Booty Shorts - Sugar Daddy

She wandered around the apartment, savoring the view from the living room again, then made her way into the master bedroom. She smiled at the memories of the previous night's activities the wide bed had witnessed. She went into Charlie's closet, poking through her clothes, opening drawers. She coo'ed when she found the underwear collection, mentally taking a note of a completely sheer, black teddy she wanted Charlie to wear for her sometime.

Going back out into the hallway, she decided to check out Charlie's office, the only room she hadn't been in yet.

There was a built-in bookcase taking up one wall, and the expansive glass desk along another. The two curved monitors, dark now, seemed like they might be bigger than her TV.

She turned to leave, when a silver picture frame at the corner of the desk caught her eye. She picked it up.

A smiling Charlie and Monica looked back at her. It was a printed copy of a selfie they'd taken at the Dodger game. Monica gently set it back down on the desk.

She turned, her eyes roaming over the bookcase. Now that she was looking for them, she noticed dozens of frames with photos. Charlie's family, or places she'd been. And there were several of Monica. A selfie of her and Charlie at a club on Halloween, Monica in her field hockey uniform, Charlie wearing her UCLA coach's tracksuit, a silver whistle on a lanyard around her neck. A picture Charlie had taken of Monica lounging on the grass at Echo Park. A selfie Charlie had taken of them kissing in the limo, when Charlie had been returning to LAX for a flight home.

"What the..." Monica whispered to herself.

The last one was a close up of Monica's face, peacefully sleeping in Charlie's hotel bed, rays from an early sunrise making her skin glow.

She said this wasn't... that there were no attachments or strings... we're just having fun...

I never imagined that she could... that we might...

~~~

"Honey, I'm h-o-o-o-o-m-e!" Charlie called out as she walked in the apartment.

"I'm in here," Charlie heard Monica call from the master suite.

"I brought leftovers if you want some turkey and stuffing. There's pumpkin pie too," Charlie called, heading into the kitchen.

"I ate my leftover Chinese, so you can just put it away," Monica called.

"I told my parents you were in town last week but had to go home yesterday. They said to tell you they were sorry you couldn't come to Christmas."

"I'm regretting not going, actually."

Charlie smiled. "Maybe next time."

"Can you come in here so we can stop yelling across the building?"

Charlie took off her coat, pulled a small box from her pocket then threw the coat over the back of one of the chairs at the eat-in kitchen table and walked to the bedroom.

"I know we opened presents this morning, but I remembered I had another little something I forgot to—"

Charlie stopped at the bedroom door.

"I got you a little something extra too," Monica said. She was sitting in a pin-up pose on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but the tallest pair of stiletto heels Charlie owned, and a wide, silk red ribbon, wrapped around her, covering her breasts. A bow was centered between them and the ends of the ribbons trailing down to shield Charlie's view of her lap.

"Merry Christmas to me..." Charlie said softly.

~~~ January ~~~

"Modica, I knead hedlp."

"Charlie? What's wrong?"

Monica was in the middle of decorating a kitchen set. She knew that the CGI Geico lizard who would be walking on the kitchen island in the final cut wouldn't care if the utensil jar next to the stove matched the drapes, but she wanted it to look like some actually lived here.

"Imbd sick."

"Oh you poor thing, you sound terrible."

Charlie had arrived in L.A. two days before and their schedules hadn't allowed them to meet-up yet. They'd planned to see each other tonight.

"Id dno. Can you bring me somb soup?"

"I want to, baby, but I have a couple hours left, can you call the concierge?"

"I dond wand them, I wand you."

"Alright, if you can wait I'll get out of here as fast as I can, okay?"

"Okayd."

"Try and get some rest and I'll be there as soon as I can."

Three hours later, Monica let herself in Charlie's suite with the keycard that had been left at the front desk for her. She found Charlie curled up in her bed. There was a wastebasket on the floor next to her, tissues overflowing it onto the floor.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Ibmd sick," Charlie pouted.

"I know baby."

"Idmd glad you're wearing a mask."

"I'm not taking any chances, I have interviews this week."

"Idn knoh."

Monica sat down on the edge of the bed and rooted around in one of the two bags she'd brought with her.

"First thing's first," she said, pulling out Covid and flu testing kits.

"I don'd wanna."

