Booty Shorts - Sugar Daddy

"Thank you," Monica said with a little flush. "I love your nightgown."

"Come here."

Monica padded across the luxurious carpet, her pace slowing as she approached the huge windows. She felt exposed.

"The windows are mirrored," Charlie said, sensing Monica's unease, "With the lights out no one can see in."

"Well, we're also like thirty floors up," Monica said, earning a little laugh from Charlie.

Charlie set the glass on the table next to the couch, then ran the backs of her fingers down the smooth skin between Monica's breasts.

"'Now comes the moment', right? That's what you're thinking?"

"Huh?" Monica somewhat dumbly.

"We've been flirting for a couple of weeks, met this afternoon and now we're here. You're naked. I'm almost naked. And you can't believe we're going to do this. Is that what you're feeling?"

"A little."

"I'll let you in on a secret Monica. I haven't done this sort of thing before. This arrangement I mean. You're my first. I'm nervous too."

"You don't seem like the kind of woman who gets nervous."

"In my world you have to learn not to let it show, it can be seen as a weakness. But this is new territory for me."

Monica let out a nervous breath. Charlie stepped close.

"Let's not worry about this being a big thing. Let's just be in the moment."

Monica nodded, her eyes wide.

Then Charlie kissed her.

It was soft, gentle. Not aggressive as she'd somehow expected. They stood face to face next to the window as they kissed, the lights of L.A. twinkling below, seemingly in approval. When their tongues met, Monica knew.

This was going to be good.

She could feel Charlie's hands gently run up her sides, caress her shoulders and neck. One hand circled behind her, running up and down her back, then gently pulled her even closer, until she felt the softness of Charlie's silk nightgown against her nipples. She hadn't realized until that second that they were achingly hard.

She couldn't tell how long they kissed, it could have been five minutes, it could have been half an hour. All she knew was it was a feast she didn't want to end.

Charlie finally came up for air, then turned Monica to press her back against the window and slowly knelt in front of her. Monica giggled nervously.

"What?" Charlie looked up quizzically.

"I kind of thought that would be my job."

Charlie made a tut-tut sound.

"Please disabuse yourself of the notion that you're only here to service me. I'll get as much enjoyment out of pleasuring you as I will when it's my turn."

And with that she leaned forward and ran her tongue lightly along the smoothly shaved skin above Monica's lips. Monica drew in a deep breath, which turned into a gasp as Charlie found her clit. Monica lifted one leg, lightly resting her foot on Charlie's shoulder to give her better access.

"Oh! God, I hope this hotel has good soundproofing, I can be noisy."

"I was hoping that was the case," Charlie said with a wicked tone in her voice. Monica felt Charlie's perfectly manicured, and thankfully short, nails probe her entrance, then she gasped as two fingers slid easily inside her.

"Ah! Oh god, yes!"

Before she knew what hit her, Monica was coming. She had a momentary worry about the structural integrity of the window as she leaned back against it, but soon forgot about the thirty floor drop as waves of pleasure rolled through her.

Charlie didn't stop, as Monica rode through one orgasm straight into a second. Finally her leg started shaking and she sank to her knees, her face level with Charlie's. They kissed again and she could taste herself on Charlie's tongue.

"That... that was... that was really good..." Monica panted.

"I hope it's just the beginning of an amazing night," Charlie said, as she rose from her knees and sauntered towards the bedroom. Halfway there she paused and, with a sly look over her shoulder at Monica, hooked her thumbs under the thin straps of her peignoir. The fabric whispered as it slid to the ground. Monica licked her lips at the sight of Charlie's round bottom and the flawless skin of her back. Charlie smiled at her, then walked into the bedroom

