...I feel like I'm being ripped off by my niece.

She gave me her ancient iPhone 4 while she happily took my iPhone 11 Pro.

She took my Porsche Cayenne while I'm stuck with her itchy 20 year old Honda Civic.

She joyfully went out with my Chanel Wallet-On-Chain while I'm here carrying her $19.99 (before discount) sling bag.

Thank God we don't share the same size because I get a feeling I'm gonna feel pressured to borrow her clothes in order to complete this pretence of being 19 year old Abigail Grey.

To be honest, I wasn't sure about meeting this Daddy. It took me 24 hours to finally able to psyche myself into making this decision- I was thisss close to call it off.

The first thing I did once I've convinced myself I'm gonna go see him was to call my niece; it's a given since I need her ID in case there would be a verification by Cupcake prior the meeting.

Thankfully, she was hella excited with this news, hyping me further into thinking this is the better decision compared to staying at home doing nothing but watching tv or napping all day long.

That is, until I told her when the meeting would be held, "Are you fucking kidding me?! At 3? It's already 1.30, you dumb ass!"

She continued freaking out as if it's her meeting to attend (yeah yeah technically it's hers since it's her full name in the registration but you get what I mean) until twenty minutes later she got all upset, "You didn't tell me earlier about this! I’ve already made plans with my friends, Fee! I don't care, I'm going!"

That's how she scored full marks today; bringing her friends to dinner with MY car, taking pictures with MY phone, all while having MY baby Chanel on her shoulder.

And the best part is, we have to change our Identification Card. So this evening she gets to drink using MY ID. I'm so dead if my sister finds out about this.

"Good afternoon. May I know if you have a reservation?" A hostess politely greets me when I enter the restaurant.

"Hi. I have a reservation under Pheonix." I have no idea who's Pheonix, maybe it's Veronica's real name, I'm just stating what's being written here in this email.

[ Time: 3pm

Place: Alexis

Reservation: Pheonix

Client: A.G and L.L.S ]

Tell me, do you think L.L.S will be good looking?

Young? Definitely. I'm guessing he's 39. I mean, unless he's a fiction character in a romance novel, he'll most probably be at the very end of this age range. Some bullshit like ‘I’ll be 40 next month so technically I’m 39 now’.

And yes, I'm fully aware 39 is not young if we were to compare with my pretend age. That's a huge, jaw-dropping age gap. I was actually talking as Sophie, the 32 year old divorcee, not my pretend persona of this 19 year old college girl.

Rich? Yeah, I think so. Because seriously, if you don't have money, why would you be a Sugar Daddy? How are you going to shower us with love, since love in this business equals money and expensive gifts.

Contrary to the objective of most sugar babies, I myself make a lot of money from being an engineer so I don't really care about the allowance he's going to offer me. I'm actually more interested in meeting the person himself, because I believe people with money has more brain than those who doesn't. I have more chances of having intellectual conversations with those guys rather than by securing dates on Bumble or T!nder.

Afterall, I ought to get something out of this after the hardwork I've done to be a 19 year old.

And to pay for the damages Abby might make with my phone, my car, and my bag at this moment. Urgh, I feel like calling her this instant just to remind her NOTTTT to make even a scratch on those items!

Wait. What the heck? Get it in your brain that you're here not to be a sugar baby, you're here just to judge these men for shamelessly paying for the companion of young girls. You are not going forward doesn't matter how this meeting turns out. Repeat after me: we are just meeting guys to kill time, not to be a sugar baby. Okay?

"Right this way, Miss."

She brings me to the end of the hall which makes me more nervous. Why is this place so big, I can't wait to put a face to this misterious LLS.

Please. Please please pleaseee don't be fat. Not with a beer belly. Pleaseee, dear God. Please.

I'm wearing a denim skirt that stops at the middle of my thigh, not too short, not too long, just what the 19 year old Sophie Summers would wear.

With a white, loose t-shirt that is so cute, it's definitely what a 19 year old would wear to her first date with Daddy.

"Yeahhh if she's this ancient teenager who time-travels from the 90s! For God sake, Fee! Wear my crop top! This screams 19 year old more than that mom shirt!" Nonsense Abby commented my fashion sense when I appeared on her doorstep in this outfit.

"Shut up." Was all I said though now that I'm thinking about it, do I? Do I really dress like an ancient teenager from the 90s?

Whatever. It's too late, I'm already here. Plus, I'm donning this pair of white sneakers to emit this kinda sporty teenager vibe. Thisss definitely makes me look like a 19 year old, right?

I even set my hair into a high ponytail with a side fringe framing my face, a style I've always worn during my teen years.

Lastly, I carry Abby's 19.99 bucks (before discount) sling bag that makes me put a mental note to buy a cheap bag later on so she won't have another excuse to take my handbag again. Ever again. No more bag exchange.

She stops at a table located at one corner of the restaurant. I bet Veronica purposely reserved a table here to avoid anybody from hearing us.

Aaaaand there's a guy sitting there.


Oooohhhhh I think God just heard my prayer. Because there's a broad-shouldered guy in a tight fitting black shirt currently sitting over there, at the table, that the waitress is gesturing at right now.

This is totally different than what I imagined.

I mean, yes, romance novels always describe the male lead to be tall, broad shouldered, handsome, muscles and all. But this is real life. And what in the world would be the reason of a guy this dreamy to have a girl in his life through a sugar baby website?

He must be a freak. Or annoying. Or has bad breath. Or all above.

He watches me as I approach the table, both of us look at each other that I curve a smile on my face to ease the awkwardness.

"Hi," I'm so nervous it came out as a whisper.

OH DEAR GOD. I feel like kneeling on the floor, wanting to worship THIS God; he's everything I imagined my next boyfriend to be.

"Hi." His deep voice is definitely the deal breaker.

Yes! Yes! I'll be your sugar! I'll be your baby! I'll be anything you want!

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