Page 25 of Dear Daddy, Please Want Me

The user had matches from 100% to 98%. Then from 95% to 93%. Then 90% to 88%. He scrolled to the next page and it continued. 70% to 68%. 65% to 63%.

He clicked on another profile at random and checked their matches. Nothing that ended in a 7, 6, 2, or 1. He tried another one.

Holy shit. Whatever color or shade was supposed to get those middle percentages wasn’t there and the matches weren’t there either.

“Hey, uh, Levi?” He should tell him. He should really tell him.

He was humming along to a Hanukkah parody of what sounded like Kanye while he typed. “Yeah?”

“Who did the new color scheme? With the glitter?”

“Oh, that was Jazz. We thought we wouldn’t have time for it, she said she could get it done on Thursday before she left on vacation. It looks pretty good doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agreed faintly.

It took him less than a minute to find the faulty module. The percent ranges in the comments didn’t match the percentages in the actual code, so the programmer must have made a last-minute change.

He switched all of the ranges to end in 6’s and 1’s, then pushed out the module to the live site. Since the matches ran on the cloud, it didn’t even need an update to the app.

When he reloaded the match list he had open, the hits went from 1,232 to 1,788. The full range of match percentages showed, in all of their glittery glory.

He tried one of the couples who’d written in, just to be sure. Yep. There it was.

That was it. They could go home.

It was a let-down, after all the time he’d put in searching for it.

No, that wasn’t it. It felt like an ending.

He flipped back to the sandbox version where Levi was still working and clicked on PerfectDaddy. He read it all again.

The profile wasn’t really filled out, but the checklist looked complete. He could do that. He could be that. Probably. Maybe.

He wasn’t like BritishDaddy or whoever that guy was, a nameless set of data points on a screen. Levi knew him as a person. And somehow still seemed to want him.

He clicked on PerfectDaddy’s matches, where JewBoy1 showed up right on top. He still couldn’t see JewBoy2, since he hadn’t made the changes in Levi’s copy of the site. He clicked on JewBoy1’s letter.

Levi wanted a sexy Daddy and a candy cane mocha with whipped cream. He signed it love and kisses, from the Jewiest Jew boy ever. He wanted a nice Jewish man to take home to his parents. He promised not to be too greedy. (Seriously.)

Levi was just so happy and silly and adorable, and for some reason he, apparently, wanted Saul to be his Daddy.

Could he really take that risk? There were a thousand things that could go wrong, starting with losing the respect of all of his employees and ending with Levi breaking his heart. Somewhere in the middle was the instinctive fear that Levi would find his body repulsive.

Levi threw his head back dramatically, singing “oooh-ooh-oooooh, the latke recipe…” to the tune of “Shut Up And Dance.”

What would it be like having that innocent delight in his life every day? Saul was sure that Levi had difficult days. Everyone did, though he’d never gotten a glimpse of them at work. But he found that he wanted to be there for those too.

Not to mention all the dirty thoughts of the past year, which seemed to be exploding today. Levi with his ass red, eyes glassy with pleasure and his face streaked with tears. Levi bound helplessly and begging him to come. Levi blushing and thrilled when he made him perform in front of an audience.

Saul took a deep breath. He tried to consider whether he could balance his personal and work life if he were dating an employee, but that just led to other thoughts. Like having Levi sit at his feet while he worked. Calling him into the office to inspect his cock cage. If there were ever a company that wouldn’t think twice about Levi kneeling at his feet when they went out for drinks one night and capably leading a team the next morning, this was it.

That was part of why he’d founded it. He wanted to support the kink community, but he also wanted to have a space where he could be himself.

He also, however, had to lead by example. Didn’t he?

He scrolled up to read the whole letter again. That plea for a Daddy was real, even if Levi joked about it.

And that was when Saul’s finger slipped. Just one little button, conveniently placed to initiate a conversation.