Chapter 1: Introduction
--- The Present ---
She couldn't believe she was doing this.
Lisa stood in the middle of the hotel lobby, her red dress clinging to her like a second skin, the spaghetti straps barely holding her shoulders together. The skirt rode up just enough to show off the tops of her thighs, and the cleavage was intentional—she’d spent half an hour in the bathroom adjusting the straps, making sure the dress did what it was supposed to do. The hotel’s polished mahogany floors reflected the chandeliers above, their crystal prisms casting a thousand glittering shards of light across the marble. The scent of overpriced coffee and something floral, like the hotel’s own perfume, wrapped around her like a warm embrace—or a trap.
She glanced down at her phone, the message still the same: Tom C. - Room 1623.
She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest like a kick drum at a concert. She could do this. She had to do this.
--- Five Days Ago ---
Lisa hung up the phone, her fingers still pressed against the screen as if she could somehow reverse the call. The financial aid office had been polite, almost apologetic, but the words had still burned: "There was a mix-up. The scholarship was never approved."
A mix-up. As if this was some kind of clerical error, not the crushing weight of her entire future unraveling.
She looked down at the letter still clutched in her hand, the words blurring before her eyes. "Dear Ms. Tompkins, we regret to inform you..." She read it again, as if the words would somehow change, as if they would suddenly leap off the page and say, "Just kidding! Your scholarship is totally still on!" But they didn't.
The words remained the same, the meaning unchanged. She crumpled the letter in her fist, her heart pounding in her chest.
Tuition was due at the end of the month, and the only option financial aid could offer was a payment plan.
A payment plan? She could barely afford to eat on her own, let alone pay for college in installments. She needed a job, and fast. But who was going to hire her? She was just a high school graduate with no experience and no skills worth mentioning. She didn't want to go to her parents. They couldn't afford it, and she didn't want them to know what had happened. She felt like a failure, like she had let them down. She couldn't face them, not yet. She needed to figure this out on her own.
She needed help. Needed someone who’d been in her shoes, who understood the crushing weight of a dream slipping through your fingers. She turned on her computer and signed into the Eagle University New Student Bulletin Board, the fluorescent glow of the screen casting sharp angles across her bedroom. The site was a chaotic mix of neon-green threads—most of them questions about places to eat around campus, which professors were the best, and what the dorms were really like behind the polished brochure photos. She scrolled past the endless list of first-years asking for advice on how to avoid the freshman fifteen, how to meet people, and what to bring that wasn’t listed on the packing list.
She searched for "scholarship," and most of the posts were old, their dates faded into the past like old photographs. She scrolled through them anyway, her cursor clicking down the page, the screen blurring as her eyes scanned the words. On the fifth page of results, there was a post dated three years ago from a woman named Cindy. The title was simple: "Scholarship Gone, Help?" The post was a desperate plea, a cry for help that echoed Lisa's own feelings. Cindy had been in a similar situation, her scholarship yanked out from under her at the last minute. Her post had zero replies, a lonely voice lost in the vast expanse of the internet.
Sighing, Lisa decided to make her own post, to tell her story and hope that someone, anyone, might have an answer.
She took a deep breath and began to type, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she poured out her story.
She told them about the letter, about the call to financial aid, about the payment plan that was no solution at all. She told them about the weight of her parents' expectations, about the fear of letting them down. She told them about the future she had planned, the one that was now slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. She hit post, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for a response, any response.
The screen flickered, and she leaned forward, her fingers hovering over the keyboard like she could somehow speed up the process. Fifteen minutes later, she heard a ping. It had come from her computer, a notification from the bulletin board. She hadn’t expected anything, but there it was—an incoming private message. The screen lit up, and she saw the name: Cindy.
Lisa’s breath caught in her throat. Cindy had posted three years ago, her plea for help buried under layers of unanswered posts. Lisa had assumed Cindy had never even made it to Eagle, that she’d given up or moved on. But here she was, reaching out now. Lisa’s fingers trembled as she clicked on the message, her pulse racing.
Cindy: Hey, I saw your post. I know how it feels. You okay?
The screen glowed softly in the dimness of her room, the only light besides the faint blue haze of her phone. Lisa’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, her pulse quickening as she read Cindy’s message again, her mind racing. She was about to reply—No, I'm not—but she stopped herself cold. The last time she’d trusted some online miracle, she’d gotten nothing. The scholarship had been real enough to look like, but the fine print had been a lie. She’d been too desperate to see it. Now, she wasn’t taking any chances.
