Sugaring Mai

Author's note:

This story is a bit of a departure for me. Most of my stories to date have featured themes of reluctance/non-consent. Those themes are here, but are extremely mild in comparison. This story is closer to boy-meets-girl.

Also, this is only my second try at mixing the male and female perspectives into the same story. My past efforts have been one or the other, with the only exception being my recent BDSM story 'Claiming Khym'. You'll find it's also one of my shorter stories, although I don't believe I've skimped on anything, especially the sex.

BTW, I *really* did think I'd finish this story in time for the lunar new year!

This is a work of fiction. All characters are over age eighteen. Thank you for reading!

*****

Brother's Coffee? 3:00? Vince.

So that was his name. Vince.

"Uh, hello?" Another impatient customer waited to be rung up. Waffle and tea.

"Oh, sorry." Mai poked at the cash register's unfamiliar keys. Where was the one for tea? Evan after a month the simple job of cashier sometimes flustered her. "Six forty-two."

Another fleeting transaction. Another credit card receipt. Only the man named Vince had said more than two words to her. She took another peek at the note he had slipped into her hand.

Mai had noticed him the first week. Everyone had been in such a hurry, rushing back to their office to gulp a soda and bolt down a dry, packaged sandwich. Only the man seemed to take his time. Mai would watch him picking over the fruit or carefully toasting whole grain bread. He obviously kept in shape.

"You're new," he had said the first day.

"Yes," she replied, quickly turning away. Punching at the keys she had charged him for too many oranges.

"It's okay," he chuckled. "I was actually thinking of buying eleven of them."

Customers came at predictable times. Two heavy women came down together just before breakfast ended. A handsome young man frequently showed up at 8:00, filling a medium coffee with astounding amounts of sugar. Maintenance workers coming off of their shift occupied the same table every day, talking loudly about a sport that Mai didn't understand. There was so much of American culture that baffled her.

"I see we're both morning people," the man had joked. As always, he was one of the first to arrive when the cafe doors opened.

"I'm not really a morning person," she had said. "I have to be here."

"Well, so do I!" he had countered. "Gotta put bread on the table."

"Okay," she had said shyly. Whatever 'putting bread on the table' meant. Would she ever understand this impossible language?

The man must be successful, and not just in the way that almost anyone working in the building must be. Others showed him deference, yielding politely as he moved about, or going out of their way to greet him. He was respected.

"Is it fresh?" he asked her one day, holding up an apple. His eyes were locked on hers.

"I..." she stammered, reaching out. Mai's tiny hands brushed the apple, brushed the man's strong fingers. She giggled. "I don't know..." His eyes were bold.

"I think it's really fresh," he had said, a twist to his smile. He bought the apple and took the first bite in front of her.

Mai knew when a man liked her. Plenty of her countrymen had shown interest back in Saigon. Before her visa came in, Mai had assumed she would marry one of them. Now, in America, nothing was clear. American women were so flashy, their jewelry and flesh on display, their voices loud and insistent. What man would want a woman who stood barely five feet tall?

Vince did. The note he had slipped her that morning confirmed it. And yet it was impossible. The man must be fifty at least. It wasn't unusual in her culture to marry a man as much as ten years older, but more than twenty? Her parents would never approve. A man didn't just need to give her children, he had to be there to support them. Her parents would never accept a foreigner.

Her parents were far away.

***

Ten sugar packets lined up the long way took up the width of the table. Turning them so the narrow sides were aligned took twelve. The idle exercise calmed Vince's agitated mind.

Would she even come, he wondered? Did he really want her to? He had flirted with Mai on what was little more than a whim. She was unlike any woman he knew. Her English was limited, her education almost certainly minimal. She worked in a service industry job completely unlike the engineers, analysts, and designers that inhabited Vince's professional and personal worlds both. She was tiny.

Yet the attraction was undeniable. Her movements, undisguised by the loose uniform she wore, suggested grace and confidence. Nor was her body consistent with the stereotype of Asian women that Vince had come to accept. She had a surprisingly round butt, and full breasts. Vince found himself fantasizing about her, once becoming so hard that he had to linger at the dairy cooler until his erection eased. What was it about the woman?

"Vince?" A soft voice behind him. She had come in the other door.

