Sugar Baby (6 page)

Still, Stephen does not; apparently, getting all the pleasure he needs from getting me off. I stroke his soft hair as he lay beside me.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

Chapter Seven

“You're giving your notice??”

“I know. I'm giving a full month though, Chef.”

“Doesn't matter! What am I supposed to do? Zach can't pick up any more of your slack.”

“Well... You would hire someone, ideally ...”

“You know what? I'll figure it out,” he says, sarcastic and frustrated. “Thanks Kat. Thanks again.”

I don't care. I'm so ecstatic about my cafe. I take possession in one week, and there's so much to do even before I get in the space. I spend the afternoon making small batches of my own baked goods, along with my usual prep. I fine tune my basic cookie recipe, adding a variety of ingredients to comprise the different flavours. Chocolate chip and toasted walnut, ginger molasses with chili powder, oatmeal cinnamon cranberry, chocolate dipped macaroons, sugar cookies with royal icing for holidays. Jeremy comes over, confused.

“These are for... catering?”

“Yeah. Just trying out some new recipes. Here,” I say, shutting him up with a chocolate chip cookie. “Good, right?”

“Oh man! Did you toast the walnuts? Nice touch.”

“Thanks,” I say, packing the rest up for Stephen.

“Maybe you can give me some pointers, sometime! I know nothing about desserts. And you really have a talent.”

“Uhh, thanks. Sure!” He smiles at that. I wouldn't call it talent though, so much as hard work, I think. Maybe I will show him a few things to carry on my legacy here at Rigatoni's. Now that I'm not worried about Jeremy taking my job. Chef likes him better, and if he had the pastry knowledge, he'd be a wizard on that station. I hope he does become the new pastry chef. It makes me smile to think of how he would flourish.

I figure I can host a grand opening at the cafe in another month or so, depending on contractors. I'll continue to work at Rigatoni's during the renovations, giving me a few days afterwards, where I can really concentrate on the menu, and food prep. I make a note to call around about kitchen equipment, light fixtures, custom furniture, and service installation. I should visit paint shops, antique sales, and restaurant warehouses. Design the logo, contact a sign guy, print stickers, cups, napkins, bags. Source out the very best food suppliers for each ingredient on my list. My phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Kat. How are you? I just wanted to remind you about tonight.” Another Sugar Convention. How could I forget? I've been so focussed on the cafe. Despite having to drop everything cafe related for the night, I feel the familiar surge of excitement accompanied by evenings with Stephen.

“Yes. Of course! I'm wearing my new dress.”

“Stephen!” I exclaim once I'm in another one of those Hummer limos. “I have so much to tell you!”

“Haha, I bet you do. How are you, Kat the entrepreneur?”

“I'm great! I just gave my month's notice at work, and I've talked to someone who will custom make my tabletops, the front bar, and the main counter with reclaimed wood. His pieces are so unique, and very rustic looking. I'm getting them done in a very dark stain. Almost black. I think they'll be real stand out pieces...”

“Kat!” He says, joyfully. “I don't think I've ever heard you so talkative. It makes me so happy to see you like this!”

“Me too! There's just so much to do.”

“And you love it?”

“I love it,” I say, smiling and kissing him. “Also, I brought cookies!”

When we arrive at hall's familiarly epic entrance, I wonder how many ancient organizations met in such a place, and I look around proudly, feeling like I'm beginning to belong. We climb the ornate steps, past the prolific pillars, and hand our coats to a man dressed in a tuxedo. I remain in awe of the great hall, but somehow find it fitting this time, for our purposes.

“I'll fetch us a drink,” Stephen winks, and I take a breath, feeling prepared to mingle while he's gone. Immediately, a stately, though clearly older man approaches me.

“
Ciao
,
bella
. Don't you look lovely this evening,” he says with a thick Italian accent.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, no need for “sir”! This is a casual, yes?” He says affectionately, tapping me on the shoulder. “But, don't let me bother you. I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to an old man.”

“Not at all. I actually have grown to appreciate older men, lately,” I joke.

“
Bravo
! Are you here alone?”

“No, I'm accompanying Stephen this evening,” I say, pointing.