Her cursor hovered over Cindy’s profile picture, the cursor blinking like an impatient heartbeat.
The profile picture was a professional headshot, Cindy’s smile wide and genuine, her eyes sparkling with intelligence. The banner across the top of the page confirmed it: "Verified Student, Eagle University." Lisa let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Cindy was real. She was going to start her senior year in the fall. She wasn’t some scammer, some faceless entity preying on desperate people. She was a student, just like Lisa. Just like Lisa was supposed to be.
Lisa’s fingers flew over the keyboard, her response immediate and honest.
Lisa: No, I'm not okay. I'm scared. I don't know what I'm going to do.
She hit send, her heart pounding in her chest. She’d laid herself bare, her fears and insecurities laid out in black and white for a stranger to see. But Cindy wasn’t a stranger, not really.
She was a lifeline, a voice in the dark, and Lisa clung to her like a lifesaver.
Cindy: I get it. I was where you are three years ago. It sucks, but you're not alone. I might have a solution for you.
Lisa’s heart leaped in her chest, hope surging through her like a shot of adrenaline. She leaned forward, her eyes scanning the screen, her fingers poised over the keyboard.
Lisa: What is it? I’ll do anything.
Cindy: We'd better continue this in private. Here’s a link.
Lisa clicked it.
A chat window popped up on her screen, the background a soft, muted gray, the text box blinking expectantly.
Cindy: Sorry to have to change venues. Even though we were chatting through private messages, it was through the school's system. This is a secure chat—it’s end-to-end encrypted. We can talk freely here.
Lisa's heart pounded in her chest, her eyes scanning the words on the screen.
Lisa: Okay. What's going on? What's the solution?
Cindy: Have you heard of the Sugar Baby phenomenon?
Lisa frowned, her brow furrowing as she typed.
Lisa: Sugar Baby? You're kidding, right?
Cindy: It's a mutually beneficial arrangement. A Sugar Daddy provides financial support, and in return, the Sugar Baby provides companionship. It's not just about sex, though that is a large part of it. For most clients, it's about making them feel seen, understood, and loved.
Lisa: I'm not sure I can do that. I mean, I'm not like that.
Cindy: You don't have to be. You just have to be real. The dates aren't always long—sometimes just an hour, sometimes a few hours. It's about creating a connection, not just a transaction. You'd be surprised how many men just want someone to listen to them, to make them feel special.
Lisa hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She could feel the weight of her parents' expectations pressing down on her, the fear of failure gnawing at her insides. But Cindy's words echoed in her mind, a beacon of hope in the darkness.
Lisa: So, I would be helping them? Like, emotionally?
Cindy: Exactly. And yes, there’s a physical component, but it’s not like you’re a hooker or anything. It’s about companionship. You’re not selling yourself—you’re selling your time, your attention, and your presence. It’s about creating a connection. And yes, there’s a financial benefit for you, but it’s not just about the money. It’s about the experience. It’s about feeling valued.
Lisa’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, her pulse quickening. She had never considered herself the kind of girl who would trade companionship for money. But she was desperate. And Cindy’s words were starting to make sense. She wasn’t selling herself—she was selling something else. Time. Attention. A connection.
She typed slowly, her thoughts racing.
Lisa: If I do this, I need to know what I’m getting into. How much can I make? How often do these dates happen?
Cindy: It varies. Some clients pay by the hour, some by the day. The rates depend on your availability and what you’re comfortable with. You can set your own terms. You’re not a prostitute, you’re a student in a unique arrangement. You’ll be paid for your time, your presence, your ability to listen, to engage, to make someone feel like they matter. It’s about being someone’s escape from the monotony of their life. You can say no to anything you're not comfortable with. You can even set your own rates. But you have to be honest about what you're offering.
Lisa’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, her mind racing. She had never thought of herself as someone who could do this.
But she was desperate, and Cindy's words had planted a seed of hope in her mind. She needed to think about it, to consider all the angles, to weigh the pros and cons. She couldn't just dive headfirst into something like this without knowing what she was getting into.
Lisa: I need to think about it. Can I... can I see the website? I want to check it out for myself.
Cindy: Of course. Here's the link.
A moment later, a new message popped up with a URL.
