The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 17: 11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books For Women (11 page)

Grandma called for me and I reluctantly went to the door. I put on the best smile I could and hugged her and let her fuss over me like a mother who hasn’t seen their child in a few weeks should.

“How’s school, how’s middle school treating you, kid?”
             

“It’s fine,” I said.

“That’s good. Any cute boys?”

“Sarah!” Grandma grew protective.

“No, no boys,” I said while shaking my head.
             

“That’s okay. Well, um, I guess I’ll be heading back home then. We got a place on the west side now.”

“Bye mom. I’ll tell Matthew and Marcia you were here.”

“And I’ll tell your father you all said hello.” I saw sadness in my mother’s eyes as she turned to leave in the beat up old car. And for the first time, I felt a little sorry for her.

***

What happened with my parents is that they were madly in love with one another and got addicted to that love. Addiction, even to something as intangible and abstract as love, can lead you to do crazy things. My parents needed to fight, needed to yell and break stuff and have their entire families disavow them to keep the spark that so often dies alive. Matthew once told me that he walked in on them arguing one day, and went to his room only to find them in theirs fucking ten minutes later.

They wanted to be normal like everyone else, but they couldn’t, not even to the children that depended on them the most.

It was that type of upbringing that made my stance on love so hard. I never wanted anyone to do that to me. I never wanted to find a person that would drive me to such insanity. I resolved from an early age never to fall in love.

I went through adolescence hiding myself and my budding body from the eyes of little boys and grown men who promised me a world they didn’t have if I would just love them (whether for an eternity or three minutes under the bleachers). I would have none of it. I couldn’t relate to any of my girlfriends because while they talked of kissing boys and all of the fun that they had on their Saturday night dates, I had no stories of my own, lest I took the risk and fell in love with someone.

I didn’t want to lose such a big part of me. Not to love and not to another person.

***

April, 2007

This is is why I like my arrangement with Andrew; I met him a month prior to my high school graduation. I didn’t have much prospects — community college for two years before transferring to a university and getting a respectable career with long hours to keep me away from the impending loneliness I was imposing on myself. I worked a part time job at the mall (the only place that would hire someone with no experience at the time) to have some money in my pocket and potentially move out — but I found that with every paycheck, no matter how much I saved, I was no closer to leaving.

He came into the store on a day that I was set to get off early, obviously looking for something, but I couldn’t guess as to what this old guy could be looking for, seeing that he specifically was in the women’s shoe section.

“I’m looking for some shoes,” he said.

I wasn’t taken by him, and immediately went into saleswoman mode. “You’re definitely in the right place. Do you want a pump, stiletto, flats?”

“Pumps, I like pumps. And stilettos,” he said.

I took him over to the pumps first. “What size are you looking for?”

“Hmm…. about…” He looked down at my feet. “Like yours. What size do you wear?”

“I wear an 8,” I said.

“Yeah, a size 8.”

I pulled a shoe off of the shelf — a nude colored pump, 6 inch heel.

“I don’t like that color,” he said. “Do you have something a bit neon?”

I showed him a neon yellow color blocked number, another 6 inch heel.

He looked at it sideways. “I like this. What else?”

I showed him the same shoe in a bright green.

“I like this one too. I’ll take them.”

“No problem,” I said.

“Christina, when you’re done with that customer, clock out, okay?” My boss poked her head from around the corner that separated the clothing section from the shoe section.

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Christina.” I heard my name ruminate on his tongue.

I showed him some stilettos and he eventually settled on a silver pair that wrapped around the leg.

I went to get the shoes for him and took them to the register. He was there waiting patiently. I rang up the shoes at over 250 dollars and he paid for it all in cash.

“Have a great day,” I told him.

“You too Christina.”

No shudder went up my spine, and I turned normally to go clock out. I exited through the store, as it was still early, and I found him waiting on the bench outside of the store.

“Hello,” he said with a sheepish grin and a wave.

“Hi,” I said.

He handed me the bag of shoes. “These are for you.”

“What?”

“These shoes are for you. You look like you could use something nice.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It could mean whatever you want.”

