A May to December Romance
Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended.
Summary: My name is Isabella Swan and today, I signed a contract that would put me in the steel tight clutches of a man I didn't know, for four years. A girl's gotta pay for college somehow, right? AH. Come meet Sugar Daddy Edward.
- If the concept of sugar daddies or the idea of a large age gap in relationships offends you, then I would advise that this is not the fic for you. I'd ask that you keep an open mind and remember that this is just fiction; it's not to be taken seriously.
- I am not, under any circumstances, writing to romanticise this as an option to financial struggles or suggest that you, in any way, shape or form, go out and get yourself a sugar daddy – please don't do that. It's just fiction.
'Sugar Daddy' – a rich, usually older man who offers money or gifts to a less rich, usually younger person in return for companionship or sexual favours.
I took a deep breath. I needed to do this. I had no other options. I was out of time. This was, as they say, the final straw. I needed this straw.
It was humiliating on a whole new level, but I swallowed my pride and clicked anyway. Sacrifices had to be made sometimes. In this case, I was waving a long goodbye to my self-respect, unsure of when exactly I would be seeing it again.
Welcome to Sugar Daddies. Net!
Christ. The banner was sparkling and flashing at me and everything. Give them credit where credit's due, they at least tried to make it look like any other normal internet dating site. They may have succeeded, were it not for the –barely legal– underwear clad girls pouting back at me, and the shirtless, well oiled abs of fifty year old men who made me simply cringe away in disgust.
People actually thought this was appealing?
Shut up and deal with it, Swan! You have to do this!
I'd spent weeks tirelessly researching… this. My decrepit computer had been positively wheezing with every new URL that I'd opened up, searching for the best site to choose. I was deadly serious about needing to do this, I didn't want to spend the next few weeks chasing my own tail and warding off freaks. I needed a site that had some semblance of seriousness.
Apparently, this was the site I needed.
You're just two clicks away from getting started!
And a second away from wanting to shoot myself, I thought dryly.
I entered the required information to get me started - a screen name, my email address and an account password. I tried for 'you-will-die-a-shameful-death', but it was over the allowed character limit.
Great, now let's get your profile set up and activated!
I wanted to sob, really I did.
I had never felt more ashamed of myself as I typed out the required fields in front of me. Never let it be said that Isabella Swan couldn't take one for her own team. It was just… degrading. These pieces of information they wanted, listing my attributes. It made me feel like a would-be prized cow at auction, all I needed was a damn bell to really grab some attention.
Our surveys show a 68% increased chance of success if you provide a profile picture!
Of course they do.
I wasn't embarrassed enough as it was, apparently. I now had to put a face to the whore. And that's exactly what I felt like – a whore. I couldn't think of a better way to describe myself right now.
I searched though my recent pictures, of which, there were few. Angela had taken what I supposed could be considered a nice picture of me the last time we had traipsed down to First Beach. I hadn't known she was taking it. I decided it would have to do. The one saving grace was that the picture had been taken at an angle, only the side of my face was visible and the sun had been shining that day.
I decided it looked 'arty'.
I loaded it, clicked finish and it was finally done. My profile had officially been activated.
Now I could cry.
May to December's Profile! NEW USER!
Birthday: September 13th
Weight: 105 lbs
Hair Colour: Brown
Eye Colour: Brown
Looking for: Someone to financially support me through four years of college.
Offering: To meet the individual's specified needs/wants in return for financial aid.
Interests: Reading, writing, cooking, music.
- I have the opportunity to gain an Ivy League education, or as good as. I have narrowed my choices down to three institutions, all of which are ranked within the National top twelve. Two are based in Chicago and one in New York.
- For reasons that I will not go into, I have no way of financing my studies.
- This is all a little… alien to me. I am, generally speaking, very independent and like to stand on my own two feet. I am not accustomed to having to ask for help. However, my studies mean a great deal to me, and I am determined to obtain my college degree.
- While this is an incredible contradiction of terms, I am not a leech. I do not expect anything in the way of gifts/treats/being spoiled/pampered, etc. I'm quite able to support myself in regard to day to day living; unfortunately, finding $40,000+ for annual tuition is just a little over my head. Fun to be poor, huh? :)
- Other than that, my passion is classic literature, I abhor text speak, enjoy good food, wish I could travel more and am allergic to cats.
To contact this user, please click here!
Within five minutes, I'd been swamped with twenty-six emails. My favourites of which included such lines as:
'I'd love to take care of you sweetness; daddy has a lotta lovin' for his baby!'
'I've gotta a big package to match that rather large $40K little girl ;)'
And my personal favourite…
"My God, I think I just came. You're a virgin, aren't you? I bet you're a virgin. Want daddy to pop that cherry of yours angel face?'
I felt like vomiting.
Yes, I was determined. But no, I wasn't prepared.
I waited two weeks for the reply I'd scarcely allowed myself to hope for.