"You need to. If you have something serious we need to get you on Paxlovid or flumadine as soon as possible."

She swabbed Charlie's nose with the two kits and set a timer on her phone.

"I brought soup and some juice too. Have you been drinking fluids?"

"Wadder," she said, pointing at an empty glass on the side table.

"When was the last time you filled that?"

"Dis morningd? When I gotd up to cancel my meetingds."

"Oh sweetie, that's not nearly enough. Let me refill that for you."

Charlie grabbed a tissue and noisily blew her nose into it. "Cadn I have ice?"

"Sure, I'll get you some."

"I havde to go to the bathroobm."

"Okay go do that. I'll get your ice and rewarm this soup and put it in a mug while we wait for the tests."

Monica went back out to the living room and poured the take-out soup she'd brought into a mug from the coffee service counter, then put it in the little microwave for sixty seconds, then went down the hall to the ice machine.

"I got your ice!" She called when she came back. "Your tests should be almost done."

There was no response.

"Charlie?" Monica called, bringing the steaming mug of soup and a glass of ice water into the bedroom.

The bedroom was empty.

"Charlie?" She called, and peeked into the bathroom.

Charlie was lying motionless on the floor, stretched out next to the toilet.

"Charlie!" Monica screamed.

~~~

Monica paced back and forth in the waiting room of L.A. Downtown Medical Center, nervously chewing her fingernails. Charlie had come to after Monica had called 9-1-1, but had been confused and disoriented. She'd thought she was in New York and Monica hadn't been able to make sense of most of what else she'd said. The paramedics hadn't let her ride in the ambulance so she'd had to call an Uber to follow Charlie to the hospital. And since she wasn't a spouse or family, no one would tell her anything.

"Are you Monica?" A nurse stopped her during another lap of the waiting room.

"Yes?"

"Ms. Davis is awake and she's asked for you. You want to come with me?"

Charlie was propped up in bed, her eyes closed when the nurse showed Monica in. A bag of fluid was on a stand next to her, the I.V. line running to the back of her hand.

"Charlie?" Monica said quietly.

Charlie opened her eyes, then blinked at the light, groaned and closed them. Monica took her hand gently.

"You okay?"

"She said she wanted you to know what's going on. She's got a really bad case of the flu."

Charlie mentally cursed herself. In the commotion after she'd found Charlie she'd forgotten to check the two home tests she'd left on the side table.

"So that made her collapse?"

"Yes and no. She's very dehydrated and that probably caused her to faint. When she fell, she must have bumped her head on the sink or toilet. Right here."

The nurse indicated the side of Charlie's head where, now that it had been pointed out, Monica could see a large bump under Charlie's hair.

"She's got a concussion, so she's pretty loopy."

"Is she going to be okay?" Monica asked, worriedly.

"She should be. We took a CT scan and everything in her head looks like it's where it's supposed to be. We're giving her fluids and Peramivir for the flu. We're going to keep her overnight for observation, especially with the concussion."

"Is it okay if I stay?"

"Absolutely. Ms. Davis indicated you were her emergency contact in L.A., so you can stay as long as you like. This recliner here folds out into a bed if you want to stay overnight. We'll be checking on her every half hour, so just a warning that you won't get much sleep."

She left and Charlie pulled a chair next to the bed.

"Hey," she said softly and took Charlie's hand. She couldn't tell if Charlie had drifted off.

"Hey. Can you turn down the lights?"

"Sure." Monica got up to switch off the overhead light then returned to Charlie's side. "Better?"

"Yes." Her eyes squinted open and she gingerly turned her head towards her visitor. "You're... Monica? Are you wearing a mask?"

"Yes, Charlie, it's me, I'm here."

"That's so nice... taking your time to come see me."

"Of course."

"Did I... I can't remember, did I give you your money yet? I don't remember going to the bank."

Anger flared in Monica, but she held her tongue. She knew Charlie probably didn't even know what day it was.

"No, Charlie, we're not doing that anymore, remember?"

"Well... did they bring my bag? You can see if the envelope is there. If not, I'll get it for you tomorrow."

"Charlie, we're not doing the money anymore, okay? Just forget it."

"Okay..." Charlie sighed. "I just need to close my eyes for a bit."

She quickly drifted off leaving Monica alone with her thoughts, arguing with themselves.

On the one hand: She still just thinks of you as your paid plaything.

On the other hand: She has a concussion. She doesn't know what she's saying.

One hand: Or, the concussion is letting her say what she really thinks right now instead of filtering herself.

Other hand: Don't do that to yourself. Don't assume. Just wait until she's lucid and talk to her about it.

One hand: Why wouldn't she think that? You were the one who put yourself up for sale.

Other hand: That just happens to be how you met. She keeps pictures of you in her office, for crying out loud!

One hand: She's admitted that she doesn't have time or interest in a real relationship. Maybe this is her substitute. She keeps the pictures to give herself a false feeling of having one.

Other hand: ... I really hope not.