I took the bag and looked into it even though I knew exactly what it was. I actually picked out some shoes for myself. If he wanted to throw away his money like that, fine, but I was pretty sure he expected something in return, something I could not give him.

“Give me a call. You need to have some fun, I can tell.” He slipped me his business card, a fancy, embossed affair.

I went home and hid the shoes; and then I called him.

I called him because on the bus ride home, with the box of shoes resting at my feet, I convinced myself that I had to know why he bought me those shoes. I knew why, but I wanted to hear it, even though he would never admit it.

***

One thing I could always say about Andrew is that he’s honest, and he did tell me why, but it wasn’t the answer I was expecting.

“I will take care of you, buy you anything you want and take you anywhere you want to go as long as you continue to be the sexy little thing you are.”

“Why though?”

“It’s what I do.” I imagined him shrugging as he said this.

“You’ve done this before?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I can’t commit.”

After a pause, I said, “Me neither.”

“Then this works out for both of us then, until we feel the need to move on.”

“Okay then.”

I hate the term, but I am what I am — a sugar baby. An older man is paying my way through this time of life. He is my sugar daddy. I’ve been with him for 6 years and I find that I have not grown tired of our arrangement like I thought I would, and he hasn’t either. I’m living with him. He’s paying for my grandmother’s hospital care. He’s gotten me a new car every year that we’ve been together. He paid for me to go to community college and university and if I want my Masters, I can go back at any time. Never once though, have we said “I love you” or put a title on our arrangement other than arrangement and we haven’t talked about what we are and where we’re going. We’re just being right now. I guess that’s what I have always wanted.

***

I finished my run. Andrew was awake and dressed in his robe, cooking dinner. “How does Chicken Florentine sound tonight?”

“As long as you put that amazing hollandaise sauce on top of it,” I said.

“Of course I will.” He rarely cooks, but when he does, it’s amazing.

“I’m going to jump back in the shower.”

“Okay. Don’t be long.”

“Yes sir.”

After another night of sex, I stopped by my grandparents’ house — the house I grew up in — to check on things. My grandfather had passed away two years before, and with my grandmother in the hospital, no one was there to look after the house — Matthew had to escape from it all and decided to make his life in the middle of nowhere, Washington. Marcia just didn’t bother.

I picked up the mail out of its box and sorted it- —a few bills that needed to be paid, credit card offers and junk mail that I threw out. I vacuumed the floor and made sure that the refrigerator was empty.

While I was doing my inspection, the doorbell rang. Not expecting anyone, I went to answer it, and found my mother and father at the door.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” they both said. My father scratched at an imaginary itch behind his head while my mother tepidly stepped into the house. “How’s everything?”

“Good. I was just checking the house and getting the mail and stuff,” I said. “Looking after the house.”

We were here for that too,” my mom said. “We’re going to the hospital afterwards. But, I mean, it looks like you have it all under control.”

I nodded. My dad stayed quiet.

“Have you heard from Matthew or Marcia?” Mom asked.

“No. Marcia never answers her phone and Matthew doesn’t have one.”

“Oh. Yeah. But how are you? Are you good? You look good.

“I’m fine.” I hesitated, “Someone is taking care of me.”

“Is he a good man?” she asked. I felt myself blush red.

“He is,” I said after an awkward pause.

“That’s good.”

“I think we should be leaving,” my father said after a while.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

I nodded. “I’ll lock up the house.”

“Of course you will,” she said. “She raised you to be responsible.”

Before she stepped out the door, my mother turned and said, “Do you love him?”

“No.” I said.

“That’s sad. You should at least know it once in your lifetime.”

I smiled a sad smile at her. “I don’t think I can.”

“I’m sorry.” And with that, she left.

***

Andrew was asleep on the couch in the den, a drink growing warm on the table.

I shook him gently. “Andrew?”

“Yeah?” He mumbled while still asleep.

“Are you ready to go to bed?”

“Yeah.” He stood up and I led him to bed. I got naked and molded myself against his body until we were spooning. He grinded his hips into my bare backside. “I can wake up a little for this.”