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Summary
She would look exquisite sprawled out on his pima cotton sheets, wouldn’t she? Perhaps he’d drape her in coins, or bills—her choice, naturally, though one suspects she’d opt for the flashiest, the most garish option, something appropriately Rook. And afterward, he’d collapse into her shoulder, sobbing like a maudlin fool, his tears soaking through the remnants of her ridiculous blouse.
A tableau of absurdity: him, the tragic romantic, and her, the irreverent Venus, reeking faintly of cheap vanilla.
The modern Sugar Daddy AU.