Cindy: And if you'd like to hear from more girls than just me, I can arrange a group chat. There are several Eagle students on the site, and they would be happy to share their experiences. They can answer any questions you might have. I know it's a big decision, and I want you to be fully informed before you make it.
Lisa: That would be great. Thank you. I really appreciate this.
Cindy: I’ll message my friends and get back with you on a time to chat. No pressure at all—just take your time checking out the site. If any questions come to mind, feel free to ask us. I’ll be in touch soon. Don’t rush anything. You’ve got time.
Lisa stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She had never imagined herself in this position, but desperation had a way of stripping away pretense. She clicked the link Cindy sent, her breath catching as the website loaded—a sleek, modern interface with a soft gradient background of blues and purples. The name of the site was "SugarDating", and the tagline was simple: Mutually Beneficial Connections.
She scrolled through the homepage, her eyes widening as she saw profiles of women—students, mostly—with varying degrees of experience. Some had professional photos, others casual ones taken in dorms or coffee shops.
Each profile had a brief bio, a list of interests, and a section for 'What I'm Looking For.' Lisa scrolled through them, her heart pounding in her chest. These were real people, students just like her, who had made this choice. She clicked on a profile at random, her eyes scanning the words.
"I'm a junior, majoring in Psychology. I love long walks on the beach, candlelit dinners, and being treated like a queen. I'm open to incalls and outcalls, but no Greek." Lisa frowned, her brow furrowing as she read the words. Incalls, outcalls—she had a vague idea of what they meant, but the term 'Greek' was a mystery.
She clicked on another profile, and another, her eyes widening as she saw the term repeated. Some girls said they were open to it, others said they weren't, and a few even specified a price. A lightbulb went off in Lisa's head, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks.
Lisa's computer pinged, the private chat window popping up with a new message.
Cindy: Are you available to chat in an hour?
Lisa's heart skipped a beat. An hour? That was so soon. But she was eager to learn more, to understand what she was getting into. She took a deep breath and typed out her response.
Lisa: Yes, I can chat in an hour. I have some questions, and I'd love to hear more about your experiences.
Cindy: Perfect.
--- One Hour Later ---
Lisa stared at the screen, her fingers tapping nervously against her thigh.
Her computer pinged, and the chat window appeared.
Cindy was there, her name glowing at the top of the screen, and beneath it, two other names: Amy and Beth. Lisa took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She was about to step into the unknown, to take a leap of faith based on the word of a stranger. But Cindy wasn't a stranger anymore.
Cindy: Hey, everyone's here. Lisa, you ready to meet Amy and Beth?
Lisa: Hi, thanks for doing this. I'm nervous.
Amy: Hey, Lisa. Don't be nervous. We're all friends here. I'm Amy, by the way. I've been a Sugar Baby for a little over a year now.
Beth: Hi, Lisa. I'm Beth. I've been doing this for almost two years. If you have any questions, just ask. We're here to help.
Lisa took a deep breath, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She felt a rush of gratitude for these women, strangers who were willing to share their experiences, their lives, to help her navigate this unknown territory.
Lisa: Thank you, all of you. I have so many questions, I don't even know where to start.
Amy: Start with whatever's on your mind. No question is too small or too big.
Lisa: First, can you tell me what it's like? I mean, what's a typical date like? What do you do?
Beth: It varies, really. Some clients are just looking for companionship—long walks, dinner, maybe a movie. Others want something more intimate. But it’s all about what you’re comfortable with. You set the terms. If you’re not into something, you don’t have to do it. It’s your call.
Lisa: So… it’s not like… I have to do anything I don’t want to?
Amy: No way. Ever. You’re in control. If a client asks for something you’re not into, you say no. If you’re not sure, you ask for clarification. You’re not obligated to do anything you don’t want to. That’s the first rule. The second is that you’re not a hooker—you’re a student, a woman, a person. You’re not selling yourself, you’re selling your time and your presence. That’s the difference. It’s about connection, not transaction. She typed carefully, her thoughts racing.
Lisa: That’s… good to know. What about the money?
Beth: It depends. If it’s a video call, just dinner—maybe a nice meal at a restaurant, a walk along the river—you can charge anywhere from $100 to $200 an hour. But if it’s a hotel room, a private incall, or something more intimate? Well, that’s where the rates go up. I’m talking $500 to $1000 an hour for someone you don’t know, someone you’re meeting for the first time. But if you build a relationship? If you trust them, like them, and they treat you right? Then you can charge less. Maybe $100 an hour for dinner, $400 for a hotel stay. It’s all about the connection. The money follows the comfort level.
