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Warning: This is NOT an accurate representation of a sugar baby/sugar mommy arrangement. PLEASE be safe if you’re using one of these apps.

“Here’s how it works.”

I looked over the steaming rim of my plastic ramen bowl, the salty flavors dancing on my tongue. It was a little past midnight and my roommate Niko had just walked through the front door, smelling like stale cigar smoke and high-end cologne.

In her hands was three hundred dollars in cash.

That wasn’t even her full payment—that was only her tip for entertaining a balding old man all night.

I couldn’t say I wasn’t intrigued by her life. As someone whose diet revolved around the clearance bin at the supermarket and a daily dose of ramen, I could see the appeal of a life where you were taken care of.

“Give me your phone.”

Balancing the bowl in one hand, I handed her my cracked and abused phone. It was almost four years old, but changing it wasn’t really my priority right now.

She plopped herself down on our worn blue couch, her slight form barely making a dent in the cushions. Flicking through my phone, she toed off her heels so they clattered on the floor, before raising her legs to the couch, mirroring my cross-legged position.

“I’m downloading the app on your phone,” she commented as I slurped, fingers deftly typing in my passcode. We’d been roommates for almost four years; we didn’t have any secrets.

“Seriously, Nik,” I said around a mouthful. “I doubt any of these rich old men would want to spend an evening with me.”

She raised a pastel pink brow. “And why not?”

“Look at me.”

With my free hand, I pointed to the raggedy tank top and boxer shorts that had several holes in it.

She pursed her lips. “I know you’re not opposed to dressing a little slutty.”

A burst of color hit my cheeks. “Only on occasion. Most days I wake up feeling masc.”

I tugged at the dark curls that crowned my head in a pixie cut.

“For five hundred a night, you wouldn’t throw on a dress?”

I chewed on my bottom lip, pondering that question.

“That’s what I thought,” Niko said into the silence.

I tipped the last of the noodles into my mouth, thinking as I chewed.

“It would be nice to have money. Not a lot, you know. But enough so that I don’t have to struggle month-to-month.”

Niko looked at me over the phone, her painted pout curving into a soft smile. “I know, sweetie. I know.”

She tapped away on my phone, her long nails clacking on the cracked surface.

“All right, I’ve got you signed up as Ayme with a y. That ok?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Have you used any of these pics on socials?”

She thumbed through a few she’d selected from my camera roll.

I shook my head; I barely updated those spaces anyway.

“Good, good,” she murmured under her breath as she uploaded those pics. “I don’t want them reverse image searching you. People are so creepy.”

“I doubt I’ll get a match anyway.”

I downed a glass of cool water to chase away the lingering taste of salt on my tongue.

“Why do you always talk down to yourself? Have a little faith, boo. There are a lot of lonely people out there who’ll pay a hundred bucks an hour to chat a little. Flirt a little.”

“But that’s all, right?”

Niko nodded. “Unless you want more. That’s totally up to you. No judgement.”

I wrinkled my nose. “With those rich old men that come to pick you up? Um, no thanks.”

Her dark gaze landed on mine. “What about a rich old lady?”

My eyes widened. “Like Cate Blanchett?”

“Yeah,” she snorted. “I’m sure she trolls apps like these.”

“You know what I mean,” I said, leaning over to place my head on her shoulder so I could peek at what she was doing on my phone.

Pansexual student in my final year of college. Brown hair, brown eyes. 5’4. Reeeeeeally need a break from my books. Text me!

I could feel my nose wrinkling. “I sound like a teenager.”

“Some people like that.”

“Ugh.”

As she hit ‘save’, I asked: “Shouldn’t I write a little more? My hobbies, what I’m studying, what I love?”

“Sweetie.” Niko brushed her lips across my forehead. “No one cares.”

“Oh. Well. Okay.”

“I’m posting pics of you in your masc and femme looks okay?”

I sighed. “Sure.”

“See, the good thing about this app is that it secures the bookings for you. All sugar daddies and mommies are verified before they’re allowed to create a profile. After a date, you get to rate them and they’ll rate you.”

“What if I get someone with zero ratings?”

She made a thoughtful humming noise. “Then I’ll go with you. First rule of being a sugar baby: always pick a crowded place. No dark bars, no corner booths. An open location keeps everyone on their best behavior.”

I nodded against her shoulder.

“If they want to give you a gift, what do you say?” she asked me.

