Sugar, Sugar... Oh, my Daddy!

Living in one of the biggest cities of America was a tough challenge and even more so when you were struggling to make it through. Starting new is always hard, especially when you leave your old life behind and look for higher standards than working at the local store or as a waitress at the restaurant in a small town that the specialties were chicken nuggets. That type of life was beautiful and without big worries, knowing everyone in a small town meant that you could always lend a hand of help and get one in return hopefully, but that wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you finished high school.

You wanted more and wanted to make yourself a name, that’s why you applied for college and you were over the moon when you were accepted. Your parents and friends were supportive of you, although the idea of leaving made them a little sad they encourage you and told you whenever you wanted you could come to visit. New town, new people, and a new life, all of this sounded very appealing and you figured you could live in the big city; you always found yourself attracted to the skyscrapers, malls, and all the good stuff in the urban jungle could give. Although, until you could reach the top, you had to struggle first with the bottom and it was definitely harder than you expected. You had to make certain sacrifices and these sacrifices meant to set your pride a little aside in order to achieve certain goals.

Clenching your clutch purse into your hands and adjusting your champagne-colored A-line dress that went down to your knees, your stiletto black heels not exactly making you feel too comfortable, since you weren’t the type of girl to wear these torture devices on a daily basis. You could see your modest dolled-up face into the glass of the doors that lead into the five-star restaurant where the ‘meeting’ was going to take place and by meeting, I mean discussing the arrangement with your Sugar Daddy.

Yes, as ashamed as you were, you applied for a sugar dating site and someone got pretty interested in you, and here you were ready to meet him for the first time. You didn’t even know how he looked like. He had a pretty low profile, but he was surprisingly respectful of the conversation you and he had online. He didn’t act like a creep, he didn’t request nude photos of you, and the fact that he wanted for you two to finally meet in a public place relieved you a little on the fact that if something went wrong, you could always call for help. You were just nervous to be in a place like this where you couldn’t even afford the parking ticket, let alone a drink or meal here.

Taking a deep breath and pulling some curls out of your face, you walked forward, and the doors opened by a doorman, giving you a curt nod and polite smile. You gave a nervous smile back and walked forward, taken aback by the glamourous place that screamed ‘rich rotten luxury’. You saw these types of restaurants only in movies, the crystals of the chandeliers above made the decor look like it was all created out of precious diamonds. The pristine floral decors gave it a surprising strange welcoming feeling, the people from the tables gazing your way, giving you up and down looks, analyzing you from the top of your curled hair to the tip of your black heels. Rich piranhas ready to devour you with judgemental looks, but you were saved by the receptionist by the front entrance, who called your name to which you nodded, tongue twisted and not able to say a word, afraid you will say something wrong and trigger the snobs with sharp looks. The greeter motioned for you to follow him and you did, like a lost kitten surrounded by big bad rabid dogs.

The people all watched with skeptical looks that morphed in ones of surprise and shock as you were led to what you assumed was the VIP section of the restaurant, for you heard them behind you, whispering and most likely gossiping. Great, the last thing you needed was all the attention on you. Walking after the greeter down a dim-lit hallway, red velvet curtains acting for doors for each separate lounge, the neon lights that slightly illuminated the place, made you feel like you were walking through hell and each lounge was a different torture chamber. You started to get hot from the anxiety, and you pulled your curls into a ponytail, feeling like the hair was a fur coat that only made you sweat at the nape of your neck.

Finally, the greeter stopped in front of one of the curtains, one in the far back, and looked back at you with a completely relaxed smile, as professional and polite as the doorman. He motioned for you to wait, then he entered the lounge, only to exit a few seconds later.

