My White Sugar Daddy

by Sasha Collins

  "I don't care if she's fucking purple with yellow polka dots. You don't stick your hands up a woman's skirt. End of story."

  Tasha squirmed in her seat, watching Tom take charge on a matter of her honor. She'd never felt such a primal urge to fuck, but she was too worked up to even try. She'd scream her head off in ecstasy.

  "Artie, I don't know what you're trying to insinuate, and I don't like you calling me pal. If I—"

  Tom sighed loudly when Artie interrupted him again.

  "OK, Artie. You don't seem to get it. Let me rephrase it for you. You're fired. Get out. I don't want to see your pervy face around here again, you understand?"

  Tasha had her hand by her chest and hooked her finger over the topmost fastened button of her blouse. Her hand dangled there for a moment and the—POP!—the button came right off the shirt and landed in her lap. She quickly scooped it up and tossed it into her handbag, but the blouse was open wider and lower now. Her breasts, squeezed into a push up bra underneath it all, seemed to be peering out over the over the obstruction of fabric.

  "If you do set foot in here again, I'll have to assume ill intent. We'll have a look-see up your skirt, just to be safe, you know? Now get out." Tom put the phone down pointedly—he didn't slam it—and turned back to Tasha.

  "Taken care of," he said. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. Now, where were— " Tasha got up out of her chair and started walking around the desk towards Tom. "What are you doing?" he asked.

  "I want to thank you," she said, "for standing up for me." She'd made her way to his chair, and turned it away from his desk so that he was facing her. Tasha walked as close she could get, insinuating her legs between Tom's. She reached behind herself, unzipped her skirt.

  "Again," Tom said. "What are you doing?"

  "I told you," Tasha said, slowly sliding her skirt down her legs, Tom watching intently as every inch of her toned chocolate skin was revealed. Tasha wore black, bikini cut underwear, her hips pushing their stretchability to the extreme.

  "Tasha, we can't do this—"

  "No one will know," she assured him, as she lowered herself to her knees.

  "This is already suspicious that you're—"

  "I'll take care of it," she said, running her hands over the front of his pants, feeling him get hard underneath the wool fabric. "Trust me."

  "You make too much noise. Everybody'll—"

  "I'll just have to stick something in my mouth to keep from screaming," Tasha said, as she unbuckled his belt.

  Tom gave in, leaned back in his chair. Tasha had cleared the belt, and unhooked the waist of his pants, then slowly unzipped them. Her hands moved up his sides and she reached her fingers down, grabbing hold of his pants and boxer briefs. Tom lifted his ass up a little so she could get the pants down. As she pulled his clothing downward, his cock sprang out and stood at attention. His pants down to the floor, Tasha removed each of his shoes and then completely stripped his bottom half. She moved closer in between his legs, leaned up and brought her face down to his abdomen. Her tongue lightly dragged across his skin while her tits hung down, straddling his shaft. Tasha spoke up again, this time with an affect of innocence in her voice.

  "Is this what you want from me, Mr. Finch?" she asked.

  Tom took the cue and played along. "Lick it. But don't put it in your mouth yet."

  "OK," Tasha said. Tom reached down and began to stroke her hair gently. "You're the boss...I'll do whatever you want. Just don't fire me, please."

  Tom grabbed her hair more roughly, pulled her head down so his cock stood fully erect in front of her face. "Shut up and lick it."

  Tasha did as she was told. She put her tongue on to the base of his shaft and slowly licked upwards towards the tip. When she got to the top, she tilted her head sideways and licked down his cock's side. Tom loosened his grip on her hair.

  "Mmmm," he softly moaned, "that's a good girl. Keep licking."

  Tasha's head moved wildly as she licked at him, desperately. Short little flicks of the tongue mixed with long, wet ones. Her hands were at his hips, her fingers squeezing tightly around them and pulling him closer, like she was trying to pull his entire body inside her mouth.

  "Now use your hands, too," Tom said.