“
Bene
. He's a good man
e
il babbo
, that Stephano.”

“Uh, yes! I agree.”

“Well, you are a sweet girl. Excuse me,
bella
.” My eyes go to the three girls I'm familiar with from the last party, and I walk over.

“Dawn, right?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“We met last time? You recommended a salon for me, I think?”

“Oh! Wow, you sure cleaned up. What was your name again?”

“Kat.”

“Kat! Right. You look great, girl. Big difference. Seriously!”

“Uh, thanks. For helping me.”

“No problem! You needed it, am I right?” She laughs, and the other girls join in. “You remember Kelly and Christine?”

“Yes, hi.”

“So, how are things going with your SD? Or do you have two yet? With your new look, it wouldn't surprise me!”

“No! No. Just the one. I only want one, probably.”

“Oh. Are you guys exclusive already? Shit. Good for you. That's where the real money's at!”

“Well, we haven't said anything for sure, but...”

“Wait,” Christine buts in. “You know SD's come here to cruise other Babies, right? And you should be doing it to, too. Looking for another Daddy, I mean. That's the point of these things. You'll find good, quality SD's here. Take my word for it.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks. We're taking it kinda slow, though. I don't think we're doing that.”

“You may not be, but he is. They all do.” She gestures over to Stephen, talking to one of his friends, whose SB hangs off his arm. Dawn pipes back in.

“Don't listen to her. Only you know what's going on between you and your Daddy. Complete honesty is the only way these things work. And we can do that, because emotions aren't involved, right? It's all business, here.”

“Right,” I answer, honestly feeling a little unwell. “Excuse me.”

I walk as fast as my heels will take me to the washroom, and sit down in the green room. I feel myself panic. Everything looks different, suddenly. I remember Stephen introducing me to his friend last week. Was the intent for him to acquire me as well? I think of the man I talked to briefly tonight. The countless men and young women chatting over champagne. It's all tainted. What am I doing? How did I get myself into this? Why don't I just wait until I save up the rest? Ugh. I think I'll just stay in here the rest of the night.

“Kat? You in there?” Stephen's voice. It makes me tear up to hear it.

“Yes! Sorry! I'm just feeling a little under the weather!”

“Shall we go? May I come in?” He peeks in, them opens the door, stepping beyond it. He approaches me, touching my back. “What's the matter, Lady Kat?”

“Oh, nothing. I don't know. I just felt dizzy, I think. I just need to sit a moment.”

“Of course. Can I get you a glass a water?”

“Sure.” A long pause, while he fills up a cup. “You care about me, don't you, Stephen?”

“Of course! How could you think that I don't?”

“I know... It's just that...”

“You've been speaking to those girls again, haven't you? Are they bothering you?”

“No, it's not that. It's just... the things they were saying.”

“Tell me.”

“Well... Do you have other... girls like me?”

“Kat! No. No, I do not.”

“You don't?”

“No.”

“Well, why do you come to these parties, then?”

“To see old friends, be a part of the community, show off my good fortune with you...” At that, he squeezes me. I smile. “Poor Kat. Let's get you home, shall we? I think we've both had enough of this scene for tonight. Why don't you tell me more about your cafe?”

Back at Stephen's condo, I feel safe. He sits with me by the fire, our feet up on an ottoman, and hot toddies in each of our hands.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes. I'm sorry. I overreacted before. I feel stupid.”

“Please don't say that. It just... bothers some people to see others happy, yes? And that means that there is something wrong with them, not with you.”

“Right. And, you're happy, I should suppose?” I joke, feeling more like myself again.

“Very! You are not?”

“Of course I am. I just think I'm... very overwhelmed, right now. With the cafe. With everything.”

“Come here,” he says, offering his arm. He puts it around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder. “That's better. It's all going to be just fine, I promise.”

I feel myself sink into him, my leg wandering up his. My hands graze his chest and arms, while my eyes close, and I let out a sigh. He holds me tightly, and I feel my pelvis gently rock into him. Craving to be even closer, I tilt my face towards his, and begin to kiss his neck. His strong arms pull me into him, and our mouths meet, kissing deeply and passionately. Suddenly, I feel an insatiable desire. To be close to him, to be vulnerable in front of him, to purge myself. To give him something in thanks for everything he's done for me.