“Um, thank you?” I ventured.

“Wrong.” She bilecik escort slapped my thigh. The answer is, “Cash would be great, hehe.”

I grimaced. “Can you imagine me saying hehe?”

She snorted. “If you wanna get rich fast, you better get used to it.”

“I don’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t wanna be rich, you just wanna be comfortable. Got it.”

A little box popped up on my screen: Your profile is live.

“Great!” She handed me the phone. “Now you can go through the list of available patrons and see which you like best.”

“What if it’s a catfish situation?” I murmured, flicking through pictures of what looked like the same middle-aged white man with different names.

“It usually isn’t with this app. But for your first few dates, I’ll come along with you, all right? I’ll wait outside until you’re done.”

I caught my lower lip between my teeth, nodding as I continued flipping through the screen.

“God, it’s like old man Tinder.”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” She rose from the couch, reaching for the brown paper bag she’d brought home. “I ordered the Tomahawk tonight, knowing full well I won’t be able to finish it. You want some?”

My heart warmed at that. I knew she’d done that on purpose so that we could share a midnight snack together. “Did you think I’d say no?”

As she stuck the half-eaten steak on a pan for the oven, I joined her at our little kitchen nook slash study table, piling the books against the window so we’d actually have room to eat.

I continued scrolling absently, my heart plummeting even lower with each unattractive wrinkled face.

“Hey.”

Niko’s voice made me pause.

“Are you even looking at those pics? You’re not actually dating them. You just want their money. So look at what type of watch they’re wearing, the bags they carry. The quality of their clothing.”

“This is too hard. Can you just pick for me?”

I gave her the most hopeful look I could muster.

She set her manicured hands on her tiny hips. “You look like a needy golden retriever.”

“It’s my signature look.”

She rolled her heavily winged eyes. “I bet it goes down well with the ladies.”

“I would like to brag, but the answer is no, it doesn’t.”

She grabbed a bottle of water and sat across from me in the nook. I slid my phone to her.

Her fingers moved silently for a minute before she said, “Ooh.”

“Ooh what?”

“You don’t get a lot of women on this app. But hmm. No reviews.”

“So that means she hasn’t booked anyone before?”

I tried to peek at the screen but Niko was holding it at an angle.

She frowned a little. “Her last seen is about a week ago and her bio is empty. But she gets points for her picture, though. Very attractive. She’s obviously wearing Tiffany around her neck. And the bracelet looks like Cartier.”

Despite my earlier hesitance, my curiosity was piqued. “Let me see.”

She flipped the phone.

I gasped. I couldn’t seem to keep the air in my lungs.

“Oh my god.”

There was no way on earth that this was a real profile. It must be some sort of catfish situation. Surely.

She wasn’t smiling in the picture. It was a candid shot with her staring into a glass of red wine, the city skyline in the background. The setting sun was hitting her profile, bringing out the burnished chestnut color of her skin, highlighting notes of gold across the dip of her neckline.

She was perfectly polished, from the neutral square-shaped nails to the darkly arched feathered brows. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun at her nape—not an errant strand in sight.

My breath seemed to tumble out of my body. “I don’t understand.”

Niko’s gaze was fixed on me. “What don’t you understand?”

“Why would someone like that…” I struggled to find the words. “I mean, look at her.”

Niko flipped the phone back. “She’s very attractive. She has that boss bitch vibe, you know? The strict, no-nonsense bun. Those CEO-nude nails.”

“Exactly. This kind of woman can get literally anyone she wants. She could walk into a room and point at the nearest person and they’ll trip over their own feet trying to get to her.”

Niko pursed her lips. “You have a point. But I mean, what do you have to lose? Let’s say hi.”

My heart stuttered.

“What if she doesn’t like the way I look?”

“Then she doesn’t reply or she doesn’t pay a deposit to take you out—simple as that.”

Niko’s eyes widened slightly.

“What, what, what?”

“She’s online.” Niko flipped the phone back to me. “See that green circle next to her profile pic? That means she’s online. She wasn’t before, though. So she must’ve seen your message.”

I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat.

“Move over,” I said, joining her on the small bench. “I wanna see.”

Niko tapped back into the chat just as three dots popped up.

“Oh my god,” we said together, and the little zip of excitement in escort bilecik my belly became an overpowering wave. My breaths were leaving my body in little gusts as we waited, squashed together in the small space.

What’s your rate

A question without a question mark.