~~~

Monica nursed Charlie for the next three days at the hotel, until a doctor visited them to clear her to fly home, (apparently if your health plan is good enough some doctors still made house calls.)

Monica had been unable to bring up what Charlie had said to her at the hospital. She'd been too scared. The only thing that had Monica feeling positive was that Charlie hadn't mentioned money again. In fact she couldn't remember much at all about anything that happened in the hospital until the morning she was discharged.

"I hope your flight goes okay. Are you sure you don't want me to get a wheelchair for you?"

"I don't want to be wheeled through the airport like a senior. But if you'd help me check my bag I'd appreciate it. I can have the driver circle and pick you up after I get through security.

Monica walked Charlie to the counter to check her bag, arm-in-arm to make sure she was steady on her feet, then to the entrance to TSA Pre-Check line.

"I can't wait until next month so I can see your face again. I haven't seen it all week." Charlie said. They were both wearing masks now. The doctor had said Charlie was almost certainly not contagious now, but she wanted to present the least amount of risk to her fellow passengers.

"It worked though, I never got sick."

"I hope it stays that way. If you do get sick make sure and drink lots of fluids."

"I will," Monica agreed with a laugh.

"I was thinking I might move my trip up a week earlier next month."

"How come?"

"I thought it'd be nice to be here for Valentine's Day. I haven't had a date on Valentine's Day in... gosh, years."

"Okay, that sounds fun. Just one condition."

"What's that?"

"No big, expensive gifts. If you want to take me to a fancy restaurant that's fine, but no crazy expensive jewelry or shopping trips or anything like that, okay?"

"But I like spoiling you!"

"Charlie..." Monica said warningly. "The only present I want is you."

"Okay, okay, no big gifts."

"Alright. Valentine's Day. It's a date."

Charlie looked down at their feet.

"Monica, I can't... I'll never be able to thank you enough for taking care of me this week."

"Charlie, of course. You'd do the same for me."

"I would, you know."

They stared into each other's eyes for a long, pregnant moment.

"I gotta go," Charlie finally said regretfully.

"I know. See you on Valentine's."

