“Sugar Baby” is a short story written by Jasmine Jackson. It is relaunching the short story circuit via the blog “Pardon MY Audacity!” This story will have explicit content as the story develops; however, there will also be a valuable lesson presented for all of the readers. Of course, this is how it works you BUMP IT or DUMP IT! If you BUMP it then another section of the story will be presented, if you DUMP it the story will cease! Are you ready for some DRAMA???? Hello, we are! (Hair flip and a snap) We hope you enjoy.
There are some who are fortunate and appear to receive all the things they desire. It doesn’t seem as if they struggle or need for anything. They get what they want and they take what they need. Whatever they strive for by some immaculate force they— get it. Then there are the ones struggling. It’s a dog eat dog world and quite frankly the ones struggling are out for our own definition of success, escape, and freedom from single mothers and absent fathers. We are all different in our struggle, by the way, so please don’t believe everything you hear. There are some who are knocking folks over the head, kicking in doors, and slanging narcotics. However, there are some taking hours of their time to enhance their minds, create things that will innovate a particular industry, and work two and three jobs to cover tuition.
I can relate to the latter; as long as I can remember I tried my hardest to be the valedictorian in all of my grade levels. I wanted to have a 4.0 grade point average. I wanted to get away from the struggle and be one of those inspirational, intellectual, and of course radiant women that would one day own an empire. My mother would wake up; get dressed all the while getting me dressed with Mary J. Blige blasting through the room. She would sing and brush my hair up from the night before when she would do my hair for the week. She taught me how to brush my teeth, how to perfectly perfume myself, and how to apply my intelligence to every situation. She would pack her bag because she would have to work at Johnson-Carter Law office during the day and Denny’s afterward. After school, I would go to my Noni’s house. Noni was my mother’s mother and she hated the term grandma. After work she would pick me up and we’d go home and do it again for more than three days a week. The days that we could relax my mother would cook for us, wash and condition my hair. Once our hair was wrapped up, we would lay in her large bed to cuddle and watch our favorite movies. As I grew older, I started to understand that my mother would sacrifice and go without to finance my needs. She made sure that I attended my dance classes, school, and did well in school.
I believe I learned how to be a hustling woman by watching my mother and how she worked her ass off to fulfill my needs because she felt she had an obligation. It was never easy for her and she never allowed me to hear her complaints or see them. We grew together as a unit that no one could disconnect and I respected my mother with everything. I worked in high school maintaining my grades and participating in dance. I barely had time for social events, but it worked out well. I was accepted into a prestigious psychology program and was on my way to becoming a therapist. I received scholarships, but it still didn’t pay for everything. My mother worked two jobs once more to help pay for school along with my job, but we were struggling and I was tired of watching my mother kill herself for me. I am a part of the ones struggling; I understood the reality of the situation, but I had the upper hand to my circumstance. I hadn’t busted my ass and started the beginning of my career to fail. I was going to make my mother proud and I would be all that I had set out to be. This story is about what I had to do to ensure that my mother would be proud of her daughter. It could have been done another way, but sometimes you have to sacrifice some things to get results.
“Pardon me miss,” His voice cut my concentration like a knife to butter and when I lifted my eyes from my book my lips curled into a smile. He caught me off guard while I was attempting to finish my lab from Intro to Psychology and concocting a plan to make extra money.
“You— are a very beautiful woman,” His eyes never left my eyes. I stopped cheesing, stood up from my seat, and pushed my hand toward him. I made him shake my hand and feel my firm grip. I thought that it would separate me as a woman versus a girl.
“Thank you.” I looked down at the wedding band on his hand and then back up to his wrist with the golden Rolex. Here was clearly a handsome, wealthy man who just so happened to have a wife. I knew that anything further was out of line and so the excitement that burned in me five seconds before started to dwindle. He must have read my facial expression and decided to drop my hand immediately.
“You are very welcome.” Here was another man that could barely offer anything worth losing time over so I sat back in my seat. I digressed; I suppose I just didn’t want to waste valuable time. I was all about my money at this point. Love was for the weak minded; Kryptonite for all the good girls turning them either insecure or helping them lose themselves. I couldn’t be that girl.
“I do apologize for ruining your study time. I see that the presence of my wedding ring
quite offended you.”
“You didn’t ruin my day. It was a disappointment; however, you are a very handsome man, but having a wife takes the opportunity away.”
“You are pretty enough to be on my arm and smart enough to know there are so many other titles we could have right now.” My heart began to beat fast actually enticing my young ass. Here it goes; another older man hoping that this younger woman would be actually dumb enough to help him step out on his wife.
“I do not like dogs. They shit in your house, track fleas throughout the house, and then sometimes they turn on you and bite you. Isn’t that what you would be doing to your wife by approaching me?” I responded as I stared into his eyes.