"Oh Mai, hi!" Vince half rose before the girl seated herself primly before him. She had partially changed out of her work attire, still sporting the plain black trousers, but had put on a grey sweater with sewn-in beads. Its generous dimensions failed to hide her womanly body. "Thanks for coming."

"It's okay," she said. The dusky-skinned woman settled in across from him, draping an elaborate handbag across the back of the chair. Her hair was still up in the bun she wore at the cafe.

"Would you like a coffee?"

She did. The brief errand gave Vince a chance to settle himself. Seeing her so close was intoxicating. The young woman seemed to convey both sexuality and vulnerability. He wanted her so much. Fantasies of undressing her, of penetrating her, crowded his mind. His organ stirred. For a moment he forced himself to focus on the decorations the coffee shop had put up for the holidays, but had yet to remove. Anything to chase the inconvenient thoughts from his mind.

"Care for sugar?" Returning to their table Vince made a joke of expansively gesturing toward the packets he had lined up earlier. If she noticed or understood the joke, there was no clue.

"Have you been here a while?" she asked. Or rather, she said something more like

You been here while?

To Vince it made no difference. She sounded delightfully exotic.

"No, I uh... I just got here. Our satellite office is nearby and I had business there today." Immediately, Vince regretted his phrasing. Would the young woman even understand what a satellite office was?

"Okay," she said, then after a pause spoke again, surprising Vince. "You want to date me?"

The bluntness of her question put him off. Vince had been carefully rehearsing his proposal, considering a cautious approach. Mai had just scrapped those plans.

"Well uh, yes. I mean, if you like it?"

The girl took a sip of her coffee. Her hair, where the bun forced it into a turn made a little halo behind her, thick and dark.

"I'm young though," she said. Her eyes were fixed on his.

Blunt again, Vince noticed. "Ah, yes. I noticed. You're very sweet. And yeah, young."

"How old are you?" She was wasting no time on small talk.

"Fifty-three." He had already decided not to mask his age. It might even play to his advantage.

"I'm twenty-three," she said. Mai shook her head almost imperceptibly.

Vince cursed himself. He had hoped that Mai was a bit older, one of the majority of Asian women who didn't show their age.

"Yes, you're very-"

"I can't, sorry," Mai said, breaking in. "I think you're a nice guy, but too old."

You're an idiot,

Vince thought. What had made him even entertain the idea? He opened his mouth but closed it just as quickly. There was something else.

"Mai, do you mind me asking, why did you come here? Why meet me?" It was his turn to carefully watch her.

The girl had grabbed her bag as if to leave, but stopped. She said nothing, the moment stretching out awkwardly. Coffee shop patrons swirled past them. Something was keeping her here, Vince realized. At last she relented, speaking without raising her head.

"I thought you help me."

There it was! Just what Vince had hoped for. Reaching forward gently, he took the girl's arm.

'Of course, yes!" He gave her a little squeeze. "You have family back home."

Mai nodded, eyes still downcast.

"I can help you," he said. "Before the new year. Tet."

Her eyes shot up. "You know?"

Vince knew. Her relatives would have heard how large the wage of even a cashier was compared to their own. She would be expected to send red envelopes home for the lunar new year. What they wouldn't understand is how expensive everything is in the States. Mai wouldn't have much to spare after the basics of food, transportation, and shelter.

"I've been to Vietnam," Vince said. He smiled at her warmly. "It's a beautiful country. And I'm sure you'd like to help your family."

Mai nodded, her eyes searching him.

Vince gambled. "Look Mai, I know I'm too old for you, that we can't really be a couple." The young woman bowed her head solemnly. "But we could still see each other. Go on a nice date. Of course, I would give you a gift, too."

In his mind Vince had pictured the moment differently. He had planned on a more subtle approach. His words rang crudely in his ears.

Another achingly long pause. Mai kept her head bowed, twisting the handle of her mug left and right. A passerby might think she was purposefully ignoring him. Vince began to wish he had picked a place farther from his office. What if she caused a scene?

"An arrangement," she said at last.

"Yes," Vince replied after only a moment's hesitation. He was all-in at this point. "Mutually beneficial!"

With a sigh, Mai raised herself. "Excuse me," she said.

Vince could only watch her leave.

***

She still saw him. Early as always, Vince came to the cafe that week, selecting his yogurt or fruit. He still said hello, but little more. Was he ashamed for suggesting what he had?

Was she for considering it?

