The day of my first planned date with my POT Sugar Daddy K was surprisingly warm, leaving the floral print for a late lunch/early dinner at an upscale Gellato spot seem perfectly reasonable. I had read in one of the many “How To” articles I had absorbed over the last 24 hours to always allow skin to show mainly in ONE place, not multiple. Since I am rather small chested up top, I opted for the dress that showed off my legs that I work oh so hard for at the gym. By themselves, they are nothing much, but when they are framed by a high waist patterned dress and strappy wedges, my tiny ankles accentuate my pear shape perfectly. Or so I assume.
As I started my hour or so drive it dawned on me…I am really about to do this. I am about to meet a handsome, smart, successful man that wants to PAY ME to spend time WITH HIM. It still to this day does not compute how broken the entire lifestyle is, but at that moment I was all smiles and practicing my sexy/sultry attitude. I must have repeated normal words in my car in different tones of voice 20 billion times in between the radio karaoke I always partake in. When I finally arrived to where we were supposed to meet I realized I had landed smack dab in the middle of a college town. On a weekend. With warm weather.
As I anxiously drove around, trying to find parking, I began to feel a lot more average comparative to the college girls walking the streets. My stomach was in knots and finally I decided to illegally park at a church, I mean I was sure to sin that night anyway (or so I thought), why not just go all the way?! “Smite me for my parking, I dare you!” I said out loud as I threw my car in to park. Right as I was to step out my phone rang, with K’s beaming face popping up brightly on my screen.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey, just checking on you. Are you close? I’m parked in the paid lot behind the restaurant.” His cheery and NORMAL voice catching me off guard for a moment.
“Oh..I parked at a church somewhere. Stay there, I’ll come to you. I can’t believe I missed that lot!” I said with a giggle, pretending not to feel as stupid as I looked as my palm met my forehead in a silent “Duh! Its a classy place, why wouldn’t it have back lot parking?!” manner.
In my great masterful skill of avoiding his car like I had planned so he would not see my A to B junker, I parked next to his gorgeous all blacked out Mercedes. Nice. We met at the back of our cars, exchanged hugs, and to my delight he smelled absolutely wonderful. I wanted to gobble him up! However, I tried to play it cool and move my hips in a way that let the short dress point out the my very blessed lower back half.
Dinner went as I thought it would, discussing work and enjoying delicious food that I never imagined I would like. Theres a funny thing about me…I suck at ordering on the spot. But fear not, I prepared by pouring over the menu the night prior, cheap wine in one hand and triscuits in the other. When it came down to it, I ordered none of which I had planned, a salad with grilled chicken, and instead landed on a delicious pork tenderloin with spinach, cherries, and fancy mashed potatoes. Oh god. Maybe I should name this blog “The Food of Sugar” because oh god. OH GOD. I could get used to that cuisine.
Everything was wonderful until he changed the subjects to what was really important : The Arrangement.