Page 4 of Daddy's Lesson
“It’s stupid,” I whispered, glancing around the cafe to see if anyone was listening in.
It was nearly empty in the early morning hours, and the few people that were there were all otherwise engrossed. Work calls, nose buried in a book, typing fervently away on a new model laptop. Nobody was paying me the slightest bit of mind. Except Lennon. His eyes were locked on mine, ready to hang on my every word. That was a scary thought.
He was right; my entire application was bullshit, designed to give me exactly what I needed, nothing more, nothing less. The real reasons… Could I say them out loud? Did I really have a choice?
“It’s not stupid,” Lennon whispered back. “We all have our things.”
Gulping hard, I nodded, licked my lips, and started to spill the tea. “My husband left me. Twenty-five years of marriage, and one day he just up and leaves me for another woman. They must have been seeing each other for a while, but I had no clue that anything was even wrong. It blindsided me, and there was no time to get over it before he was moving his stuff out of the house we’d bought together as newlyweds and into her tiny apartment across town. A few weeks later, the baby bump was noticeable.”
“Bastard,” Lennon swore under his breath. “Idiot.”
His blind loyalty was endearing, if not misplaced. I was sure I’d done something to deserve it, that I was the one in the wrong somehow. If I didn’t keep going, I’d never get the story out.
“The divorce was quick. We have no children. I didn’t contest anything and the terms were actually quite fair. I knew it was because he just wanted to get this over with so he could go on with his new life.”
I huffed out a breath, and Lennon nodded encouragingly. “Keep going, Zoe.”
I closed my eyes, ashamed to admit the next part. “I didn’t take it well. I couldn’t process such a major chunk of my life coming to an end just like that, and I fell into a deep depression. I have no kids, no family nearby, nothing to distract me. Work has always been it for me, but suddenly, it wasn’t enough.” I sighed, struggling to get the truth out. “I was numb. I went through my day on autopilot, like a robot. At first, I was proud of myself. I thought I was coping. It was months before I realized I was just dead inside. I didn’t feel anything. Joy, anger, sadness, none of it.”
I had to pause and remind myself that the next part wouldn’t sound stupid, at least not to someone who owned a kink club. It might not be the sort of thing I’d share with my colleagues, but Lennon would understand.
“One day… well, I had thoughts that scared me. I thought about ending things. I’ve never in my life had thoughts like that. Not even in my darkest times. It scared me enough that I was determined to seek help. I’m not sure what I Googled to end up where I did, but I read an academic article about therapeutic spanking, about the release of endorphins and the adrenaline rush and…” I blushed. “It interested me. I had always… had fantasies that I never explored. But still, I pushed it out of my mind, because where does one go about finding that kind of therapy? The article was from a different country.”
Lennon, bless his heart, didn’t seem shocked by anything I’d said so far . Instead he nodded sagely. “I think I’ve read that one. Go on.”
“I tried not to think about it. I told myself I’d get a therapist, but I didn’t. One day… one day a group of female students were giggling and teasing each other, huddled over a piece of paper out in the hallway before class. I had gone to the bathroom during my break and when I got back, one of them shoved the paper in a folder and they came in and took their seats. At the end of class, as they were leaving, I saw the paper flutter to the ground, and I picked it up. It was an advertisement for Rent-A-Daddy.” I stopped. There wasn’t really anything else to say. Shrugging, I held my hands out at my sides, palms up. “And here I am.”
Lennon wasn’t judging me. His expression was one of understanding and his eyes were kind, and yet, I still wanted to turn tail and run out of there. That had been hard to admit out loud, especially to a former student.
“And how has Rent-A-Daddy changed your situation?” he asked. “What have the benefits been?”
I flushed, stammering, “Well… I…uh… I mean, I’m more aware of myself, and um… it gives me something to look forward to. It’s helping me work through my emotions.”
Lennon’s fingers stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Bullshit,” he finally said, repeating his earlier accusation.
“Excuse me?” Just because he’d been insightful the first time did not mean I didn't resent being called a liar every time I turned around.
“Bull. Shit.” He enunciated the words this time. He shook his head. “You’re surviving, not thriving. You are getting a thrill each week, but nothing is really changing. And you’re not getting the therapy benefit, either. You couldn’t have been, because you weren’t giving Archer the information he really needed to help you.”
“I… oh.” As soon as I opened my mouth I realized he really wasn’t wrong, and I had no valid argument.
He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Archer may not have realized what was going on, Zoe, but I do. And if we are going to do this, things need to change. We are going to do it my way, and we are going to do it right.”
LENNON
She may have been fifteen or more years my senior, but I had her blushing and stammering like a teenager as I opened my messenger bag again, extracted a folder, and pulled out a blank application, placing it on the table between us.
“Fill this out,” I said firmly. “No lying this time. Not on any part of it. Do you understand me?”
She was still thinking about running. I could see it on her face now just as much as I had when she’d walked through the door of the cafe and saw me sitting there, waiting for her.
That was fine. If she wanted to go, she could, but I really hoped she wouldn’t. All through my college years Professor Zoe Kramer had been my wet dream, fodder for the spank bank, the unknowing star of all my filthiest fantasies. And before I sounded too much like a kid aching to act out his teenage dreams in my head, I had to be clear—it wasn’t just her body that attracted me, even though it was smokin’.
Zoe Kramer was the full package. Beautiful, intelligent, creative, and she always seemed to see me for who I was, even when I felt invisible to everyone else.
Much to my relief, she didn’t leave. She looked at me long and hard, heaved a soft sigh, pulled a pen out of her purse and said, “Yes, Sir.”
My thoughts wandered as she filled out the form, paying careful attention to each question. There was an air of awkwardness between us; our past professor-student dynamic still had a heavy hold. I needed it to not. Not if I was going to do my job properly. And I wanted to. I wanted to more than anything.