Lisa had never thought about charging for anything like this before. But the numbers were real, and the possibilities were starting to make sense.
Lisa: That's crazy. So, you're saying I could make more money as a Sugar Baby than just posting on OnlyFans?
Amy: Absolutely. OnlyFans is great for some people, but it's a numbers game. You need a lot of subscribers to make good money. And even then, it's not guaranteed. With SugarDating, you're not relying on strangers to find you. You're meeting people who are actively looking for companionship, and they're willing to pay for it. Plus, the clients on SugarDating tend to be more generous. They're not just looking for a quick thrill—they want a connection. And they're willing to pay for that. I started with OnlyFans, but I didn't get many subscribers. Once I joined SugarDating, things changed. The clients there found my OnlyFans, and that made me more popular on both sites. It's like they feed into each other. I get more followers on OnlyFans every day, and I have more dates on SugarDating. It's a win-win.
Lisa: That's amazing. I never thought about it that way. So, what about the guys? Are they... nice?
Beth: Most of them are really kind and respectful. They treat you better than most boyfriends I've had. They're not just looking for sex—they want someone to talk to, to listen to them, to make them feel special. It's not just about the physical stuff—it's about the emotional connection. Most of them are lonely, you know? They just want someone to talk to, to listen to them. I mean, I'm here in France right now, with one of my Sugar Daddies. He's here on business, but he's getting a lot of free time. We're staying in this gorgeous chateau outside of Paris, and he's been taking me on these amazing dates—we went to Versailles yesterday, and tomorrow we're going to see a show at the Moulin Rouge. It's like a dream.
The words from Beth and Amy swirled in her head, a mix of excitement and trepidation. She had never imagined herself in this position, but the numbers were undeniable. She could make more money in a weekend than she could in a month working at a fast-food joint.
Lisa: So, how do I get started? What do I need to do?
Cindy: First, you need to create a profile. You will need to provide your real name—it’s required for verification. No user on the site will see it. Then, you'll enter a profile name. It’s like a stage name. The clients will only see your profile name, and you'll only see theirs. No real names—ever. That’s for everyone's safety and privacy. The rest is like a dating profile, but with more details. You'll need to upload some photos—some casual, some professional. Make sure they're recent and show off your personality. And remember, no nudity. The site has a strict policy against that. Once you've filled out everything, you submit your profile for approval. They look through it for anything that goes against their policy and perform a background check. It usually takes a few days. It seems like a lot, but it's worse for guys. Their background checks are more thorough, for obvious reasons.
Lisa: I hadn't thought about stage names. I mean, it makes sense, but it hadn't crossed my mind. I don't know how to begin thinking of one. I mean, I'm not a performer or anything.
Amy: Start with something that feels like you. Something that makes you feel powerful. Think about what you want to be called when you're in the moment. Not your real name, but a name that makes you feel like you're stepping into a different version of yourself. For me, it was "Luna." It means "moon," and it feels like something that belongs to me. It's not too sexy, not too serious—just right.
Beth: I went with "Seraphina." It's a name from mythology, but it also sounds elegant. It's not too over-the-top, but it's not plain either. It's something that feels like me. Start with that. Think about what you want to represent. Are you confident? Playful? Mysterious? Whatever it is, let that guide you. You can always change it later if you don’t love it. But for now, just pick something that feels right.
Lisa: Okay, what happens after my profile is approved? How do I start meeting people?
Cindy: Once your profile is approved, a "make it live" button will appear at the bottom of your profile. You'll have two weeks to click it. If you don't click it, your profile will be deleted. If you do, your profile will be live. Then, you'll start receiving messages from potential clients. They'll see your profile, and if they like what they see, they'll reach out. You don't have to respond to anyone you're not interested in. It's your call.
Amy: That's right. And remember, you're in control. You set your own boundaries, your own rules. If someone asks for something you're not comfortable with, you say no. It's as simple as that.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in a flurry of activity, with Cindy and Amy helping Lisa create her profile. Beth would have helped, but her Sugar Daddy came back from a meeting, and they were going out. Lisa felt a pang of envy, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.
