GAY Sugar Daddy

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Back to the office after five months, being dragged from one meeting to another since 8 in the morning, with hardly any break even during lunch hour, I feel energised instead of demotivated by knowing how much these people need me for important, crucial matters that can't be moved forward unless they get my view or approval. It feels awesome, to be needed, to be used for my expertise.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love spending time with my daughter but knowing I'm being valued at my potential, to my maximum capacity, is liberating.

Or to be short, I love working. I love being in the corporate world. I love, love, love my job and yes, I'm the definition of workaholic.

All in all, I'm super glad and relieved to be at the office again, mingling with people my age, my crowd, talking about important things that matter instead of discussing about Disney movies or what to eat for dinner. Signing documents, discussing the impact of each project is more satisfying than succeeding to go to the next level of Candy Crush while waiting for Pao to finish her classes.

All of us have moved in to our co-parenting house over the weekend, with me spending the first night with Pao. Hugo came the next morning, and that's when I left them to go back to my place.

The next time I'll be seeing her would be today, which for the first time since we started co-parenting, Owen would be picking her up for me. He already sent me a picture at 12.45pm, updating about her whereabout. And again at 3pm when he sent her to her extra class. 4.20pm, another update that they're now back at home.

I know he said not to worry about dinner or getting home early, but today's the first day we're doing this. And I've promised myself I won't be at the office past 6pm on my days with Pao. I even informed my assistant not to plan for anything after 5 so I'd have enough time to wrap up my day then off I go to my baby.

That I can't wait to see! I miss her so much it feels incomplete to sleep without hearing her voice. I wonder how bad it was for Owen to transition from five nights a week to one night.

I walk home in this beautiful fall weather, and fifteen minutes later I've arrived at our co-parenting apartment. I can hear clearly Pao's laugh as Owen guides her on how to stir something. Are they cooking?

"Like thisss, Papa? Like this?" She asks eagerly, looking so cute standing next to Owen. Both of them are facing the other direction, backing me.

"Hello," I greet them as I close the main door. Pao turns around with the brightest smile, making me smile as well. Owen doesn't turn to me but I can see both of them are wearing a matching set of apron. Adorbs.

"Hello Mama!" Pao waves her small hand cheerfully, "I'm cooking with Papa! Look!" She excitedly shows the pot in front of her.

"Oh yeah? What are you guys cooking?" I walk towards them and stop in front of the kitchen island, so freaking close to putting my bag on the hard surface when I remember my struggle this morning and the compliments I received at the office all day today.

"We're making soup!" She announces then turns around to get back to what they were doing.

"Oh. Okay. I'll erm, go change."


I clutch my huge work bag and scurry to my room, holding my breath until I finally shut the door. All of a sudden I'm feeling extremely tired the moment I see my bed, ahhhh my bed. My comfortable, fluffy bed.

But I know I'd better change my clothes than to succumb to my desire to have a nap, or sleep early. It's only 6pm and I have a daughter to take care of.

I remove my Louboutins and slip off my coat, then undo the zip of my black dress. I didn't think much about my work outfit since I've been in leggings and oversized t-shirts these couple months, sometimes summer dresses if I feel like dressing up, but this morning I freaked out when I realised I couldn't fit into any of my work pants, skirts, or dresses.

It took twenty minutes to dig into my wardrobe but I gratefully found my black mourning dress at the back of everything. It's loose, it's airy, it's certainly comfortable to be worn all day at the office but most importantly, it's acceptable as an emergency work wear considering the length and cut.

Though it's irony how I wear this particular dress once a year, solely to mourn the passing of my daughter, compared to now that I'm carrying another one and wearing it as my announcement dress.

I thought this dress is too loose that it would hide my tummy but I was wrong when everybody complimented how cute my baby bump is the moment they see me; it's obviously too catchy for anyone to ignore it.

I swear nobody noticed it two days ago when I started working, or yesterday, but all of a sudden it grew overnight that this morning it's making an appearance. Like look-at-me-I'm-here sort of appearance.

Changing into a much comfortable, loose t-shirt with maternity legging underneath, I check myself in the mirror a few times with different poses before I'm convinced I'm not showing anything.

He hid Pao for four years, it's only fair I do it as long as I can. Because I can't be ambitious, I'm not exactly a small petite lady that I can hide this pregnancy until I give birth. Like right now, it's already announcing its existence to the world at 5 months.

They're sitting on the table when I come out of the room. I try my best to walk in a way that won't expose my tummy but I really don't need to do that since Owen barely blinks at me. His eyes are focused on his baby girl.

"Mama's here! Can we eat now?"

I sit on the opposite side of him, while Pao is sitting at the head of the table. But just like in the text messages, whatever I said was ignored. Either that or he'd answer it in a way he's talking to Pao, as if Pao is the messenger. The middleman. The buffer.

Childish, but he's doing a favor for me now so beggars can't be choosers.


"Baby, do you notice anything about me today?" I pose in front of her once I'm all ready for work.

I've thought about it, about telling her that she'll be getting a baby sister this spring. That's why I woke up earlier this morning to get ready and dress up, wanting to make a special appearance with this baby bump.

She lifts her face to look at me while still munching her cereal. It's obvious she's not a morning person by how hard it is to get her to wake up every morning so she's pretty moody before 9am.

"Hmmm new hair?"

"What? No. I always wear my hair like this. Try again."

"Uhh," she groans, "New lipstick? Or the color on your eyes?"

I frown at her non-existent efforts when I'm already caressing my baby bump since I first posed for her.

"No. Nothing to do with make up or hair."

I give her my side profile, posing like a model on a catwalk.

" dress?"

"Seriously, Pao?"

She scoops her cereal into her mouth, still watching me nonetheless. I sigh before walking to her and stop right in front of her, pointing to my stomach, "Look."

"Ohhh," she finally sees it.

"I told you not to eat watermelon with the seeds as well. I told you, Mama but you never listen." She shakes her head in disappointment, "Nobody listens to me in this house.”

I laugh hearing her complaint. She can be too dramatic at times.

But the door opens before I managed to counter what she just said, revealing a man in his usual style; a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and those messy-sexy hair.

"Hm Papa," She makes a disapproving look, "Don't ever eat the watermelon seed again. Listen to what I said or you'll end up like Mama."

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