The Triple-Agent Sugar Baby
Language: en
I grew up in the kind of suffocating Appalachian rust-belt town where people spoke with a heavy, unpolished drawl. Keith Crawford treated me like a ghost he was paying to haunt his own bedroom. "When you're with me," he would command, his voice dropping to a glacial whisper, "don't make a sound." He hated my voice. The moment I opened my mouth, the illusion shattered. I sounded absolutely nothing like Cecilia, the untouchable golden girl he had spent his entire life pining for. But if I actually managed to stay perfectly silent, he’d find ways to punish me for it. Often, right at the…