by Sarah Thorn
I couldn’t say no to his face, I just nodded.
He smiled and gave me the roughest hug I had ever felt.
“Aiden, you’re on in ten, get ready,” I heard Greg say from behind while sneering at me.
“Liddy should be here to take you backstage in a moment or two.”
He was right, Liddy was already waiting nearby, and she snapped a photo of the two of us mid-kiss.
“I guess I have my first news story,” I said.
“Surely not your last,” he replied.
Then he left, to get made up for the show. Liddy and I walked slowly up the stairs and through the back halls of the stadium.
“I talked to Bruce about the whole thing. He said that Aiden was in a slump. Then I told Bruce what you had said to Aiden and Bruce took it upon himself to talk to the rest of the group. They all wanted him to be happy.”
I wiped a tear off my cheek.
“You’re a good friend, Liddy.”
“Hey, you set me up with the greatest bassist in history. A girl’s gotta watch out for her own.”
I laughed, as did Liddy. I was lucky to have such a great friend.
*****
THE END
BWWM Romance - The Sexy Billionaire Daddy
1
Viola Turner couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was going to be late for work, but she couldn’t move from the doorway to her bedroom. She was in her small one bedroom apartment, half dressed. She wore her black skirt that was a part of her uniform, but the white shirt hung over her shoulder. Her toothbrush was in her mouth, and white foam leaked from the corner of her lips, contrasting with her dark chocolate colored skin. She had been multitasking when her boyfriend, Jerome, had decided to break up with her.
“Are you kidding me?” Viola asked.
Jerome was tall, but he was slumped down, sitting on the edge of her bed, looking at the floor. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t joke.”
“You’re breaking up with me?”
“I just don’t think it’s going anywhere, Vi.”
“Don’t call me Vi. People who are breaking up with me don’t get to call me Vi. It’s Viola. Or Miss. Turner, for you. Yeah, Miss Turner is fine.”
Jerome sighed and stood up. He still didn’t look at her, he stared at the back of his hands instead, which he held up under his chin, as if he had never noticed them before.
“Look at me,” Viola said.
Jerome did.
“What happened?”
“It just isn’t working.”
“You aren’t working. I’ve been paying for everything while you keep screwing up job interviews.”
“I knew you’d bring that up,” Jerome said, sighing.
Viola rolled her eyes. “Just get out, I have to go to work.”
“Get out?” Jerome asked. “Where am I supposed to go?”
“You thought you would break up with me, and then stay here? Jerome, get real. Get your stuff packed up, be gone before I get off tonight.”
“Fine,” Jerome said, and Viola didn’t waste another second on the man. She turned and headed for the bathroom, so she could finish brushing her teeth.
Viola worked downtown, at a restaurant called Vine, which was very posh, and very expensive. Viola would have never been able to eat there if she didn’t work there. The clientele was some of the most powerful and richest men and women in New York, and it was a rare week that Viola didn’t serve a famous actor or musician.
She lived in Brooklyn, and caught the bus to Manhattan, leaving her apartment without a word to her now ex-boyfriend. On the bus, she sat and seethed, trying to keep her anger in check, but failing to do so. As she neared work, she tried not to think of Jerome at all, but that was nearly impossible as well.
She and Jerome had been dating for almost two years, and she had begun to wonder if he was the man she would be spending the rest of her life with. When they had started dating he had been working at a good job and had been making much more than she did with her waitressing work. And then he had been laid off, and since then, nothing.
It was just before two when the bus pulled to a stop a block or so from Vine, and Viola climbed off and started walking. It was Saturday, and a few people were there as she walked in, having a late lunch, but it wouldn’t get busy until around seven or so. Most days of the week you couldn’t get in for dinner without a reservation, and you couldn’t get a reservation unless you had a certain reputation or enough money to grease the palms of the maitre d’s and get yourself that reputation.
The restaurant was sparsely furnished, with small tables and delicate looking chairs, the pain on the wall a soft cream color. Viola walked through the front door and to the back, something that her boss hated, but not enough to deter her from doing so and walking all the way around the block to reach the alley that ran behind the restaurant, and led to the employee entrance.
“Come on Vi,” Stephen, her boss said.
“Sorry, Stevie,” Viola said with a smile. The old man was sitting on a stool in the small area that lay between the large state of the art kitchen and the dining room. He was short, with big ears and a bald head. He wore glasses as thick as any Viola had ever seen, and they made his eyes look gigantic.
“You’re late too,” Stephen said.
“I don’t drive the bus,” Viola retorted. She went to the far wall, where a few lockers sat, and stashed her purse in hers before shutting the door. Then she went and clocked in before heading to the dining room.
The first part of her day passed slowly, as she busied herself with the work wait staff so often did when there weren’t many customers. Vine was a popular spot, but it had a reputation for being cool, and cool people simply didn’t show up to anything until the Sun had fallen from the sky.