  "Yes, Mr. Finch," she replied, and her hands slowly ran across his skin until they reached his cock. Tasha brought her hands up on either side it, until her fingers met at the top and her hands formed a prayer configuration. She was on her knees, praying at the altar of his manhood. Her tongue reached in between her hands, and she kept licking up and down at prize underneath. When she got it good and wet, she removed her right hand and gripped him with her left. Her spit acted like a lubricant, she'd squeeze and slide her hand up and down, jerking him off slowly, rhythmically.

  "Is that what you want, sir?"

  Tom nodded.

  "Am I doing an OK job?"

  "You're doing alright," he told her. "But I need to know that my secretary enjoys her work."

  "Oh, I'm enjoying it," Tasha replied, and she began to stroke him a little faster. "Anything you want or need...let me know. I'm here for you."

  "Show me how much you like it. Use your other hand on yourself."

  Tasha moaned in agreement, and lowered her right hand down between her legs. She rubbed herself over her underwear and found that she had soaked through. Her left continued to squeeze and tug at Tom, her right explored her own flesh; each hand moved in time with the other.

  "I'm so wet, Mr. Finch," Tasha said, acting surprised. "What do I do?"

  "Stick your fingers inside," Tom said.

  Tasha reached down inside her underwear, felt the slippery surface of her lips and spread them apart with her index and ring finger, and then sticking her middle finger into the opening she'd just created. Moving it back and forth, she Tasha lost herself in the feeling, and she absentmindedly loosened her grip on Tom.

  "I can't keep you here if you can't multitask, Miss Yarwood," Tom said.

  "I'm sorry?" she said, playing her part. Tom looked over at her hand around his still hard cock.

  "I never said to stop. Now set back some, let me watch you," he said.

  "Yes, sir, Mr. Finch," Tasha replied, scooting back a little.

  Tom leaned forward in his chair to get a better view. He saw Tasha's hand covered up to the wrist by her underwear. The outline of her hand moved to a slow beat—up and down—that was synchronized with her other hand, gripping hard and stroking Tom.

  "There you go," Tom said, leaning back in chair again. His head dropped back and he closed his eyes. "Now," he said, "I want to be in your mouth."

  "Mmmmm, " Tasha purred, crawling back over towards Tom, and positioning her mouth near his cock, her lips just barely touching them. "Whatever you say, Mr. Finch," she whispered, her lips grazing along the skin of his shaft as she breathed out the words. She felt him shiver.

  Tasha put her tongue on him again, licked slowly up up up to the top, pausing at the peak like a roller coaster that's about to take its first plunge after a slow rise. She opened her mouth, her tongue never leaving his skin, and her lips encircled the tip, and then quickly down she went, taking all of him in her mouth and getting to her throat as her lips stretched around his girth. He was entirely inside Tasha's mouth and she paused a beat before sucking in and attaching her tongue to his cock. She sucked hard on him, pulled her head up against the force of her suck, and Tom's back arched in an involuntary spasm of pleasure as Tasha sucked her way back to the tip, slowly and when she reached the top, she loosened her grip and went back down for more. Again, she took every inch of him inside her and this time moved her tongue around wildly, licking at his fully enveloped cock, like she'd trapped it inside her and was playing with it as she saw fit. Tom writhed in pleasure like she'd never seen before. She sucked in and pulled her head slowly back up. Each second of the upswing was an agonizing kind of ecstasy for Tom.

  Slowly back down: lips stretching, veins throbbing, hearts racing, backs arching
, hands grabbing, hair pulling back up, and then pushing back down. Tom had a hold of her now, he needed to feel her move faster and so he grabbed hold of her hair and dictated the pace, the up and down, the wet in and out, he felt her—really felt her—as she seemed to rejoice in each push downward, felt the pressure increase inside her mouth as though she were trying to keep him inside all along and he'd pull her off again. Eventually, Tom only guided her up and every time he'd gotten her mouth up to the top of his cock, she dropped back down and took him side, sucking hard and fighting the hand that grabbed her hair and pull her up. They fought back and forth like this, Tom pulling up and Tasha going down, at a regular pace and until Tom said, "Jerk me off into your mouth."

  The smack of her lips detaching from his cock seemed to echo in the room, but neither of them paid it any mind. Tasha looked deep into his eyes and breathed hurriedly.

