Mr. Sugar: A disturbing psychological thriller with a twist of dark romance

by L. D. Fox

  “Have you heard of the Fox Pit?”

  Pearl’s mouth slowly closed. Her eyes flashed to the document, to the initials embossed on its corner.

  Mystery solved.

  “Should I have?” she asked in a strangled voice.

  “We try and maintain a low profile, so hopefully not.”

  “We, who?”

  “It’s a gentlemen’s club.”

  “That’s… disgusting.”

  “Sex?”

  “A sex club. They’re disgusting.”

  Owen shrugged. “We provide exclusive membership for gentlemen with an exceptionally high net-worth. Membership includes the use of our facilities in Vermont and the services of our foxes.”

  “You want to hire me out to a bunch of billionaires?”

  Another sip of iced coffee momentarily halted the interrogation. Those green eyes fixed on her, unreadable in their intensity.

  “Our members visit the Fox Pit where you and the other girls stay. They can—”

  “Wait.” Pearl sat forward with her hand raised. “There are girls that have agreed to this?” She stabbed the folder, sending the pen rolling onto the coffee table.

  Owen caught it before it fell to the floor.

  “Yes. Nine, in fact.” He set the pen back on the folder. “We are looking for an even ten.”

  Pearl gaped at him.

  She eventually closed her mouth, but this didn’t help with the production of words. None that made sense, anyway.

  “You… how… why would…”

  Owen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Take the contract, Pearl. Have someone read over it. I’ll need your response by midday tomorrow.”

  He rose, paused, and stared down at her.

  Pearl found her feet with effort but did manage to glare back at him. “I wouldn’t count on it,” she said.

  Owen’s only response was a small, knowing smile.

  * * *

  Ready for the rest of the story? Click the cover or link to one-click Fool’s Gold.

  Fool’s Gold Universal Book Link

  Fool’s Gold

  Student Bodies

  Is it something in the water?

  Recently divorced chemistry professor, Jason Lorye, has a problem. She’s twenty years younger than him, is determined to seduce him, and is making his life a living hell. Her name is Wine (yes, like the alcoholic beverage).

  While Jason tries to fend off Wine’s advances with less enthusiasm than a man of his moral standing should be displaying, he discovers that a fellow faculty member from Beaverlicker University has a crush on him.

  Teaser: Hard Chemistry

  JASON GAZED OVER THE empty auditorium and took a sip from his coffee cup. With a sigh, he sank into the plastic chair tucked in behind a steel fold-up desk on his lecture podium. In fifteen minutes, a whole bunch of students would pour into the lecture hall, eagerly awaiting his wisdom in Biochemistry.

  He could hardly wait.

  One of the doors to the auditorium opened, its hinges squeaking. It was still dim inside the lecture hall; he hadn’t bothered turning on the overhead lights yet, especially when his first lecture consisted of a thirty-minute long PowerPoint presentation. If that didn’t put his class to sleep, nothing would. He snorted softly and shook his head, taking another sip of his coffee. He tugged his laptop out of his briefcase and started it up.

  That was all he seemed capable of: putting people to sleep. Kate — his ex-wife — always argued that he’d received his Ph.D in Narcolepsy and not Chemistry.

  He’d tried to argue, but they did seem mutually inclusive.

  The tap of heels on linoleum made him look up.

  An undergraduate, he was sure she was no older than twenty-one, picked her way down the auditorium’s stairs. She wore an emerald green cheerleader’s skirt that barely covered her ass. Her blond hair — tied up in a high ponytail — bounced from side to side as she descended.

  She hadn’t seen him yet; her gaze was fixed on her cellphone, thumb typing industriously as she made her way down the stairs. Its screen cast a soft white light on her face. It perfectly highlighted her rosebud mouth and cute, perky nose.

  The girl blew a large, pink bubble.

  Still oblivious to him, she used her free hand to scratch at her leg. The itch seemed to evade her and her fingers slid under her skirt, hitching it up to display the lacy hem of a pair of white panties.

  Jason cleared his throat.