“Mr. Dmitriev will welcome you now.” the greeter spoke, opening the scarlet curtain for you to enter, and with nervous steps you did, carefully as not to trip over your heels. The curtain was tugged back in its previous place behind you. The first thing that hit you was the rich smell of tobacco and very expensive man cologne, a combination you weren’t familiar with, but alas it made you feel a little funny inside. You noticed the neon red lights that illuminated the private lounge, just like the ones down the hallway, basking everything in an eerie atmosphere. Next was the luscious coffee table that had a bottle of Absolut vodka in a bucket of ice cubes, a crystal glass, half-filled with the strong drink, the ashtray that was designed in the form of a silver skull that almost gave you the impression that its ruby red eyes were gazing at you. A pack of Sobranie black Russian was laid down on the shining table, opened and you noticed an inked hand reached for a black cigarette from the pack. The tattoo of a skull’s jaw is very realistically imprinted on the skin. Around the wrist, a platinum Rolex and the arm covered in the expensive material of the black suit that hugged the perfect specimen of a male before you.

He was leaning back into the black plush couch, his jet black hair into a perfect undercut, the top hair slicked back just a bit; a neat but still rebellious look. His face features were to say so, very dashing, with a sharp jawline and perfectly trimmed eyebrows that were sharp as he gazed back at you with steel eyes of a cold blue. Putting the golden end of the cigarette between his lips, he pulled out a silver lighter, the flame alive and lightning up the cigarette, taking a deep drag of smoke, then exhaling... all the while his eyes never moved off from your form. He was analyzing you, like the people outside, but his stare wasn’t one of judging, but more of taking in how you really looked in reality.

You never meet him in real life before, it was the first time, and the first time you really saw how he looked. You expected to see someone older, maybe with a bald spot on top of his head, but not this handsome stud that you could only meet him before in your wet dreams. At these thoughts you moved your gaze down on the red as blood plush carpet, fiddling with your little clutch purse. Your body language screamed nervousness and he noticed that because the sound of deep smooth chuckling filled your ears.

“Nervous Kotyonok.” he commented, his voice sounding like the sharpest knife being dragged down smooth silk. His accent was something you couldn’t put your finger on. He was definitely not American. Certainly Russian, but not completely and that made you curious, oh so curious. [kotyonok= kitten]

“W-What?” you shuttered, not understanding the second word, and as you looked up from the tip of your heels, you meet his eyes that along with his lop-sided smirk, held amusement.

“It’s Kitten in Russian.” he explained, taking a relaxed posture, continuing to smoke his cigarette, like he had all the time in the world, which he probably did. “Won’t you take a seat?” he asked, raising a brow and you felt your cheeks heat up, realizing you were standing there and making an awkward situation for yourself because he didn’t seem to be bothered at all. His smirk widened and motioned for you to have a seat. Taking slow steps forward, you sat down opposite of him, the plush seat making your tense back relax a little.

His blue eyes that reminded you of a frozen lake, looked you up and down, inspecting you again and all you could think of was how the hell to get out of here. It made you nervous because you have never been looked like that. Sure, your past boyfriends and dates looked at you, commenting on how cute you looked, but never once did they have the look this man was currently sporting. It was like he was undressing you with no shame that it might make you feel uncomfortable.

“I thought I said black and tight.” he spoke, making you blink once, then twice, trying to process his words.

“E-Excuse me?” you cursed yourself for shuttering but what else did you expect.

“Your dress. Looks good up, but it’s too long and not tight on your legs.” he explained with a hand motion to your dress.

“That’s all I had.” you muttered. What a stupid excuse, not to mention why were you trying to explain yourself and the way you dressed.

The man snorted at your excuse and waved it off, pouring a glass of vodka with two ice cubes for you, handing it to you. You reluctantly took it with a nervous hand, taking just a small sip, making you grimace a little.

“Not much of a drinker, huh?” he asked, the smirk off, only for a small smile to adore his handsome features, continuing to smoke the obsidian-colored cigarette, taking a sip of his own drink, all relaxed and not affected by the intoxicating liquor.

“Angelo Dmitriev. A pleasure to meet you.” He whispered, introducing himself, and you did the same, a little nervous, but at last, things were going formal and you were glad for the piece of furniture between the two of you. After a few minutes of awkward silence, that was eating at your mind you decided to break it.

“So, about the….arrangement.” you started, making Angelo raise an eyebrow. “Straightforward much?”

