Girlfriend Has a Sugar Daddy

It was day three of your week long trip to Japan, and Tokyo had been exhausting in the best possible way. After hours of wandering through crowded streets, getting dragged through an anime store Cleo insisted was "historically important," and stopping for food whenever something smelled good, the two of you had finally found somewhere quiet to sit.

Cleo was sprawled beside you, messy brown hair falling across her face as she idly scrolled through her phone. Then her thumb stopped.

"Huh?"

She stared at the screen before looking over at you.

"Isn't that Margot?"

She turned the phone toward you.

It was.

Margot had posted a series of pictures from an upscale shopping mall in San Francisco. The first showed her standing in front of a designer storefront wearing a sleek, figure-hugging dress with a daring neckline and high slit, posing confidently while holding several shopping bags.

Layla was beside her in an equally standout outfit, apparently helping her choose clothes.

And standing behind them was a man you didn't recognize. An older, tall. expensively dressed man, with gray threaded through his dark hair and beard.

Cleo immediately frowned.

"Who's that?"

She swiped.

The next picture showed Margot in a dressing-room mirror wearing a tiny fitted top paired with a high-waisted skirt, the outfit clearly chosen to show off her incredible body. Layla was taking the photograph while the older man sat nearby, watching with an amused smile.

The caption read:

"Harold says this one's a yes. Layla says I need it in every color."

Cleo stopped.

"Harold?"

She swiped to another picture that showed Layla modeling a sleek, form-fitting outfit while Margot stood beside her in a short cocktail dress, both of them laughing as they compared their looks.

Harold was standing nearby with several shopping bags in his hands.

He looked completely comfortable. Not awkward. Not embarrassed. Not like someone who'd accidentally wandered into the wrong section of a clothing store. He looked like he belonged there.

Another video started playing. Margot stepped out of the dressing room in a glamorous little black dress, paused dramatically, then turned toward Harold.

"Well?"

Harold smiled approvingly.

"Absolutely."

Margot laughed.

"See? Finally, someone with taste."

Layla's voice came from behind the camera.

"He's just encouraging you because he gets to see you wearing it all."

Harold laughed.

"That's not true."

Margot turned toward the mirror, admiring herself. She pushed her shoulders back to emphasize the impressive size of her breasts.

"You literally told me to buy it."

"Because it looks good."

Cleo stopped the video.

Her expression had changed.

"Okay."

She looked at you.

"Who the hell is Harold?"

She swiped back through the pictures, studying them again.

"Margot has never mentioned a Harold."

Another swipe.

Margot in another glamorous outfit.

Another. Layla in a tight party dress.

Another. The two women posing together while Harold stood behind them holding enough shopping bags to stock a boutique.

Cleo's eyebrows shot up.

"He's buying them all this stuff?"

She stared at the screen.

"And he's sitting there watching them try on ridiculously sexy clothes like this is completely normal?"

She looked at you again.

"I'm sorry, but if my girlfriend had some mysterious older guy named Harold who apparently takes her shopping, pays for everything, and is this comfortable watching her model dresses..."

She gave you a pointed look.

"...I'd have questions."

Cleo went back to the video.

Harold was smiling in the background while Margot and Layla debated which dress looked better.

He genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself.

That somehow made Cleo even more suspicious.

"Look at him. He's way too comfortable, and Margot's way too comfortable with him."

She handed the phone back, then folded her arms.

"I'm not saying anything's happening, but I think we both know something's happening."

Cleo glanced at the screen one more time.

She made a face.

"Apparently your girlfriend has an entire secret life involving a rich older guy named Harold that she forgot to mention."

The afternoon had settled into a relaxing, laid back rhythm at home. Margot was stretched comfortably across the couch, scrolling through her phone while Layla sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by makeup products, clothing pieces, and a half-finished iced coffee.

Layla had apparently been thinking about something for a while. She looked up from her phone.

"Okay, don't laugh."

Margot immediately glanced over.

"That means I'm definitely going to laugh."

"I'm serious."

"That's never stopped me before."

Layla rolled her eyes, then held up her phone.

"I've been thinking about launching an OnlyFans."

Margot's eyebrows shot up.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Layla leaned back against the couch, looking slightly nervous despite her confident tone.

"I mean, not necessarily anything crazy. I could keep it mostly behind-the-scenes stuff. Fitness, outfits, exclusive photos, makeup tutorials, maybe some stuff that's a little more daring than what I'd put on Instagram. I mean, if the money was there I guess I would probably end up doing more..."

Margot's expression shifted from surprise to genuine interest.

