My lips stuck together as they usually did when my mouth was this dry. It usually was when I talked to this delectable young woman.
"It's a simple problem, really," the girl said. Her deep chocolate eyes burned into mine. "I can't make decent money without an education, and I can't get an education without money."
She leaned forward a few degrees, though I couldn't tell whether she did it to emphasize her point or show me some cleavage. The latter she had. Creamy smooth skin, pale, and draped over small but perfectly shaped breasts. Her top was thin enough that saw her nipples making little buds.
I forced myself to look back at her face and asked "So how can I be of help?"
"I need a Sugar Daddy. I really do. It's the only good answer."
I thought about the concept for a moment. She had some logic. She lived day to day with a series of physically hard minimum wage jobs. Her mom lived on a disability check; her drunken father had died before she finished middle school.
In my conversations with her, she had shown herself to possess a good vocabulary, intense motivation and exceptional looks. She had just celebrated her twenty-first birthday last week. She had some logic.
And when I say looks, I mean more than the blonde hair that surrounded her face like the velvet in a jewelry box. She had those enormous dark eyes, a wide mouth with smooth sensual lips, and high cheekbones just saved from gauntness with a layer of subcutaneous fat. She showed a hint of dimples. Her nose had a tiny crook at the end, almost unnoticeable, something she certainly obsessed over.
She smiled easily, showing straight white teeth and her laugh seemed genuine. Minimalist eyebrows. The dark eyeliner she favored enhanced the Hersey of her eyes. Sweet Brown, like translucent dark sugar.....
Celsey, one of those names that constantly sought mispronunciation, very clearly wanted a way to use what assets she had to gain those she wanted. But was she hinting or thinking out loud?
"Have you given this enough thought?" I asked, more to gain time for my own thoughts than to gain information. My hardening lap demanded a few seconds at least.
"Look, I like nice things. I drive a BMW – not a new one, but it's nice. I worked and saved to get it, and now some asshole plowed into me at an intersection and it's destroyed. He has shit insurance, and I have what I can afford, which leaves me without a decent car."
She twisted in her chair, tugging at the tiny skirt that displayed her very nice long legs. "I've started Community College twice, and both times I couldn't stay because I don't quite qualify for any scholarships and I can't make enough while I'm in school to stay there. I need a Sugar Daddy."
"How do you see that working?" I asked. "I mean, hotels rent by the day, apartments by the month, houses for years. Why not marry some guy your age?"
"I've lived with two, both looked fine for a few weeks, but as soon as my school cost more than their beer or sports stuff they started in on me to quit." She huffed emphatically. "No guy my age seems to have the maturity I need. Or the cash."
"Well, in my opinion, what older guys would want is access. Access to your body, for whatever stuff they wanted to do. You OK with that?"
"You think old guys invented blow jobs and anal?" Anger clouded her face briefly. "I'm pretty desperate. I don't want to wind up beaten to death, but what else do you think they could want?"
