Leo helped me tame it before he abandoned me for his lumberjack.
Fine, he didn’t abandon me. I’m just being salty for no reason.
Yum, salty. I could go for some pretzels.
My stomach grumbles loudly.
Did I forget to eat?
I’m sure I had?—
My tummy grumbles again.
Maybe I didn’t eat lunch today…or dinner.
Oh well, now’s not the time. It’s the time to meet some Daddy types.
I gasp.
Maybe one of them would feed me!
No. No, I’m getting ahead of myself again.
I take a quick peek into the back room like the server suggested, but my spirit sinks when I see what looks like a cat party.
People have cat ears and tails on.
It actually looks kind of fun.
Maybe I’m too late. Maybe the Daddies left already, or maybe they were never here.
I think I might need a drink to settle my nerves, so I turn to the bar, order a shot, and down it. I’m setting the glass back down when I see him.
Joe.
The Daddy of my dreams is sitting at the bar.
He looks over and gives me a confused look before the slightest smile crosses his lips, but it’s gone just as quickly.
I saw it, and I don’t know what he’s doing here, and he might not be the reason I came out tonight, but I’m going to shoot my shot and hope that dreams really do come true.
Chapter 3
Joe
What the heck is Izzy doing here?
I know when he goes out, it’s usually with Leo and to quieter gay bars. He says he wants a Daddy and won’t find one at the dancing bars.
I’m still not sure what he means by Daddy.
Leo tried to explain it to me once, and I told him to stop. Not because I didn’t want to hear about it, but what he said had my dick getting hard, and neither of us needed that to happen.
I’m a bossy control freak, and the idea of someone doing everything I say because they want me to take care of them sounds amazing. To give me their total submission and trust is… Yeah, that’s right up my alley.
I asked one of my female co-workers about the idea of submission as a relative term, not anything specific, and she went off on a tangent about how this wasn’t the dark ages, women can think for themselves, they make their own money, and they don’t need men or their penises.
I backed away slowly with my hands covering my junk.