Dear Daddy, Please Spank Me - Chara Croft Page 0,4

certainly wouldn’t hurt to… what was it he’d asked me to do? Click, like, and subscribe?

After all, one of my most frequently recurring fantasies, one that popped up even more often than visions of that gravity-defying ass of his, had always been that Jordan would ask me for something, and I’d give it to him. That he’d realize I was exactly what he needed, that I could take care of him better than anyone else ever could, and then—before he even knew what had hit him—I’d have swept him right off his feet and straight into our own picture-perfect happily ever after.

And okay, maybe subscribing to his video channel in response to a totally generic and universal “ask” wasn’t exactly the same thing—and following people on the internet definitely wasn’t my usual style—but for Jordan? I mean, come on. With the chance to fulfill even a tiny fraction of one of my lifelong Jordan-Wendt fantasies at hand, how could I possibly resist?

2

Jordan

My face was done and Dev was supposed to be here to start filming any minute, but I could hear Paulo banging around out in the living room, so I kept fucking with my brows in the hope that he’d leave before I had to come out of the bathroom. Dealing with a pissed off roommate was not what I needed before going on camera, and while I had no idea what I’d fucked up this time, after living together for eleven months, I was familiar with the signs.

Actually, after managing to fuck up most things in life for the past twenty-five years, I could vouch for the fact that banging cabinets and stomping angrily around the apartment were universal signs, and when they shifted into deliberate footsteps coming my way, my stomach tensed up.

I hated confrontation, and if I’d ever had any doubts about avoiding shit like boyfriends and relationships, the fact that disappointing this random dude I’d answered a roommate ad for on Craigslist could make me feel like I was about to puke was all the proof I needed that I’d never be cut out for it.

Paulo rapped sharply on the door.

“Jordan,” he said in that rolling accent that would’ve been sexy as fuck if it hadn’t so often been dripping with disappointment or outright anger when it was directed at me. “Can you come out here please?”

I closed my eyes and did two rounds of that hippie breathing shit Nichol had gotten hooked on after she'd moved out to the west coast, but it did precisely jack for calming me down.

Paulo knocked on the door again.

The world would be a much easier place if everyone just avoided confrontation, you know? But then again, if Paolo and I had both been like that, we’d probably have other problems... like the power getting shut off when I forgot to pay my half of the bill and whatnot.

One more deep breath and then I put my go-face on and opened the door.

“’Sup, Paulo?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and grinning at him as I leaned against the door jamb in exactly the pose that would make my arms pop the most. I mean, dude was straight, but it never hurt to put your best foot forward, right? And everyone liked you better when you smiled.

Paolo didn’t smile back, though, just thrust a piece of paper at me with a bunch of words printed on it.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked, his voice tight and angry. “Unable to deliver? I specifically asked you to be here to sign for this, Jordan. It was important.”

He fluttered the paper at me, so I took it, but no way could I muddle through all that writing with him in my face like this. I still frowned down at it like I was taking in all the details, though, just to keep him happy. Well, less unhappy, at least. The logo was easy—FedEx—and he’d said sign for something, so… okay, not rocket science to figure out the general idea of what I’d messed up this time. Still, I didn’t remember him asking me for shit.

“When did you mention it?” I asked, looking up and instantly realizing my mistake when he looked even more pissed.

Guess that wasn’t the point.

“I left you a note,” he practically shouted. “Yesterday, corno. Taped right on the blender so you would see it when you made that horrible protein thing you drink in the morning.”

Then he lapsed into a bunch of Portuguese that meant nothing