Free Sugar Baby by Erin Pim Page A

mouth, until we’re absolutely ready to rip each others’ clothes off. We stumble back into the full length limo, and Stephen directs the driver to the edge of town. He lifts my dress above my head, so that I’m completely naked in the back seat. I move for his belt buckle, but he stops me. I keep my designer heels and diamond jewelry on, while he pops a cork, pours streams of champagne down me, and licks it off. The creamy liquid flows down my breasts, my stomach, to my pussy, where he drinks. He even pours a droplet into my belly button, and slurps it out. It makes me laugh so badly I want to pee.
    The second week, I get the kitchen completely set up. I get it professionally cleaned, then sprinkle in couple new appliances, full sets of baking trays, cooling racks, flour bins, pots, pans, and every cooking utensil I could think off. I completely redesign the menu, and place the food order, due to come in a week and a half.
    Stephen draws a bubble bath in his jacuzzi for the two of us, complete with two glasses of a creamy liquor at its side. He watches me as I get in, the bubbles cascading down my soapy body. His hands slide all over me, massaging my breasts, ass, even shoulders. I melt into him and he positions me so that I sit right in front of him. His strong arms envelop me, and I relax backward. We drink. It’s amazing to be completely immersed in hot water, while feeling the cool liquid move down into your belly. It gives me the shivers, and he hugs me tighter. He says he can feel my wet pussy even though we’re under water. I make Stephen wear a bubble beard, while I hold my breath to fellate him.
    The third week, the dining room of my cafe comes together. My custom furniture arrives, along with a couple modern looking pieces for balance. I find genuine, antique cooking tools and pictures from old how-to baking books to accent the decor. My favourite is an antique sugar tin from the 1920’s.
    Stephen and I are invited to a party on a private jet. I confess that it’s my first time flying, but once you’re in the air, you don’t even notice. I was told that it’s easier to get wasted in the air, which is supported by the fact that the SB’s were taking their clothes off and making out with each other. Quite drunk myself, it made me wet to watch them dance together, and I had the urge to join in. Instead, Stephen kept me firmly at his side, so I kissed his neck, and placed his hand over my pubic bone, so I could discreetly press myself against it.
    The fourth week, the sign and awning come in, and are installed to perfection. It’s also my last day at Rigatoni’s. Jeremy winks as he gives me a fake hug goodbye, Zach wishes me good luck, while Chef Daniel remains standoffish. Fuck him. I’m opening my own restaurant, now. I poach one of the more capable serving staff on my way out.
    The food order comes in, and it’s time to get refocussed. I feel like I’ve gone through a whirlwind, and I’m struggling to get my bearings again. My priority’s have been off. I can’t even be thinking about parties, drinking, or clothes for the next few months. I can’t believe that I’m opening my own restaurant in under a week, and I’m off galavanting like the typical twenty something. It was fun for a while, but it’s time to remember the whole reason I was doing this. I phone my mom.
    â€œHi, Mom?”
    â€œYes, dear.”
    â€œIt’s all coming together. I’m open in less than a week.”
    â€œThat’s great, dear. Must be a lot of hard work.”
    â€œYes, it is.”
    â€œWell, that’s great. Now, who are you seeing nowadays?”
    â€œUh, Stephen. A guy name Stephen.”
    â€œAnd he supports you?”
    â€œYes. He does.”
    â€œWell, that’s all I want for you. To be happy. Doing something you love, and with someone you love.”
    â€œRight. Thanks.”
    Jeremy and I prep an entire