5
Theo
I feel like garbage.
I lay on my back in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I’d woken up what felt like every single hour and my head ached now because of it. I closed my eyes, felt my head throb with every heartbeat, the pain radiating out from my temples and curling like a hideous crown around the top of my head. My stomach felt bitter and sour too, and I swallowed hard to keep bile from rising up the back of my throat. I was getting too old to have fries and a milkshake as dinner. Or was this morning sickness? Or was it stress, or worry?
I placed my hand on my stomach and stroked myself, as if that could soothe the source of my nausea. “Please, little baby,” I whispered. “Be quiet for a little longer. You can cry all you want when you’re born if you’ll just be quiet now.”
Saying anything out loud about the baby felt like being punched in the gut, but I also felt better for it. I couldn’t hide from the truth forever. There was a baby in there, even though it probably couldn’t hear me yet. It was unavoidable, undeniable, and I needed to get over it and start planning for when it came.
I sat up in bed and leaned against the wall, drawing my knees up in front of me. Aaron and his app returned to my mind and I saw again the bright optimism on his face as he talked about working on it. He believed in what he was doing and, to my ears, it sounded great. It couldn’t be a bad thing to be spoiled and rewarded for my time, especially if it meant keeping my baby safe.
I had to keep it safe. I might not be happy about it, the mere thought of giving birth causing jabs of anxiety to attack me from all sides, but there was no way in hell I’d ever get rid of it. It was mine. Mine to nurture with my body, mine to protect. Nothing could ever convince me otherwise.
I rubbed my stomach with my hand again, imagining the little life growing inside me, and felt a surge of warm, powerful emotion that made the rest of the world pale in comparison. Even the sun, shining so brightly through the window, was a mere candle flame in comparison to this golden glow of love.
When you’re born, I thought, I want to have stories to tell you. I don’t want to be dull and moody like my own dad.
Having a sugar daddy could be a good way to see a different part of the city, a more exciting part. I closed my eyes and imagining telling my little girl or boy all about a big party, all the food and lights and beautiful people, while their innocent eyes rounded with childish wonder that the world could be so pretty. I wanted that. I wanted it so much, to give this baby everything I hadn’t ever had because having a single dad caused me to grow up too fast.
I could do better.
I picked up my phone and called Aaron, remembering a little too late how early in the day this was for other people.
Aaron picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Theo! What’s up?”
He sounded bright and chipper, wide-awake. I still felt a pang of guilt, however. “I hope you weren’t sleeping.”
“Actually, I haven’t slept at all,” he said and laughed. “I’m riding a caffeine high right now.”
I plucked at the blankets on my bed. “Are you okay?”
“I’m more than okay! I was lying down to go to sleep when the answer to a problem I’d been trying to solve hit me like a train! Been working on it ever since.” He laughed again and this time I heard the lingering exhaustion in his voice, a breathiness almost like quick, tiny yawns. “I know I’m probably making a ton of mistakes right now, but I can fix those later. I just need to finish the preliminary work while it’s in my head.”
I guess the early hour makes this a little less worrying than it could be.
“Anyway, what’s up?”
“I was wondering. Um. Could I…” My mouth went dry. I licked my lips and told myself to breathe. Heat rose to my cheeks and I was suddenly very, very glad I wasn’t trying to do this in person. Aaron was working on this, designing it with this exact purpose in mind, so he couldn’t judge me for it, but still. We were friends. He might suspect why I was doing this, might realize I was going to use his app for the exact thing it wasn’t supposed to be used for.
“Could I sign up for your app?” I blurted out. My shoulders hunched up around my neck, an automatic, intense cringe.
Either Aaron knew this was coming or, in his sleep-deprived state, he lacked judgement. “Of course you can. The more, the merrier. Do you want to come in to my office?”
I stammered, a dozen excuses rushing to my lips at once. If I had to look him in the face, I wouldn’t be able to do this.
“Or,” he continued, “we can do it over the phone like this, if that works better.”
My heart pounded. “Over the phone, please.”
“Now?”
If I didn’t do it now, I never would. “Please.”
“Sure. I could use a break anyway. Let me get set up here and we’ll start.”
I heard a clunk as Aaron set his phone down on the desk, followed by a muted series of clicks and rustles. I nibbled the inside of my cheek and focused on listening to my friend move around in the background. If I let myself think about this too much, I was going to back out.
Aaron picked up his phone again. “Okay, we’re ready to go. Basically, I’m going to ask you questions and you’re going to tell me your answer. This first part is the easiest. It’s all about you and what you look like.”
Aaron asked. I answered. He was right that this first part was easiest, but he didn’t prepare me for how difficult the rest of the interview was. I had a favorite food, a favorite drink, and I knew what my dream job was; I did not have an ideal first date or a favorite part of the city, and I hadn’t traveled anywhere. I was… boring. No alpha in their right mind was going to pick me to spoil when they could have someone way more fun and sophisticated.
“Dig real deep,” Aaron encouraged. “Think hard. You know what you want, you just have to realize it.”