  "Of course, Mr. Finch," she replied as her hand moved back up to the base of his cock, her thumb and index finger squeezing around him. She righted herself put him back in her mouth. When her lips met her fingers, they began moving in synchrony, starting slow and then moving to medium pace. Tom's hand rested on the back of her head.

  "I'm going to have to come, Miss Yarwood," Tom said, still in character. "Is that going to be problem for you?"

  "Unnn-unnhh," she mumbled softly.

  "Good. And you're going to make sure you catch every last drop, right? You won't be leaving a mess?"

  "Unnn-unnhh."

  "Perfect," Tom replied, and then he inhaled deeply. "You and I are going to work very well together—for a long time."

  Tasha's head couldn't keep up with her hand. She kept her lips wrapped around the upper part of his cock, sucking and licking and breathing on it, while her left hand continued to stroke him at top speed. He placed his hand around the back of her head and cradled it, not forcing her in any direction but just wanting to be part of the process somehow. As Tasha's tongue danced its way around the top of Tom's cock, she felt it tense up and almost pull away from her. She kept the tip inside her mouth and her hand gliding up and down his spit-soaked shaft, as if it were of great urgency that he come. Tom sat up, bracing for the inevitable. Tasha stroked and stroked, faster still and she felt Tom's cock start to quiver inside her mouth.

  "Oh, fuck, Tash," he said, breaking character. He grabbed her hand off of him and threw it aside, his other hand pushing her head down as far as it would go, and she started sucking and licking at him like she had before and then at last he could no longer hold it in and cock started pumping streams of come into her. Tasha opened up her throat and took it all in, swallowing what she could and holding the rest in her mouth, then swallowing that, as she felt his cock thrust and lurch around in her mouth on its accord, still filling her with and she loved the taste of it, she loved the feel of it, she loved him being in her mouth, and she loved him, and she couldn't believe she was thinking all this as more come than she's ever sucked out of a man continued to pouring its way into her mouth and down her throat. The flow subsided, and Tasha continued to lick off and clean every bit of him. She took him out of her mouth, and lay her head down on his right leg, cradling his cock in her hand and licking at it every time a little bit more come came made its way out. Tom leaned back in his chair, caught his breath and stroked Tasha's hair. They were quiet for a time, and the Tom spoke up.

  "You shouldn't have come here, Tasha," he told her.

  "Excuse me? That was you."

  Tom laughed at her joke and then said, "You know what I mean. My office is off limits. It's not safe here."

  "Safe for what? Why do you have to hide me anymore?"

  "Because I don't need people knowing that I'm someone's 'Sugar Daddy,'" he told her. "That's not exactly the image I want to portray."

  "So, let's stop with the Sugar Daddy shit," Tasha said. Tom righted himself in his chair and gently nudged Tasha off of him. He reached for his underwear.

  "Can we put our clothes on before we get into something?"

  "No," she replied. "We can put them on while we're getting into something. I don't want to do this anymore."

  "What?" Tom looked incredulous. "So you don't want to see me? You came here to blow me and then tell me to fuck off?"

  "No!"

  "Shh!" Tom put his finger to his mouth. "Tasha, I don't know what you're talking about."

  And then Tasha spilled it to Tom, everything, all the feelings that have been growing, their closeness, intimacy, how much fun they have together. How she doesn't want to be a dirty secret—can't be that, actually. And, then, she did it.

  "I love you, Tom." Blink. Blink. "And I know you love me."

  The silence hung between them. Tom looked dumbstruck, astonished.

  "You wha—"

  "You heard me," Tasha said. "What are you going to do about it?"

  "Well, uh," Tom stammered. "Shit, Tasha, you're putting me in a real spot here."

  "What spot? We have feelings for each other. What is there to figure out? I want to be by your side, not on your payroll. I know you feel the same way."

  "What I feel is irrelevant. This," and here he motioned back and forth, pointing alternately at each of them, "can never be. Can't happen."

  And now Tasha was the speechless one. She hadn't expected this response. He cared for her, liked her, trusted in her—she was his only companion outside of work. Her eyes darted back and forth as she processed what was happening. The room seemed to get bigger, and her lungs started to feel smaller.

  "But— it already is. Don't say it can't be when it already is!"

