Sugar sugar baby

[14] Dreams

Graduation day came and went like a blur. One minute I was sitting in some uncomfortable gown in the California sun, the next, Vanessa had swept me off my feet and whisked me away to this fancy-as-fk, three-star Michelin restaurant in the heart of Los Angeles. The kind of place where the napkins were softer than your bedsheets and the staff probably earned more than I did.

Well, before Vanessa, at least.

She sat across from me, looking like something out of a movie. Vanessa always had that effortless glam to her. Her long, wavy black hair spilled down her shoulders, contrasting perfectly with her olive skin. Those huge melons of hers—she knew exactly how to flaunt them without being over-the-top. It was like a damn art form the way her low-cut dress teased just enough, but still kept things classy. The soft fabric of the emerald-green dress hugged her curves in all the right places, making my mind wander when I probably should've been focused on the dinner.

"To my graduate," she purred, lifting her wine glass toward me, her Italian accent rolling off her tongue like silk. That accent—fk, it always got me. She could've made ordering a burger sound sexy.

"To your support," I replied with a grin, raising my own glass of red wine. "I wouldn't have made it through those years without you."

Vanessa's smile widened. Her perfect, painted lips curled upward as her dark eyes sparkled. She looked every bit like the sweet, understanding woman everyone saw her as. To the rest of the world, she was some kind of angel. But I knew better—behind that exterior, she had this... control. A grip on me that I couldn't shake, not that I wanted to.

The first course arrived: foie gras terrine with truffle, sitting on a bed of brioche toast. It was the kind of food that looked like art—perfectly plated, small enough to make you wonder if this was supposed to be a snack or an appetizer. But the flavors? Fuck me, they were intense. The rich foie gras melted on my tongue, and the truffle just... amplified everything.

Vanessa didn't touch hers at first. She watched me eat, her eyes tracing every movement of my lips as I took each bite.

"So, Tristan," she began, her voice honeyed and sweet, "Now that you're officially a graduate... what's next?"

I put my fork down, wiping my mouth with the napkin. "Well... I've been thinking about starting my own restaurant," I said, feeling a spark ignite inside me. "Something different, unique. A place that fuses global flavors, but in a way that's affordable, you know? Like, gourmet food but with street prices."

Her eyebrows raised slightly, but she didn't respond right away. Instead, she reached for her wine glass again, taking a slow sip, her eyes never leaving mine.

"And?" she asked, setting the glass down, her fingers playing with the stem. "What's stopping you?"

I let out a short laugh, looking down at my empty plate. "Money. Starting a restaurant in LA? It's not like I'm sitting on a fortune or anything. Even finding a decent place to rent costs a fk ton, let alone all the other shit like equipment, staff, permits..."

Vanessa leaned forward, her breasts pressing against the table slightly, drawing my attention as they always did. "You know I'm here for you, right?" she said, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I can help. Whatever you need."

My eyes lit up. "Wait—really?"

Her lips curled again into that sweet, understanding smile, but there was something else in her eyes—something sharper, more calculated. She nodded slowly, reaching across the table to place her hand over mine. "Of course, darling. You've worked hard for this, and I believe in you. If you need the funds to get started, I'll support you."

I blinked, taken aback for a moment. "Vanessa, I don't know how to thank you—"

She cut me off, shaking her head softly. "You don't have to. Just be... mine." Her thumb rubbed across my knuckles, and that familiar feeling of being completely under her control came rushing back. It was that soft, sweet dominance she always exuded. I was her boy, and she knew it.

Before I could even think of responding, the second course arrived. A perfectly seared wagyu beef filet, surrounded by a delicate drizzle of red wine reduction and resting on a creamy bed of potato purée. The meat was so tender I could've cut it with a spoon. I took a bite, the rich, buttery flavor melting in my mouth. It was like everything I'd eaten before was garbage compared to this.

I glanced at Vanessa as she finally took a bite, her lips closing around the fork with the same delicate care she used with everything. She let out a small, satisfied hum, and for a moment, I was distracted by the way her lips moved, her tongue subtly licking away any remnants of the sauce.

"Tell me more about your restaurant," she said after a few bites, her eyes locked on mine again. "What's the vision?"

I leaned back slightly, relaxing into the conversation. "Okay, so, imagine this: A place where you can get dishes inspired by street food from all around the world, but prepared with Michelin-level care. Tacos, ramen, kebabs, dumplings—all in one place, but done right, with fresh ingredients, vibrant flavors. The kind of place where people from all walks of life can come and eat something that reminds them of home, no matter where they're from."

Vanessa's eyes lit up for a brief second, but then she leaned back, considering. "It sounds... ambitious. But I like that. I like your ambition." She tilted her head slightly, her gaze almost predatory. "And I like that you trust me to help you make it happen."

I nodded, my mind already racing with possibilities. "With your support, I can make this dream a reality. I know it."

She smiled that sweet, maternal smile again, but her grip on my hand tightened. "Good. I'm glad you see it my way."

We finished the meal in a comfortable silence, though the tension between us was thick—electric. When dessert arrived, a delicate chocolate soufflé with a side of raspberry sorbet, Vanessa leaned in across the table again, her cleavage drawing my eyes as her fingers lightly brushed my arm.

"You know, Tristan," she murmured, her voice low and intimate, "I love watching you when you're excited about something. It makes me... excited too."

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. Without thinking, I leaned in, meeting her lips with mine. The kiss was soft, but charged with that underlying energy that always simmered between us.

When we pulled away, her eyes were dark, filled with something that was both sweet and dangerous.

"You're mine now, Tristan," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. "And we're going to make your dream come true... together."

I nodded, lost in her eyes, in the promise of success, and in the undeniable pull she had on me.

Q: What type of business would you want to start if you had the money?