Finally, the light outside indeed dimmed, and the dining room began filling up. Viola was offloading a few plates to one of her tables when she glanced at the door and smiled. There stood James Denning, one of her favorite customers. He was a bit older than her twenty-three, by a decade at least, and he always requested that she be his waitress whenever he came. She knew it was because he liked staring at her curvaceous body, but the man was friendly and funny, and he tipped incredibly well. She could deal with the stares and the flirting. Besides, he was rather attractive himself. He was white, with a strong jaw and sandy blonde hair that he always kept short, and it looked as though he got a haircut every couple of days.
James was the CEO of a company that owned and operated some of the most popular websites in the world. He always had his phone out, texting people, responding to emails, but when Viola would swing by his table to check on him he would set his phone down, and all of his attention would be on her. It embarrassed Viola a bit, but it excited her at the same time. She knew he wanted her. It was obvious, the way he would speak to her, the way he would flirt. His eyes traveled up and down her body, and he didn’t attempt to hide it. He was a powerful man, and she knew he was used to getting what he wanted. The fact that she had never accepted one of his invitations to go somewhere with him drove him wild, and she could tell.
Viola waited until he was seated, which of course he was without having to wait in line, and then she made her way over to his table. He was sitting with another man, an older man with silver hair and a pointed chin.
James looked towards the black woman and smiled.
“Vi,” he said. “I’m glad you’re working tonight.”
“I bet you are,” Violet said teasingly. She stood at the man’s elbow, and she watched as his eyes flashed downwards to her exposed thighs. He might as well have licked his lips; the desire on his face was unmistakable.
“This is Frank Geller,” James said, introducing the other man. Frank shook her hand.
“I own Meet a Lover dot com, and this swindler is trying to get me to part with it.”
Viola smiled and nodded. Rich people always loved talking about their business; it was as if they needed everyone to know exactly how
and why they were rich. Still, they tipped her well, so she feigned interest.
The night wore on, and the restaurant continued to seat as many people as they could. James and Frank stayed for a long while, having a few drinks before they ordered food, and then taking their time and discussing business over steaming cups of coffee after they had eaten.
Near ten, they rose to leave, and Viola went to the table to get the check. James reached out as she did, and he took her hand in his.
“You alright tonight?” he asked her, looking into her eyes.
Viola nodded softly. She was looking at the man, really looking at him, and she realized just how handsome he was. She had never been with a white man before, but she certainly wouldn’t mind if he were her first. If he had any slight blemish on his looks, it was the fact that his nose looked just a bit crooked, but it actually suited him somewhat.
“My boyfriend broke up with me tonight,” Viola blurted out before she could stop herself.
“Well, I don’t know the guy, but I’m going to guess that he’s an idiot,” James said with an easy grin.
“He is,” Viola agreed, and she laughed, but she felt a stinging pain in her eyes as tears formed there.
“What time do you get off tonight?” James asked her, still holding her hand.
“Soon. Around midnight.”
“Perfect,” James said, nodding as though it made sense to her.
“Perfect for what?” she asked tentatively.
“I’ll pick you up. We’ll go to The Ice Room.”
The Ice Room was a very popular, and very elite night club in New York. Tables cost fifteen thousand dollars to reserve, and that was before you even ordered a drink. Viola had never been there, and she didn’t think she ever would go.
“I can’t. I don’t have anything to wear,” Viola said.
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll bring something when I pick you up.”
Viola opened her mouth to tell the man no, as she always did when he asked her out, but when she spoke another word came out instead. “Okay,” she said.
James grinned, a wide smile where his lips pulled apart and showed off his sparkling white teeth. “Great,” he said. “Out front, midnight, alright?”
“Okay,” Viola said, unsure of what she had just gotten herself into. James bent and pressed his lips to her cheeks, and then he turned and left with Frank. Viola watched him go.
2
It was ten after midnight when Viola finally left the restaurant, heading out with her co-workers through the front door, before Stephen turned and locked the door behind everyone. There was a long stretch limo parked in front of the restaurant, pulled to the curb.
“Who is that for?” a waitress named Mary asked.
“The President?” Joey, a cook, joked.
The back door of the limo opened, and James climbed out.
“Me,” Viola murmured, and then she stepped forward towards the limo.
“Shall we?” James asked, holding the door open for her, and Viola nodded, ducking her head and climbing into the expensive car.
“Do you always ride in one of these?” Viola asked as James settled himself behind her and shut the door. He laughed.
“Only when I’m trying to impress a pretty woman.”
“So all the time then?”
James laughed again. “You think you have me pegged, I know that, but I bet I end up surprising you,” he said to the younger black woman.
“This is amazing,” Viola said, looking around.
“Champagne?” James asked, and he pulled a bottle from an ice bucket and poured two glasses when she nodded yes. He held one out to her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Oh, here, I picked this out for you,” James said, turning and grabbing a nearby bag, and holding it out to Viola. She took it and pulled out a slinky and sexy dress. “For the club,”
Viola took the dress and held it in front of her eyes. It was black and tiny, and wouldn’t leave much to the imagination. She was already wearing black heels, so that wouldn’t be a problem, but she had never worn a dress like that, despite being rather comfortable in her body.