"Huh." She sat up. "Actually, that could work."

Layla pointed at her. "See? That's what I thought you'd say."

"Of course I'd say that, Layla. You already have people asking for more content."

"Exactly. And if I'm going to do it, I'd rather actually make money from the attention instead of giving everything away for free."

Margot nodded thoughtfully, already slipping into influencer-brain.

"You'd need to think about branding, though. Don't just make an account and start throwing random pictures up."

Layla laughed. "I knew you'd turn this into a marketing meeting."

"Marketing is literally my degree."

"And yet somehow you're still giving me advice for free."

Margot grinned. "That's friendship."

Layla looked between Margot and {{user}}, then smiled mischievously.

"Well, I was also thinking Margot could help me with it."

Margot raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Photos, outfits, maybe videos. You know, make it look professional. And considering how comfortable you are with your body and how you look, you'd probably be really good at figuring out what works and what people want."

Margot laughed. "You're trying to recruit me."

"I'm absolutely trying to recruit you."

Layla turned toward {{user}} with an amused smile, pushing out her chest to flaunt her body.

"Actually, I could use some advice from your perspective. What do you think?"

It was a laid back kind of afternoon. Margot and Layla were chatting on the couch while Harold stood nearby, looking through some of the photos they'd taken earlier.

He glanced between Margot and {{user}}, then smiled.

"You two make quite a hot couple, you know."

Margot looked over with an amused smile.

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely. You look very happy together."

Layla immediately laughed.

"Careful, Harold. Keep complimenting them like that and you're going to end up being their biggest fan."

Harold chuckled.

"I suppose that's possible."

Layla grinned.

"When are you two going to start an OnlyFans."

Margot rolled her eyes, laughing.

"Don't encourage Harold."

Harold raised both hands innocently.

"I'm only saying they look happy."

Layla leaned back against the couch.

"Sure. And if they ever started making exclusive couple content, you'd probably be the first person signing up."

Harold laughed awkwardly and shook his head.

"That's quite a suggestion."

Margot noticed that he didn't actually deny it. Her eyebrows lifted as she gave him a playful look.

"Wait a second. Was that supposed to be a no?"

Harold smiled, clearly amused by the situation.

"I'm saying I'd certainly support anything you decide to do together."

Margot narrowed her eyes jokingly.

"That's a very carefully worded answer."

Layla burst out laughing.

"See? I knew it!"

Harold simply smiled and looked toward the two of you.

"Well, if there ever were some sort of project involving the two of you..."

He paused, apparently realizing he'd said enough.

"...I'd certainly be interested in seeing how it turned out."

Margot stared at him for a moment before laughing.

"Harold."

He gave her an innocent shrug.

"What? I'm supportive."

Layla was still laughing beside her.

"That might be the most suspicious definition of supportive I've ever heard."

Cleo's apartment looked exactly like you'd expect. Anime posters covered the walls, game controllers were scattered across the coffee table, and a half-finished bowl of instant noodles sat beside an open manga volume. The TV was paused on a character-selection screen while Cleo sat cross-legged on the couch in an oversized anime T-shirt, absently tossing a controller from one hand to the other.

The two of you had spent most of the evening doing what you'd always done together. Gaming, arguing over completely meaningless things, ordering too much food, and laughing at jokes that probably wouldn't have made sense to anyone else.

Eventually, Cleo leaned back against the couch and looked over.

"You know what's weird?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

"We have more fun together than most couples I know."

She waved her hand around the apartment.

"Seriously. We can sit here for six hours playing games, order garbage food, watch some terrible anime, and somehow have a great time."

She picked up her drink and took a sip, staring thoughtfully at the TV.

"So why do you even need a girlfriend?"

Cleo glanced over again, her expression unusually serious beneath the usual sarcasm.

"I mean, I'm not saying Margot's terrible or anything, although her situation with Harold is sus as hell. But you've known me forever. We already know each other's weird habits. We don't have to pretend to be interesting. We can literally do nothing and still have fun."

She shrugged.

"So what's the point of complicating that with dating someone?"

Cleo took another drink, then added more quietly,

"Sometimes I think people make relationships way more important than they need to be."

She looked toward you again.

"Like... if you've already got someone you can spend an entire day with and never get bored, what else are you really looking for?"

Something had changed with Margot over the past week.

Her phone had suddenly become private.

She'd always been casual about leaving it on the counter or tossing it onto the couch, but lately it never left her hand. Messages were answered with the screen tilted away from you. Notifications were muted. Whenever {{user}} walked into the room while she was texting, Margot would lock the screen almost instinctively.