Niko answered for me.

$150 for the first hour and $100 for each subsequent hour.

I swallowed, the dry click of my throat echoing loudly.

“That’s a lot,” I whispered. “Maybe I should ask for less.”

Niko shook her head. “That bracelet she’s wearing goes for at least ten thousand dollars. She can afford you, sweetie.”

It was too much. Everything inside me tightened, waiting for the rejection.

Tomorrow, 8pm, Lava Bar.

Again, not a question. Not asking if I was available.

Niko was already typing.

Sure, that sounds nice. I’m free.

The app chimed, a notification box popping up.

$350 deposited to your wallet by Ananda.

Niko’s brows rose.

“That was the fastest deposit I’ve ever received,” she mumbled.

Is Ananda your first or last name? Do you want me to dress masc of femme? I’m fluid.

A one-word response.

Masc.

Niko and I shared a look.

Okay, see you tomorrow.

No response.

My heart was thudding so loudly in my ears I could barely hear anything.

“Sweetie, you okay? Just think about it as paid Tinder.”

I moistened my suddenly-dry lips. “None of my Tinder dates ever looked like that. Oh god, Nik. She sounds so scary. What’s with the one-word response?”

Niko didn’t seem fazed by that. “She’s probably busy or something. She looks like the kind of person that would plan things down to the very last minute.”

The chime of the oven made me jump.

“Why are you so nervous, sweetie? I told you I’ll be there with you.”

“I… I don’t know. I guess I thought it would be some ugly old man.”

She set the phone on the table. “You know what? Me, too. I’m kinda jealous.”

I blinked. “Jealous? Of me?”

“Well yeah,” she said, shooing me off her seat so she could retrieve the steak. “I’ve been on that app for months now and I’ve never found someone half as attractive as her.”

I opened my mouth to respond but she was still plowing ahead.

“And did you see how quickly she placed the deposit? Usually I’d have to spend sooooo much time trying to form a connection with them before they cough up.”

“So what does that mean?” I asked, scratching my scalp.

“She must’ve liked something she saw,” Niko commented, reaching for the pan with an oven mitt. The steak sizzled on the sheet, releasing a smoky/peppery scent. “Seems a little too good to be true, but I’m hopeful.”

“$350 for just 3 hours of my time. Crazy.”

“Oh yeah.” She transferred the large steak onto our only serving plate. “Before I forget, you have to sync your wallet with your bank account, otherwise the app can’t pay out.”

“Okay,” I said a little dazedly. Was it really this easy to make money? Then why the hell had I been on a budget for like four years?

“You know, just a few more dates and you can afford that ticket to go see your mom and grandma in Singapore.” She sat back down on her bench, pulling apart the steak with her fingers. “Keep this lady on the hook for a few weeks and you’ll be set.”

“Yeah, keep it casual.” Those words left my lips feeling slightly numb. “I can do that.”

“Good, now come help me finish this monster steak. Can you believe he paid $120 for this? Insane.”

She set a large chunk on my plate, but I simply picked at it, wanting nothing more than to reach over and grab my phone from her side of the table and look at that picture again. I must’ve built it up in my head, glossed over her imperfections… right? Right?

“Nik…”

“Yes, sweetie?” she said around a bite of her steak.

“I’m really nervous.”

My palms had started to sweat and I curled them into a fist, setting them on my lap.

“What time do you finish classes tomorrow?” she asked, slicing off more of the Tomahawk.

“Around 4ish. I think.”

“Then come home straight after. We’ll have a girly day and get you ready for the date. Okay?”

I tried to breathe through my nose so I wouldn’t look like I was panting.

“Okay.”

“There’s really no reason to be nervous. She saw your pics and she liked you. Now she wants to get to know you a little, that’s all.”

I nodded repeatedly, sending my curls bouncing around my temple.

“I promise you’ll be just fine. And I’ll be right there with you.”

“I’ll be just fine,” I murmured, but I don’t think I convinced myself with the tremor in my voice.

*

The Lyft dropped us off about a block down the street from the glass-lined hotel that housed Lava Bar. I glanced at my phone for the twentieth time in as many minutes.

7:48.

“We’re early,” Niko said, and I didn’t have to look up to bilecik escort bayan know she was rolling her eyes at my nerves. “Stop fidgeting. You look so good even I’m thinking about sneaking a taste.”

My cheeks colored at her compliment and I tugged at the dark tweed blazer that hugged my shoulders.