When it came time to talk about the kind of guy I wanted to spend time with, I panicked. I hadn’t thought this through. I hadn’t prepared in advance. All I could do was blurt out the first things that came to mind, and I didn’t even remember what I’d said until Aaron read it back to me. Apparently what I looked for in alphas was a lack of family ties -no divorcees- and athleticism, without any jockish attitude. Someone who smiled a lot and who was casual, not stuffy, who liked plays and ballet.
“I wish you could give me more specifics on physical appearance,” Aaron said at the end of it. “But, I think I have enough.”
I collapsed with relief and pressed my hand to the side of my head. “Good.”
“Just one more thing.”
“Y-yes?” The relief was yanked away from me and I floundered in its absence, fell right back into the pool of dread I’d only just managed to surface from.
“Do you think you could send over some selfies? A shirtless one, if possible. Physical compatibility is very important for this.”
I swallowed hard. Physical compatibility. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I might not have any preferences because I wasn’t using the app for its intended purpose, but the alphas would. They’d want to make sure they were attracted to me. “Okay, sure.”
“Thanks. I want to get back to working on this, so if we could hang up and you can get those pictures taken, that’d be great.”
“Okay,” I repeated. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. The data is the most important part of this. Every person who signs up is a major help, Theo.”
Not knowing what to say, I hung up and opened the camera on my phone. Nausea roiled in my stomach and I grimaced, my mirror-image grimacing back.
Am I really going to do this? Whore myself out for cash?
No, it was different. I set the phone down and put my head in my hands, trying to convince myself. This was different. Sex was implied, for sure, because of the whole sugar daddy thing, but Aaron hadn’t put any emphasis on that, so it couldn’t be a requirement.
Picking up my phone again, I took a few pictures from differ
ent angles and then tore off my shirt and snapped the last one. I plopped down into bed again and opened up a message to Aaron, attaching the photos to it. I moved my thumb over to the Send button and that was when doubt struck me again, knocking me away from my convictions. I trembled and placed a hand over my stomach, my bile-filled, food-empty stomach. A slow rumble built inside me, practically shaking my entire body.
I set the phone down and stood up, wobbling on weak, tingling legs to my kitchenette. Some food would help me think better. I had bread and a rusty $5 toaster I bought from a classmate when they were moving to a new apartment. Put the two together for a few minutes and out popped some tasty, toasty tetanus.
Stacking my toast on a napkin, I returned to bed to look at the time to see how long I had to get ready for class. I saw the time, and I also saw I didn’t have a draft in my messages anymore.
My toast slipped out of my hand and onto the bed. My lips trembling, I opened up the message I’d sent to Aaron and saw all my silly pictures lined up. I must have accidentally pushed the button before. Nothing I could do about it now. I couldn’t get them back, and I couldn’t tell him not to use those without risking looking suspicious.
I wasn’t hungry anymore.
I put my toast in the freezer so it wouldn’t go to waste, and hurried through the rest of my morning routine. Christie wasn’t waiting for me when I arrived downstairs, not that I was surprised. She wouldn’t want to be associated with me and my lack of passion anymore.
My heart aching, I went to my classes and tried to get through them without messing up. I managed that, but I still ended up being scolded by the instructor. It was a speech we had all heard before, about how practicing passion was as important as practicing the dances themselves. No one was going to hire a dancer who looked like he hated what he was doing.
Lunchtime seemed to take years to come. Christie watched me as I walked past her, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something. My hopes rising, I turned to her and started to ask her to have lunch with me.
My phone rang, startling me, stopping me. One of our other classmates came over and gestured for Christie to join her instead. I turned away instead of watching her back and pulled my phone from my pocket. “Hello,” I monotoned.
“You’d think you’d be a little more excited to hear my news,” Aaron said. He sounded less unhinged than before, meaning he’d probably slept since our earlier conversation. “And after I went through so much trouble to fast-track you to a match.”
I gasped so hard I saw stars. Placing one hand over my pounding heart, I said, “I have a match? Really?”
“Oh, yeah. He has tickets to a ballet already, for your first date. Stravinsky and Balanchine. You’ll meet Tuesday at 7 outside the Lincoln Center. Wear your best outfit. Do you have a suit?”
The stars in my vision swirled around in the wake of the onslaught of information. Dizzy, I grabbed the nearest wall. “I… No. I don’t… I didn’t bring…”
Aaron cut me off. “That’s okay,” he said. His tone was soothing, not that it put a dent in my fear. “I’ll tell your match about that.”
“Will he reschedule?” I whispered.
I can’t afford to lose any time.
“Oh, no way. I can 100% guarantee you he’ll ask me for your measurements so he can send you a suit. So, be ready with that.”
“Why would he…”
“Did you forget you signed up for a sugar daddy app?” Aaron laughed, not unkindly. He made all of this seem so normal. “This is exactly the sort of stuff these kinds of men love to do. You won’t even have met him before he starts spoiling you.”
“Can you text me the information? It kind of went over my head. I can’t believe it happened so fast.”
“You get special treatment because you’re my friend. I’ll text you. And don’t forget to measure yourself!”
Dance clothes were typically form-fitting, so I already knew my measurements. I didn’t want to seem too eager, though. I told him I would and hung up, and headed to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. My thoughts didn’t clear, but the water felt good on my hot, sweaty skin.
