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To be honest, I’m a little surprised that I’m being so open with Marcy because obviously, it’s not every day that you’d bring up your ex and your penchant for sex parties while on a date. Still, the beautiful woman’s not like other girls, and she nods thoughtfully.
“I see. So Sanctum helped you through your divorce, hmm?” she asks gently. I nod.
“Yes, and it’s a good fit too. After all, here, I can have a great time with a woman and yet there are zero expectations for anything long-term. The no-strings attached set up has given me the best of both worlds: hot sex and good company, without the aggravations of a real relationship.”
But then I pause because I’m not sure, but I think I see Marcy’s face fall slightly. Just as quickly, she smiles brightly and stands up. It must have been my imagination because no hostess would ever be upset hearing a statement like that. It’s just the truth, and what the girls get paid for. She smiles brightly again and speaks.
“Yeah, I can see why it would work. Plus, I like that about this place, too. I mean, I meet tons of handsome men and get paid to have fun. Besides, I’m way too busy between my three jobs to have much of a social life, so working here handles that part for me.”
I nod, frowning a little. “But you’re what, twenty-two? Twenty-three?”
“Twenty-four,” she shrugs, a little too casually.
I nod.
“Shouldn’t you be out exploring and enjoying life, going on bad dates, and making those kinds of memories? It’s a little young to be so jaded.”
But Marcy just shrugs. “Trust me, I do not need to spend my days dating the weirdoes of New York City,” she assures me with a small laugh. “Besides, that’s just the way it is. Some girls have to work for a living, and I happen to be one of them. Unless you’re offering to be my sugar daddy?” she jokes with a mischievous grin.
But what Marcy doesn’t realize is that it’s a possibility, if she really wants it. “Well I am happy to pay for your time, sweetheart,” I say in a casual voice. “I understand how the club works.”
Marcy flushes. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it,” she responds quickly. “I was just teasing.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine,” I growl. “I mean, I’ve never thought of myself as a sugar daddy, so it’d be new to me. But honestly, I have more money than I know what to do with and spoiling you is something I’d like very much.”
She bites her lip. ”
Marcy looks surprised. “But you could do so much— travel, start a new company, anything you want. Or you could save it for Vivi. It’s her inheritance, after all.”
I pull Marcy to me, and slowly run my fingers along her bare arms. She shivers beneath my touch, and it only makes me want to touch her more. “No sweetheart,” I breathe in her ear. “I don’t think you realize how much I have. I sold my company last year for over ten figures, so I’m swimming in it now. I’ve got Vivi set up for life and then some, and I’ve been bored out of my mind for almost a year now, so yeah, I’d say spoiling you is very much a priority. It works for both of us, so why not?” I whisper into her sweet shell of an ear. “You get what you want, and I get what I want,” I say, reaching one big hand up to squeeze a luscious tit. Fuck, it feels so good and she moans as I twist her nipple through her thin top.
“I like spending time with you too, Mr. Michales,” she pants breathily. “Mmmm.”
I feel my cock jerk. “Good,” I decide. “Then it’s settled. We’ve got our little deal, and you won’t have to worry about money anymore, sweetheart. It’s taken care of. You’re taken care of.” Then, I kiss the curvy girl hard on the mouth, sealing our agreement. After all, Marcy is mine, bought and paid for now, and that’s how I like it. Or is it? Only time will tell, I suppose.
8
Marcy
* * *
I dash down the busy sidewalk, already fifteen minutes late for my date with Pet. But fortunately, my friend is used to my insane schedule, so when I texted her that I was running behind, she was sweet about the whole thing.
Take ur time, she texted back. Np.
But now, I’m finally here, and I dart into a cute little coffee shop to see Petunia, snuggled into a corner couch, sipping an iced latte. She waves eagerly as I make my way across the packed shop.
“Sorry!” I murmur as I bump past someone who’s only barely able to balance his latte. “My fault,” I apologize. As usual, I’m carrying three different bags, and my hair is flying about my face. My armpits are sweaty and I probably have BO too. Ugh. When will this relentless summer end? I moan to myself. Meanwhile, Pet looks cheerful and put together.