  "Tasha," Tom said, "I can't publicly be in....this, uh, type of relationship. I've got too much riding on my career, and if this ever came out—"

  "I won't tell anybody how we met, Tom. You think I'm proud of—"

  "It's not about how we met, Tash. I mean, that wouldn't look good, either, but it's the least of my worries."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Tasha— oh, Jesus, how do I say this?" Tom was flustered. Tasha was silent. Intellectually, she knew what was coming. But her heart wouldn't be able to take it and she prayed that she wasn't going to hear what came next. "Tasha, I can't be with a black woman. It's still a good-old boy network around here, and if it gets out—"

  Tasha put her hand up and told him, "Just the shut the fuck up. Alright, Tom? I can't do this anymore."

  "I'm sorry, Tash—"

  "Don't call me 'Tash.' I'm no one to you. Don't try to be sweet."

  "Look, I—"

  "I, nothing," she snapped at him. Tasha leaned down and pulled her skirt pack up over her hips. Tucking in her blouse, she said, "I'll be out of the apartment in a week. Don't call me."

  "I bought that apartment for you," Tom said. "It's yours."

  "I don't want it. You can have it back." She zipped the skirt up and looked at her reflection in the glass of a framed poster on the wall. Straightening out all her clothes, and fixing her hair, Tasha said, "I want you, or I want nothing. The money means shit to me."

  Tasha turned towards the door, quietly unlocked it, and left.

  Chapter 7

  "Have I thanked you recently?" Tasha asked.

  "Only everyday for the last month," Emma replied.

  "Well, I appreciate you all the same."

  Emma leaned down and kissed Tasha on the forehead. "I told you. You stay here as long as you need to. We're family."

  "Ewwww!" Tasha said, her nose crinkled in mock disgust.

  "What? What did I say?"

  "You said we were family. Can't think of any family I'd want to double team a guy with."

  "Oh, right," Emma said through a smile. "Well, we're kissing cousins, then."

  They both laughed at this, and Emma flopped down on the couch next to Tasha. She put here arm around her and pulled her close. Tasha rested her head on Emma's shoulder.

  "I'm sorry I got you into all this," Emma said, but Tasha waved her off. She knew it wasn't Emma's fault. She was a big girl, could make h
er own decisions. She hadn't been looking for love when she created her profile all those months ago. She hadn't expected to meet someone as wonderful and infuriating and sweet and hurtful as Tom. But she did. Still, she couldn't get that last conversation with him out of her head.

  "My feelings are irrelevant," he'd told her, which was as good as saying, "Yes, Tasha, you're right: I love you, too."

  What was he afraid of? What did he stand to lose? Wasn't he in charge of that whole company? It's not like someone would fire him. She'd thought about it every which way she could for each of the 33 days since she'd walked out. None of it made sense. If anyone could afford to ignore the prejudices of the world's idiots, it was Tom. He could afford anything.

  "Tasha, is that your phone?" Emma asked. Tasha picked her head up and listened for the ring—yes, that was hers. She bolted up to run to her room. She got to it just in time. She didn't recognize the number, but the display said, Cincinnati, OH. Curious.

  "Hello?"

  "Tasha?" a woman's voice asked.

  "Who is this?" Tasha asked.

  "Tasha, this is Ruth. Tom Finch's secretary?"

  "Oh- yes. Hi?" Tasha responded, then thought, What the hell is she calling for?

  "Hi. Listen. Well, first, I want to thank you."

  "For what?"

  "Do you remember that day you came in last month?" Ruth continued.

  "Trying to forget it, but yeah, I do," Tasha said.

  "Well, after you left, Tom had a chat with me. Told me he wanted to fire me for letting you in without checking your credentials. Then he told me you stuck up for me. So....thanks."

  "I don't know what you're thanking me for. That snake doesn't deserve a sweet woman like you," Tasha replied, wondering who she was really talking about.

  Ruth chuckled. "You're sweet," she said, "But, anyway. Listen. Tom wants to see you. He's already left, on his way to see you. Trouble is, he doesn't know where to find you."

  "We'll keep it that way," Tasha said.

  "Look," Ruth said, "you did me a favor, so let me return it. Let him see you."