“N-No, it’s just that….I’ve never done this before and…This feels awkward.” you stumbled over your words, making Angelo’s broad shoulder shake a little as he chuckled at your anxiety-filled body.

“You need to relax. This is like a normal date, but if you want to get down to business, that’s your choice. Although, I really prefer it to be like that. Don’t want to waste time trying to put on a good-scout-boy act for you, dolce leprotta.” he bluntly spoke, taking you back, and at the last words, you were to say more intrigued. Russian, and now Italian? You knew that ‘dolce’ was sweet in Italian, but the second word didn’t seem to ring a bell. Only one year of Italian in high school didn’t make you an expert in said language. “A-Alright. I’m listening.” [dolce leprotta= sweet hare]

“Good. Now, I’m gonna throw my cards down and tell you what I want. If you don’t like my offer you can walk out of this room like nothing happened, so open your ears. I want a young woman that is all down for a good time, when I call you I expect you to answer. Doesn’t matter what the hour is; you pick up. I don’t want you to get all romantic and all that lovy-dovy nonsense. Think about it like this, I take care of your needs; money, rent, student bills and whatnot, clothes. You tell me what you need and I give it to you, but I expect you to do the same. If I say something you do it. I’m willing to offer you a start of 10,000$ allowance plus gifts and vacations. I say I’m a pretty generous man. So, what is your answer?” Angelo stated all information, finishing his cigarette just as he finished the explanation.

You could feel your cheeks and ear turn red at his deal, eyes looking anywhere but him. You took a big gulp of the liquor, trying to reason with yourself, and maybe the alcohol will ease your nerves down. “I really don’t know.” your answer made Angelo roll his eyes.

“That’s my deal. Take it or leave it. If you choose the second option I can always find someone else, but I doubt you will too.” You were so tempted to throw the remaining scotch over his head at his implying of words. He was pretty much saying you weren’t good enough and that none will even bother with you. A tornado of scenarios played into your head; the image of you leaving and going back to your cardboard of an apartment and trying to find a job the next day, but then the image changed; delicious food, a bottle of refined wine, bags of designer clothes, perhaps a nice car? No, you weren’t a materialistic person. You had some Goddamn pride... but still... The devil’s offer was oh so tempting... and pretty handsome all packed into a black as night suit. Yes, the devil was pretty much tempting you and you were ready to eat from his hand and the sin of greed won. Thinking so deeply, you didn’t even notice the waiter bringing in food, and you didn’t even order. “Yes.”

Your simple answer made a grin stretch across the flawless skin of the man. He motioned for you to eat and you did, more so because you haven’t eaten anything today. The reasons were because you didn’t have any more money and you were too nervous about this date.

“Starving?”

The question made you stop mid-chewing on the rich food, your eyes looking on his amused ones and you swallowed down, looking away to hide your blushing face.

“Sorry…I just…I haven’t really had a decent meal for a long time.” you admitted, feeling ashamed of your confession. His smirk turned into a sympathetic smile, but it quickly vanished.

“With me, you won’t have to worry about such insignificant little things, but I appreciate your honesty. That is a very important trait that I am looking for.”

After you finished eating, a content sigh left your lips, then you began to savor the drink that you started to get used to, much more pleasant now with a stomach full. Your eyes drifted off to the box of cigarettes.

“Want one?” You debated over it. You weren’t new to smoking, been an occasional smoker here and there, so you gave a small nod. He handed you one and the silver classic lighter. The way you were holding the cigarette between your lips as you lightened it, made Angelo’s thoughts drift off to things a little bit more than innocent. A relaxing look made itself on your face as you took the first drag, letting smoke escape your mouth. Now that the apprehension left your mind and body you decided to get to know your ‘sugar daddy’.

“I don’t want to be rude, but you’re Russian, right?” you asked the first question, and you kind of wanted to take it back. Angelo chuckled and nodded. “Russian and Italian. My father is Russian and my mother Italian.” he explained and you were pretty impressed to say so, even by such a basic thing as his genes. No wonder he looked so handsome, a certain charm that reminded you of a sly serpent with a silver tongue. “Ohh... That’s impressive.” you commented without realizing, and you looked away from his eyes, seeing the smugness and entertainment he seemed to get from you.