They started with the photos, scrolling through Lisa's social media and choosing the best ones.
Cindy: Wait? You're a ballerina?
Lisa: I started when I was three. I danced competitively until my sophomore year of high school. But I still take classes when I can. It helps me stay in shape, and it's a great stress reliever.
Amy: Wow, you're really flexible.
Cindy: That's perfect! We need to show off your flexibility in your new photos. The site won't allow any pictures from when you were under 18, so we need fresh ones. Do you still have any ballet leotards?
Lisa: I think I have one or two tucked away in my closet.
Cindy: Great! You just need something that shows off your figure and your flexibility. Go put one on, and take some photos in your room. We can use your phone for now, but if you decide to go through with this, you might want to invest in a good camera.
Lisa hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never considered herself a model, much less a Sugar Baby. But Cindy's words had sparked something inside her, a sense of possibility and potential. She took a deep breath and nodded, her resolve strengthening.
Lisa: Okay, I'll go change. Be right back.
She found a leotard, still tucked away in the back of her drawer. She slipped it on, her skin prickling with the cool fabric, and stood in front of her full-length mirror. The leotard was soft pink. It hugged her curves and ended mid-thigh. She looked different, somehow—more confident, more aware of her body. She took a deep breath and grabbed her phone, snapping picture after picture, striking different poses, some playful, some serious. She sent them to Cindy and Amy, her heart pounding as she waited for their response.
Cindy: Wow, Lisa! You look amazing! Those are perfect!
Amy: I agree! You've got a natural talent for this.
Cindy was a whiz with Photoshop, and she touched up each photo, making Lisa's eyes sparkle and her skin glow.
Amy helped with the bio, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she crafted a witty and engaging description of Lisa. They laughed and joked, the atmosphere light and easy, despite the seriousness of the task.
Cindy: Okay, what about a stage name?
Lisa: I don't know. Something that feels like me, but not too obvious.
Amy: Let’s start with what you love. What do you like, Lisa? Movies? Books? Flowers? Barbies? Anything that makes you feel like you.
The question caught Lisa off guard, but she didn’t have to think long. There was something about flowers that always made her feel grounded, even when everything else felt chaotic. She’d always loved them—how they could turn a room into something beautiful with just a single stem, how they could make even the simplest space feel like a secret garden.
Lisa: Flowers. My favorite flowers are lilies. They’re elegant, but not pretentious. They’re strong, but soft. They remind me of something quiet and powerful.
Cindy: Lily's a good name, but it's not uncommon. You'll want a last name to make it unique. How about Lily Valley? It sounds sweet and dirty at the same time. Like you're hiding a secret, but you're not afraid to show it off. What do you think?
Lisa laughed, the sound echoing in her small bedroom. She had never thought of herself as someone who could pull off a name like Lily Valley, but the more she said it, the more it felt right. It was like a hidden part of herself, a secret she could reveal to the world, but only on her terms.
Lisa: I love it! Lily Valley, it is.
Cindy: Great! Now, let's talk about your rates.
With Cindy and Amy's help, Lisa completed creating her profile and application in under two hours.
All that was left to do was submit it.
She stared at her monitor, looking at the submit button. It was a small, unassuming blue rectangle, but it felt like a threshold. Once she clicked it, she would be on her way to a part of something she had never imagined herself being a part of.
But it wasn't the final stage. The final stage was the "Make It Live" button that would appear once her background check was complete and her profile had been approved. Until then, she was just another student with a secret she was considering sharing. She could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on her, a physical presence in the room. She had spent the last few hours crafting her profile, choosing photos that showed different sides of herself—smiling, thoughtful, playful. She had written a bio that was honest but not too revealing, a balance she had never quite achieved before. It was a carefully constructed mask, but it was hers. She could feel the excitement bubbling beneath the surface, but it was mixed with a deep-seated fear. What if she couldn't do it? What if she failed? What if she succeeded and it became too much?
"Fuck it," Lisa muttered, clicking the submit button before she could change her mind.
--- The Present ---
Lisa stood in the modern hotel elevator, watching the numbers go up. She nervously fiddled with the skirt of her red dress, a deep shade of crimson that made her feel both powerful and vulnerable. She had chosen it for tonight's date, a decision that now seemed either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish.
12, 13, 14, 15, the numbers flashed above her, each one another step into the unknown. Then—16. The elevator stopped with a quiet precision, the kind of silence that made her chest tighten. The ping of the doors opening was like a gunshot in the confined space. She took a steadying breath, her fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt.
