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I snort out loud at my own advice. Is it even true? My girls swear by my speech, so fingers crossed…
And of course, I can’t forget my absolute favorite. My own personal motto. One I live by. The tagline the girls of Vegas have come to know me for…
Never. Fall. In. Love.
They chant those words at my training. Whisper them to me when they pass me in the hallways of the Sugar Daddies office. It’s our anthem. Our battle cry. We do what we do, we get paid, we feel nothing.
My eyes land on a white dress. It’s got a fluttery skirt. Capped sleeves. Something a man with daddy tendencies would surely love. I pull it out from the closet.
I hold it over my body, checking my reflection in the mirror.
White. Blindingly white. Virginal white.
For… a virgin.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
And I can’t believe I’ve gotten away with harboring this secret for so many years. I’m overwhelmed with guilt. How could I be such a fraud for all these years?
For a decade, I hired and trained escorts all while keeping my pussy perfectly pure. With a degree in Business Management, a deep love of research, and an overactive imagination, I’ve pulled it off.
Up till now.
I owe it to my girls to rock the fuck out of this night. To blow the mind of this Sugar Daddy. To earn this client’s repeat business.
Thirty minutes later, I’m showered, shaved, lotioned and potioned. Perfume and light makeup. Hair shining like a mermaid. Dressed in my fluttering white dress and silver strappy heels.
I look the part. Now, time to play the game.
It’s only a few blocks, but I don’t want to get sweaty, so I order an Uber. The driver does a double take, his jaw dropping. I take it as a good sign. “Vegas, Baby, please.”
“You got it.” He sneaks glances at me out of the rearview mirror.
I hold in a grin. My nerves dissipate. This should be a piece of cake.
We reach the hotel. I grab my bag and thank the driver. I go to exit the car, but as I stand, the world starts to go fuzzy, dark. “Whoa.” I slump back down on my seat.
The driver turns over his shoulder. “Miss. Miss. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I dismiss his concerns with a wave of my hand.
“You look a little pale. Are you feeling alright?”
Damn. Did I forget to eat again? I’ve been so nervous all day… I must not have. Let me think. What was the last thing I put in my belly.
A bottle of white wine, last night.
Two espressos this morning.
After coffee, remembering I was just hospitalized for not eating, I took the time to make myself an egg white and spinach omelet. Later, I sliced up an apple, too tense for anything heavier.
“I think I’m okay. Let me just rest here for a second. Catch my breath. Do you know the time?”
“Seven-o-five.”
“I’m late.”
“You need to eat something.” He pulls a package from the console. Chocolate candies.
A little sugar. Perfect. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” I open the package, nibbling on them.
“Don’t worry, just rest. Here—have some water.” He reaches in the console retrieving an unopened bottle of water and hands it to me. “Please. Drink this.”
I drink half the bottle of water. Thank him again. I make a second attempt to leave the car.
White stars pop into my vision. I’m still a little dizzy. Nauseous. I lean back in the seat. Close my eyes.
“Miss. Miss.” The driver’s panicked voice swirls around in my mind.
A second voice breaks into the cloudy fog. This one is assertive. Confident. “I’ve got her.”
Strong hands slide beneath my arms, lifting me from the car. Leading me to the sidewalk. I grasp for his shoulders, steadying myself.
The sugar finally hits my bloodstream. I’m feeling better now. My gaze focuses on his face. He looks… familiar. I know him from somewhere. “Gabriel? Lord? From the gym?”
“Yes. That’s me.”
“I’m lucky you were passing by and saw me. I had no idea how I was going to get out of the Uber… can you help me to the lobby? I’ve got to meet someone.”
“A date?”
“Yes. And I’m late.”
His gaze is a warning. “I’ll forgive it. This one time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m your client. And I hate delays. But this one time I’ll let it slide.”
He’s my date? The owner of Spynners? The man that chewed me out for not having an emergency contact number listed. I give a little involuntary shiver. Who knew stern could be so... gah... sexy?
He gives me a firm stare. “Miranda, what have you eaten today?”
“Not much…”
“After passing out in my studio, and being hospitalized, you still haven’t begun to take your health seriously?” His tone is stern. Borderline angry.
Maybe it isn’t so sexy. My hackles rise. What business is it of his? “I’m a busy woman.”
