said, but he was huffing, and it was clear some sort of struggle… or something else… was happening in his apartment.
“I’m certain half that statement is true.”
There was a growl from Jaxson, what sounded like the phone falling to the floor, and then the line went dead.
Tiny squeaks on the floorboards behind me had me swinging around to take in Max, who rubbed his hand along one arm like it was cold or hurt. He couldn’t look more miserable if he tried.
“Was that Mr. Elwood?”
Ignoring the question, I went to a cupboard and pulled out a granola bar. I hated them, they tasted like eating bark, but I kept them around for mornings when I ran late. I tossed the snack down beside his spot at the polished wooden table, poured him another mug of coffee, and then pulled the chair out for him, patting the seat when he made no move to come near me, instead staring at the computer like it had sprouted fangs.
“Let’s assess the damage. It’s not going to get better on its own.”
He winced his way toward me and sat down. As I pushed him into the table, he gasped, and I allowed myself to thoroughly enjoy his surprised glance as I opened his breakfast bar for him. He obliged me and took it.
“Eat. Figure it out.”
I went back around the table and lost myself in all the work I had for the day that could be reasonably done at home. The clock on the wall had ticked past two o’clock when he let out a pouty groan that had my cock stirring for action. I glanced across the table quickly, half convinced he’d given up on trying to get into his class account and had gone porn surfing again, but the stricken expression he wore quickly wiped that supposition away.
Standing fast, I went around the table and leaned over him to look at the screen. He was clearly in his student account, the New Gothenburg State logo scrawled across the top.
The class he had information open for showed three garish redFs in the grading column beside assignments that were, I assumed, never completed. Directly above was a long line, a mix of As and B-pluses. It seemed his entire life had taken a dive when he’d gotten his “promotion.”
“Thought I had more time to turn stuff in,” he mumbled. “I didn’t realize.”
“You did!” He flinched as I snapped out the accusation. This wasn’t a moment where I particularly cared about his feelings on the subject. “You allowed yourself to become too distracted,” I added firmly. “Talk about putting the cart in front of the horse. You wanted your internship to be a job and didn’t even pay attention to finishing your degree. Don’t shove your responsibilities off on circumstances.”
He hung his head, and I squeezed his shoulder, going to a knee to better study the damage. As I scrolled down the screen, I growled. There was a bold and underlinedFat the bottom of the page that dragged his entire average down to a highD, and I shook my head when I read across to see what that one was from.
“You missed thefinalin this class?”
He closed his eyes and whimpered. “My mom’s going to murder me.”
“She’s a judge. She could probably get away with that.” He cracked his eyes open and glared, and I held in my exasperation. “Do you want to work a real job at city hall?”
He pouted. “You know I do.”
“Then think of this as practice,” I said, rising smoothly to my feet. “Ninety percent of all of our jobs is putting out fires. This is a big one. Fix it. Call your professor. Beg. Make things up. Lie through your fucking teeth in nonverifiable ways. Make it stick. Negotiate the ability to make this right.” By the time I was done speaking, I’d bent so my face was far too close to his—my mouth far too close to his pretty scowl. I pecked his lips with mine.
“Yes, Daddy.” He breathed out the words while squirming on his chair. Heat socked me in the gut. I stood up fast and went back to my seat, breathing too heavily. “Sorry,” he mumbled miserably. “I guess you don’t want me to say that.”
Wrong.I did. But I let it go with no reply. Since I was already distracted from my real work, I went on the prowl online for what Vane wanted, quickly going to one of my favorite BDSM retail sites. Unlike Max, I was smart enough to mute my iPad as I perused for the thigh spreader bar. I was able to find a shorter version of the more standard spreader, and I ordered one for Vane, and a second for my playroom upstairs, just because. Why not have a smaller one? I glanced across the table at Max, who had his bottom lip clenched between his even teeth as he stared, frightened, at something on his computer screen. He was typing fast. Perhaps his first sally into the battle was an email to whichever poor professor at New Gothenburg State had handed out thoseFs I’d seen.
After one fraught phone call to a professor that I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on while he paced a hole in the hallway outside the kitchen—“Yes, my father suffered a massive heart attack. Uh… yes. Yes, I’m sorry you had the same issue. Yes, he needed a lot of help, too.”—he spent the afternoon with his nose nearly pressed to his computer screen, working hard.
Unfortunately his diligence gave me plenty of time to consider who might be a good match for him out of the few Daddy Doms I knew well enough that I might trust them near him. I watched him work for a while and considered the long line of his neck, and his pretty face pinched in concentration. He would be a true pleasure to punish, reward, and have close.
Stomach twisted up and heavy as a rock, I treated this like any project for the office, and therefore started things out the way I would with anything of importance—by making a list.
1. Vic (Zack Vicar. Owns Triple X. Knows safety inside and out.)
2. Shannon Dawson (Anassholeto other Doms, but sweet with his subs.)
3. Glenn Ridgeway (Meh.)
