“Well, that’s why I’m calling. I’m no longer interested in selling you the company.”
My body stills as anger begins to swirl around inside of me. He’s gotta be shitting me.
“I’m sorry, I think we have a bad connection. It sounded like you said that you’re trying to pull out of our deal?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I’ve gotten a better offer.”
“We already signed a contract, Cornelius.”
“Well, what do I need to do in order to get out of it?”
“You’ll need to hire yourself a very, very good lawyer. That’s what.”
“Come on, Brooks. You know how bad of a spot I’m in.”
“And the money that I offered you, Baxter, will be more than enough to get you out of it.”
“It’s about more than just about the money, now.”
“What’s it about then?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t and won’t are two different things, Baxter.
“Okay, look. I can’t go into a ton of details, but someone has their eyes set on Baxter Technologies. They called me a couple of days ago and told me if I don’t hand over the business to them, they’ll go after my daughter.”
I consider what he’s saying for a moment. Yes, he needs the money. I know that to be a fact. However, his family is part of Red River Society. Like mine, they’re virtually untouchable. Whoever has the balls to threaten them either has something serious on Baxter, or he’s lying. Unfortunately for him, I believe the latter is true. The Baxters have a long history of corruption and greed that runs through their blood.
“No deal, Cornelius. Sell me your company as we discussed and you’ll have even more money to use to protect your family.”
“Please, Carver. I’m begging you. If you do this for me, I’m prepared to arrange a marriage between you and my daughter.”
His statement trips me up. I did not see that one coming.
Is he for real?
Arranged marriages are commonplace among societies, but I never pictured being part of one. Nor did I think that Cornelius Baxter would so willingly offer his daughter up. Especially since the reason he needs me to reconsider is to keep her from being “taken”. I’m really not much of a better choice.
Though the filthy side of me can’t help but wonder if she’s hot; and legal. Cordelia Baxter is one of the most sought after daughters of the famous Cornelious Baxter. Rarely photographed, supposedly gorgeous. I haven’t seen a picture of her since she was in high school. It’s as if she’s more of a myth than a person. The idea is intriguing, but I could never entangle myself with someone so completely without meeting them first. What if I wasn’t attracted to her? What if she’s horrible in bed? Sure, mistresses are part of the society too, but I rather like the idea of being infatuated with the person I marry.
Like I was with Josephine. No, don’t think about her. Get it together.
“I don’t understand, Baxter. First of all, I heard that you and your dear daughter had a falling out several years back? Not to mention, I thought you were trying to save your daughter? Not offer her up to a dirty, old man like me.”
“You’re definitely not a saint, Brooks, but you’re a much better alternative to the man who wants her for himself.”
“Tell me who we’re talking about here.”
“I… I can’t. It’s too risky.”
I think for a moment, but decide against trading the sale of his company for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
I’m Carver Brooks and I won’t be bought.
“We’re going through with the sale. As I said, you can use the money you’ll earn to help pay for protection for your family.
I hang up the call and sit back in my chair. My gut usually doesn’t steer me wrong. I’m not so cruel or callous to wish ill will on a family who hasn’t harmed me in some way. But I’ll wait and see what happens over the next few days. I expect a call from his lawyer very soon. If one doesn’t come, then I’ll know for sure that he’s bluffing.
Chapter Four
I’ll admit that I was surprised to receive a call from Cornelius’ lawyer a couple of hours after getting off of the phone with him earlier today. It seems like he wasn’t lying after all. I agreed to a sit down meeting with them last night and therefore had to cancel my date with the other Sugar Baby.
What a waste the night was. They failed to provide me with enough evidence to make me feel like our contract could be revoked. I am a businessman first and doing so wouldn’t bode well for me or my own company.
Tonight, however, Cornelius couldn’t be further from my mind.
Tonight is the night I meet Ingrid.
I got to The 1929, a restored speakeasy in Red River, about twenty minutes ago and I’ve been sipping on some scotch at the bar while I wait. This restaurant first opened up in the early 1900s. It’s been through a lot throughout history between prohibition, riots, and the great flood. You’d never know by the way it’s been restored.
The dark wood mixed with deep red leather booths and barstools under the perfectly dimmed lighting gives it a secret establishment vibe from the prohibition era. It makes it feel dark and mysterious. As if you’re anonymous in your patronage. That’s why I chose to meet here. Only, we’re going to be throwing anonymity out the window tonight as we get to know one another better. I like the idea of it. As if we’re breaking the rules.
I’m pleasantly surprised when I hear a captivating voice speak up from behind me.
“Carver Brooks.”
She’s early, a quality that I love in a woman. I turn toward the beguiling sound and am struck by the stunning beauty before me. I can’t speak. She appears to be nearly as affected by me as I am of her if her dilating pupils are any indication.
“Ingrid Andrews. You’re even more breathtaking in real life,” I finally manage to get out.
And that’s not just a line. I haven’t been this taken by someone’s beauty in years.
“You’re very sweet, thank you,” she says.
