Wait—I did forget about him…shoot. Lexi is highly allergic to cats. There’s no way I can bring Mr. Whiskers into her house, even for a night. And there’s no way I can give him up.
I hate to ask Lexi for another favor, but the sad truth is, I’ve been too busy to make friends. When I moved to Nevada for UNLV, I missed her like crazy. I couldn’t believe my luck when she texted me a few months ago to tell me she was moving to Vegas.
She’s giving me a place to stay, a job interview, and now I need her to help me find a temporary spot for Mr. Whiskers. Just until I get that diploma and can rent an amazing apartment, maybe even buy a house for me and my boo. I give him an extra cuddle, grab my phone, and sink down into my old beat-up leather recliner with the cat on my lap.
He nudges at my hand as I attempt to type my text. “Hey, quit it!” I give him a forehead scratch.
Hey Lex, sorry to be a pain but do you have anyone that can take in Mr. Whiskers temporarily?
She shoots back right away.
Oh, shit. I forgot. I wish he could come here, I’m sorry babe. On it, roomie!
A relieved smile comes to my face as I sink into the chair. Things are working out great. Just as I’m picking up the remote for a few minutes of veg time, my phone dings. It’s Lexi again.
Oh and be at Sugar Daddies office in an hour
Miranda had an opening
What? An hour? I hop from the chair, spilling Mr. Whiskers from my lap. “Ooh, sorry,” I tell him as I give him an apology pet and rush to my closet. What on Earth does one wear to interview as a one-time escort—and will Lexi’s sister even hire me for a one-time thing?—I flip through my clothes.
Gotta be sexy, but there’s a decided lack of sexy in my wardrobe.
Scrubs, jeans, and sneakers. Finally, I find a sleeveless black sheath dress, the one I wore to college graduation. I hope it still fits. All those vending machine candy bars and late night pizzas… I slip into it, and it zips, thank God. I smooth my hair and dot some gloss on my lips. Lexi’s words play back in my mind. I think the guys would love you—those green eyes, that long dark hair, your killer legs—you’d be booked solid.
Hmm…best to play up my features and make a good first impression, right? I brush on some taupe eyeshadow, three coats of mascara, and slip my feet into the only pair of high heels I own, instantly adding three inches to my ‘killer legs.’
I google the office address and find it’s a twenty minute drive from my apartment. Time to go. “Wish me luck, Mr. Whiskers.”
He gives me a grumpy meow as I walk out the door. I’ve not worn heels in so long, I find myself clinging to the handrail as I make my way down the stairs, still managing to trip on the bottom one. Some escort I’ll make. At least I only have to pull this off once.
I climb into the hatchback, tossing my shoes on the passenger seat. If I can’t walk in them, there’s no way in hell I can drive safely with them on. I turn the map on my phone and listen to the terse instructions of the guide.
As I get closer, nerves begin to knot in my stomach. What am I doing? Here I am, embarking on the respectable journey of becoming a doctor, and I’m on my way to interview to be an escort. As I push through the jumble of feelings inside me, I find one I can’t deny.
Excitement.
What if…I like it?
One night of passion with a total stranger might be…fun. After years of having my nose stuck in a book and taking unpaid shifts at the hospital, one night of carefree, no-strings-attached sex could be a great stress release.
And, there’s the money.
A soothing voice from the map on my phone declares, You have arrived. I take a deep breath—I’m here. I slide my car into a parking spot on the street. Throw it into park, pull on my heels, and tell myself I’ve got this.
Teetering along the sidewalk, I pull the handle of the front door and step inside. It’s nothing like I expected, though I’m not really sure what I expected. It's bright and light and airy. The walls are white, and there’s a friendly, sparkly teal sign hanging over the front desk, proudly declaring, Sugar Daddies.
I give myself a nod, making my way into the office. I can do this.
A perfectly dressed woman sits at the wide front desk, chatting on the phone. “Yes, sir, I can take that payment right now. Mm..hmm.” She looks up at me and flashes me a smile, giving a little wave. “Your confirmation number for that purchase is one-three-seven-four and the amount of the transaction is ten thousand dollars.”