Page 3 of Daddy's Lesson
Grabbing the papers, I ran to the door.
“Lennon!” Nyla cried. “Where are you going?”
“Home!” I explained, as if the answer should have been obvious. “I need to clean my apartment, and take in my recycling, and get a manicure, and ooh… should I manscape?” I was talking to myself as I rushed out the door with my friends’ laughter echoing behind me.
As the irresponsible party animal of the group, I was used to them laughing at me. This time I really didn’t care.
To Archer, Zoe Kramer may have been just a client, but to me, if I played my cards right… she could be my future…
CHAPTER 1
ZOE
I had been a happy client of Club-Rent-A-Daddy for several months. And then I was reassigned. My previous ‘Daddy’ had fallen in love—not with a client—and had decided to relinquish his duties. I didn’t blame him for letting them go. Not one bit. But I had never been like that.
My previously assigned Daddy, Archer Brennan, was over a decade younger than me. And though he’d once been a student at UPenn, where I’d been an art professor for fifteen years, he’d never been one of my students.
The same could not be said for the young man in front of me. Lennon Ames. I hoped his presence at the cafe downtown where I’d been asked to come for a meeting with my potential new Daddy was nothing more than a coincidence, but he stood when I entered, and I knew that wasn’t the case.
This would not work. Even though my Daddy needs were on the sparse side, I had one requirement. It wasn’t that they had to be older than me; I was getting up there in years and knew that wasn’t always a possibility. I just needed them to be someone I could take seriously. Lennon Ames was not that. He was a talented artist, gifted beyond words, but a party animal. He didn’t take anything seriously in life. Not even his extraordinary talent. There was no way I could even pretend to submit to someone who could throw away the kind of gift that Lennon had.
I turned to go, but something stopped me. Not something. My need. Sure, I didn’t actually need a Daddy to keep me accountable, but that was how this worked, and I needed the one thing a Daddy could provide: the release of endorphins and adrenaline I got from a spanking. It was the only time all week I felt anything. Without it, I honestly didn’t know where I would be, and that was a scary thought. Scary enough to make me draw a fortifying breath, take a step forward, and slide into the booth across from him before the second wave of nerves hit. When they did, I started to stand, but Lennon reached across the table, put his hand on top of mine, and stopped me.
“Lennon,” I started, fully intending to make a break for it.
He shook his head. “That won’t work, Zoe. That’s why I’m not calling you Professor Kramer even though it's all I’ve ever known you by. If we want this to work, that past relationship needs to be removed from this one. Eventually you’ll call me Daddy, but for now, Sir will work.”
He spoke with a confidence the Lennon I’d known a decade ago hadn’t possessed, and something about the way he spoke and the words he said compelled me to stay.
But I still wasn’t a hundred percent in. That must have shown on my face.
“Zoe.” Lennon addressed me again, clearing his throat to get my attention, and for the first time I really looked at the man standing in place of the boy I’d once known.
His jaw was lean and chiseled. His sandy blond hair hung to his shoulders in soft, wavy locks. A smattering of sun freckles dusted the bridge of his nose. When he smiled, dimples dented his cheeks. His clothing was casual: worn jeans with a designer fade and a somewhat loud print button-down shirt. A puka necklace I swore he’d had back in his college days. Not much about his outward appearance had really changed, and yet, somehow it had. The leanness of his face was older, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. The smirk on his lips. It all somehow made him look just a bit more distinguished than he seemed.
But that wasn’t why I stayed. I stayed because I was desperate.
“This is weird,” I finally stated, because what else could I say?
“It is, but I think it could work and be a very positive thing for both of us.”
His statement didn’t invoke confidence. Instead, it made my stomach twist. His childlike hopefulness was not based in reality, and it reminded me of the kid he’d once been, even at the ripe old age of twenty-one.
I struggled again with the idea of running, but Lennon pulled out a worn leather messenger bag, another thing I was pretty sure was a relic from his college days, and extracted a thick packet, slapping it on the table in front of me. “Tell me why you want a Rent-a-Daddy, Zoe. What is it you need help with?”
“Oh… I… well, I’m just really struggling with time management and organization. Sometimes it feels like there aren’t ever enough hours in the day to get things done.” Word for word, I gave him the details that were written in the packet. I’d crafted them so carefully, I knew them by heart.
“Bullshit.” Lennon smacked his hand across the top of the packet. “Rule number one: Don’t lie to Daddy. If I don’t have the information I need, I can’t help you the way you need.”
My cheeks threatened to flush, but I was an expert at containing my emotions. “I beg your pardon?” I said coolly instead.
His sharp, knowing gaze cut me to the quick. “Back in the day I used to party with your student assistant, Tyler March. He always said it was the easiest gig on campus. He laughed as he described how organized you were, and made fun of your control-freak tendencies that never left any work for him. You’re probably the most organized professor on that campus, and you don’t need any help with time management. I know what’s in the packet, Zoe. Now tell me the truth.”
My breath caught in my throat. I should have been offended, it should have been another point against him, but he wasn't wrong. Could I admit the truth? I never had, and I was afraid it made me look stupid and pathetic. But there was something about Lennon’s no-nonsense attitude and his hard, yet somehow sympathetic gaze that made me want to reconsider the walls I had up and spill my guts.
I could still run.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, cutting through my reverie to blow my mind, as if he was psychic and knew exactly what I’d been thinking.