I stand before she gets the chance to take a seat on the barstool next to mine.
“I’d prefer a bit of a cozier place to sit if you’re comfortable with that?” I ask her.
I reserved a discreet booth toward the rear of the restaurant in advance, but I always like to wait for my dates at the bar. It makes for an easier, less obvious escape should I need one.
“Sounds great,” she swallows nervously.
The sexual tension between us is unmistakable. The soft light reflecting from the bulbs over the bar twinkles in her chocolate brown eyes as and it’s like a beacon, calling me. Too quickly, she turns from me and I place my hand on the small of her back, escorting her to the hostess stand. Her long brown tresses tickle my thumb as we walk.
“Hello, again,” the hostess greets me with a smile.
“We’re ready to be seated.”
“Right away, sir. You and your guest can follow me.”
I wave my hand in front of me, signaling Ingrid to go first and I follow closely behind her. She’s wearing a cream, midriff, off-the-shoulder top and a black and cream patterned mini skirt that stops far enough below her ass to keep her from looking like a slut.
She has class, that’s for sure. I was worried that this whole experience was going to be too “Pretty Woman” for my taste. I don’t need to be seen parading around places with someone dressed like a prostitute.
“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess says placing our menus down on the table and leaving.
“Thank you,” Ingrid and I say in unison.
“What would you like to drink?” I ask her.
“I’ll take an Old Fashioned, please. Thank you.”
“Beautiful, punctual, and a bourbon drinker? I’m impressed. I don’t meet many girls your age who tick tick all of those boxes.”
I think I’m in love. Before she gets a chance to respond, our waiter approaches the table.
“Good evening, I�
�m Greg and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink? An appetizer, maybe?”
“I’ll have another Balvenie. She’ll take an Old Fashioned. I’d also like to order a charcuterie tray please.”
“Yes, sir,” he says before leaving the table.
“So, Ingrid. I don’t admit this to people, ever, but I am a little out of my element here. How does this work? I don’t want to make any assumptions and offend you in any way.”
“Well, with this date being our M&G--meet & greet--we’re just going to get to know one another. If we click and decide that we want to move forward, then we can discuss allowance and other aspects of the relationship.”
“Other aspects?” She means sex, but I need her to say it outright.
“Intimacy.”
“I see. Okay, so why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”
Before she has a chance to begin speaking, our server comes back with our drinks and charcuterie.
“Can I get you anything else at the moment?”
“No thank you,” I answer and Greg leaves us.
Concentrating my focus on her, I wait for her to speak. She clears her throat and takes a sip of her drink before she begins.
“I graduated Summa Cum Laude from Blue Ridge State last Spring with a Bachelors in political science. I’ve applied for jobs all over the country for the past year with no luck of being hired. Even worse than the unemployment rate in this country is the dating scene for people my age. Hence the sugaring.”
“I’m sorry to hear about the job hunt. I know that must be stressful. Do you live at home?”
“No,” she answers, but doesn’t offer a further explanation of her current living situation.
I decide to let her tell me more about it when she’s ready.
“What do you like to do for fun? Other than meet old men in bars?” I ask in jest.
“Well, I don’t only meet them in bars. This was your idea by the way,” she winks and an adorable giggle escapes from her lips. “When I’m not sugaring, I enjoy volunteering in the community, trips to the beach, classic movies, reading. Simple stuff.”
She smiles and takes a sip of her Old Fashioned.
“Do you ever have more than one Sugar Daddy at a time?”
“That depends on them and the type of relationship we agree on. Some only want one date a month. Others like weekly interaction.”
“Do you have any active Daddies at the moment?”
I try to control my facial expression as I feel my jealousy and possessive nature rising from within me. I’ve always been a little jealous, it’s human nature. But when my little bird was stolen out from underneath me by the Johnson’s, it set fuel to a fire inside of me that never stopped burning.
“No,” she answers and my inner demons calm slightly.
“What about you, Carver Brooks? What do you do when you’re not running your empire?”
“Did you Google me?” I ask, feigning hurt.
“Maybe,” she answers, flirtatiously.
I have to think about how to answer her question. There isn’t much that I do outside of working and having casual flings with random women.
“Honestly?”
“Of course,” she smiles.
“It’s rare that I’m not working. When I do step away from work, I usually find myself in bed with a woman that I hardly know. A woman who doesn’t want me for me, but for what I can do for her or to say that she was lucky enough to get with Carver Brooks.
“That’s why I signed up for this,” I wave my hand between the two of us, “experiment? Experience? I’m not really sure what to call it.”
“I’m not rich and powerful like you are, but our reasons for delving into the sugar world are nearly the same. I got tired of the game, too. If someone is going to spend thousands of dollars on an experience they’re usually going to appreciate it more. Obviously that’s not always the case. But in the four years that I’ve been an SB, I’ve found that to be true more than false.
