This is a short story that I wrote many years ago. It holds a special place for me, as it was one of the few times I was really inspired to write non-genre fiction.
Content and language warning.
I lived this way for years, four years to be exact. I felt like a whore to this man, my Sugar Daddy. The bitterness was so strong that I could taste it when John’s hands crawled up my thighs. Yet, I almost didn’t recognize it when it splashed across my life like vomit at a rave. I began to hate him.
I used his money to go back to school. I only had a year and a semester worth left to go through for my degree in business administration. I told him I was too busy with schoolwork to get a job, so he paid for everything that my student loans did not.
I asked him to come to my graduation ceremony. Then I begged him. Then I demanded he come. Then I went down on him for twelve nights running. He said he would try to make it.
The day of the ceremony, it was really hot in the auditorium. I stood under the stage lights, beads rolling down my back underneath the black, rented graduation gown. I tried to peer into the audience several times, but the glare was too much and I kept blinking when the sweat ran into my eyes. I almost missed it when they called my name to walk across the stage.
My parents had shown up, surprising me, so in a way I was glad John never showed. They had never found out about John, and I liked it that way. Still, the bitterness was rising in the back of my throat. I convinced myself it was some gastric reflux caused by nerves.
I got home late that night, having gone to dinner with my parents, drinking with my friends, and then I called Billy for a quick romp. I didn’t bother checking the messages on the machine, since I used my cell phone exclusively. I never noticed he was really gone until the next day.