  The girl looked up in surprise and gave him a small smile. He’d expected her to tug her hand away, perhaps embarrassed that a complete stranger had seen her underwear, but she scratched the side of her hip for another few seconds before letting her skirt fall down.

  “So you’re the new professor,” she called out, switching her attention from her cellphone to him.

  Jason nodded. He stood up, took another swig of coffee, and nodded again. “Professor Lorye. Pleased to meet you.”

  She flashed him a mock, two-fingered salute. Her grin widened as she gave him an appreciative once-over with lowered lashes.

  “You’re cuter than I thought.” The girl had a husky voice. “The minute someone has a D.R. in front of their name I always imagine them with a beard and a cane.”

  “Well, uh… not yet.” Jason cleared his throat again. “Not for many years, I hope.”

  The student giggled at him and carried on down the stairs until she was less than a meter away from his podium. She had to be a cheerleader: she wore a white, skin-tight cardigan and a partially zipped up jacket with the words ‘Go Beavers’ stretched across her breasts. The first three buttons of the cardigan were open, revealing a wide expanse of creamy skin and a dark, narrow crevice that disappeared between two firm tits.

  The girl glanced around the empty auditorium and back at him with a mischievous smile that made her green eyes sparkle.

  “This place is so creepy when it’s empty.”

  “Why did you come so early, then?”

  “I like the quiet.” She put her hands behind her back and swayed from side to side, studying him coyly. “Don’t you like the quiet?”

  “It’s nice,” Jason replied with a silent inward groan.

  God, he was the worst at making conversation.

  He cleared his throat again and touched the edges of his frameless spectacles to make sure they weren’t sliding down his nose again. They had an irritating habit of doing that, especially when he was caught up in something else.

  “You seem nice, too,” the girl said. “My name is Wine, by the way.”

  Jason stared at her. “Wine? As in the alcoholic beverage?”

  She pressed her fingertips to her rosy lips, suppressing a laugh. Her fingertips were painted with neon-pink polish, but she wore no rings or bracelets. She had beautiful, slender hands with long, tapered fingers. A white thread encircled her wrist – from it dangled a tiny charm in the shape of a bird.

  Jason realised he was staring and hastily averted his gaze to her eyes, instead. Her smile had become knowing. The girl dropped her hand to her chest, where she idly toyed with the straining fourth button of her cardigan. If it were to pop open…

  “It’s a family name,” she said vaguely. “But I have been told that I have an inebriating effect on people.”

  Jason swallowed and began straightening the papers on his desk. “Yes, well… Wine.” He cleared his throat. “It’s good to meet you. Uh, class is about to start, so you should—”

  Wine put her delicate hands on the table and leaned closer. She stared at him through her lashes for a moment and cocked her head. The position did a variety of interesting things to her breasts: the crevice between them disappeared, both mounds springing up as if eager to pop out of their constraint.

  The cheerleader wasn’t wearing a bra.

  The scent of her reached him then. She smelled of pink bubblegum and vanilla.

  “Wanna know something?” Wine whispered. “I suck at chemistry.”

  Jason realised
he was watching her mouth move, especially when she enunciated the word ‘suck’. He blinked and forced his gaze back to her eyes. They were as green as her skirt and flecked with gold. She winked at him.

  “I, uh—”

  “Just thought you should know,” she said. “It’s nothing to do with your teaching ability.” She pushed back from the table and dusted her hands. “Which I’m sure is fucking stellar.”

  She glanced over him and spun around, the edge of her skirt kicking up. Jason hastily looked away from the curve where her thighs met her ass.

  Wine fluttered pink fingertips over her shoulder at him and walked away. She seated herself right at the front of the class.

  As she sat down, the door to the auditorium opened again.

  A handful of students came inside, chatting animatedly. Jason cleared his throat again and needlessly adjusted his spectacles.

  “Welcome,” Jason called out hoarsely to the new arrivals.

  The students stopped talking and hurried to their seats, the sound of zippers and books being dragged from backpacks filling the previously hushed auditorium.