I lifted my face and reached for a paper towel to dry off. I patted my face and tossed the crumpled-up towel in the trash. I turned to go and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my back a slender curve and the muscles of my thighs gently stretching the material of my black tights. I placed my hand on my hip and turned in a circle, scanning for any obvious differences. Nothing yet. I still had time.
“I’m doing this for you,” I whispered to my stomach. “Please don’t hate me for it.”
6
Quinton
I stood outside the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, scanning the crowds for any sign of a handsome young man wearing the suit I’d sent over. It would be how I knew which of these gorgeous strangers was meant for me.
It was still a bit early, not quite 7 yet. I wasn’t worried that I hadn’t seen my date yet. In fact, I was enjoying the brief time alone without any pressing appointments or pesky phone calls to make. I felt at peace, in my element, with my back to the fountain while other people streamed around me into the three buildings in search of their respective theatres. The sky overhead was a deep blue violet beyond a veil of shimmering amber light cast through the many windows of the Center’s theatre buildings. Soft music wreathed in and out between lulls in rich, eager conversation. The air smelled of perfume and alcohol, a heady mixture that made my head spin.
I looked over at the steps at the entrance to the venue, searching through the suits and dresses to find one in particular. No luck, except to admire all the various outfits that arrived in a shifting rainbow of color, mostly black and red and blue with occasional white and a few fringe colors that no one could pull off quite as well as I could have.
I had debated wearing a more casual outfit, and decided not to. I wanted to make a good first impression and that included not embarrassing my date by forcing him to endure stares all night. My suit was black, with a pale gray shirt underneath, almost silver. I had to do something to avoid being boring and old-fashioned however, so my tie had a tropical floral pattern.
The crowd around the steps shifted, disturbed by something. I glanced over and saw a young man stumbling his way through, turning and twisting every few steps to gape at the buildings towering over him. He wore a very fashionable dark blue suit with a silk rose pinned to the lapel.
My date was here.
I caught my breath at the sight of him, my field of vision narrowing down until he was the only person standing out in clarity against the warm background of reflections and amber lighting. His hair was cut short and glowed like gold, and his face had a princely, regal quality, the lines of his countenance sharpened by the play of light and shadows. The suit fit him perfectly, accentuating the slender curve of his neck, the subtle width of his shoulders, and the graceful sweep down to his hips. Desire stirred deep in my loins. He wasn’t one of the original omegas I had pointed out to Aaron. I felt like I would have chosen him right away instead of selecting others at random.
I wanted him.
Pulling in a deep breath, I waited until the omega looked in my direction and lifted my hand. He saw me watching him and froze, drawing his spine stiff like a startled rabbit waiting for ambush. His nervousness sent a protective urge rushing through me and I approached him with my hand held out, rather than letting him come to me as I’d originally planned. He looked as if he needed rescuing.
“You,” I said, when I drew close enough for us to be able to hear each other. “The handsome omega in the blue suit. I think you’re looking for me.”
He stared down at my hand as if it might bite him. His throat worked, his adam’s apple bobbing.
I smiled and took his hand from where it pressed nervously against his hip, holding it in mine. His palm was clammy and his fingers trembled. He tugged, a spasm of motion, trying to free himself, and then looked absolutely stricken as he realized what he�
��d done.
This is his first time doing something like this.
I kept his hand, skimmed my thumb over his knuckles. His mouth opened and he swallowed hard, then bit his lip. “Are… Are you my date?”
“If you aren’t, then I’m going to be disappointed about whoever shows up for me. You look amazing in that suit. I’m so glad it fit you properly.”
“I-I guess you are my date,” he mumbled, almost to himself. Lifting his head, he peeked shyly into my eyes. “Thank you for sending it. And the car that came to pick me up. You didn’t have to go through all that trouble for me.”
“It’s no trouble at all.” I noted that he hadn’t tried to take his hand back. His fingers lay limp against mine, neither accepting nor denying my grasp. It was an improvement, at least.
I didn’t know why an omega like this would resort to signing up for a hookup app when there had to be alphas of various ages and statuses falling all over themselves to try and get his attention. Whatever his decision had been, he wasn’t comfortable with it, but he did seem willing and I kept catching him sneaking peeks at me when he thought I couldn’t see. He was interest, curious underneath all that fear.
If I could get him out from that shell of fear, I thought we might have quite a nice night ahead of us.
“What’s your name?” I asked. He didn’t seem inclined to broach the subject on his own.
“I’m Theo.”
“Theo, I’m Quinton.” I smiled at him and he hesitantly smiled back. His soft pink lips curled into a delicate, wavering smirk that caused another stirring of want inside me. The muscles in my thighs tensed from the tingling radiating outward from my groin. “You look a little starstruck. Are you a fan of mine?”
“You have fans?” His voice squeaked. “Are you a celebrity?”
“I’m a stockbroker.”
“Oh.” He seemed to realize it was a joke. “Oh. Um, no. I’ve never been here before, is all. It’s a little more than I’m used to.”
Sweet Success: East Coast Sugar Daddies: Book 2 Page 5
