The One “Job” My Sugar Daddy Was Happy to See Me Work Hard At: Part 1

When I arrived back in the city after the dis­as­trous trip with my sugar daddy, Marco, I started look­ing at pric­ing for apart­ments, rat­ings for neigh­bor­hoods, and for a job. I decided if inde­pen­dent was what Marco wanted, then fine, I’d give him what he wants. In my searches, I met a young woman named Kate. Kate would even­tu­ally intro­duce me to the world of mod­el­ing, among many other things. She was a petite blonde who was kind, sweet, and funny. She was also one of the few peo­ple who didn’t judge me. Instead, she became my friend and told me things like, “Stop dat­ing down,” and, “You deserve so much bet­ter than this.” Kate encour­aged me to try work­ing, so that’s what I did.

My first job was at a small diner. I lasted three days before I quit; it hap­pened after watch­ing a server sneeze into her hands and then reach her unwashed, ungloved hand into a bucket of salad for a cus­tomer. “I knew you wouldn’t make it,” Marco scoffed as I arrived home after quitting.

Don’t worry, I’ll find another job,” I said sharply as I turned and walked back out of the house. I went to the local gro­cery store and applied for a job as a cashier. They hired me on the spot, but I was bored to death. To say that the job was men­tally stim­u­lat­ing would be a huge over­reach. After two weeks on the job, I decided to take a drive instead of show­ing up for work one day. Marco wouldn’t nec­es­sar­ily know; he was still tech­ni­cally pay­ing for every­thing at this point, so I fig­ured, why not?

I drove to a part of town I’d never ven­tured into before. There were mainly strip clubs and bars; it was a shady part of town, but I fig­ured this could be inter­est­ing. I walked into a club shortly after nine o’clock on a Fri­day night. I could smell the cheap per­fume and cig­a­rette smoke before open­ing the door and started to turn around to leave, but just then the bouncer opened the door. “$10 cover and your ID please,” he said. “Oh, I wasn’t here to watch. Are you hir­ing for bar­tenders?” I asked naively. “C’mon inside, miss,” he said with a smile.

As I walked into this bar, there were mir­rors every­where, the lights were down very low, and the spot­lights were dif­fer­ent shades of red and green. The black and white check­ered pat­tern of the stages shined brightly under the black lights, and the place was packed. There were two TVs on sports chan­nels, an ATM, and two elec­tronic casino games.  This club wasn’t big, but they worked the space sur­pris­ingly well.

Yo, Tony! Fresh meat!” the bouncer yelled across the room to a short, slightly over­weight man. Nearly every man in the room turned to look at me; I was hor­ri­fied and felt com­pletely out of place. Tony made his way over to me and intro­duced him­self as the man­ager. He started rat­tling off fees for the stage, the DJ, and the bar­tender so fast it made my head spin. “I think you have the wrong idea. I was ask­ing if you were hir­ing for a bar­tender,” I said, try­ing to talk over the loud music.

Oh, well why didn’t you say so, honey? You’ll make a lot more money danc­ing though. We have rules in place that the guys have to fol­low and you’ll be pro­tected either way, but it’s up to you.”

I have to admit, I was def­i­nitely intrigued…