“I am glad you think so, baby girl.” That was the moment when that pet name made you feel like the air in the private room changed, the meaning behind it made you feel like you were talking with your dad. Your father used to call you that when you were little, not to mention your father was just five years older than Jesse, 46 to be exact, that making Jesse 41.

“I want this to work. I don’t want this to be just out of obligation.” Angelo took a sip of his own drink, licking his lips and urging you to continue, curiosity peeking his mind at what you were thinking. If only he could dissect your brain and see what was inside, but he pulled that future scenario back into the dark corners of his mind. He had ways to slowly break little girls like you, and it will be both a pleasure for you and him.

“I want us to work out, despite the classification of this relationship.” you continued and Angelo couldn’t help but get up, seeing him now at his full height you felt like a mouse in front of a cat. He was over 6′0 in height. He walked slowly behind you, his much larger hands touching your shoulders, squeezing lightly, then letting go, the tip of his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your neck. His hand moved over your ponytail, tugging the hair tie off and letting your hair cascade down your shoulders, making you gulp, feeling more like he was pulling your clothes off.

“First off, never wear your hair up. Looks so much better down.” Your breath hitched at the words, feeling his fingers running through your hair gently, the act feeling so intimate and lovingly despite what it was really hiding. “Do I make myself clear?” he breathed out, hot-minty against your ear and side of your neck. He was asserting his role in this relationship. Of course! What the hell were you thinking? You thought he was going to give you everything on a silver platter for nothing. There was a price.

“Well?”

“Yes.” He petted your head, then walked back to sit on the armchair, loving how red your face was, and the look of pure shock on your face was priceless. “We also need to change a little bit about your clothing.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Your tone was perhaps a little bit too harsh because he clicked his tongue at you, snorting at you. “Watch your tone.” Angelo’s voice was calm but held a certain authority that you couldn’t question. You bite on your lower lip so no nasty remark will escape you, your defiant side really to combust.

“You look like an old mother-in-law with that dress. You’re young and fresh. Show me what your mama gave ya.” Your mouth hung open at his demand, making him snicker. “I’m tired of explaining, doll. You better do what I say or you can walk out of here. I don’t waste time and money.”

What have you gotten into? He was absolutely vulgar, demanding for you to undress. You really were ready to storm out of there, but then… He pulled out a stash of hundred-dollar bills, slapping it against his palm.

“I was going to give this tip to the waiter, buuuuut…. if you’re a good girl….you get a bonus.”

“I’m not a prostitute!” you yelled, brows furrowed. “Of course, you’re not a puttana.” [=whore]

He beckoned for you to come to him, curling his index finger to get to him. Swallowing your pride you stood up, taking cautious steps towards the man you have no idea who he was. You stopped as your legs were inches from him, then his hands grabbed your thighs, making you squeal and fall on his lap, each of your legs on his side. You were frozen as his hand moved up your leg, pulling your dress up and exposing more skin, until he reached the waistband of your panties, his eyes looking down at the underwear you were sporting. He snorted in disgust.

“From now on I don’t wanna see you wearing granny undergarments.” The nerve of the bastard! He was humiliating you.

“Get off.” You quickly just did that, not wanting to see how things were going if you didn’t obey. “There is a car outside. You can go. Here is a gift for our first…date.” He handed you a black box with a silver bow along with the stash of money. Reluctantly you took it and looked inside, your eyes widened when you saw the new phone; definitely the most recent and not cheap.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You shuttered, didn’t expecting for something like this.

You heard movement and when you looked up from the luxurious device, definitely an iPhone, you came face to face with his chest. His hand came up to cup your chin between his thumb and index finger, your skin tingling from the touch.

“What do we say?” You gulped down. “T-Thank you.” you replied and he gave you a knowing look, raising an eyebrow. “T-Thank you….D-D-Daddy.” He smirked, boosting off an air of arrogance and dominance that made you scared.

“Good girl.” He patted your cheek mockingly.