Sugar Ch. 01 by Octave888888..,

1. All characters are 18+

2. No characters resemble real people

3. Enjoy the fiction

CHAPTER 1

This is a story in three parts about how I unintentionally became a sugar daddy. And how it’s everyone’s fault but mine.

The first part of this story is all my wife’s fault.

Pardon me. Ex-wife.

Kathy was a professor at a university. She left me for a lawyer after 24 years of marriage. That’s all you need to know about her. I haven’t seen her in over a year now, since the divorce finalized and she moved the last few of her items out of my house. The house itself was only a few blocks from the university where Kathy taught, but when she left me, I guess she left her job there too.

Don’t get the wrong idea – money wasn’t what Kathy left me for. The other guy has money, but so do I. I’m an investment broker and I have plenty of money. I just choose to save it and not buy stupid flashy things. The other guy was more adventurous and sporty and aggressive, and that’s what won Kathy.

Our son, David, is 23 and moved out right before she did. He was angry with both of us for the divorce of his parents. Anger with his mother was understandable. Anger with me was unexpected. For a while, he blamed me for letting Kathy go. His harsh words were salt on my wounds, and I told him to shut up. We haven’t spoken in almost a year, besides texts for birthdays and Christmas. I guess he still cares a little. I miss him.

My three bedroom house feels empty with them gone. One bedroom is mine, one is my office where I work from home. The third was David’s, but he obviously hasn’t slept there in a while.

My point is, if Kathy hadn’t divorced me, none of the following would have happened.

—-

Everyday, I go for a walk if the weather is nice. Usually, I walk past the small university. The lawns are green, the buildings are somewhat historic, and occasionally I’ll hear the bells chime the hour.

I’ll admit that I also look at the young women. Especially in the warm weather, when they wear shorts and cute tank tops. I may be 47, but I can still appreciate the view of a few nice looking girls.

On this particular day, it wasn’t very warm. A chilly wind had everyone, myself included, wearing warm sweaters. It was mid-September, and classes had started a few weeks ago. Leaves on the trees had started to turn color, but not fall yet.

I was walking past an outdoor bulletin board, watching the wind rustle the papers posted there, when one of them caught my eye. ROOMMATE WANTED, it said. I looked at a few others, and they were similar. College kids with apartments looking for roommates to fill empty rooms and pay rent.

That sounded nice, I thought. I had been living alone for a year now, and I was lonely. It would be nice to have some company. I had a few friends, but I lost a few in the divorce. And they all had families and lives of their own; I didn’t feel comfortable enough to call them just to cure my loneliness.

The fliers all estimated rent around $600. I scratched the whiskers on my chin and realized I could do better. Why not me? I could charge $500. My house wasn’t right next to campus, but it was only a few blocks away.

I thought about it my entire walk home, and the rest of the night too. The next day, I came back to the same bulletin board, and placed my own ad there.

Room for Rent

A few blocks from campus

$500 per month

I added my address and phone number at the bottom. I actually didn’t need the money, but it would be nice to have a little spending cash. I wondered if anyone would be interested in living with an older man, especially a divorced, lonely man like me.

—-

It took two days, but I got a call around 5:00 in the evening. There was a female voice on the other side.

“Hi, I’m calling about the room for rent. Is it still available?”

“Yes it is. I have a house a few blocks away. I live alone, so it’s pretty quiet here. You would have your own bedroom and bathroom.”

“That sounds great, mister… uhhh…”

“Sanders. Sam Sanders. And what’s your name?”

“Amber Johnson.”

“And you’re a student?”

“Yes, I’m a sophomore, I’m studying history.”

“That’s great. Would you like to come see the house? I’m available this evening.”

She did, and around 7:00 my doorbell rang. When I opened the door, I almost didn’t believe my eyes. There was a goddess on my front step. “Amber?”

She smiled, and I shivered. Amber’s brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore cute brown glasses, and her smile was perfect and white. She was kind of tall, maybe 5 foot 9, and I could tell she had a nice body under her long navy-blue college hoodie. Completing her outfit were black leggings and those comfy tan boots that all college girls wear in the fall.

“Hi, Mr. Sanders.”

“Come in,” I said, keeping myself from stuttering. I closed the door behind her and led her into the house.

“This place is really nice,” she said. “It’s just you in here?”

“Yeah, well, I’m divorced, but I got the house,” I said. The downstairs had a large living room, a small den that I used for reading, and a nice kitchen.