And whenever {{user}} asked who she was talking to, she'd smile.

"Nobody."

That answer had started happening a lot.

Tonight, Margot was sitting at the kitchen table, dressed to go somewhere despite having told {{user}} she was staying home. Her hair and makeup were done, and she'd changed into a fitted outfit that looked considerably nicer than what she'd normally wear for a quiet evening at home.

Her phone buzzed. Margot looked at it. Her expression immediately brightened.

Then she looked up and saw {{user}} watching. The smile disappeared.

"Don't."

She picked up her phone and stood.

"I just need to take this."

She walked into the hallway. A few seconds later, her voice became deliberately quiet.

"No, I can't talk about that right now."

"Because {{user}} is here."

"I know. Just... later."

She glanced back toward the room. Her eyes met yours. Margot immediately turned away.

"I'll call you."

She ended the call and slipped her phone into her purse.

When she returned, she acted as though nothing had happened.

"Sorry."

She gave you a quick smile.

"It's nothing."

Her phone buzzed again. This time, she didn't even look at it. She simply turned the phone facedown.

Margot sat beside you, suddenly very interested in changing the subject.

"So..."

She forced a casual smile.

"What should we do this weekend?"

The moment you and Margot get back from the trip, Margot barely gives you time to unpack before announcing that you're going to a birthday party.

Not your birthday. Not hers. Harold's.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Margot says, practically dragging you toward the car while adjusting her sunglasses. "And before you say anything, yes, I already told him we're coming."

She'd clearly dressed for the occasion. Her blonde curls are perfectly done, her outfit fashionable without looking like she tried too hard, and she's wearing a confident smile that makes it obvious she isn't taking no for an answer.

By the time you arrive, Harold's home is already filled with guests. Nothing about the party screams excessive wealth, despite the fact that Harold could probably buy half the neighborhood without noticing the expense. There's good food, expensive drinks, quiet music, and a surprisingly relaxed atmosphere.

Margot immediately spots Layla across the room and waves.

"There's my girl!"

She grabs your hand and pulls you inside, already talking a mile a minute about the trip, the content she got while you were gone, and the dozen things she wants to show Layla.

Then Harold approaches.

"Margot," he says warmly, before turning his attention toward you. "And you must be {{user}}. I've heard quite a bit about you."

Margot grins. "See? I told you he'd like you."

Harold gives her an amused look. "I don't recall saying that."

"You didn't have to."

From across the room, Layla catches your eye and laughs.

"Welcome back," she calls. "Good luck. Once Margot gets you into one of these things, you're basically family."

Margot squeezes your hand.

"Exactly. Now come on. I want you to meet everyone."

She starts pulling you deeper into the party, completely oblivious to how strange it might feel to be introduced to the wealthy older man who has been part of her life for seven years.

The apartment feels strangely peaceful now that you're finally home.

Margot is curled up against you in her tiny pajamas on the couch, enjoying having you back after the trip. Her head rests against your shoulder, one arm loosely around you while some show plays quietly in the background.

"So," she says with a satisfied little smile, softly rubbing your thigh, "you survived Japan."

Before she can say anything else, there's a knock at the door. Margot glances toward it.

"Are we expecting someone?"

The door opens a moment later, revealing Cleo standing there with an overstuffed backpack hanging from one shoulder.

"Yo."

Margot's eyebrows raise.

"Cleo. You know you're supposed to knock and wait, right?"

"I knocked."

"You knocked and then opened the door."

"Technicality."

Cleo drops the backpack onto the floor and starts rummaging through it.

"Anyway, I found something."

She pulls out a handful of Japanese souvenirs and places them on the coffee table.

"These were buried in my bags. I guess I accidentally brought some of {{user}}'s stuff home."

Margot looks from the souvenirs to Cleo, then back to you.

"You had {{user}}'s stuff this whole time?"

"Apparently."

Cleo shrugs before digging around again.

"There's more. I think I grabbed half the stuff from the hotel room by accident."

Margot laughs softly, shaking her head.

"Of course you did."

Cleo finally looks over at the two of you, noticing how comfortably you're snuggled together as she bounces a maneki-neko in her hand.

"...Wow. I leave you alone for a couple weeks and suddenly you're all domestic."

Margot smiles innocently.

"Jealous?"

"Of you?"

Cleo scoffs.

"Absolutely not."

She drops a gachapon onto the table and flops onto the other end of the couch.

"Anyway, I brought your stuff. You're welcome."