She knew men found her attractive, and she worked hard to keep in shape. She went to the gym, she ate right. She was on the shorter side, but a lot of men preferred that. Her hips were rounded, her butt big, but toned. She had large breasts and kept her black hair short and straight, working hard against its natural state.
“Where’s the rest of it?” Viola joked.
James grinned. “You’ll look great.”
“Yeah yeah, look out the window while I change,” Viola said, and the older man did just that. She shimmied and shook our of her skirt and shirt, dealing with the awkwardness of changing in a car, though being in a limo certainly helped with space. She pulled the new dress over her head and realized her bra was showing, so she took that off. When she pulled the dress down, the material slid over her dark brown nipples, hardening them. She had kept an eye on James as she changed, seeing if he would peek, but surprisingly he didn’t. Viola was surprised to find she was a little disappointed by that.
When she tapped him on the shoulder, he turned and gaped, and she felt a little better. His eyes were drawn to her ample cleavage, and she knew he was looking at her rosebud nipples, hard and pressing against the thin material of the dress.
“Holy shit,” he said, and left it at that. Viola smiled. James was dressed for the club, out of his usual suit and wearing a button up shirt that was no doubt more expensive than Jerome’s whole wardrobe had been. She thought of her ex for the first time that night since the rush had begun at work. She had been too busy to dwell on the breakup when Vine had been packed, but now it hit her again, and she felt herself growing sad and angry. She shoved the emotions from her mind as the limo pulled in front of The Ice Club.
They walked right in the door, James taking her hand and leading her in. A large line of well-dressed men and women groaned, standing outside of the club with no guarantee they would be let in. James shook hands with the doorman, and Viola was almost sure he had been palming some amount of money and passed it to the man. It was true what they said: money makes the world go ‘round.
Inside the club was decorated to its namesake. Plush couches and chairs were in white, and tables in a soft blue. The bar along the back of the club was see through, hazy though, like ice. There was a dance floor, with a stage and a DJ. Loud music was playing through the speakers. The space wasn’t that large, which only helped grow the exclusive reputation the club had, and it was quite busy. James led Viola to a table near the back, which had been roped off with a sign saying reserved. A waitress in a sexy white uniform hurried over and removed the rope, and then took their drink orders.
Viola had no idea what to order, so she allowed James to order for her. She was impressed by everything. Getting into the club, having his own table, it was all a great display of his wealth, and though Viola had always thought she was above that sort of thing, she decidedly wasn’t.
They drank and danced for hours, and then the club was shutting down and they went back outside. The limo wasn’t there, but it pulled up to the curb in front of them within seconds, and they climbed in. Viola’s head was swimming due to the alcohol, and she leaned against the far door and closed her eyes for a moment. And then James was there, sliding close to her, his hand on her bare thigh. She opened her eyes and looked at him. She thought he was going to say something, but instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She parted her own lips, and their tongues met, dancing together. His hand moved up her leg, pushing the already skirt higher. He broke the kiss.
“Come back to my place,” he said. It wasn’t much of a question, it sounded more like a demand. Viola thought of her own home for a moment. She wondered if Jerome had really gotten out that night. She blinked away the thoughts and focused on James.
“Okay,” she said.
3
James lived on the top floor of a
massive skyscraper. Viola didn’t know if the whole building was nothing but lavish apartments, but there had been a doorman in an expensive looking suit, and the lobby had one massive wall filled with mail slots, each with a different apartment number on the little door.
They rode for a long time in an elevator, and James had her pushed against the wall while it rose, his lips on her neck. He kissed her there, nipped at her. She wrapped her arms around him. There was a soft ding, and they left the elevator and found themselves in a short hall, with only one door, straight across from them.
“Is your apartment the whole floor?” Viola asked.
“Yeah,” James said, sounding as though he wasn’t trying to impress her. He unlocked his door, and they went inside.
The apartment was spacious, and the views were incredible, but Viola wouldn’t have the time to appreciate them until the next morning.
They were all over each other as soon as James kicked the front door closed with his foot. Viola kicked off her heels, and then stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him. She put one arm around his strong body, the other behind his head so her fingers could slide through his hair. He took her by the hips, his fingers powerful there, holding her. Their bodies pressed together, and Viola could feel the heat. She could also feel his cock, hard and pressing against her stomach through his pants.
He lifted her up then, and she wrapped her legs around him as they continued to kiss, and he carried her into the living room. It was furnished much like her own living room, a couch, a chair, a television, but everything was, at least, five times more expensive. Standing over the couch James pushed on her hips, and she fell back, landing on the sofa and grinning up at him.
“How long have you been wanting to do this?” she asked.
“A long time,” James answered as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off.
“You ever fucked a black chick?” Viola asked, and the man shook his head.
“You ever been fucked by a white guy?” James asked, and it was Viola’s turn to shake her head. He grinned and knelt down by the couch, using his hands to push the short dress up over her hips, exposing her black lace thong. “A white guy ever eat your pussy?” he asked, and then before waiting for a response, he dipped his head and pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh. He nibbled there, plucking at her tender flesh with his perfect teeth.