Page 47 of Ctrl+Alt Submit

ERROL

F inn’s is dead when I first get in, which feels like a bad omen.

I push that thought out of my head as I sit on the last barstool with a spiral notebook, thinking about how I want Ran to reward me —and trying not to think about what he’s going to come up with if I don’t hit my goal.

I know he didn’t call it a punishment, but that’s how my brain has categorized it.

At first, I think my imagination is just broken, because I can’t come up with anything.

When the most random flash of inspiration strikes, I scribble down my first idea with a grin.

If Ran will really do whatever I want, I’m going to take full advantage of this crazy idea of his.

That first idea sets off a brainstorm, and I scribble furiously for a few minutes.

By the time I hear the door opening and look up to see Bruce shambling in, I’ve got almost a page of ideas.

I shut the notebook, making sure to stash it carefully with my jacket. Lord knows if anybody got an eyeful of that, I’d be so mortified I’d have to leave town. Or maybe the state. Or the country.

After closing, when I’m wiping down the bar, another thought hits me.

Oh, no. I couldn’t … Ran did say anything I wanted, though. I retrieve the notebook and add one more line. Reading it over again, I feel my cheeks heat.

I also feel a surge of motivation.

I think about just leaving the notebook on the kitchen table so Ran will find it.

But my curiosity and trepidation win out, so I just hand it to him.

I want to see his response. I need to see if there’s anything in his eyes that says I’ve overstepped, or asked for too much, or revealed…

I don’t know. Some dark, hidden wish he didn’t already know about and that could scare him off.

I don’t really think that would happen at this point, but I can’t completely extinguish the fear.

From the look Ran gives me, I think he might be a little nervous, too.

We’re standing in the kitchen, morning light pouring through the window and the smell of coffee in the air.

His eyes skim down the page. A couple of times, he flashes a lascivious grin.

So far so good. I glance down. Wish I knew if any of these were getting him hard.

I watch until his eyes drop down. He must be near the end.

And that’s when his eyebrows start to go up —and keep going. He lets out a chuckle. “Well, damn, Babydoll,” he mutters. “If this is what you want… I’ll see you and raise you.”