Sugar Daddy Wanted: Now Accepting Applications (2 page)

Kerry swallowed past the lump in her throat. Her boys’ really were the sweetest. “Thanks guys.” She nudged an empty chip bag lying on the coffee table. “Any snacks left?”

“Pizza’s still in the fridge,” Duncan answered, staring straight ahead at the TV.

“And?” she prompted.

“Can’t you make it?” Cohen asked.

“Just because I’m home doesn’t mean I have to make it. You two are old enough to feed yourselves.” She folded her arms over her chest, faking a pout. “This isn’t really the evening I had planned. I want a man to cook me dinner.”

“No men here to speak of,” Cohen piped up. “Just because Duncan shaves what little hair he has on his face, doesn’t make him a man.”

Duncan reached over Kerry to punch his brother in the leg. “Bugger off. I’m more of a man than you.”

“So, which one of you is making me dinner?” she asked, pushing Duncan back into the couch.

Both boys folded their hands in their laps, silent as church mice.

“You two are the worst dates ever.” She pushed up off the couch and stuck her tongue out at her sons.

“We love you, Mom!” they called after her.

Kerry headed into the kitchen, her toes wiggling into the plush carpet, then scrunching up at the contrast to the cool tile floor of the kitchen. She busied herself pre-heating the oven and extracting the pizzas from the fridge.

As she put the food in the oven, Duncan came into the room and rummaged around in the fridge. He slammed the door closed with his hip and popped the top on a soda can.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” He took a swig from the can. “Do you need any help?”

Kerry shrugged. “No biggie. It’s only pizza.”

“Yeah, but I can still help, especially after that guy was such a jerk to you.”

Kerry glanced over to see the concerned expression on his face. Smiling, she walked over and wrapped him in a hug. He worried too much for her welfare sometimes. “Don’t worry about it.” She held him at arm’s length and made a face. “All’s well that…ends.”

“There’s got to be someone out there for you,” Duncan encouraged, disengaging from her embrace. He turned toward the cupboard and retrieved three plates.

“I don’t really need a man in my life,” she replied. “I already have two of the best guys a woman could ever have.”

“Lame.”

She stuck her tongue out at Duncan’s remark. A stack of bills on the kitchen table caught her eye. Riffling through them, she thought,
Ugh. Wouldn’t it be better if they all just blew away?

Duncan set the plates on the table and pointed a finger at her. “What you need is a Sugar Daddy.”

“Excuse me?” Kerry dropped the papers.

“Yeah, someone with money who will take care of you for a change.”

One hand on her hip, she posed with an incredulous expression on her face. “Oh really? And where did this idea come from?”

“In a movie I saw at Kate’s house.”

Kerry shook her head, laughing at the idea. “What movie was that? And did you two even watch it? Are you and Kate being safe?”

“Mom!” Duncan scrunched up his face in disgust. “We’re not having sex. And I wouldn’t tell you if I was anyway.”

“I’d know. I’m your mother. Eyes in the back of my head and all that. Just keeping you honest. Besides, you’re too young. Keep that pecker in your pants a little longer.”

Duncan held his hands up out in front of him. “Don’t ever use the word pecker in my presence again.”

“Would you prefer penis?”

“Mom,” Duncan warned.

“Long john? Wee Willy? Mr. Happy?”

“That’s my name for it!” Cohen shouted from the living room.

“Stay out of this twerp!” Duncan shouted back.

“Don’t yell at your brother,” Kerry admonished.

“I will if you stop talking about sex.” He mock shuddered.

Kerry turned to the oven, bending over to peer inside at the cheese bubbling on top of the crust. “Listen young man—I was your age once, and you’ll be sixteen soon. All I ask is that you consider her feelings and be safe. I am too young to be a grandma.”

“No, you’re a MILF,” Cohen remarked, skipping into the kitchen.

Kerry straightened up, hands on hips, when she heard her younger son’s comment. “Where on earth did you hear that?” she questioned.

“A couple of teenage guys behind us in line at the grocery store said it as you were bagging up the groceries the other day.” Cohen shrugged, oblivious to the meaning of the acronym.

