Sugar Baby: The Encounter


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.

Sugar Baby: II. The Encounter

“Hello?” I answered the phone.

“I am outside.” As I rummaged over the items on my large dresser for my clutch, there was a knock at the door. I took one last glance at my full red lips, long dress, and over my shoulder to my disheveled room. There were pumps on the floor, a variety of dresses flung from my large walk-in closet, and thongs on the floor because everything had been a race for perfection for this stranger I was trying to entice. There were not many men that walked to my door to take me out, but somehow I knew it would James at the door trying to prove his point. With a look of surprise, I opened the door for James to be standing there with a manila 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.” His eyes darted around my studio apartment at my chocolate sofa and loveseat, to the bamboo inspired blinds, and my large painting of a cliché black king and queen. He smirked a tad bit, but didn’t say much.

“You are gorgeous woman.” It sounded like fine wine being poured into a glass that I would drink from forever. He sure is fine, I thought.

“Why, thank you.” I gazed into his eyes. Confidence exuded from my person.

“No, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I smiled. I didn’t think he meant my appearance, but it was amazingly sexy the way the words rolled off of his lips. The silence in the room suddenly became uncomfortable for me and so I snapped back to the mission at hand and we left to begin dinner. Mr. Davenport had to be at least 6’6 and smelled delectable just as I had previously assumed. His slacks were the perfect fit with his belt and shirt tucked in. He appeared chiseled with no body weight attached to him, his teeth were excessively white, his cut was fresh, and his goatee was dark and gave him a distinguished gentlemen appearance. He held his arm out for me to latch onto and I locked onto this man as if he were my own.

Inside of the black Lexus, smooth jazz seeped through the speakers of the car and the aroma of financial stability surrounded me. Like it engulfed me in what I needed from this man and I relaxed in it; embraced in it. We sat silently; his fingertips slowly ran over the veins of my light brown hand sexually. My stomach started doing flips, but my heart was snatching my excited black ass back to Earth. Tuition, Tuition, Tuition thumped through my head and a sense of calm resonated within me. I pulled my hand away from his finger tips and crossed them across my lap. Control I muttered to myself.

“So Mr. Driscolll what is this dinner about?” I questioned.

“You ask too many questions; you are curious to know what I am all about. You want to know what I have to offer you. You want to know why I would step out on my wife with a college student. You want to know if there are children affected. Am I correct?”

“As much as I would love to delve into those beautiful details…I would prefer to know first what we are becoming after this dinner.”

“Well, that will be dependent upon you. I prefer to say that I want you to enrich my existence as a—,”

“As a married man?” I interjected.

“No, as a man period. I am not going to feed you a bunch of stories to enhance your feelings for me and then let you down like so many other men you have met. I merely know that there is something intriguing about you and that I would hope that we could explore each other in many different fashions.”

“What would you like to explore Mr. Driscoll?”

“James, call me James Ms. Davenport.”

“Tia is fine.” I finally smiled. James was smooth and he was tough to keep my guard up.

“I have one request for this evening Tia,”

“Yes James.”

“Allow me a conversation and dinner without attitude.”

“Can you afford intellectual conversation and dinner?”

“Is it only about the money with you?” he inquired staring into my soul I felt.

“I can’t be yours so— it has to be.” James nodded his head in agreement and we both diverted our eyes.

“No, attitude just charm and smiles.” I decided to calm down. I couldn’t afford to lose my money connect; this was too much of a come up if played right. His lips were pink and full, his eyes were brown and his hair was jet black. He was a pretty man; dark, handsome, and successful. I liked his demeanor and his charm. I liked his smile. I thought he was fine as hell and quite delicious if I would say so myself.

Finally, inside of the large restaurant we sat secluded in a dining area that appeared to be couple friendly sipping on our respected drinks. Both of us relaxed and began to actually enjoy each other’s company; Merlot for me, Crown Royal for the gentlemen.

“You never answered my question love. What would you like to explore about me?”

“Your mind, your heart, your needs, wants, and desires. I’m not even going to lie; I would love to explore the sweetness that is resting between your thighs. Can I be very candid with you Tia?”

“We’re both grown, speak your peace.”

“I would love to have you on many days and nights and feast from you. I would love to supply your every need—not only financial. There are limitations in which a young woman like yourself will not agree, but there are no limits to what I will provide you. If you decided that this is a man that you wish to know, to explore, and to reap the seeds of benefits then I am a loyal man.” Loyalty? How? You have a wife. I thought to myself.

“I will let you know tomorrow night.” I replied. His hands scooped my manicured fingers across the ivory table cloth, the lights were dim inside of the restaurant, and it almost felt immaculate.

