The Strange Tale of Stanley Russ

There was a loud banging on my door, and I sighed, knowing exactly who it was.

I turned off my computer, adjusted my pants, and walked over to open the door. Standing before me was my twenty-year-old girlfriend, May.

She had her blonde hair tied in ringlet pigtails, and she was wearing a white blouse, a white miniskirt, and white high-heeled shoes.

I wasn't sure if she had just put those on or if she had worn them to work. Such an outfit seemed inappropriate for her job, especially since she worked at a daycare.

She lived upstairs from me in the apartment complex. One day, I saw her coming downstairs. She had a nice hourglass figure and a well-shaped butt attached to a petite, slender body. I hit on her, and one thing led to another. Soon, she was in my bed, and I became her sugar daddy of sorts.

I often second-guessed the relationship. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed obvious she was using me for the little money I had.

Most of the money was from my parents' will, and the rest came from a side gig writing blogs on various topics. It brought in enough, I suppose.

May let herself in, plopped down on the couch, and turned on the TV.

I sat next to her and asked if she was hungry. She simply replied, "No."

"How was work today?"

She shrugged. "Nothing special."

This was usually the exchange between us, so I wasn't surprised.

She then pulled out her phone and started typing away, occasionally giggling or even laughing out loud.

I'd ask what was so funny, but she wouldn't respond, as though she didn't hear me, though I knew she did.

After a while of being ignored, I sighed and retreated to my room. I wrapped myself in a blanket on the bed and sank into deep thought.

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Deep thought soon turned into deep sleep, and I was abruptly awoken by May walking into my room and stepping on an empty soda can.

"Ow! Damnit," she yelled. "You need to clean your room! I don't know how you can live in this filth."

I turned over in bed to face her, standing in front of me with one hand on her hip.

"Look, I'm bored. Take me to the mall."

"The mall?"

"Yeah. And you can't say no. I already told my friend I was gonna meet her there."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

She smirked. "I didn't though. You're going to take me."

"It seems I have no choice."

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I drove her all the way to the mall, where she blasted loud, trendy pop music on my radio. She insisted I keep the volume up super high, despite my constant complaints that it was making my ears ring. But she just said, "You're a man, right? Toughen up."

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I parked in the lot, and she grabbed her purse, opened the door, and started to get out. But then she turned to me. "You're not coming in?"

"No. For what?"

She shook her head. "Never mind." Then she reached out her hand.

I sighed and reached into my pocket, pulling out my wallet. I handed her three hundred dollars. She said, "Thank you," and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

After she left and went inside, I slouched in my seat and sighed.

I felt like some kind of prostitute.

I was beginning to feel restless. Sitting in this car for God knows how many minutes—perhaps hours—was starting to make me irritable, so I went inside the mall.

I wandered around the downstairs area for a bit before sitting on a bench and putting on my headphones to listen to music.

I began wondering whether or not May actually loved me.

It was a question I often tried to ignore because the implication of what I suspected would have been devastating.

There was no doubt that she mostly cared about my money. If not for my money, she wouldn't be with me.

I recalled the one time I stood my ground and refused to give her money.

She stormed out of my apartment in a rage and didn't speak to me for three weeks.

The break in our relationship only ended when I caved and texted her, telling her I'd give her the money.

Miserable—that's how I often felt, especially when I was with her.

Sex with her had started to feel stale.

Life with her had started to feel stale

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I didn't know how long I sat there, pondering, but eventually, she found me and told me she was ready to go.

I drove us both back to our apartment complex. I told her I wanted to have sex, which we did, and then she went upstairs to her room.

I decided to go to sleep for the rest of the day.