“She’s not a MILF,” Duncan insisted. “That’s gross.”

“What does it mean anyway?” Cohen asked.

“Never mind!” Kerry and Duncan shouted at the same time.

“Fine,” Cohen grumbled, taking a soda from the fridge before slinking back into the living room.

“New topic?” Duncan asked.

“Absolutely,” Kerry agreed. “Now go—I’ll bring the pizza in as soon as it’s ready.”

Duncan exaggerated a sigh of relief, and strode from the kitchen with his can of pop.

Kerry giggled at his retreating form.
A MILF. And if I went for one of those kids at the store, it would also make me a cougar, more likely a pedophile.
Unable to recall the youths in question, she returned her attention once more to the bills. Weary, she plopped down into a chair and sifted through them.

Sure would be nice not to have to worry so much about making ends meet.
Resting her chin in her hands, she pondered Duncan’s suggestion.
A Sugar Daddy.
Ludicrous.

The timer went off, and she removed the pizza from the oven. While slicing it up, she paused as an idea popped into her brain.

After tonight’s latest dating episode, it might be fun to take a look at one of those dating sites dedicated to finding a Sugar Daddy. She’d never checked out one of those.
What kind of man pays for companionship? What sort of woman applies?
The only way she’d know is if she set up a profile somewhere.
Just for fun, of course.

SUGAR DADDY WANTED: Now accepting applications.

A thirty-nine year old, mother of two boys, I am tired of holding down a job and working to pay bills. Requirements of your position: Attractive. Three figure salary a must. Bank statements required as proof. Sex is negotiable. I reserve the right to put out or withhold. Must tolerate my children in a pleasant way.

Kerry took a sip from her wine glass, suppressing a giggle as she proofread the profile she’d created on the dating site: sugardaddywanted.com
.
The internet never ceased to amaze her. This site, one of hundreds she’d found, boasted its ability to find her the Sugar Daddy of her dreams.

With flourish, she hit ‘enter’ and waited for her ad to go live.
No man in their right mind will answer this.
All of the women with profiles on here were far younger than she, and projected an innocent air, while coming off as anything but.

Kerry took another sip of wine, scanning the photo she’d posted of herself in a black form-fitting dress with spaghetti straps and red sequins. It had been taken at a New Year’s Eve party hosted by her friend and co-worker, Heather.
I look hot if I do say so myself.

Another giggle burst forth, and she made a mental note to ease up on the wine. Even though the boys had been in bed for over an hour, she didn’t want them to wake and find her drunk. No matter what, she’d never be seen by them as less than their strong, tough mom.

A blip sounded from her computer. Startled, she blinked. Someone had responded to her ad. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbled.

Kerry squinted at the monitor, scanning the man’s profile picture. One eyebrow rose, and she set her wine glass down on the desk beside the computer. A handsome visage stared back at her—midnight eyes, collar-length wavy hair, facial scruff, strong jaw. He’d listed his age at forty-five.

A queer jolt shot through her stomach and straight to the apex of her thighs. “Huh. Not bad.”

Down girl.
The photo had professional written all over it. A white dress shirt opened down his torso, revealing the right amount of chest fur. His sexy half smile made her insides quiver.
Probably a fake
. Reality could show her a fat, balding man, rolling in money, not afraid to lie and spend a little for affection.

A sigh escaping, she shook her head.
What am I doing?
Get off this site!
Another sound blip brought her back to the moment. She read his two word message out loud. “You serious?”

Kerry clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into raucous laughter. Too busy creating the ad, she hadn’t thought of any response should someone wish to talk to her. But then what had she expected? Supposedly, all the women on here wanted a Sugar Daddy, and the men were exactly that.

What on earth do I say to him?
She typed back a one word answer. “Dead.”

Mr. Sexy-GQ replied with: LOL.

A sly grin split her lips, and she rubbed her palms together. “Let’s see what he has to say for himself.”

* * * * *

Grayson Nichols shifted in his seat as he enlarged the profile picture of the nearly forty year old woman on his computer screen. The ad itself had been enough to read twice. The photo of her had halted him in his tracks, making his cock twitch in his pants.