They leaned towards each other and briefly touched masks in lieu of a kiss.

~~~ February ~~~

The week leading up to Valentine's Day, Monica had spent fighting with herself.

On her one hand, her head insisted she shouldn't have any expectations, that she was just Charlie's plaything, that it didn't really mean anything that Charlie had made a point to be in town to spend the most romantic day of the year with her, that she shouldn't let herself believe that something beyond an arrangement of convenience was growing between them, that she didn't want to let herself get hurt.

On her other hand, her heart couldn't stop thinking about Charlie. And the feeling that something deeper was growing between them. And that she desperately wanted to be more than just a plaything to Charlie.

Her heart had talked her into wearing her slinkiest black dress and heels. When the driver opened the door for her, she saw Charlie in the back, in an equally slinky off-white, silk number and heels. Monica was pleased. With her jet black hair and Charlie's blonde coif, they'd look like the hottest pair of chess pieces on the board next to each other.

Charlie had somehow managed to get reservations at one of the hottest French/Asian fusion restaurants in L.A. The wait list was rumored to be months long.

The maître d' seated them in a plush velvet booth beneath a huge orchid tree whose petals were lit from above by dramatic but tiny LED lights.

"You look so lovely tonight, Monica," Charlie told her after they'd ordered and the waiter had brought and poured their favorite bottle of sauvignon blanc. "I couldn't have hoped for a prettier Valentine's date."

"I could say the same about you," Monica said. They gently chimed their glasses together.

"To Valentine's Day," they said in unison.

"Jinx!" They said together. Then, "Double jinx!"

"Triple jinx!" Monica said, this time by herself.

"There's no triple jinx!"

"Is too! You owe me a coke!"

"Fine, I will gladly buy you a coke."

The dinner was amazing, Monica ordering a delicate, flaky white piece of fish and Charlie opting for the tenderest filet mignon either of them had ever tasted. Afterwards Charlie ordered Bananas Foster to be flambéed at the table.

"Oof, I'm stuffed. I'm going to bust out of this dress," Monica proclaimed afterwards.

"I certainly hope so," Charlie said with a wink, earning her a laugh.

"What's next on the agenda?"

"I have a couple of surprises for you."

Charlie signaled the waiter who nodded and walked towards the kitchen. When he returned carrying a tray with a large silver domed cover, Monica got a small, sinking feeling in her stomach.

"This is for you, Valentine," Charlie said as the waiter offered her the tray.

If this is a ten thousand dollar diamond tennis bracelet, I'm going to be so upset, Monica thought.

She tentatively lifted the lid and then burst into laughter.

On the tray rested a tiny box of chocolates and a small stuffed Snoopy holding a satin heart that had Will You Be Mine? embroidered on it.

The waiter left the tray, taking the lid with him.

"This is perfect, Charlie, thank you. I'm afraid I didn't get you anything though. I'm sorry."

"Sure you did. You got me you in that dress."

"Well, shall we go somewhere you can unwrap your present?"

"I'll call the car."

As they left the restaurant, Monica was surprised they didn't turn towards The Centurion, instead they headed up into the Hollywood Hills.

"Joyride?" Monica asked.

"Your other surprise."

"Okay. What is it?"

"Patience. All will be revealed in time."

After a winding trip up Mulholland Drive and onto a side street, the limo pulled into the driveway of what looked like the smallest (but not very small) mid-century modern ranch house in a very expensive neighborhood. The driver got out and opened the door for them.

"Are we going to a party?" Monica asked as she got out with Charlie.

"Sort of."

She took Monica's hand and they walked to the door together. Charlie took a key out of her clutch and opened the door. Inside, the house was empty.

As in, completely empty, the large open-concept living room/kitchen area containing no furniture or wall decorations. Some lighting was still present and softly lit the space, glowing from the built-in bookcases, the under- and over-cabinet lights in the kitchen and the accent lights in the entertainment center where a nook for a large TV stood empty.

"What is this?"

"Let me show you something."

They walked across the room to the huge bank of sliding doors. Monica touched a control on the wall and the entire wall of doors slid silently across the opening to nestle in a nook to one side of the living room, leaving the space open to the warm Southern California night air. Outside there was a small, neatly kept yard with a small, stylishly tiled pool. The pool had an infinity-edge, and beyond it...

The lights of Los Angeles were laid out below them in all their glory.

They walked to the side of the pool and Monica could see the house was built onto the side of the mountain, the terrain falling away from the pool. Far down below were the rooftops of the houses on the next street down the mountainside.

Monica had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"So, what's my surprise?"

"This is," Charlie gestured towards the glittering skyline. "I've had an agent looking for me in L.A. This comes on the market next week but she got me a preview so I came out a day early to look it over. I'm totally taken with the view."

"Okay, and?" Please don't say you bought me a house.

"This is your Valentine's present. I thought I could buy it and you could live here—"

"Charlie!"

"—with me."

"We've talked about this! I don't want a sugar daddy! The cash and expensive gifts, that isn't what I want from you anymore! You've completely—"

She stopped and stared dumbly at Charlie for a moment.

"Wait, what did you say?"

"I want us to live here together."

"You... what?"

"I want you to move in with me. Here, in this house."

"But you live in New York."

"I know," Charlie said patiently. "But—"

"Charlie, I thought... you just wanted an arrangement. That you're too busy with your business for relationships."

"I said my relationships haven't worked out because of my business. But we work together, Monica. We work so well, even spending as much time apart as we do. I wasn't sure how well we'd work when we had more than a day or two together, but when we spent ten days together over Christmas, I knew this is right. When we're together we work, and when we're apart we don't get resentful or jealous or angry."

"I mean, yeah, but—"

"I'll still work insane hours, you'll still have times when you're crushed with work when you get your next feature film. I'll still spend time in New York while you're here growing your career. And it'll work. We work like this."