  Jason glanced at Wine. He gave her a tight smile.

  Wine grinned around the yellow pencil stuck in her mouth. She slowly spread her thighs, treating him to another flash of her pristine underwear. Just as slowly, she crossed them again.

  Jason swung around and began scrawling ‘Jason Lorye’ on the blackboard behind him, trying to ignore his throbbing dick. Luckily, he’d worn a baggy sweater over his jeans today. Whatever bulge his stiffening cock produced after Wine’s unabashed display, it would be hidden from the rest of the students.

  But that only solved one problem. The other, one he was overly aware of, was the hot cheerleader sitting less than twenty feet away from him.

  * * *

  The class was over a few hundred years after it began. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. Jason had managed to avoid making eye contact with Wine for the rest of the class, but the girl had timed every uncrossing/crossing of her legs for when he faced in her direction. He’d been witness to more than five flashes of her lacy panties, an image that had kept him uncomfortably hard for most of the lesson.

  A few of the students remained behind after class to welcome Jason, but he wouldn’t have been able to recall their names if someone had put a gun to his head and told him to try real hard.

  “Thanks, everyone,” Jason called out as they began filing out of the auditorium. “See you next time.”

  One student, a guy dressed in slacks and wearing thicker glasses than Jason, hurried up the stairs, tripping and almost falling on his face before he got to the top. Jason winced; that had been him, not so long ago. He cleared his throat and stabbed his glasses back up his nose with a knuckle. No, that had been him more than twenty years ago. What the hell was he thinking?

  Wine was still in her seat after the last student had filed out, cellphone casting a ghostly light on her oval face. In attempt to ignore her, Jason began packing up his things. He was sliding his laptop into his briefcase when he heard her heels clacking behind him. He froze, hoping to hear her take the stairs. Instead, he heard a rustle of fabric.

  Jason spun around. “Wine, please. Anyone could walk in—”

  Wine paused in the process of slipping on her jacket. She smiled at him in that same knowing way as before, her lips curling up at the edges, and tugged her jacket straight.

  “Yes, they could. Anyone at all. Even the chancellor. Wouldn’t that be fun?” She flicked the end of her ponytail out from under the jacket’s collar. “Listen, Professor Lorye—”

  “Jason, please.”

  She shrugged. “Jason. I need your help.”

  “Okay. Sure.” Jason swallowed and nodded quickly. “With what?”

  Wine giggled. Her hand went to the button of her cardigan again, drawing his gaze before he could control himself.

  “With chemistry, obviously. You are the chemistry professor.”

  “Yes, obviously,” Jason said hurriedly. “I meant… What exactly are you… I mean, which part of the curriculum do you—”

  Wine stepped forward and spread her hands on the desk.

  Jason stared at the slopes of her breasts. Her skin was so pale, so creamy. A tiny freckle was the only decoration on those perfect mounds of flesh. Bubblegum scented the air. Did she taste of it, too? If he were to kiss her, and shove his tongue in her mouth… would he taste that pink bubblegum on her?

  Okay, what the hell kind of a thought was that? She was a student. And he had morals… didn’t he?

  “With everything,” she whispered huskily. “From the big bang to black holes.”

  “That’s…” Jason swallowed again. “That’s not part of the curriculum. It’s not even chemistry,” he managed.

  “What, the big bang?”

  “No… that’s astrophysics.”

  “So you don’t want to bang me?”

  Jason snapped his eyes up: Wine looked shocked.

  “What did you say?” Jason whispered fiercely.

  He grabbed hold of her arms and moved her back. She made a surprised sound at his touch, a sound that was so delicate and unexpected that his erection came back harder than ever, straining against his jeans as if it could smell her pussy mere inches away.

  “Get out,” he said. “Right now.”

  “But Professor—”

  “Out!” He stabbed a finger to the distant doorway. “Right now.”

  Wine bit her bottom lip and gave him a sulky pout. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” She twisted the white thread around her wrist and tugged at the little charm.

