Hot Sugar

So I could get anyone. But instead, I’ve just spurted a load using my hand, looking at nothing but a picture of a girl. A clothed one at that, with a sweet smile, who has no idea what’s coming her way.

Fuck.

I’m an asshole for sure.

A dirty as hell motherfucker with his mind in the gutter.

So Carrie better be ready.

Because I’m coming …

And that creamy female’s getting it now.

CHAPTER THREE

Carrie

My eyes grow wide re-reading the message from AlphaCEO. Well, that’s his screen name. I’ve already agreed to dinner tonight, but now I’m scared out of my mind, questioning the decision.

Because his profile says he’s forty-five. He’ll probably think I’m an idiot 18-year old, just a college student. Not to mention how turned off he’ll be when he sees me face to face.

Because I tried to be honest in my profile, checking off the “Curvy and round” option. But it was hard to get a full body picture of myself. The camera angle was awkward and my arm wasn’t long enough to get all of me in the picture. So yeah, you can see that I have big tits, but you can’t really see how I’m big all over. And I mean big, big. More than “curvy.” More than “round.” I’m generous everywhere, nothing left to the imagination.

Scrolling through the other profiles on the site didn’t help because all the other girls were so thin and beautiful. What was I thinking, taking a picture with no make-up? My hair was messy and natural, and I had on a raggedy t-shirt and shorts. By contrast, some of these ladies looked like professional models, rail thin with perfect lighting and perfect clothes.

But now it’s too late.

I’m meeting him tonight.

Should I call it off?

My thumb hovers over AlphaCEO’s profile, but then I’m distracted.

“Nicole! Carrie?” comes a yelp. It’s Rhonda. I leap into motion, putting my phone away and striding into the living room.

From the redness of my mother’s eyes and the sway in my father’s walk, I can tell they’re both somewhere else mentally.

But the issues are too pressing, they can’t wait.

“Mom, are we being evicted?” I ask from behind the door, head peering out. Because right now, I’m decked out in a black cocktail dress, the nicest thing in her closet.

“Oh, Carrie, stop worrying about everything,” my mom slurs.

“I paid that lady in March!” my dad grumps, falling into a seat at the dining table before slumping over bonelessly.

“It’s July now,” I whisper. “It’s July and the last time you paid rent was March?”

Unfortunately, none of this seems to register. So my parents are behind on rent, that’s nothing new. I already know what’s going to happen. The eviction notice came. The sheriff’s gonna show up at the door, and we’ll have to move. We’ll gather what we can and pack it into the little hatchback, cruising the streets for a cheaper place. And then it’ll happen again, a nightmare that never ends. We’re always in search of cheaper digs. It’s happened so many times already.

But Rhonda and Jim are passed out already, my mom on the couch and Jim slumped before the table. Problems, what problems? There’s only the dazed blur of alcohol, the reek of booze on their breaths.

So I get desperate. I have to do this. I have to meet AlphaCEO to work something out. It’s not an option anymore, it’s a requirement seeing that Rhonda and Jim are totally useless.

And taking one last look in the mirror, I gasp. Because it’s me, but not me. My dress pushes my boobs up so they look even bigger, like heavy sacks of cream. Twisting to the side, my ass sits up in the tight fabric, thick thighs smushed together, juicy and ripe.

By contrast, my face is natural and almost bare. I’ve yet to learn to do much with cosmetics, so it’s just lipgloss and mascara for me. Plus, my hair. Oh god, my hair. The brown curls wave around my shoulders and I fluff them out. Stay, I command. Stay nice. I mean it.

The buzz of my phone cuts into the reverie.

He’s outside.

The driver’s outside, at least. Who knows if AlphaCEO is actually there. He’s probably too busy to actually meet me himself.

And quietly, I tip toe through the living area and make my way out the front door.

The few steps between our stoop and the big world seems to take ages, and anxiety builds in my belly. But there’s a limo idling by the curb, black and sleek, the windows tinted. It looks totally out of place. Where I live, the sidewalk is grimy and cracked, the buildings faded and sagging. So to see a limo was as alien as seeing an elephant in the middle of a bustling city.

Go, the voice in my head commands as I dawdle by the door. Go, this is a real opportunity.