“You sure it’s not too much? Or too little?”

She slung her arm over my shoulder. “You look amazing, sweetie. Just trust me, won’t you?”

Under the blazer I wore a black mock neck top that set my skin aglow with its contrast. Dark denim and simple boots completed the look.

We made our way down the block, Niko chatting about anything and everything, her designer purse swinging in one hand.

“All right,” she said, stepping into the marble-tiled lobby of the hotel. “What are you going to do for this “Ananda” tonight?”

I tugged the blazer closed, pulling the button through its loop.

“I’m going to ask what she likes—her hobbies, her favorite music, where she vacations. I’ll let her talk and I’ll listen. I’ll say, ‘tell me more’ when she brings up certain topics.”

“Mmhmm. What else?”

“I’ll… flirt.” I had to force that word out. “Light touches on her hand or her arm. Tell her how amazing she looks.”

“Good, good. If it’s not weird, try calling her ‘Sweetie’ or ‘Honey’. I do that with the older guys I go out with and they generally tend to like it.”

I tried to swallow past the discomfort in my throat. “Umm… that may not work for me.”

Niko shrugged, ushering me into a waiting elevator. “Suit yourself.”

We glanced at each other in the mirror that lined the back of the elevator, taking in Niko’s little black dress and my dark outfit. In her heels, she was about an inch or so taller than me, and we kinda looked like we were dressed for a date. Or a night out.

I fussed with my curls again, shaking them out with my fingers so they lay perfectly across the right side of my temple.

“If you could glue those curls to your face, you would, wouldn’t you?” Niko asked, watching me in the mirror.

“I just don’t like it when they move around,” I admitted. “My forehead looks too big otherwise.”

She raised a brow. “You know what big foreheads are good for?”

I backed away quickly. “No, no, no, no…”

I couldn’t afford to have her lipstick stains on my skin.

She puckered up her lips, making kissy noises. “You’re lucky we don’t have much time.”

The elevator doors opened with a hushed slide, leading us straight into the dimly lit restaurant. There was a small queue ahead of us and I glanced at my phone again.

7:58

Oh shit.

If this line didn’t move, I was going to be late.

“It’s okay to make them wait, you know. Draws out the anticipation,” Niko said, watching me shove my phone down my pants pocket. “Maybe they’ll think you’re not going to show up. Or they’ll wonder if you walked in, saw them and left.”

I tugged on my coat again. “I’m more afraid of a reverse situation happening.”

She raised a pink brow. “If they look at you and leave, it’s probably because they’re afraid of how fast they could fall for a face like this.”

I’d long ago understood that accepting a compliment from Niko was like accepting a compliment from my mom—both of them rarely ever saw the worst in people. Even so, Niko’s sweet words lit my heart with a warm glow as the hostess asked for our reservation.

“It’s uh, under uh—”

Niko shot me an incredulous look as I stuttered.

“It’s under Ananda,” she supplied for me. “And I’ll have a seat by the bar if there are any available.”

“Great.” The hostess scrolled through her iPad and ticked something off her list with a quick flick of her fingers. “The other party is already seated. Follow me.”

Her heels clicked sharply on the dark marble tiles as we followed her around a curtained corner and onto an open patio with only four tables. The wind whipped around us, carrying the scent of sizzling meat from the open grill up on a higher deck.

“Oh fuck, she’s real,” Niko whispered under her breath, her dark eyes cutting across the patio.

Or at least that’s what I thought she’d said as blood rushed into my ears, relegating any noise around me to the background.

She was cradling a glass of deep red wine in her hand, swirling absently as she looked out into the skyline. The warm lighting at each table cast a beautiful glow on her dark skin, caressing the sharp tip of her nose and the rounded contours of her cheeks. Her lips were painted a delicate rose pink, the only pop of color on her dark ensemble.

She lifted the glass to her lips, taking a small sip, those sculpted curves closing over the rim in slow motion like something out of a movie.

I couldn’t feel my hands—could people normally feel their hands?

My breaths were escaping my lips in tiny pants, my lungs struggling to retain any air.

Then she set the glass down, reaching for the button on her jacket and…

I think the fuse in my brain blew.

Someone was saying something, but I could barely hear it past the rapid pounding of my own heart.

Under her blazer was a simple tank top that swooped low, showcasing the swells of her breasts like inviting twin beacons alight under the glow of the individual table lamps.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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