Most women on the site were twenty-something’s looking for a free ride. As a prominent lawyer in Winnipeg, Canada, and part of the social elite, he felt compelled to check it out. A few of his corporate clients had boasted about the website, bragging how it brought them a little companionship with young hotties for a small price—a price they could easily afford when they needed arm candy for a social function.

Grayson held a private disgust for men who used their wealth that way, and even more for the women who took advantage. Since some of these same men hired his services, he kept his opinions to himself. Then again, these women—and he used the term loosely, considering most of them appeared barely over the age of eighteen—sold themselves to the highest bidder for a chance at the easy life.

At his age, he could care less about finding anyone to share his life with. Women either wanted him for his money, or his looks, neither of which interested him. He knew he shouldn’t find it a hardship, but he wanted something real, honest. And so far he hadn’t found it.

He studied the photo of Kerry Roberts, and read her ad again. Her response to his question made him chuckle. Most of the women on the site were scantily clad, more than willing to show off their “wares” in order to gain attention. Her dress spoke of class, yet sexy—a woman who knew how to present herself. And her age gave her the wisdom he knew most girls on this site did not possess.

If that’s how old she is.
Grayson scrubbed his stubbly jaw with a hand. She didn’t look over thirty, so either genetics worked in her favor, or she figured an ‘older woman’ might get her more attention.

From the profiles he’d read in the last few minutes, he knew most of the girls tried to come off as the daughter type—sweet, innocent, but an undercurrent pervaded—a willingness to negotiate favors of the sexual variety for a little cash, gifts and a whole lot of attention. That he’d witnessed first-hand from braggart clients.
Only your clients?
His subconscious had to add the jab. Kerry Roberts, on the other hand, held no pretense. She made it clear what she was looking for.
Is she serious?
Only one way to find out.

Grayson typed in another reply: Tell me about yourself.

He tapped his fingers against the desktop, waiting for her response. After a few seconds, her reply popped up on his screen: My profile says it all.

“Interesting,” he muttered. It irritated the hell out of him she’d outright ask for money instead of making her own way.
At least she’s honest, more than you can say for Anna.

He shook the memory of his ex-fiancée from his mind. Why should he care if Kerry Roberts went in search of a man to take care of her? He didn’t want a woman like that in his life anyway. He’d gotten rid of one a few years back.
And maybe you still wonder how someone could be like that.

Challenge
echoed in his head. As a lawyer, he had a reputation for making people crack under pressure. Since he had no desire to speak to Anna at all, he wondered if he got to know what made a woman like Kerry tick, perhaps he could finally understand Anna’s intentions and let the past go once and for all.

He straightened up in his chair and prepared his questions.

Grayson: Current place of employment?

Kerry: I work as a legal clerk in a law firm.

Grayson: Which one?

Several seconds ticked by.

Kerry: Ah. You’re a lawyer. I obviously don’t work for you, now do I?

He laughed out loud.

Grayson: I work at Smith, Wesson and Glocks.

An eye roll emoticon popped up.

Kerry: Lame.

Grayson: Google it.

A tongue emoticon preceded her reply.

Kerry: Wasting my time. Let me guess—Smith, Weston and Porter. My office deals with yours on occasion. That makes you corporate. Big money. Got the bank statements to back it up?

Grayson choked on another laugh.
The woman has balls.

Grayson: If you meet me for dinner, I’ll present my financial statements to you as per your request.

Why the hell did I offer that? Never mind. Follow your instinct.

Kerry: Dinner? Presumptuous. Coffee is a safer bet. We might hate each other after five minutes.

His eyes narrowed.
Bingo
. Asking a man for coffee ensured a short date. This meant one of two things—either she’d been on a few dates she wished had ended sooner, or she only needed a few minutes to deem him worthy to financially support her.
Both probably apply.
Did she do this often?

Grayson: Your ad doesn’t specify we need to like one another. Money, someone to tolerate your kids, and negotiation of sexual favors is what I read here.

Kerry: Are you saying you want sex as a part of the deal?

Grayson: I’m a man. Take a guess.