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