Monica quickly crawled across the carpet to follow.

~~~

"So, how nosy am I allowed to be?" Monica asked, after the cheering following Mookie Betts' single had died away.

After brunch the next morning, Charlie had suggested either an evening concert at the Hollywood Bowl with the L.A. Philharmonic or a Dodger's game. Monica had been dubious that they could get good tickets for either at such late notice.

"If I say Dodgers, will you be disappointed?"

"Actually, no. I've always wanted to see the Hollywood Bowl, but classical music isn't one of my top ten favorite things to be honest. My Mets are in town anyway. I don't have any gear though, we'll have to go shopping."

After a quick phone call to the concierge service of her Amex Black account, Charlie scored two box tickets five rows behind home plate.

Never underestimate the power of money, Monica had thought.

"You can be as nosy as you want. If I tell you it's none of your business then you'll just have to take no for an answer." Charlie tossed a piece of popcorn up in the air and caught it in her mouth, something she'd been doing non-stop since the first inning, much to the amusement of Monica and several box ticket holders around them.

"Fair enough. What's your last name?"

"Davis."

"Charlene Davis. Doesn't ring a bell, you must not be that rich."

Charlie gave a ladylike snort. "Listen, the people who are rich whose names you know? That's because they either want everybody to know they're rich, or they're dumbasses with such a self-inflated sense of their own worth they can't help but make headlines."

"Elon?"

"He's both."

Monica laughed. "So how rich are you?" she asked, as Miguel Rojas fouled out to the catcher to end the inning.

"Rich enough that I never have to worry about money again. Not so rich if I accidentally fart on a commercial flight people will be talking about me on Twitter."

Monica laughed loudly. She'd spent the day becoming more and more comfortable around Charlie. It turned out she was only four years older than Monica. Charlie tossed up another piece of popcorn. It was a rare miss and it bounced off her cheek towards Monica.

"Hey, careful, I don't want to stain my new shorts!" She kept her tone light, but in her mind she was serious. After brunch they'd gone shopping in Beverly Hills, with Charlie getting herself a few business suits and also buying Monica a couple of outfits so she didn't have to wear the same dress all weekend. Monica had never dared set foot in some of the stores they went to, and the pair of shorts she was wearing cost more than any single item of clothing in her closet at home, so she was feeling very protective of them.

"I'll pay for your dry cleaning." Charlie adjusted the brim of the new Mets hat she'd gotten for the game.

Between innings, the P.A. system started playing the classic-rock standard Centerfield.

Put me in, coach, I'm ready to play today. Look at me, I can be centerfield.

"You'd think with the Dodger's budget they could afford a song from this millennia," Monica said.

"What? This is a classic! I can't believe you don't know who this is."

"I know who it is, but it's probably not a coincidence that Fogerty sounds like old fogey. So, you fly commercial? No private jet?"

"Those things, while convenient, are a vanity exercise. Having one would cost me three times what it costs me to fly first class for all the travel I do in a year. I only fly first class when I'm traveling overseas anyways. Business class is good enough for most trips. Plus, you know, I try to somewhat limit my carbon impact."

"Respect."

"I guess I do have to admit that I've charted a private jet on one or two special occasions," Charlie admitted, sounding embarrassed for the first time.

"No one's perfect. So how'd you get rich? Inheritance?"

Charlie gave her a glance and she wondered if she'd gone too far.

"Yes and no. Dad is a stockbroker and pretty well off. We lived on the upper east side, so yes I grew up pretty privileged, had a huge head start. But... I was a bit of a genius in high school, even for the private school my folks were paying for. Math and science and the like. I went to CalTech. I'd wanted MIT, but I didn't get in. Tech was my fallback school."

"Tech? Was your fallback school?"

"I know. Anyway, while I was at Tech I was concentrating on algorithms and such. I'd always been interested in markets because of dad, so I was double majoring in math and finance."

"Wow, show off."

"I know, right? What an asshole. Anywho, a lot of trading firms write algorithms to speed up the identification of market trends and allow them to pull the trigger on trades before other firms, which can let them ride a wave to bigger profits. We're talking in terms of seconds ahead of the other guys, sometimes microseconds. The margins aren't huge either, but if you're dealing in large enough quantities of shares and trades it adds up. It's called quant trading. Follow?"

"So far."

"Right. So, one semester on a whim, I started developing algorithms for a class project. And... one of them worked. Like, really well."

"Did you get an A?"

"Of course, but I actually didn't put that one in any of my research papers. Once I saw how effectively it was working I didn't want anyone to get a whiff of it. I started using it to day-trade with my trust fund. It wasn't huge, mid-six figures. But by the time I got my diplomas I'd multiplied it by an order of magnitude. As soon as I graduated, I started my own financial firm running a managed fund and within a year I'd eclipsed my dad's firm. Within three we were beating the average returns of just about everyone on Wall Street."

"How come I've never heard of you again?"

"I make it a point to stay out of the news. I don't need the publicity, we turn down more clients than we accept. VC and finance companies know who I am. A lot of them want to acquire my firm to get their hands on my algorithms, but I'm not interested in selling, at least not yet."

"Can't they do like, a leveraged buy-out thingy you read about in the news?"

"We're privately held and I own fifty-one percent of the voting shares. My parents and sister own fifteen each and the rest is divided up among my employees."

"Nice."

"Yeah. I like my little boutique firm. Well, little in the sense that we have a small number of high value clients, but our market value punches pretty far above our weight. I try to do some investing for different charitable endowments I favor, too. Plus, I still day trade for myself while I work."

"And the travel? What do you do out here once a month?"

"I invested in a tech incubator in conjunction with CalTech. When I say invested, I mean I fully-funded it, so it's basically mine now. This is the first year and I like to come out every month and see what's happening there."

"Couldn't you do all that by Zoom?"

"I could. But then I wouldn't get to have my company pay for me to come back to California once a month. I love New York, but I fell in love with L.A too when i was in school."

"Nice work if you can get it I suppose," Monica said, then looked up at the scoreboard. "One-one tie in the fifth. We should have a wager, my Dodgers against your Mets."

"What are the stakes?" Charlie said, interest in her eyes.

"If the Mets win, when we get back to the hotel, I'll do that thing I did to you last night that made you bark."

"I did not bark!"

"Sounds like a she-said, she-said situation."

"And if the Dodgers win?"

"You have to do that thing you did to me in the shower this morning again. And you have to buy me an official Shohei Otani jersey in the team store on the way out."

"I don't see how I can lose with those terms." She held out her hand and they shook on it.

