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In the end, my mind has chosen a winner from the many possible routes it scouted, but the destination is the same as it was minutes ago, when Vi’s words were the spell that avada kedavra’d my writer’s block.
“Plant Daddy,” I whisper.
She sighs but smiles. “What are you talking about now?”
“You, my love, just planted the seed that is currently growing into an entire plot with characters and everything inside my twisted little mind at this very moment. But you know I can’t talk about it until I jot everything on a sticky, so hold up,” I tell her, opening up the Stickies app on my laptop and quickly typing out some notes so I don’t forget anything my brain conjured about the book I’m now anxious to start researching for.
Vi is squealing quietly as she bounces in her seat, clapping her hands. And when I give her the signal that I’m done putting my thoughts down so I don’t forget them, she bursts forth with a question she’s clearly dying to ask. “What is up with you lately? Have you suddenly developed a daddy kink I should worry about showing up in your next book?”
I laugh out loud at that. “No. Ew.” I slap my hand over my mouth then slide it off, genuinely ashamed that came out of my mouth. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I will never, ever, ever be someone who yucks another person’s yum. But no, the daddy thing is not for me. I was entirely too close to my father before he passed away to ever call another man Daddy, and especially not as a sexy nickname.”
“Then are the daddy names a new trend I just haven’t come across in my algorithm yet?” she asks. “First, there was Gym Daddy you told me about a while back—”
“Mmm… Gym Daddy. I’ve missed getting to count his pull-ups from afar while I’ve been off the workout wagon. Hell, that might be incentive enough to get my ass back there,” I insert, sighing wistfully.
“—and then came Dream Daddy, when you pointed out Sir Jeremy at the club.” She ticks this one off on her finger, seemingly realizing there are enough names to make an entire list.
I moan and melt down into the bench until Vi has to close my laptop in order to see me. “My God, could you imagine being on the receiving end of his—”
“It’s been years, but Dulce still holds the record for the most Os, with seventeen before she fainted. The man has no sympathy when subs volunteer for forced orgasms. If you don’t use your safe word, he just keeps on going.”
“And going. And going. And going,” I say, my voice breathy. And then I blink and look at my friend. “You seriously don’t know who he is in real life?”
She shakes her head. “No idea. And even if I did, I’m under just as many NDAs as you and every other member of the club is. And before you ask, no, I don’t have access to Seth’s crazy computer system. Again, even if I did, he was literally a child prodigy who graduated from an Ivy League college with his Master’s in technology before most kids his age graduated high school. There’s no way in hell I could get past even the first restricted page he put up, much less whatever fortress he’s put everyone’s identity inside.”
“Well what good are you then?” I gripe, but my smile takes any meanness out of the words, and she rolls her eyes.
“Anyway. So that’s Gym Daddy, Dream Daddy, and then Dumpster Daddy, and now Plant Daddy. You, my dear, have a closet daddy kink,” she teases.
I sit up straight. “I don’t have a daddy kink!” I hiss across the table. “It’s just want I call older men, and… I maaay or may not have a thing for older men,” I admit.
“Ya think?” Vi squawks, and my eyes widen as I look around the coffee shop to see if her volume drew attention our way.
“Why’d you say it like that?” I whisper-yell.
She gives me a bug-eyed look, her mouth dropping open before her expression turns flabbergasted. “Are you telling me you are just now becoming aware of your attraction to older guys, Sienna?”
I shrug. “What? It’s a new development.”
She shakes her head. “No! It most certainly is not a new development. Woman!”
I mimic her bug-eyed stare and repeat, “What?!”
She sits forward to speak quietly, but the words are sharp. “Gym Daddy. How long has it been since you went to the gym?”
“Rude.” I pout. “I don’t like your tone. But it’s been about five months now. I’ve been busy rescuing—”
“Five months since you’ve been, and you saw him the first time when?”
I have to think about that for a second. “Not too long after Art and I divorced, so a year and a half ago. You made a big deal about it because he was the first man outside the club I was even remotely attracted to.”
