What My Sugar Daddy’s Assistant Did to Ruin My One Chance at a “Pretty Woman” Experience: Part 1

My new sugar daddy, Michael, was start­ing to feel lonely and kept insist­ing for me to move in with him. He thought this would be more ideal for me, since the maid could take care of the cook­ing, clean­ing, and laun­dry while I focused on school and Michael. We talked it over before decid­ing to take a few days to think about it.

One night, while I was over at his place, he ran­domly said, “Hey, what do you say I send the dri­ver to pick you up in the town car and we go to my favorite steak­house for din­ner? You can go home and get ready. Wear some­thing very nice, classy, and not a lot of cleav­age. Tonight we will dine with friends.”

I have noth­ing to wear. I haven’t had time to go shop­ping between study­ing, sleep­ing, and see­ing you,” I responded.

No big deal! Let me call Anthony—he will take care of you right away,” Michael said as he walked into his home office to make the call. I had no idea know who Anthony was, or how he was sup­posed to help me, so I just waited.

Michael returned from his office with a piece of paper and a check. “This is Anthony’s num­ber, this is where you are going to meet him now, and this is to pay for what­ever makes your heart sing. I want you to feel truly beau­ti­ful tonight. Be ready by 7 p.m. sharp.”

That was it. I left his estate feel­ing more con­fused and frus­trated than before, and headed to the address as instructed. My needs weren’t being met—he hadn’t even really con­sid­ered them—and I was a lit­tle angry about how the whole thing was turned around to focus solely on him. Yet again, he had got­ten what he wanted with money, and I didn’t even real­ize he was doing it to me.

I arrived at Saks Fifth Avenue feel­ing ner­vous. We had never really gone out one a date yet, and I had never been inside this store before because it was always out of my price range. Every­thing was so nice, and so expen­sive. Before I could pull out my phone to call Anthony, he approached me as I wan­dered through the store.

Vivian? I can tell it’s you because you match the pic­ture Mike sent me from his secu­rity sys­tem. Well, here we are! Let’s get mov­ing. We don’t have a ton of time,” Anthony ram­bled off quickly as he ush­ered me towards the women’s depart­ment, where he had a rack of cloth­ing wait­ing just for me.

OK, so here’s the deal,” started Anthony. “Mike has me on pay­roll and I have priv­i­leges on his credit card. So, I’ve gone ahead and picked out 10 out­fits that I know for cer­tain Mike will like, and being that you have a much paler com­plex­ion than this pic­ture shows, only half of those out­fits will work for you. So, take them into the dress­ing room and try them all on. We will pick two that work the best and then I will buy them for you. Don’t worry about pay­ing me back; it’s all part of my job. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve done this for girls just like you.”

I was at a loss for words…