They say money doesn't bring happiness. Well, I have a lot--an obscene amount--and I'm not sad. The incredible stories I have, I'm not ashamed to say, are thanks to my incredible fortune.
How should I begin telling this story? Maybe with John...
One day, I got a call from John. How should I describe him...? He's a friend, though not really what you'd call a friend, since I know almost nothing about his personal life. In truth, he's a headhunter who works for me--but not exactly the kind you might be imagining...
John is the guy who knows my taste in women, who knows I don't have time and prefer convenience and, often, discretion. And John knows more or less how much money I have (which is definitely not a small amount). He's already "arranged" private parties for me with models, beauty queens, and even a few very famous celebrities. It's a pity, really, that I can't tell you who John has managed to bring for my pleasure--women that are truly desired and well-known. John knows I can afford these luxuries. He knows where to find these girls, and of course, he gets hefty commissions for making my fantasies come true. But this time... well, this time John truly outdid himself.
I was in Buenos Aires, and John flew in to meet me. He scheduled lunch at a luxurious restaurant in the city. Yes, we're talking about that level--John travels the world to find "gems" for me and travels back to present them personally. When I arrived at the restaurant, I found John sitting beside a stunning young woman.
"Hello, Mr. Smith, this is Camila," John said, introducing the new prospect.
Usually, he doesn't do this sort of thing in person--bringing the girl himself. But I understood that this time he wanted to surprise me. And you'll soon understand why... But I must say, I liked what I saw when the girl stood up to greet me. Her beautiful blue eyes were like beacons, drawing attention instantly. She wore a floral dress, long enough to end just above her knees; her black, straight, well-groomed hair reached down to her round little butt. Her skin was very fair, she must've been about 5'7″. The dress revealed a lovely cleavage; I spent so much time staring at her breasts that I took a while to notice she had a stunning face and a jaw-dropping smile. I've seen many hot women in my life--and still, this girl impressed me.
"Hello, Mr. Smith, it's a pleasure. I'm Camila. John told me about you," she said, speaking my language fluently, though I guessed she was either Colombian or Brazilian if not Argentine. "He said you're a busy man and you like to have some fun now and then," Camila continued, exuding confidence and charm. "I'm sure we'll have some very special moments."
I was so taken by Camila's beauty and confidence that I didn't notice a few things. The table reserved for our lunch was large. And the waiter seemed to be waiting for more people before taking our orders.
"Pleasure, Camila. Tell me more about yourself?" I asked, still clearly impressed. John had definitely kept this one under wraps.
"Well," Camila replied without hesitation, "I'm from Colombia. I'm a model, and I turned eighteen the day before yesterday. By the way, John told me you're a generous man. I won't beat around the bush--I think I deserve a gift from you. A generous one."
Her tone--openly asking for gifts and money--didn't shock or offend me. A man like me doesn't have time for romance or long foreplay. I prefer direct women. John knows that and probably coached her to be this way. On the contrary, the confidence and charm in Camila's every word had me excited already.
"And you think you'd make a good sugar baby for me? You're stunning, no doubt, but there are so many others... Though I have been feeling a bit lonely lately."
Camila, once again, responded instantly:
"Mr. Smith, from today on, I'm absolutely sure: your lonely days are over." She said it with a smile, full of charm and confidence.
Excited, I finally turned to John:
"She's perfect! How do you find these treasures?"
"My friend, relax. This is just the beginning..."
John gestured to someone at the back of the room, and what happened next completely floored me. Four girls walked toward our table. Four exact copies of Camila. Four extremely beautiful, young women with firm breasts and butts and blue eyes. Four jaw-dropping girls. Four girls identical... to Camila.
"Well, Mr. Smith, these are Valentina, Sofia, Luna, and Isabela." The girls laughed. John probably mixed up their names, but who could tell? The one I met is Camila. They're quintuplets.
The waiter brought me a glass of water without me even asking. I took a deep breath, trying to let the idea settle in as the girls took their seats.
"Five?!" I said. It wasn't a question or an exclamation--it was just my brain catching up.
John replied with a smirk:
"It happens once every 60 million births. It happened eighteen years and two days ago. And here they are, right in front of you."
The girls were attracting the attention of the entire restaurant. Camila alone had that power, let alone her and her four sisters.
"You're identical quintuplets? All born on the same day?" I asked, the first dumb question that came to mind.
"Yes, we're identical, although each of us has her own personality. You'll get to know us better soon. Oh, I'm Sofia," one replied sweetly.
The waiter returned to take our orders, but I was so dazed I only had the appetizer. I finalized everything with John--my friend who isn't a friend, a headhunter--but maybe you'd call him something else: guardian angel, devilish broker, genie in a bottle. He had already reserved a luxury dinner for us, followed by a tango show near the Teatro Colón. And a suite in a high-end hotel to host the real event afterward. In fact, everything had already been arranged ahead of time. John knew I would say yes. The girls knew it too. I gave each of them a kiss on the lips and headed back to my hotel.
At this stage in life, over forty years old, I'm not the kind of man who gets anxious because of women. But in this case--I was. Oh, I was.
Of course, I asked each of them their names--and miserably failed to get them right the rest of the evening. I'll probably mix them up in the description below too--but each of them was dressed like this:
Valentina wore a long black silk dress, tight to the body, with a high side slit and a structured neckline. The fabric had satin details for a touch of sophistication. She completed the look with large gold earrings, a minimalist bracelet, and a black clutch. On her feet, thin golden high-heeled sandals. Her hair was styled in an elegant bun, revealing her neck, and her makeup featured smoky dark eyes and intense red lipstick, highlighting her commanding presence.
Sofia went for a soft-colored midi dress with thin straps and a romantic neckline. Her look was delicate, yet calculated. She wore discreet jewelry, like a pearl necklace and small earrings, along with a pearly clutch. On her feet, nude mid-heeled pumps. Her hair flowed in gentle waves, and her makeup was light, with a fine eyeliner and a soft pink lipstick that added to her fragile appearance.
Luna wore a vibrant red slip dress, satin fabric, flowing silhouette, and a low back. Her style was sensual but unpretentious. She had long crystal earrings and a small leather clutch. On her feet, metallic stiletto sandals. Her hair was down and slightly tousled, as if she hadn't tried too hard--yet looked impeccable. Her makeup had a natural glow, golden eyeshadow, and a cherry-red lipstick.
Isabela wore a deep wine-colored gown, classic and elegant, hugging her silhouette without excess. The fabric had a subtle shine, like silk. She wore fine, understated jewelry--diamond earrings and a white gold bracelet. Her clutch was minimalist, and her shoes were sleek black stilettos. Her hair was perfectly styled in a low, neat bun. Her makeup was refined, with well-defined eyes and a deep burgundy lipstick that spoke of her flawless taste.
Camila, finally, dared with a short black dress--lace or leather--tight to the body, with strategically placed cutouts and a plunging neckline. She went for bold accessories, like long silver earrings and a choker. Her clutch was black leather, and her shoes were either knee-high stiletto boots or strappy heels. Her hair was loose and voluminous, with defined waves, and her makeup was dramatic, with smoky eyes and a dark red lipstick, crafting a provocative and intense look.
Each one of them, in her own way, turned heads as they entered the restaurant--oozing sensuality and sophistication as they prepared for what would be an unforgettable night in Buenos Aires.
"Hello, daddy," one of them said. I think it was Luna, but I couldn't be sure. I gave each of them a kiss on the lips and we ordered food and drinks.