“Oh. Sorry,” she said, but kept looking around. “Can I see upstairs?”

I led her up to my son’s old room. There was a bed there, along with a matching dresser and night stand. Nothing fancy, Amber seemed pleased. “This will be great. And you mentioned the bathroom?”

The hall bathroom would be hers, since I had my own off my master bedroom. She grinned when I showed that to her. “I’ve never had my own bathroom before.”

“I’m glad you like it. I hope the distance from campus isn’t a problem.”

“No! In fact, it’s nice. I’m tired of the party scene. I could use the distance,” Amber explained. “I’m living in the dorms, and my roommate is the worst. She’s a slut when she’s drunk, and a bitch when she’s sober. And she’s drunk a lot, so I’ve found a few guys in the room with her.” She must have seen the shock on my face, as she added, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be that blunt. I just needed to get out of there. And your place seems perfect.”

“Wonderful,” I told her, and offered her my hand. “Well then, I think we can help each other out.” She shook it.

We returned downstairs to the kitchen table. I laid out a few rules that I expected her to follow, which she was willing to adhere to with no complaints.

“No drinking.”

“That’s okay, I don’t drink.”

“You said you’re a sophomore. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one, but I still don’t drink. Personal reasons.”

“Oh. Okay then,” I said, not wanting to pry. “Also, no boyfriends. I mean,” I stuttered a little, “Obviously you can date whoever, just don’t bring guys over here.”

Amber nodded. “That’s okay. I had a bad breakup a few months ago. I think I’m going to stay off the market for a while.”

We went over a few more details. She would do her own laundry and dishes, but she could use my machines and soaps. She’d have a shelf in the refrigerator and a shelf in the kitchen cabinet, but she’d be welcome to eat dinner with me if she was going to be around at dinner time.

We agreed that she was never to go in my bedroom or office, but she could use the living room or den if she pleased. Likewise, I agreed not to enter her bedroom or bathroom unless absolutely necessary, to give her privacy. And she could park her car in my driveway, as long as she didn’t block the garage.

I had typed all this up and printed it out, and we both signed it. She was grinning. “This is great. Can I move in tomorrow?”

I handed her a key. “Absolutely. Welcome.”

—-

It took some getting used to, having someone else in the house again. Sometimes she startled me just being there. I’d see her in the hallway, or hear a noise from her room, and I’d have to remind myself she lived there.

She didn’t have much in the way of things. I helped her unload her stuff from her beat-up old car. Everything she had fit into a suitcase, a laundry bag, a couple of boxes and a few bags. She didn’t ask to paint the bedroom walls, and I wouldn’t have let her even if she asked, but she did use a little tape to hang a couple of posters.

After I got used to her being there, I also had to not stare. That was much harder. Amber had the body of a model. What’s more, she tended to walk around the house in either form fitting leggings or tiny shorts. She’d usually go to classes wearing more, but if she was home studying or relaxing, it was usually shorts and an old t-shirt that may have been a little small for her ample chest. I guessed C cups, pushing D.

The most exciting moment for me was walking into the upstairs hallway as Amber came out of the bathroom, in nothing but a towel. She froze when she saw me standing there. We both mumbled a quick sorry, and she ran into her bedroom. But the image remained etched into my memory, and I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I went to my own bedroom and quietly jacked off, thinking about the young goddess, naked in my house. It was the first time I’d done that while thinking of her, and it wouldn’t be the last.

—-

Besides that, she was an ideal renter. She kept things clean, she was quiet, and when we talked, I found we had a few things in common. I did find out a few details about her life, when she was willing to share. The reason she was 21 and still a sophomore was she hadn’t had much success in high school, so she worked during a gap year and did some community college classes to catch up. She was majoring in history, but wasn’t very into international history as she was into United States history. She enjoyed reading about post-Civil War things, like presidents and laws, and settling in the west, and early industry and technology.

She had mentioned a brother a couple of times, and I finally got the story out of her over dinner. “He died,” she told me. “Last year. His name was Arthur, but I called him Artie. I was living with him. That’s how I ended up in the dorms this fall.”

“I’m sorry. If you don’t mind me asking, what was it?”

“Drunk driver. Not him, the other car,” she said quietly. “I stopped drinking after that.”

“What about your parents?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Dad was gone long ago. Mom was, well, she kicked me out at 18.”