Chapter 3

Misty

I ’m at my job the next day when suddenly, I get a ping from Sweet Lies.

First, I look around the science center surreptitiously. Fortunately, I’m alone at a small circulation desk, and no one seems to be approaching. Perfect.

Then, I click on the link and enter my password for Sweet Lies before clicking the icon for messages. Mountain_Daddy’s shirtless photo is displayed, along with a short text.

I like your profile, and am more than happy to connect with a sugar baby to teach her about cosmetics. Would Friday night at 8 p.m. work?

My mind whirls. Am I really ready to do this?

Where would I host the Zoom meeting anyways?

Could I really do it in my dorm room? On the one hand, I have a bedroom within a suite, so there’s privacy.

But on the other, the walls are thin and maybe one of my suitemates could overhear.

OMG, I’d die! But then I remember that Kiara and Andie are headed to a sorority rush party Friday night, so they’ll have vacated by 8 p.m. Perfect.

This is my chance. With trembling fingers, I type out a reply.

Sure, 8 p.m. works! Send me the video chat link. I look forward to meeting you soon, Daddy.

Then I hit send, and a confirmation appears on my screen.

Oh my god, is this really happening? My heart races, and I realize that a sweat has broken out on my brow.

Even crazier, my nipples feel a bit hard and my pelvis is achy when I squeeze my thighs together.

Am I actually aroused by the prospect of meeting a dirty daddy online?

Get it together, Misty , the voice in my head scolds.

His profile photo was headless, so he could be a troll.

This is probably a butterface situation.

Hell, he could be using a fake photo for his torso too!

You’re probably meeting a scrawny incel in Albuquerque looking for virtual dates because he can’t get a date in real life.

I bite my lip because my conscience is right.

Still, my physical reaction is real, and I take a few deep breaths to calm my racing pulse.

Then, a thought strikes and I pull out my cosmetics pouch from my book bag, and rummage through it.

Blush? Check. Lipstick? Check. Eyeshadow?

Check. But should I buy more things? Mountain_Daddy didn’t say how long the meeting would last, but I know I can’t log off after five minutes to earn five hundred dollars.

Zipping my cosmetics case closed again, I resolve to stop at Walgreens on my way back from work.

Maybe I can’t afford name-brand Estee Lauder cosmetics, but if we’re on-line, maybe he won’t be able to tell that I’m using drugstore brands through the screen.

Which begs the question: should I do my hair too?

Is that part of our meeting? What should I wear, anyways, for a Friday night make-up date?

Suddenly, despite my efforts to play down the experience, I’m excited again.

My cheeks flush and I bite my lip while casting another surreptitious glance around the science center.

My breasts feel heavy, and it’s hot here at the circulation counter as I pull up Mountain_Daddy’s profile photo again.

His chest glistens, muscular and hard, and with one finger, I follow the trail of dark hair arrowing down from his navel to the waistband of his jeans.

Somehow, I know this is a real photo of my client .

.. and I can’t wait to meet him on Friday.

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