How to Make Yourself Irresistible In a Room Full of Rich, Older Men: Part 2

The bid­ding started and my sugar daddy, the Stet­son man, waited for the par­tic­u­lar piece of art he wanted. The bid­ding was very excit­ing and, of course, he won yet another famous work of art. Later, we were invited to a pri­vate “Mem­bers Only” restau­rant for a won­der­ful meal and my Stet­son man wanted to know when the most-wanted Bill Mack works would be auc­tioned. As the Stet­son man talked to one of the gallery own­ers, I locked eyes with this other man sev­eral times. I could tell this par­tic­u­lar gallery owner would be very inter­est­ing to try to get to know. Every­one talked about how wealthy he was and how he trav­eled the world look­ing for art. I could tell that he could eat me with a spoon—I tucked that thought away in case I needed to have another man pay atten­tion to my needs.

You can’t help but feel spe­cial when you are in the pres­ence of world-renowned, art lov­ing peo­ple. They have an eye for beauty and, between the Stet­son man’s admir­ers and the eyes on me, it made me feel like we were char­ac­ters in a movie, although a porn movie was more like what played in my head at times.

I excused myself from the table and headed in the direc­tion of the ladies’ room. I was almost at the restroom door when I locked eyes with one of the most beau­ti­ful older men I had ever seen. He was much older, tanned, very tall, and extremely well dressed. He reminded me of a Greek god. He sim­ply took my breath away. We had been sur­rounded by beau­ti­ful pieces of art all evening, and this man would have fit per­fectly into the gallery.

I was slightly embar­rassed when I caught myself lit­er­ally star­ing at him, but I felt bet­ter when I saw him smile at me. I gig­gled to myself in the ladies room. I wasn’t a lit­tle school­girl, but it had been a long time since I had felt the way I did when I saw him.

When I walked out of the ladies’ room, the gor­geous man was stand­ing nearby. As he casu­ally walked past me, he handed me his busi­ness card. He quickly and qui­etly instructed me to call his pri­vate line and leave my num­ber. I was a bit taken back. I did, how­ever, reach for the busi­ness card. I safely tucked it into my purse and walked back to the table where the Stet­son man was eagerly wait­ing for me.