My dick gets harder the more she speaks. Not only is she gorgeous, but she is a genuinely good person. So unlike the majority of the girls in Silvercrest. As she lifts her glass in order to take another sip of her drink, a lock of hair breaks free from behind her ear and blocks part of her face from my view. Not thinking before I react, I reach for it and tuck it back behind her ear.
Her eyes lock with mine, just like they did at the bar earlier. I don’t break the connection, but as I am about to pull away from her ear, she leans her head into my hand. The feeling sends tingles through my body and my erection lengthens more, pushing against the zipper on my pants uncomfortably.
I let my hand linger a moment more before it becomes so unbearable that I have to adjust myself. Try as I might, there’s no way that I will be able to do it with an ounce of discretion. The circular booth that we’re in prohibits that. I look down and shift my position quickly. When our eyes meet again there is no hiding the fact that she feels the strong connection between us as much as I do.
Two and a half hours, six drinks, one charcuterie tray, and an order of bruschetta later, and we’re the last patrons in the restaurant. We discussed almost every subject there is to talk about. Politics, religion, science, love, sex, business.
The only one we seemed to gloss over was family. I can tell that it’s a sore spot for her, but she didn’t offer any further details beyond the fact that she doesn’t live at home. She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. She couldn’t be more opposite other girls her age. Shit, other women who are decades older than her. Those who should know how to carry themselves. She blows them all out of the water.
“Greg, we’ll take the check,” I catch him as he’s walking past our table for what has to be the thirtieth time in the past five minutes.
“Yes, sir. Here you go.”
He places the book on the table and walks to the back of the restaurant. Before reviewing it, I shoot T a text message letting him know to pull the limo around.
“I don’t think Greg is very happy that we’ve camped out at one of his tables this long.”
“Probably not, but I can say for certain that I enjoyed every moment of it,” she responds.
“I did, too. Very much. I want to see you again.”
“Same here.”
“Shit, we didn’t discuss money or anything like that.”
“That’s okay, we can save that for next time,” she explains.
“When can I see you again?”
“I’m available this Saturday. Does that work for you?”
“That’s perfect.”
I review the bill and pull out enough cash to cover it plus a 50% tip for Greg. Closing the book, I maneuver my way out of the booth and hold my hand out for Ingrid to take. Following her to the front of the restaurant is a hard feat to accomplish without pushing her up against the wall and having my way with her.
“How are you getting home?” I ask her when we step out of the restaurant.
“I have a friend who works for Uber. He drives me to and from all of my meet and greets for safety reasons.”
“I’m more than happy to drive you home if you want.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t trust myself to get in that limo with you right now.”
“I feel the same way,” I admit.
Without thinking, I walk her backward into the wall behind her. I press my lips up against hers, knowing I shouldn’t. I am overstepping, but I can’t control myself. I need to know what she tastes like. I need to know if her plump lips feel as soft as they look.
To my delight, she kisses me back. We make out on the front step of the restaurant for several minutes like horny teenagers. Before I can stop myself, I open my mouth and speak.
“Get in the limo, Ingrid.”
I see her eyes flare with desire, but still, she tries to deny herself what it is she really wants.
“I--I,” she can’t come up with a good reason not to.
�
�Stop thinking so much. You either want it or you don’t. I didn’t put on any theatrics to get into your pants tonight. I gave you the real me. 100% pure Carver Brooks. I already told you I wanted to see you again. This isn’t me trying to hit it and quit it, sweetheart. From what I’ve seen of you tonight, I know I’m not going to be able to quit you. I’m not trying to pressure you either though. If you don’t want this, that’s perfectly fine. However, the longer you stand here wavering, the harder it’s going to be for me to let you be.”
She takes her phone out of her purse and sends a quick text message. Once it’s back in her purse, she grabs my hand and pulls me toward the limo.
Chapter Five
I’ve felt nothing but bliss for the past two days. Sex in the back of the limo was incredible; mind-blowing. It was fast, hard, and quick. Something that both of us needed and haven’t been able to get from anyone else in a long time.
Ingrid and I have been messaging one another non-stop since I put her into her friend’s Uber afterward. It’s been just as long since I’ve had a real conversation with someone also. Between that and the provocative pictures we’ve been exchanging, tonight couldn’t come soon enough.
I walk out of the florist with a large bouquet of flowers for Ingrid when I feel my phone vibrate. As I get into the back of the limo, I open the message and my dick gets rock hard immediately. It’s a picture of Ingrid kneeling on her bed with her back to her phone, wearing only a pair of cheeky, black lace panties. Her face is turned to the side, her eye barely visible behind her long dark hair, which is cascading down her slender back.
Me: Holy fuck. If you send me any more pictures like this, we’re never going to make it out of your apartment tonight.
Ingrid: Uh-uh. You promised to take me to the cabaret. One night only, remember? I was just getting in the mood and thought I’d share. ; )
Me: Well, now we’re both in the mood, but for two different things.
I decide to send her a picture too. I unbuckle my belt and pull my pants down slightly so I can capture my rock hard erection through my boxer briefs. I snap a photo and send it her way.
The Society Page 24