~~~

"Any regrets?" Charlie asked her as the car pulled into LAX.

"Not in the least. This was a fun weekend."

"I'm glad. I'm looking forward to next month."

"Me too. Thanks for everything. Especially the jersey," Monica said, fingering the Dodger blue "17" on the chest of the snowy white baseball jersey she was wearing.

"It was my pleasure," Charlie said with a smile, remembering the night before when Monica had danced into the bedroom wearing nothing but her new jersey singing Put me in coach! I'm ready to play!

"I think I got more pleasure out of that bet than you did," said Monica, remembering the thing Charlie did to her in the shower again that morning.

"She-said, she-said."

"Have fun in Hong Kong."

"I'll bring you a souvenir."

As the driver got out to fetch Charlie's bag from the trunk, they leaned towards each other to share a kiss. It lasted until the car behind them honked impatiently.

"Tell the driver where you want to go. The car is paid for until five o'clock."

Monica watched the driver hand Charlie her bag, then turned to watch her walk into the terminal as the car pulled away.

"Where to miss?" The driver asked her.

"Can we go pick up my roommate and cruise the strip?"

"Absolutely."

~~~ September ~~~

Charlie: I took your suggestion and got a car with the divider for privacy this time.

Monica: Great! If you have the driver pick me up on his way to the airport, I can do that thing that makes you bark on the way to the hotel!

Charlie: I don't bark!

Monica: she-said, she-said

"How are you?!" Monica said as Charlie slid into the back seat. They shared a hug while the driver put Charlie's bag into the trunk, then slid behind the wheel.

"Good! It was a nice flight."

"Glad you made it."

"The Centurion, please," Charlie told the driver. After he acknowledged the destination and pulled out of LAX, Monica hit the switch to put up the privacy divider. She'd made sure to locate it as soon as she'd gotten in the car.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Charlene Davis!" Monica said, channeling her mother's best disapproving voice. It must have worked because Charlie immediately looked chagrined.

"What? Why?"

"I thought given our plans you'd have done me the courtesy of wearing a skirt." Monica said, dropping to the floor in front of Charlie's seat. The car had quite a bit more space than the one Charlie had hired the previous month. Monica slipped off Charlie's heels, then worked her slacks down her legs. The expensive lace panties followed. Monica tossed the clothing onto the seat then pushed Charlie's legs wide, planting her face between them.

"Oooooh, that's nice. You're really ready to go from the jump, aren't you?"

Monica raised her head briefly, "I want to make sure you get your money's worth since we only have the one night."

"I appreciate your work ethic... You're very—ah!—dedicated to the job! Oh! Goodness!

Monica had been hired for a new small budget film (she preferred that term to "low budget") as the principle set dresser. It was her first time she'd get a credit as the principal on a production. Charlie had been the first person she'd told, as they'd become quite prolific text buddies. Unfortunately, production started the next day, but she was determined not to let Charlie feel cheated on her L.A. trip this month.

Monica concentrated on plying her trade and very soon Charlie's breath quickened. Small sounds began to escape her lips, then she moaned, closed her eyes and slapped both hands tightly across her mouth. The result were sounds that while loud, were muffled enough the driver probably didn't hear. Probably.

"You better get presentable," Monica said a few minutes later, "we're about five minutes away and you know how those bellmen like to open the car door as soon as we pull into the driveway."

