handling of their son. Mistakes he and Andrea made
with Scott were becoming clear for the first time in years. Eighteen years too
late. Scott had been difficult from the start—colicky and fretful as an infant,
prone to tantrums as a toddler, manipulative and controlling as a teenager. But
the one thing his parents were consistent about throughout the whole challenge
of raising him was that they never seemed to agree on what to do with him.
What's more, they never presented a united front. Scott would play one against
the other until he got his way...
A rapping on
the door had him quick to open it, suspecting it might be Andrea, who would
have also been mulling over the Danforth's exchange at the table and wanted to
talk about it. But to his annoyance, he found Val standing in the doorway.
"Hi there,
sugar pie," she said, slipping past him. "I've come prepared this
time." She turned to him and held up a little red foil packet, then
dropped it on the bedstand. "It's my favorite flavor. Wild Cherry."
"Look,
about last night—"
"What
happened last night is nothing to be embarrassed about, sugar dumpling,"
Val said. "Many men your age have failures. But I guarantee we can fix it.
That's what sugar babies are for. To be your companion, your helpmate, and your
lover." She slipped her arms around his neck and said, "I'm going to
fire up your engine and have your piston back in working order before the night's done."
Jerry pulled
her arms from around his neck. "You don't need to fix anything—"
"What I
saw last night definitely needs fixing, honey bun." In one practiced
sweep, Val slipped off her tee shirt and tossed it on the bed then stood in
front of him in a red lace half-bra that came across to him as more of a
serving platter than a support garment, and what she was offering simply didn't
interest him. "Put it back on," he said.
Val looked at
him, perplexed. When she did nothing, Jerry snatched up her shirt and held it
out. "I said, put it back on." While she stood looking at him, as if
at a loss what to do, he said, "How old are you?"
Val smiled in
relief and tossed the shirt back on the bed. "If that's what's worrying
you, I'm of age," she assured him. "Twenty-two to be exact." She
stretched out on the bed like a languorous lioness and patted the bed beside her,
and when he made no move, she tucked her fingers into the waistband of his
sweat pants and tugged.
Jerry grabbed
her wrist. "You're the same age as my middle daughter," he said.
Val gave him a
wry smile. "Does she like older men too?"
"You're
through here," Jerry snapped. He grabbed her hand and pulled her upright,
then snatched the shirt from the bed and shoved it against her chest. "Put
it on and go find another sugar daddy because I'm not interested." He
opened the door for her to leave.
Val was in the
process of tugging the shirt over her head when Andrea appeared in the doorway.
By the time Val's head popped through the head hole, she was already heading
down the passageway and had not seen Andrea, who'd slipped into Jerry's
stateroom unnoticed.
Andrea eyed the
bed, which looked mussed, and said with irony, "I
didn't mean to interrupt anything, but you and I have a date tomorrow. It is
our anniversary, in case you've forgotten."
"I haven't
forgotten," Jerry grumbled, "but I don't remember any plans."
"That's
because there weren't any until the steward handed me this fax a few minutes
ago. It's from the girls." She handed the paper to Jerry. While he read
the message informing them that when the ship docked in Nassau, a horse and
buggy would be waiting at the docks to take them to a special place, then to a
restaurant where they'd have a romantic dinner, Andrea lifted the condom from
the table and read the writing on the red-foil wrapping. "Wild
cherry," she mused. "I would have thought Val more the cinnamon
type." Jerry went to grab the condom, but Andrea snatched it out of reach.
She gave him a
cynical smile. "At least you're being responsible,
with Scott were becoming clear for the first time in years. Eighteen years too
late. Scott had been difficult from the start—colicky and fretful as an infant,
prone to tantrums as a toddler, manipulative and controlling as a teenager. But
the one thing his parents were consistent about throughout the whole challenge
of raising him was that they never seemed to agree on what to do with him.
What's more, they never presented a united front. Scott would play one against
the other until he got his way...
A rapping on
the door had him quick to open it, suspecting it might be Andrea, who would
have also been mulling over the Danforth's exchange at the table and wanted to
talk about it. But to his annoyance, he found Val standing in the doorway.
"Hi there,
sugar pie," she said, slipping past him. "I've come prepared this
time." She turned to him and held up a little red foil packet, then
dropped it on the bedstand. "It's my favorite flavor. Wild Cherry."
"Look,
about last night—"
"What
happened last night is nothing to be embarrassed about, sugar dumpling,"
Val said. "Many men your age have failures. But I guarantee we can fix it.
That's what sugar babies are for. To be your companion, your helpmate, and your
lover." She slipped her arms around his neck and said, "I'm going to
fire up your engine and have your piston back in working order before the night's done."
Jerry pulled
her arms from around his neck. "You don't need to fix anything—"
"What I
saw last night definitely needs fixing, honey bun." In one practiced
sweep, Val slipped off her tee shirt and tossed it on the bed then stood in
front of him in a red lace half-bra that came across to him as more of a
serving platter than a support garment, and what she was offering simply didn't
interest him. "Put it back on," he said.
Val looked at
him, perplexed. When she did nothing, Jerry snatched up her shirt and held it
out. "I said, put it back on." While she stood looking at him, as if
at a loss what to do, he said, "How old are you?"
Val smiled in
relief and tossed the shirt back on the bed. "If that's what's worrying
you, I'm of age," she assured him. "Twenty-two to be exact." She
stretched out on the bed like a languorous lioness and patted the bed beside her,
and when he made no move, she tucked her fingers into the waistband of his
sweat pants and tugged.
Jerry grabbed
her wrist. "You're the same age as my middle daughter," he said.
Val gave him a
wry smile. "Does she like older men too?"
"You're
through here," Jerry snapped. He grabbed her hand and pulled her upright,
then snatched the shirt from the bed and shoved it against her chest. "Put
it on and go find another sugar daddy because I'm not interested." He
opened the door for her to leave.
Val was in the
process of tugging the shirt over her head when Andrea appeared in the doorway.
By the time Val's head popped through the head hole, she was already heading
down the passageway and had not seen Andrea, who'd slipped into Jerry's
stateroom unnoticed.
Andrea eyed the
bed, which looked mussed, and said with irony, "I
didn't mean to interrupt anything, but you and I have a date tomorrow. It is
our anniversary, in case you've forgotten."
"I haven't
forgotten," Jerry grumbled, "but I don't remember any plans."
"That's
because there weren't any until the steward handed me this fax a few minutes
ago. It's from the girls." She handed the paper to Jerry. While he read
the message informing them that when the ship docked in Nassau, a horse and
buggy would be waiting at the docks to take them to a special place, then to a
restaurant where they'd have a romantic dinner, Andrea lifted the condom from
the table and read the writing on the red-foil wrapping. "Wild
cherry," she mused. "I would have thought Val more the cinnamon
type." Jerry went to grab the condom, but Andrea snatched it out of reach.
She gave him a
cynical smile. "At least you're being responsible,
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