The hallway stretched before her, a long expanse of ugly tie-dye-patterned carpet that seemed to mock her with its intentional ugliness. She stepped out of the elevator, her heels sinking into the soft, plush surface. The hotel smelled of ozone and polished wood, the air conditioned to a chilly perfection. She could hear the faint hum of the building’s HVAC system, a steady pulse beneath the silence.
The hallway was empty. Too empty. She had expected at least a janitor, a lost guest, someone to break the silence. Instead, the space felt suspended, like time itself had paused to let her catch her breath.
She glanced down at her phone, the screen glowing faintly in the dim hallway light. The message was still the same: Tom C. - Room 1623.
She took a deep breath, her heels clicking softly on the carpet as she began walking down the hallway, her eyes scanning the room numbers. The air was cool, and she could feel the goosebumps prickling on her arms. She hugged her arms around herself, her heart pounding in her chest.
- 1621, 1622. She could feel the weight of the decision she had made, the click of the submit button echoing in her mind. She had taken the first step, and there was no turning back now. She took another deep breath, her eyes landing on the room number she had been looking for. 1623.
She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She had come this far, but now that she was here, she felt a sudden urge to turn back. She took a deep breath, her knuckles rapping softly against the door. The sound echoed in the silent hallway, a sharp contrast to the hum of the HVAC system.
"Come in," a man's voice called from behind the door. "The door is unlocked."
She took a deep breath, her hand reaching for the doorknob. It turned easily, and the door swung open—
-- Two Days Ago ---
—and was greeted by the smell of barbecue.
She stood in her front doorway, looking out at her front yard, the warm afternoon sun casting a golden glow over the scene. The neighborhood was alive with the hum of conversation and laughter, the clink of glasses, and the sizzle of food on the grill. Her father had outdone himself this time, inviting not just their closest neighbors, but almost everyone on the block. The Tompkins' front yard was a sea of folding chairs and tables, colorful blankets spread out on the grass, and a long table groaning under the weight of food.
Lisa's graduation party had turned into a neighborhood barbecue, and she couldn't help but smile at the sight. She had always loved their neighborhood, with its tree-lined streets and well-maintained homes. It was a place where people knew each other, where they looked out for one another.
And today, they were all here to celebrate her. She took a deep breath, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. She had always felt safe here, in this little pocket of the world. And now, as she stepped out onto the porch, she felt a sense of belonging that was both comforting and empowering.
"Lisa! There you are!" Her father, David, spotted her from across the yard. He was standing by the grill, a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other. His face was flushed from the heat of the grill, but his eyes were bright with happiness. "You changed your clothes," David said, his gaze flicking over Lisa's t-shirt and shorts. "I thought you were going to wear that pretty dress you had on earlier." He gestured to the grill with his spatula. "I made sure to keep some of these burgers rare, just the way you like them."
Lisa laughed, her eyes scanning the yard. "I wanted to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like this is a formal event." She paused, her eyes landing on her father. "You changed, too. I thought you were going to wear that suit all day." She gestured to his polo shirt and khaki shorts, a stark contrast to the suit he had worn to her graduation ceremony.
David chuckled, flipping a burger with practiced ease. "Well, you know me, Lisa. I've always been more comfortable in casual clothes. And with this heat, I didn't want to risk sweating through my suit. Besides, who wants to ruin a good suit with grill grease?" He gestured to the table laden with food. "I've got everything under control here. Oh, I meant to ask, is Mark coming by?" David asked, flipping another burger. "I know you two were inseparable all through high school. I thought he'd want to be here to celebrate with you."
Lisa's smile wavered at the mention of her ex-boyfriend, but she quickly recovered, her eyes flicking away from her father's gaze. "Oh, um, Mark left right after graduation. He's away for the summer. He's going on that trip with his family, remember?" She shrugged, trying to keep her voice casual. "You know, the one they planned last year? They're exploring Europe or something."
David nodded, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "That's right. I'd forgotten about that. That must suck—him being away for the whole summer and the two of you going to different schools in the fall," David said, his brow furrowing with concern. He knew how much Mark meant to Lisa, and he could see the effort she was putting into keeping her voice casual. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice softening as he turned to face her fully.
