Sugar Daddy Read Online Free PDF

you’re after are the heirloom beefsteaks. Nothin’ as small as a grape tomato is ever gonna fill you up.”
    The King of Innuendo had met his Queen. “What would you suggest, darlin’?” I held a giant, striped globe in one hand weighing it against a tiny oval tomato in the other. “What’s more satisfyin’? A big, thick, beefy tomato, or a lovely, round juicy one?”
    The boy lost his stutter to a bold grin. “Depends how big your appetite is, Miss.”
    Augie stifled his chortles while I bought a pint of tomatoes because the young man was too cute to torment any longer.
    Once we hit the road, Augie let loose. “ Ooh , Shay! Did you see the look on that child’s face? I couldn’t tell if he was mortified through and through, or if he was about to jump over the stand to get to you.”
    “Probably both. I tend to have that effect on men.” I spoke drolly, but couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.
    At home, he walked me up the porch. “Good to see you so sprightly for a change. Y’all be sure to keep it up.” Kissing my cheeks, he added, “Call me after your second sitting. Call me if you need me.”
    I heaved my shoulder against the ornery portal.
    Before I got inside, Augie returned. He knew how hard the nights were. He squeezed my shoulders, then placed my hand over the steadying cadence of his heart. “You get some rest, honey.”
    The sight of Palmer prostrate across the bare futon in the spare room, wearing threadbare boxers, snoring like a freight train, shored up my decision to become a cuckold.
    He couldn’t even stand to sleep beside me .
    He wasn’t the least bit attracted to me anymore. Night after night and day after day, he drove a wedge between us with turndowns and turn-offs. A human being couldn’t survive without touch.
    Reardon was offering exactly that.
    Personal Assistant? I could do it in my sleep.
    Mistress? Well, I’d need a completely different skill set, one I hadn’t practiced for quite some time.
    What if Reardon didn’t want me either?
    What if I’d lost my knack?
    Would he woo me? I wouldn’t recognize a romantic gesture if it slapped me upside the head, it’d been so long.
    * * * *
    The morning of my next meet, greet, and meep with Reardon, I shuffled to the patio with a cup of scalding coffee half filled with cream, still in a stew. “Romance, ha!”
    The squirrels idled long enough to quirk their vermin heads at me before returning to their acrobatics.
    I hadn’t been blind-sided by romance recently. Palmer’s gestures ran more cold than hot, and I could recount them all with an aching stab of pain:
    Allowing only a mumbled, “Good,” when I inquired about his day over our quiet dinners.
    Walking in on me surrounded by cried-out Kleenex, patting my back before showing me his backside leaving the room.
    Becoming stiff as a corpse when I crossed the invisible boundary in our bed.
    Anything remotely resembling intimacy toward my husband felt like a molestation misdemeanor.
    Earlier in the summer, Augie and I had sat at the counter of The Drugstore with Adelaide, the Saltwater GeeChee proprietress of the downhome establishment. I’d known the woman since I was knee high to a grasshopper, having frequented the shop as a child, pushing handfuls of sweaty pennies across the shiny bar to pay for my Creamsicles.
    Then as now, she had the same unlined, black-grape skin, the generous bosom creating a resting place for her folded forearms, the same deep hushpuppy voice.
    Fountain sodas and crusts of thick egg salad sandwiches made from Addy’s secret recipe sat to the side while she had held court. “Mmm hmm, chile . What you need is some good lovin’.”
    Augie had agreed, “Yes’m, Miss Adelaide, I do believe you’re onto somethin’.” He’d clapped his hands. “Y’all need a man who will treat you like a woman, spole you, and indoctrinate you into the finer points of fucking.”
    Reaching across the counter, Addy thwacked him on the head with the handle of a