Mai wavered. On her way back home after the coffee shop, she remembered that her cousin had married an American. And a friend had as well. No, two friends had. All had either studied overseas or emigrated to the States. They seemed happy enough. Those men were older too, though not as much so as Vince. How different would this be, really?

But it was the 'arrangement' aspect that deepened her worries. Mai knew what it meant. The other women in the cafe would sometimes joke about having support. "

Damn, I need me a sugar daddy!"

they would say when money was tight, or "

Get your sugar daddy to pay for that!"

when discussing an indulgence. It was all for a laugh of course, but Mai gathered that the stigma wasn't that strong. Was it that different than being married and depending on a man for support?

She found herself considering it. Would he be gentle, undressing her slowly and kissing her body sweetly on soft sheets? Or would he be rough, treating her as property that he had paid for? Mai tried to banish the thoughts, busying herself with arranging the shelves or tidying up the coffee counter. Was her pussy wet?

Vince had been right about one thing. The lunar new year was swiftly approaching. Mai didn't have to look to know just how few of the strangely similar American bills her purse held. It wasn't enough.

Though conflicted, Mai made up her mind.

***

Lights dimmed, soft music, a bottle of pricey Washington State pinot... Vince had set out everything nicely. Condoms were tucked just out of sight.

He paced. The hotel suite was an indulgence of which he took full advantage. Vince walked to the window to peer out the blinds, then back to the coffee table to straighten the glasses, and to the bathroom to fuss over the towels. He adjusted the volume of the music. Would she even show up, he wondered? Would she be able to go through with it?

The shy look in Mai's eyes when she asked "Thursday evening?" had been achingly sexy to Vince. He had stumbled over his words in his haste to agree, babbling about what a nice evening it would be, and how he'd take her somewhere special for dinner. He was saved from further rambling only by the arrival of another customer in Mai's line.

It was the next day when the two found a more private space to chat that Vince learned Mai didn't want to be taken to dinner. Whether out of a desire for discretion or a wish to spend as little time in his company as necessary Vince couldn't be sure. He wasn't sure he cared. His desire to bed the young woman grew every time he saw her.

Now, with her arrival imminent, he was on edge, like a boy praying he would finally get laid after senior prom. The soft knock on the door was a relief.

Mai let Vince take her coat, her eyes taking in the room swiftly. A fuzzy sweater and surprisingly short skirt rode atop a pair of glossy boots. The coat held a faint whiff of perfume. She was achingly feminine.

Mai sat on the corner of the bed, perched a bit stiffly. Vince smiled, but seated himself on the little couch. "Wine?"

She seemed conflicted. Together on the sofa they'd practically be touching.

"Should I bring it to you there?"

That seemed to do it. Mai raised herself, pressing down on the folds of the diminutive skirt. Their knees brushed as she joined him.

"Here's to new friends," Vince said, raising his glass. Mai took only the tiniest, polite sip.

"I really don't drink," she said. Her eyes were dark, but expressive.

"It's okay. Mind if I do?" Vince laughed and took a sip. He knew some Asians handled alcohol poorly.

They made small talk. Mai, he learned, lived with a few other women in a shared house arrangement. They got along well enough, but Vince got the impression that she didn't get out much. She spoke briefly about her family back in Vietnam, smiling warmly when mentioning her brother's wedding. Their ceremony had taken place just before Mai had come to the States.

For his part Vince talked about his condo in the city, his cat, and his hobbies, including rock climbing and trekking. He was going to New Mexico in a couple of months. Mai smiled and nodded attentively, but otherwise responded little. The girl simply didn't have the context to understand his world.

He placed his hand on her thigh.

Mai's skin was incredibly smooth. Gently, Vince drew his fingers toward her knee. She allowed it, but when he went to repeat the motion she stopped him by placing her hand on his. Their eyes met.

"No?" he asked.

She held his gaze. There was vulnerability in her eyes, but there was resolve in the set of her jaw. Mai's hand was warm, her thigh soft. Vince ached to touch her further, to explore her body, but they were at an impasse.

The little speaker Vince had brought started on a new song, a pop ballad from the previous decade, catchy and slow. At once Mai's expression brightenened. There was opportunity.