Lisa forced a smile, her eyes meeting her father's gaze. "I'm fine, Dad. Really. It's just... It's a lot to take in, you know? The graduation, Mark leaving... It's all happening so fast." She took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as she let it out slowly. "But I'm okay. I promise." She gestured to the bustling yard. "Look at all this! It's amazing. I don't know how you do it, Dad. You always know what to do, what to say, what to make. It's like you're some kind of magician.
David laughed, wiping his hands on a towel. "Oh, please. I'm just a guy who likes to cook and hang out with his neighbors. No magic involved." He leaned against the grill, his eyes scanning the yard. "Besides, I've been doing this for years. It's not rocket science. It's just about knowing what people like and making sure they have a good time." He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing over the yard. "Now, let's get you some food before it all disappears."
The neighbors had begun to gather around her, their voices weaving together in a chorus of congratulations. Jerry Crystal clapped her on the back with a grin. "You did it, kid! High school’s over—now the real fun starts."
His wife, Mary, slid an arm around Lisa’s waist, her voice a warm purr. "Congratulations, Lisa. We're so proud of you. And look at you, all grown up. It seems like just yesterday you were running around with pigtails and scraped knees." She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Now, look at you, all ready to take on the world."
Martin Blake stood a little apart, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watched the crowd. He’d been quiet all afternoon, but now he stepped forward, his voice low but sincere. "Congrats, Lisa. It's a big step," Martin said, his voice steady and calm. He had always been a man of few words. A quiet man, but not unsociable.
"Thanks, Mr. Blake," Lisa replied, a soft smile playing on her lips. "How's your daughter doing? She's starting her senior year soon, right?" Lisa asked, her eyes lighting up with genuine interest.
Martin's face broke into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "She's doing well, thanks for asking. She's interning at a marketing firm this summer, getting some real-world experience before she graduates."
"That's amazing," Lisa said, her eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm. "I'm sure she'll do great."
Martin chuckled, a soft sound that seemed to warm the air around them. "Thank you, Lisa. I'm sure she will. She's got a real knack for this stuff."
Lisa smiled. "I'm sure she will," she echoed. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, the subtle buzz catching her off guard. She pulled it out, her fingers trembling slightly as she unlocked the screen.
Her eyes widened at the notification. It was from SugarDating. The words appeared in bold, electric blue: Your background check is complete, and your profile has been accepted. Click 'Make It Live' to go public.
Her stomach twisted with a mix of exhilaration and nerves.
She glanced around the yard, her friends and neighbors still chatting and laughing, oblivious to the seismic shift happening inside her. Her fingers hovered over the screen, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She had spent so much time crafting this profile, pouring her heart into every word, every photo.
Now, it was time to take the leap.
Lisa’s fingers hovered over the screen, her breath shallow. She could feel the weight of the crowd around her, the laughter and clinking glasses, but it might as well have been a distant hum. Her entire world had narrowed to this single decision.
The crowd was alive with energy. Jerry Crystal was telling a story that had everyone laughing, his voice booming over the sizzling grill. Mary Crystal was handing out plates of food, her smile warm and inviting. Martin Blake sat in a chair, a plate of food in his lap. Her dad was still laughing at something Jerry Crystal had said, his voice warm and rich as he grilled burgers and steaks. Lisa’s fingers hovered over her phone, her heart pounding in her chest. With a deep breath, she clicked 'Make It Live.' The screen flashed confirmation, and a wave of exhilaration washed over her—she was finally doing it. She needed the money, but more than that, she wanted to help people feel seen, to give them the same sense of connection she craved.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket, her smile a little forced as she turned to join the conversation. "Hey, Dad," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Can I get a burger?"
--- The Present ---
Lisa stepped into the hotel room, the door clicking shut behind her with a quiet finality.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the opulent suite before her. She had expected a standard hotel room, perhaps a little nicer than usual, but this... this was something else entirely. The suite was spacious, with a large living area, a separate bedroom, and a bathroom that was larger than her entire apartment back home. The decor was elegant, with rich fabrics, dark woods, and gold accents. The windows offered a stunning view of the city skyline, the sun dipping low, casting the buildings in a warm, golden light.
"Wow," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is... this is incredible."
"I'm glad you like it, Lily."
The voice was familiar. She quickly turned towards the source of the voice, her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes widened in shock and recognition as she saw the man standing by the window.
"Mr. Blake?"