I unzip his fly, and unbutton his pants, in one motion. I see his erection bulging through his underwear, as I forcefully pull his pants down over his hips. I feel his folded member through the cotton of his briefs, and it flexes against my hand. I bend and kiss it through the thin material, pressing my mouth into it as he reciprocates the pressure back. The underwear soon follows, his cock springing out of them, as I tuck them down over his ass. I grip it with my hand first, as I kiss Stephen on the mouth, rearranging myself on the floor in front of him. He moans slightly, and I feel myself smile while kissing him. Once kneeled, I stroke his hard cock tightly in my hand, venturing to plant small kisses on the tip. As I jerk him, these tiny, teasing kisses turn into slightly wetter ones, which transform into French kisses right on the head, until I finally sink it into my mouth. He groans when I do this, almost as much out of surprise, as anticipation or pleasure.

Having already coated the head in moisture, I take it easily, letting it slide in and out of my mouth without effort. I feel my pussy get as wet as his cock, and his head tilts back, resting in the couch, emitting a low moan. I remove my hand from the base for a moment, wanting to solely use the suction of my lips on him. At this, out of the corner of my eye, he perks up and watches. Even reaching down to hold my hair. To feel his strong hand at the base of my neck, makes me even wetter, and my nipples harden, begging to be touched. I picture him taking my head right into his warm hands, and showing me how he wants it. I move faster, in anticipation of him wanting me to. I imagine him even holding my head still, and thrusting into it. Telling me to hold it open. Just hold your mouth open like a good girl, so I can fuck it. That's a good girl.

I'm so caught up in the fantasy, that he does have to grab me, but not in the way I anticipate. Perhaps very close to coming, he stops me suddenly, pulling my face back up to his. He kisses me deeply, unconcerned that my mouth was on him moments before. He holds me in a close embrace, very tightly in his arms, kissing my face and neck, then wrapping us both in a blanket. My head is back resting on his chest, and I think I drift off...

Chapter Eight

The week couldn't go fast enough. I've been so excited about the cafe, that I couldn't think straight. Finally, the date arrives to pick up the key, and I ask Stephen if he would like to accompany me to the space for the first time.

With his hand on my back, I turn the freshly cut key, and open the door. Totally different from last time, as everything I didn't purchase has been cleared out, it no longer has the energy of the previous owner. I look around the fresh, empty space, with Stephen's hand in mine, and see nothing but possibilities. His other carries a bottle of champagne.

I unwrap the roll of butcher paper, and get his assistance in covering the windows. I look at him with an ear to ear smile, and he laughs, pulling me close, and wrapping his arms around me. We kiss for a happy moment, before getting interrupted by a phone call on his cell. He sighs, then takes it out, looking at the number.

“I apologize. I should take this, yes?” I nod, and he picks up, speaking in Italian. My heels click in the empty space, as I walk around. I make a mental note of things to do, as Stephen wraps up the call. “
Ti amo anch'io. Ciao.
” He hangs up. “Where were we?”

“I think we were about to make a toast,” I wink. He cracks the champagne, and I ready a glass to take the spilling foam.

“To Kat the entrepreneur!”

“To me! And my handsome financier!” We clink our glasses, and down them partially. I gaze at Stephen amorously, getting a saucy idea.

“Have you ever owned a boat?”

“Once, when I was young. Why do you ask?”

“What do they do to a new boat, again? Something with a bottle?”

“Yes, it's good luck to break a bottle over the bow of a ship on its maiden voyage.”

“I see... and a new restaurant? What do they do?”

“Hmm, not sure. Perhaps we can invent something!”

“Mmm, I think we can,” I say under my breath, as I lean in for another kiss. With our lips locked, I expertly take his glass, placing both on a ledge. My hands go to his face, neck, and in his hair, his graze my back, hips, and butt. We smile into each other as we kiss, I wrap a leg around his to press myself against him. My breasts squeeze pleasurably in between us, as I attempt to grind against him, feeling his cock start to harden against my hip. I lead his hands to my breasts, and he grabs them aggressively through my sweater. His mouth moves to my neck, and I'm able to notice something.