“Negative Nancy I see.” He dropped his business card on the table and walked away without hearing my denial and lack of interest. Even his walk was seasoned and sophisticated and sexy which made my blood boil. He had the resources I needed; I owed it to myself to attempt the unthinkable. For the next thirty minutes, I fantasized about that man alone. Fifteen minutes after that, I decided to learn this man; to find out how he would be useful in my life. He had too much finesse to be in his twenties. I knew he was older. I liked that he was older. But he was married and I just didn’t want that on my plate either.
The boundaries ran through my mind as I ran my finger over his name on the business card. Every piece of homework was complete and my paper for Dr. Pessotti’s class wasn’t due for another week. I spent every night after work perfecting the research and grammar because for the money I paid in school I couldn’t afford any bad grades this semester or any other. I had forfeited any plans of parties with my friends because I was over partying. I didn’t want to spend unnecessary money to enjoy liquor, loud music, girls who thought they were pretty and unbelievably young men with absolutely no goals in life but to screw me or anything with a cooch for that matter. There was more to me then childish sexual gain and fake fairy tales of young girls and guys who are destined to spend their life together. I didn’t want to settle my life with just good ole love; I had bills to pay. I had a career to start. I had a life to lead and love sometimes throws you off that path. One day you’re sitting down writing papers and receiving accolades the next you’re head isn’t clear enough to make decisions for yourself. How can you stoop that low as to let another person control what you worked so hard for? I focused on the name again and then I picked up my iPhone and I initiated a business transaction.
“May I speak with James Driscol?” I spoke without hesitation.
“This is James.” His voice was deep and it sucked me in immediately. I allowed a deep breath to escape me in order to remain calm and continue with business.
“My name is LaTia Davenport. I met you at the café, do you remember me?”
“How could I forget a woman that beautiful?”
“You are one smooth talker.” I commented. I couldn’t help, but smile. This could not be real life; this never happens to anyone, but in movies. I rolled my eyes, but I continued to smile.
“I just call it like I see it.”
“I called to talk business. You said that there are so many other titles that I could hold. What were you referring to?”
“It depends on what you need.” He responded firmly.
“I definitely don’t need a married man.”
“What do you need?” He questioned. I imagined him in a full suit, smelling like Gucci’s Made to Measure cologne, and with a view overlooking the city. His status alone was sexier than any man that walked around campus, college football star and all.
“I need tuition money.”
“Is that all?” I thought it over for a second before answering.
“What do you need?” I inquired. It was obvious that this wouldn’t just be a free ride.
“I want a few things honestly.” He lightly chuckled.
“I want your mind. I want your loyalty. I want to make you happy whether it’s financially or anything else you want.”
“Why?” I questioned as soon as he uttered the ‘T’ in want.
“I see myself in you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. You are a businesswoman. I can tell by your demeanor. I thought you would’ve have contacted me a little earlier, but it seems you aren’t as needy as I once perceived so that added to the attraction I have for you.”
“What do you have in mind?” I questioned.
“I want you.” He was one of those men; power for them equaled ruling whatever they touched. Did I really want to be owned was the question?
“How many ways do you want me?” I smiled as I spoke those words.
“Many. Let’s do this, I can come and pick you up for dinner. I can give you an early gift just for the hell of it. If you like the gift, you contact me for further and it’ll begin.”
“I’m down. Where are we going?”
“I was thinking New York Prime on Peachtree.”
“I’ll pull a dress from my closet and see you outside.” I gave Mr. Driscol the address to my place and was ready for the gift. This would separate the bullshit from the real situation at hand. If we can dine at New York Prime than I was pretty damn sure that there would be a great pay off. I slipped into a long black dress that hugged my curves just enough. I paired the dressed with a retro black blazer with gold accents and a pair of black and gold pumps. My hair rested in curls on my shoulder blades and I opted out of makeup and applied a simple MAC Ruby Woo red lip. Though I wanted the interaction and this meeting, I didn’t want to be seen out in downtown Atlanta foolishly dressed. Simple was more for me. This was business and business it would stay.
In the bathroom mirror I stayed examining my face. My light brown skin was clear from blemishes, my cheek bones were high, my lips were full and I continued to examine. You have to do this Tia, I told myself. I stared into my eyes through the mirror and the light brown eyes were filled with goals, ambition, and this night a small amount of guilt. I wanted to splash water over my face, but my phone started vibrating.
“Hello?” I answered.
“I am outside.” Before I could grab my clutch somebody started knocking on the door. Surprised, I opened the door for the man to be standing at my door with a package in hand.
“I’m sure the guys your age aren’t coming to the door to get you, but I will always come to retrieve you.”
“I’m not a possession. I’m a person.”
“If I want you, I will retrieve you.” We decided to leave and get the dinner going.
Dinner and conversation was amazing. I couldn’t believe that I had gone, but it was well worth it. I slipped my clothes off inhaling his cologne on my skin, placed my gown over my head, and picked the package up off the table before jumping into bed. I opened the large manila package and pulled out a letter that read:
Here’s a token of appreciation for accepting my proposal to dinner. Much appreciated Ms. Davenport.
There was a wad of hundreds in the package. I couldn’t believe my eyes or the nerve of this married man. I counted the money before making a decision what I would allow to transpire.
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