Hot Sugar

But it’s sad, really. I mean, shit, there’s a luxury penthouse waiting for me at home, and yet I’m rarely ever there. Instead, I’m here, poring over blueprints, looking at the numbers, making sure shit gets done right.

Fuck.

At least the steak tastes good.

Meaty and rare, just the way I like it.

Leaning back in my chair, I savor the food for a moment. It’ll be good to take a few days off once this is all done. It’s been a while since I showed my face at any social functions. It’ll be good to see some ladies, maybe use that king size bed at home for a change, test the springs a little. Or use a luxury suite at one of my hotels. It’s all the same.

Lazily, I chew the beef again, pulling my phone out to scroll through the address list. Hmmm. Carla? Naw, she’s too dry, I like ‘em juicy down there. Amie with the “ie”? Nah, way too clingy. She actually cried when I left last time. Barbie? Skinny like a bag of bones. I want someone curvy and plump, with an ass to shake, not someone who looks like her namesake doll.

Giving up on the ladies at hand, I scroll over to Sugar Babiez instead. It’s a website I joined a few years back for times like these. The girls are gorgeous and the boundaries are clear from the beginning. I don’t have time for the typical dating most people go through, so cutting to the chase is essential.

And what’s wrong with a sugar baby anyways? Life is filled with transactions, tit for tat, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. This one is just more, ahem, upfront that’s all.

But it suits me fine, and as an elite member, I have an online concierge who pre-screens this shit. Yeah, there’s actually someone who looks through the long list of girls, forwarding ones I might like. Saves me time, so it’s totally worth the money.

Bored, I glance through the “hot picks” list. The girls all look the same. Big, puffed up lips, with eyes so wide they’re almost dazed. Plus, we’re not dumb, ladies. I can tell when you’ve used a filter to smooth your skin or take off an inch here or there.

So I was just about to log off when the last picture catches my eye.

The first thing I notice are her big brown eyes, like she’s looking up at me with innocence and confusion. I can sense this girl was unsure about creating a profile, her hand a little shaky. That dark hair is tousled and natural, not at all like the salon-perfect waves of the other women.

Plus, she’s curvy, real curvy. Even wearing a t-shirt and shorts, it’s obvious her boobs are huge, with a giant ass to boot. My cock hardens contemplating that ass. What would it look like spread over my hardness? The girl doing some acrobatics as those white cheeks part? Man, just my type.

Gorgeous.

Curvy.

I want her so bad I can already fucking taste it.

Plus, what’s up with her handle? The other girls have names like Lusty69 and JenBomb6969, but this girl’s name is Carrie. Simple as that. No way. She didn’t use her real name, did she? Who does that on a site like Sugar Babiez? My mind races. Could she be that innocent, that naïve?

But it’s probably true. Carrie’s not in some crazy “come hither” pose, pursing her lips and blowing kisses. She doesn’t have a face full of make-up, caked on like the Joker. The brunette looks real. Someone who saves money and likes going to the movies, maybe even spending quiet nights at home.

Am I an idiot?

Am I reading too much into one picture?

There’s only one way to find out.

Within seconds, I’ve messaged her. She’ll respond, I’m sure of it. Because let’s get real. Sugar Babiez is about hooking up with rich guys. That’s what these girls want. They don’t want a relationship, and I’m not offering one. The boundaries are clear from the get-go, and that’s what I’m looking for.

So yeah, Carrie seems innocent, but I’m not putting it past her. She wants my money, and that’s fine with me. So long as the little girl delivers, there’s more than enough cash to pay rent for a year.

Lifting my silverware once more, I down a forkful of string beans. Hey, I eat healthy and work out like a madman. With my impacted schedule, you gotta do everything to stay on top of the game, and that means taking care of yourself. So veggies? On it. Lifting weights? Please, the gym is my second home.

But then my cell buzzes insistently, its face lighting. Hmm, that quick? Sure enough, there’s a message from Carrie, and I unlock the phone, curious.

Her reply knocks me to my ass.

Hi AlphaCEO, I’m Carrie. Are you there?