People. On the street. Obviously curious about the reveal of the new business, some of them are trying to peek around the paper covering the windows. How much they can see is close to nil, with the daylight outside and the dimness in the room, but the fact that I see them looking is intensely arousing. Yes, I hate getting looks from people judging our lifestyle, but this is different. Taboo.

I feel my nipples harden as Stephen continues to knead my breasts, and I venture to feel up his cock through his pants.

“Mmm,” I moan, feeling his hardness. He smiles, and grabs my ass in his hands, through my skirt. I take his hand, guiding it underneath instead. He touches my bare ass, then reaches up towards my hips, to pull down my thong underwear. I feel myself gush suddenly, as he leaves them around my thighs, and pulls me against him, gripping my butt. I quickly unbuckle his belt, pulling down the fly of his pants, and reaching for his cock. He backs me against a wall, while reaching between us for my pussy. He groans lustily, feeling how wet I am. I glance once more towards the window, at the people trying to watch. I want them to see. I want them to see me take this hard cock.

We kiss deeply, as he sandwiches me against the wall, and his cock dances over my opening. I pull his ass towards me, feeling it slip over the outside of my pussy, as his hips move against me. Wild with anticipation, I direct it in me.

“Ohhh,” we both exhale in unison, with a feral look in our eyes. Watch me, I think. Watch me and my Daddy. I know you all want to. I see the way you look at us.

“Mmm,” he moans, starting to thrust. My pussy is so ready for him, that he slides easily in and out of me. Fuck, yes! My skirt rides up to my hips, and I feel the cold concrete against my ass. I feel my pussy practically drip down my leg, as he uses the wall for leverage. I make believe someone makes eye contact with me, and I put on a show, putting Stephen's hand back on my tits.

“Oh, yeah,” I breathe, feeling their eyes on me. I put my arms above me submissively, taking his hand and placing it on my wrist. I moan loudly, and Stephen mouth goes back to my neck. His cock is fucking me at a very exact angle, almost withdrawing completely before coming back in. I don't dare move to disrupt the perfection of his thrusting. But, something else does.

“Oh, my god!” He quickly withdraws, noticing the Peeping Toms at the window. I chuckle at his surprise, but still in the ecstatic feeling of getting fucked, find I can't stop laughing. He joins in, until we slide down the wall, eventually sitting on the floor, gasping for breath.

“How about an evaluation?” Stephen suggests, from his place on the floor. We've spread out a blanket, and have picked up some Chinese food for dinner, creating a picnic in the middle of the room. A tea light we found in the basement wavers in a draft. We're mostly through the champagne. I laugh.

“A what?”

“A monthly assessment. Report card.”

“For me??”

“Not, by you. I, of course, will contribute as necessary.”

“As necessary, eh? Okay. I...”

“How would you rate my performance, in the following categories? Out of ten.”

“Good, okay,” I laugh.

“Let's start with... my ability to make you laugh?” Continue laughing.

“Ten!”

“That was an easy one. Ability to take you to interesting places, doing exciting activities?”

“Hmm... nine.”

“Note taken! See? That's why we do these things. General manners, personality?”

“Ten, of course.”

“Adhering to financial agreements?”

“And then some. Eleven.”

“What about in the bedroom?”

“Hmm... eight.”

“Eight only? You're going to have to fill out the comment portion on that one!!” I redden, but maybe it's the champagne.

“Well... I would like to please you. Like, really please you.”

“You do.”

“I mean, really please...”

“I know what you mean,” he laughs. “Can you trust me in saying, that it doesn't matter to me? And I like our sex life exactly as it is?”

“It matters to me. Think of it as doing it for me, then.”

“We'll see,” he says, touching my face. I want to ask why, but it seems to be a sensitive area. Something an SB shouldn't ask of her SD. “Overall grade?”

“A.”

“Room for improvement, then?”

“Only slightly,” I chuckle. I lean forward, giving him a soft kiss. “How about me, then? Dare I ask?”

“No. I could never evaluate you in such a manner.”

“But, I had to do it!”

“I know... I feel awful for tricking you,” he jokes. I slap him across the arm.