"Dance?" Vince rose, taking Mai's hand and practically dragging the girl to her feet. He wouldn't let her reluctance win. Seconds later, one hand placed firmly on her lower back, her other hand entwined in his, they rocked gently. Not any particular dance steps, their motion was like that of every couple who has taken to the dance floor wanting no more than to hold their partner close. Gently, Vince guided them around the coffee table, to the edge of the bed, near the door, then back. Mai pressed next to him willingly, her small body melting against his. He felt the swell of her breasts, as she surely must be aware of his rapidly growing erection. She sighed, a release of tension. As the song ended, Vince kissed the top of her head.

Pulling away slightly, Mai searched his eyes. For a moment Vince thought they would pull apart, resuming their stalemate. Then, surprising him, the girl raised her head. Her eyes were closed. Vince leaned in for a kiss. Tentative at first, her lips remained closed. Vince persisted, and soon her mouth yielded to him. Their kiss became more open, wetter, and soon more passionate. She embraced him.

***

A confusion of desire swept through Mai. Seeing the man, her resolve to go through with their date had crumbled. Though well dressed and passably handsome, he was still old. Gray dominated his temples, and his hair was pulling back. Creases spread from his eyes and mouth. A friendly face, but one that had seen too many years. She began to think of ways to leave gracefully.

Then unexpectedly, as their bodies pressed together for the dance, something awoke. A man's arms held her. A man's scent greeted her. She was embraced and protected. Plus, there was the undeniable pressure of his urgent flesh against her. How long had it been since she had been taken to bed, made to feel beautiful and wanted? More than half a year. Too long.

The kiss settled it. Vince's eagerness first startled, then aroused her. His tongue was in her mouth, his hands seemingly all over her body at once. He wanted her. Mai stood on her tiptoes, unsteady but reluctant for the embrace to end.

One of them steered the couple toward the bed. Had Mai tugged Vince that direction, or had he nudged her? She found herself seated on the end of the bed, legs barely long enough to touch the floor. Before she could quite register what was happening, Vince had found the hem of her sweater and was tugging it up. Almost eagerly, Mai raised her arms. The fuzzy material tickled her as he slipped it off. Cool air found her skin.

***

Mai leaned back, resting on her elbows as Vince drank in the sight of her body. Her dark locks spilled across the girl's shoulders. He had only seen her at work, where keeping her hair up must be mandatory. To see her this way suggested new possibilities. Doors were opening.

She was much as he had fantasized. Full breasts pushed against her bra to form inviting brown curves. Her belly wasn't completely flat, but that was to be expected given her voluptuous build. She was equally the softness of youth and the swell of womanhood. Vince circled behind her, kicking off his shoes and joining her on the bed. With one hand he pushed her hair aside. He kissed her neck. Mai sighed again as Vincent trailed his fingers down her back. She made a small gasp when he unhooked her bra, but allowed it. Soon he had pushed the garment forward to slide down her arms loosely, to expose her.

Vince soaked up her softness. Silken smooth skin welcomed his exploration, as did her small, encouraging sounds. His fingers found the gaps between her breasts and the loose fabric of the bra. Vince cupped her ripe breasts, lifting them and teasing her nipples. In a moment he had hugged her to him, fondling her breasts while nuzzling and kissing her neck. Mai moaned, softly at first but with increasing intensity. Her breath was audible.

Their pace quickened. Vince eased Mai onto her back and pulled her bra free. To the older man, her look of apprehension mixed with desire was powerfully erotic. He had to possess her, was desperate to. Vince tugged off his shirt, uncaring where it fell. His t-shirt followed, and in a moment the two were embracing on the bed. Mai's mouth found his, her breasts pushed against his chest.

***

The man was ready for her, that much was increasingly obvious. Vince's penis pressed against her through his pants, a bulging presence impossible to ignore. Curious, Mai slipped a hand to his organ, squeezing and exploring it. He was bigger than the men she previously had slept with, but by how much? It was impossible to tell.

Vince grunted at Mai's attentions, but didn't stop his exploration of her body. Eager lips kissed her mouth, neck, and ear. Muscles on his arms and chest flashed or faded as his grip alternated between holding her tight or easing up to kiss and nuzzle her. Unlike her last lover, the American didn't focus solely on her breasts and mouth. He visited them, but the man's insistent tongue also found the hollows of her neck, her ears, and novel spots such as the inside of her elbow. Unfamiliar pleasure rippled through her even as he pressed his tongue against the soft part of her wrist. He teased her fingers.