"That was amazing, Mon!"

"Good start to the evening?"

"Very. Hand me my panties."

Monica briefly considered claiming Charlie's panties as a souvenir and slipping them into her pocket to tease her, but decided they were probably too expensive to steal even though Charlie would hardly notice the cost.

"So what's your pleasure tonight, since I have to leave tomorrow morning?" Charlie had been worried when she'd had a schedule conflict the first time Charlie had come back to town, but was pleased that Charlie seemed to actually mean it when she said she'd be understanding of Monica's commitments.

"I thought since we had time constraints we'd just stay in tonight and order room service," Charlie said as they pulled into the semicircle of The Centurion Hotel's driveway.

"A whole night in a hotel? Sounds dreadfully boring. Whatever will we do with ourselves?"

~~~

"I could get used to this," Monica said with a contented sigh. She stretched, lifting one leg out of the bubbles of the huge tub and pointing her toes to the ceiling. There was easily room in the tub for at least a couple more people.

"You're so graceful," Charlie said. "Gymnast?"

"Field hockey."

"Oooh, I bet you looked good in those little plaid skirts."

"I think I still have mine somewhere. I could bring it next time to wear for you."

"That sounds fun. I never dated an athlete in school, only other nerds. I'm going to turn off the jets, the bubbles are getting too high. I don't want soap in my fish."

"Good idea," Monica picked up her chopsticks and reached for another piece of sushi. It wasn't quite as amazing as the trendy place where they had gone the month before, but still top notch. Charlie had suggested it, because they could eat it while in the tub. The look on the room service waiter's face had been priceless when Charlie had asked him to put the cart next to the huge jetted tub in the spacious bathroom.

"Now that you're filthy rich I imagine that you've dated your share of supermodels and Olympic athletes though?"

"Not sure how filthy I could be after an hour in these bubbles," Charlie mock-complained. "But no, I was serious when I said I don't really have much time for dating. I work insane hours and travel so much that every relationship I've tried to start has died in the crib."

"Shame," Monica said, "You're a lot of fun to be around."

"Lots of women have said that, but then when they only get to see me maybe once a week and then after the third or fourth time I call to cancel because something came up, well..." She shrugged, sending a cascade of bubbles spilling down her breasts.

"I can see why you're into what we've got going then. No strings or pressure. I'm your beck and call girl."

"Monica Choi, now who's channeling Pretty Woman?" They shared a laugh. "What does 'Choi' mean? Do you know anything about where it comes from, your family history?" Charlie asked as Monica reached for her wine.

"Mmh, this sauvignon blanc is really good by the way," Monica said after a sip and sat her glass back on the edge of the tub. "Choi means 'mountain' or something like that. It's one of the twenty or so most common family names in Korea, like Park or Kim. I have no idea where we got it or anything."

"Have you ever been to Korea?"

"No. I've thought about it. It would be cool to visit there. But I don't speak a word of the language, I'd be JAFO."

"What's 'jaffo'?

"Just another fucking tourist."

"I'd think you'd have a lot to learn and experience, going back to your homeland."

"Okay, stop that."

"What?"

"My homeland? That's some serious white people thinking. My family have been Americans since well before World War Two. My great-grandparents fled the Japanese occupation and somehow made it to California. My grandparents spoke a little Korean, my mom and dad don't speak any. We're Americans."