It almost felt like one of the ones struggling had made it. It almost felt like I would be able to give back what I had been given. There were couples inside the restaurant that solidified the notion of Drake’s lyrics “We made It.” There were succulent New York 16 ounce Strips and Asparagus and Hollandaise dishes, Stone Crabs, and beautiful black couples. There were smiles being thrown around the room, business suits, Giuseppe heels, and Michael Kors bags nurtured by the well-off night life of socialite Atlanta. And… here I sat, in a basic black dress that looked amazing on me, but no name brands. Here I sat, plotting on this fine ass man to get my tuition paid; damn near selling my body and soul for a fucking degree, but it was worth it to me. What would I truly lose? James licked his lips before leaking my name from his whiskey saturated mouth; a mouth that I would love to taste. My curls remained on their best behavior resting securely on my shoulders because I was going to be a part of this socialite appearance and dammit I was going to win that prize.

The restaurant lights doped us up into losing track of reality, we were giggling together, holding hands as if we were together, and his fingers traced the outline of my eyebrows, my slender nose, and my full red lips. The Monarch Tower on Peachtree held us captive as observers and wannabe’s to the culture of finances and fabulousness.

“Tell me the background about your wife please.”

“She is an awesome woman; loyal to my money and having an affair with my associate. She has never made me look bad, but in the last three years she hasn’t looked at me the way she used too.” I listened intently and shook my head in disbelief.

“How many other women have you financed into your life?” I spoke as if I were a fresh car off the lot.

“I’ve never stepped out on my wife. It’s too expensive right now to divorce her and I don’t want the drama. We fuck, we make more money, and now we’re both fucking around. I think that she knows that I know she’s fucking someone else.” James lifted the glass to his lips, parted them slightly and gulped down his drink. His sip seemed to bring gloom to his eyes and then his eyes met my concerned and eager face.

“I’m sure you don’t believe me, but in time you’ll see for yourself. Now let me honest, my wife is far from stupid and so we must either play this game completely in secret or we just clearly give up on giving a damn.”

“I have not decided if I wanted to take you on.”

“Why must we act like you aren’t going to accept me into your life. Princess, you have been contemplating having me in all the many ways you want me as well. I see the lust in your eyes and I can bet that if I had the chance to even—,”

“James, I do think that you are a very sexy man. I do think that nights will be filled with much more other things than just sex, but can I be very honest with you?”

“We’re grown correct? Speak.” I placed both arms on the table and stared straight in his eyes.

“I cannot afford to waste precious time being wined and dined, fucked, forgotten, misused, mistreated, second rated, or attacked by emotions or your wife. I cannot afford to pay Spelman’s tuition with dick and balls. I cannot afford to take off time from my job and allow my mother to only input on what dreams I have to accomplish. I am here with you for the bread, the money, the enhancement, the business and if we find a way to mingle all of the lust I feel between these thighs, the adoration that are stranded in both of our eyes, and get all of my bills paid in the meantime then papa we will be a power match for each other. But do not ever assume that I am here because you are handsome, you aren’t happy in your marriage, or that I wish to ride the dick you have in your pants. There are plenty of dicks to ride, plenty of emotions to share with another man, and plenty of parties to waste time at. I am here because you offer what most men my age cannot—that is all.” He swallowed the last sip of whiskey and he smiled.

“I like you Ms. Davenport. I like you.”

As hard as it was to remain in the mind of professionalism with the façade of James Driscoll and his financial situation, I had continued to stand strong with what I said, but now it would be focus on actions. We settled back into our doped up infatuation of no pressure conversations, intimate touching, and fraudulent coupled interaction and for the rest of the night after my correction of his words, I allowed for both of us to just enjoy a night together. I needed a break; the weeks were long and the work was high. After we devoured our steaks and inhaled our drinks, we fled Peachtree Street. We rode in his Lexus, my head to his chest, and his arm around my shoulders. Outside of my apartment, there were associates I knew from classes outside. Their eyes scanned the car and I dreaded stepping out of the vehicle. But I had to go. He removed his arm from around my shoulders, departed the car, opened my door and walked to my door. I rested my back against the door the like girls in the movie and we both remained silent at first.

“I enjoyed you my dear.” He spoke.

“You’re welcome.” I winked at him. He reached for my rest and he placed his lips to my fingertips.

“Open up your gift. Enjoy your evening. My wife will be home tonight and I will not be able to check in with you. Unfortunately, I have to fuck my wife.” We both chuckled.

“No worries. You aren’t mine to check in with.” He kissed my hand again and I could feel his eyes sexing my body without any touch. I looked back to catch his eyes on my round behind and unlocked my door.

“Until next time Mr. Driscoll.” I shook his hand. I disappeared behind the door and rested my back against it. He was just like that Crown Royal he was drink, fine, easy to go down, and can get your ass in trouble. I wanted that trouble something serious, but I digressed to say the least.

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 note 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. Who the fuck was I kidding? I knew I would be all in.



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