  Why the hell was she doing this? Jason spluttered and stabbed at the door again. When Wine made no move to leave, he snatched up his briefcase and stormed out of the auditorium.

  * * *

  That night, Jason couldn’t get the sight of the cheerleader’s white lace panties out of his head. He kept seeing her cross, uncross, cross her legs. The intervals where her underwear was exposed kept stretching, until that was all he could see. Her pleated skirt, curving down between her thighs, casting a shadow over her pale underwear.

  The memory began changing, too.

  She would mouth words at him. About how badly she sucked at chemistry. How she would suck him, if he let her. Eventually, Wine was no longer crossing her legs. Instead, the cheerleader held them spread for him, a few feet from his podium. She inched her hand behind the filmy fabric. Her delicate finger humped up over her clit as she began stroking herself, her thighs open and ready, waiting for him to join. Waiting for him to take over.

  He lay in bed, sheets pulled up to his neck despite the heat, wishing more than ever that he’d decided on any place but this fucking town to find his new life. Why hadn’t he stayed in New York? Kate didn’t own him. An ex-wife was exactly that: an ex-wife. She didn’t own him. If he’d wanted to stay in New York, then she’d had no reason to make him leave. He’d never had a cheerleader twenty years his junior come onto him in New York.

  Jason sighed and jerked the sheets off of him.

  He wasn’t going to be able to sleep anyway, what was the point of trying? He went into the kitchen of his tiny apartment and warmed a mug of milk in the microwave. Kate had agreed he could take the old microwave, the one that didn’t have a working globe on the inside. He could see his reflection in the dark glass door as his milk heated inside.

  Glasses. Tousled hair — too long by Kate’s standards. The shadow of a beard; something else Kate couldn’t tolerate. He looked like the epitome of an out-of-work writer. Like Johnny Depp in that movie where he ate his wife.

  Jason smiled at his reflection.

  He would eat Kate… but not in a sexy way.

  He could eat Wine in a sexy way. He’d crouch on his knees in front of her seat, right there in the auditorium. Push her thighs apart, exposing those crisp white panties. He’d finger her through the fabric — that silky satin would be damp with how much she wanted him — and
she’d throw her head back and moan at his touch.

  The panties would stay on.

  He’d make her cum through them, dragging his nail over her clit so she could feel the vibrations through every inch of her cunt. And when she was about to climax, he would slip his finger in through the lacy edge of her underwear, sliding it inside her so he could feel her muscles spasm.

  That’s when the panties would come off.

  He’d stay on his knees, her legs folded over his shoulders as he tasted her bubblegum pink gash. As she grabbed hold of his hair and—

  The microwave’s bell chimed. Jason straightened hurriedly. He ran a hand through his hair as he took an involuntarily, shuddering breath. There was something seriously wrong with him. With that cheerleader. Who did that to a complete stranger? He knew why she aroused him: he hadn’t had sex in months. Whacking off to blurry internet porn didn’t count.

  He sighed and opened the microwave. The milk had boiled over.

  Jason stared at the mess for a few seconds. He slammed the microwave door closed and went back to bed.

  Chapter Two: A For Effort

  JASON CONSIDERED CALLING IN sick the next day. Instead, he shaved his face and splashed aftershave on his cheeks. He cleaned his glasses and combed his hair. It was still too long; he tied it into a tiny ball at the nape of his neck. He studied his reflection, wiping irritably at the lock of hair that kept sliding out from behind his head and falling in his face.

  Jason squared his shoulders and glared at his reflection.

  She was just a girl.

  He’d put her straight yesterday.

  Today would be different: she wouldn’t dare pull a trick like that again.

  He gave himself a curt nod and left the house. When he arrived in his office, he stepped on a note inside his door and sent it skittering over the tiled floor.

  Jason leaned back and glanced down either end of the hallway. There was no one sight. The only sound was a distant murmur of faculty members divulging their evening’s entertainment while they waited for their coffee to kick in. Jason retrieved the note and sat behind his desk. He set his briefcase down on the table as he flipped the folded paper open.