Home > Sugar Daddies(3)

Sugar Daddies(3)
Author: Jade West

I stared over at their house, realising all over again that my car was going to look like a bag of shit on their driveway. My car would look like a bag of shit on anyone’s driveway.

I took a breath. Here goes nothing.

I pulled my battered old Ford onto their property, and immediately wished I’d given it a jet wash. Mine was covered in mud and scratches and probably half a hay bale, and theirs were gleaming. Gleaming and new. A posh Range and some sporty silver BMW, pristine on their fancy pink-bricked driveway. At least I’d made the effort to spruce myself up. I turned off the engine and kicked off my pumps, replacing them with the killer heels I’d stashed in the passenger footwell. I checked my makeup in the rearview mirror, lipstick still behaving in a shade only one darker than nude, and a few token dabs of mascara. I’d pass. Hopefully. I shimmied my dress further down my thighs, conscious of flashing my slutty little knickers as I clambered into plain sight. Long legs are both a blessing and a curse, harbouring the ability to turn a perfectly respectable dress into a whore-gown with just one false wiggle. Finally I reached for my bag, checking my paperwork just one last time. Paperwork, yikes. This was some crazy shit, but my dreams weren’t getting any smaller.

I could do this.

I needed to do this.

I took a breath and stepped out into the cool evening air, a welcome relief against burning skin. My dress was the most expensive I owned; a soft pink strapless number with a demure little diamante rose at the bust.

My strides defied my lack of confidence, my heels clacking against the ground as I approached their front door.

Rick and Carl, Carl and Rick.

I hoped it would be Rick who answered. Rick seemed nice, and kind, and cool. Rick was hot, and funny. I could fall for Rick. He had full-sleeve tattoos and his clothes were nerdy-chic. He had messy brown hair and dark eyes, and a full-on hipster beard. He was a designer, too. What’s not to love?

Carl, on the other hand. I’d never spoken to Carl. Carl seemed… intense. Intimidating. Posh suits, and steely muscles, and chiselled features, and absolutely everything I wasn’t. The corporate bogeyman under my country-girl bedspread. Maybe the photos made him look more that way than he really was.

I knocked on the door and my heart thumped like a crazy bitch, my breath raw in my throat as I saw a shadow move behind the glass.

The door swung open and I couldn’t breathe, just plastered on the warmest, brightest smile I could muster and it stayed. It stayed because it was Rick who answered, and he was smiling, too. His smile was incredible, big and genuine, and it gave him dimples. He had tight black jeans on over brogues, and a purple tie over a short-sleeved checked shirt. Rick Warner, graphic designer extraordinaire, was absolutely goddamn fucking gorgeous, way more gorgeous than his gorgeous pics. One for the win.

“Katie! Hey!” He beckoned me in like a long-lost friend, and wrapped me in colourful arms that were hotter in the flesh than they were in any online photo, and he smelled of both the ocean and cherries simultaneously. His chest was hard under his shirt, and he was taller than I’d expected, as tall as me, even in heels.

He pushed the door closed behind us, and reached for my hand and it felt alright. I could do this.

Or so I thought.

Until there was him. Mr Stern. And he was massive. Massive and perfect. And really stern. His eyes looked like they hunted girls like me for breakfast.

“Carl, this is Katie. Katie, this is Carl.”

Carl took a step forwards, and I instinctively took a little shimmy back, but his hand had already landed on mine, squeezed hard. “Introductions aren’t entirely necessary, Rick,” he said, and I wasn’t sure how serious he was. “Pleased you could join us, Katie. I’ve heard a lot. All good.”

“Same,” I said. “I mean, bits, from Rick.”

I’ve heard you’re intense, and serious, and great in bed. I’ve heard you’re not as scary as you first appear. I’ve heard you work all over the country, closing mega technology deals worth enough to make the eyes water. I’ve heard you’re driven, and smart, and really nice when you get to know you.

I’ve heard I have to take you both at once. That’s the condition. Your condition.

I’ve heard that’s what gets you off.

But I couldn’t fathom any of it, I could only burn under the way his eyes ate mine. Green, like bay leaves, flecked with silver. His hair was dark and slick, and his shirt was crisp and white, the collar so sharp it could cut. He was wearing tailored trousers, even on the weekend, and his watch was expensive and caught the light as I watched his hand shaking mine.

“So, Katie, what brings you here? Why us?”


Rick jabbed him in the arm, elbowed him pretty hard. “I’m sure Katie would like a drink, Carl.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, angling me past his confrontational other half, where my body skirted Carl’s just a little too closely. My skin prickled and my legs felt like jelly, as though he was melting me.

I couldn’t fuck him.

He’d destroy me. Turn me into a puddle of gooey nothing.

But I was giddy at the thought. Giddy with everything. And it all seemed so stupid, this whole thing was crazy stupid. A silly girl out of her depth, thinking she could cut it as some kind of high class escort to two bisexual guys, just because she took it up the ass a few times at college and enjoyed it.

A lot.

Ok, I enjoyed it a lot.

But still.


Rick led me on through the hallway into a huge, airy kitchen. The place was gorgeous, framed energy drink adverts lined the walls above glossy white ceramic tiles, and the tops were black marble.

“You did these?” I asked, pointing one out.

“Sure did.” He smiled at me, and I’d have relaxed completely if I hadn’t felt the heat of Carl behind me. “Wine? Spirits? Soft drink?” Rick raised his eyebrows. “Power-up lime, the drink of champions?”

I smiled back. “Water, please.”

He took out a mineral water, one of those posh ones in glass bottles, dispensed some ice from their super cool fridge-freezer, and handed it over in a twisty glass. I sipped, and my throat was tight with nerves.

“A little apprehensive?” Rick asked, and his eyes were twinkling. “Hey, don’t sweat it. I’m nervous, too.” He looked behind me. “We all are.”

I didn’t believe that somehow.

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