Salty Sugar Baby

"I guess I have all the documents needed. Do you have any concern before we end this meeting?"

Yes I do.

I do have a lot of concerns. Like, am I an idiot for doing this? Am I an idiot to complete all those procedures but still haven't pulled myself out of this deal? Am I a fucking idiot to want to proceed even after all the red-flag questions I answered just now? Am I?

"No." I'm indeed an idiot. No doubt.

"Alright. I shall contact you once we've found a match. Thank you for your time, Miss Grey." She collects all the papers on the table, putting them in a white folder before standing up.

Leaning down to grab her Birkin on the chair between us, I steal a glance at her full appearance. She really looks like a character from the tv series I'm currently watching on Netfl!x- Veronica. The lady boss who owns a law firm, always dressed impeccably just the way she is right now; pearl-white business suit, Hermes handbag, pointed toe stiletto heels. This professional image is giving me the vibe of a successful career woman that I would never, in a million years, think that she runs this kind of business.

I'm not judging.

Fine I might sound like I am but really, I'm not. How could I when she's the one who should judge me for the thing I signed up a month ago.

Which brings us to the earlier point that I, was an idiot.

Wait, I still am so I... AM an idiot.

One month ago, I kinda signed up to be a sugar baby. Fineeee scrape that 'kinda' if you must. Yeah yeah I know what it must sound like, you judgemental peeps!

But in my defence, I did it without much thinking (which to be honest, when it comes to life these days, I’m not thinking much before doing anything anyway) because everything was actually quite simple so it's like one of those things we do every day without putting much thought into it.

By 'simple' I mean I only needed to fill up all my basic personal details (the info we often input in those club membership application either at a store, a gym, everywhere!) so I happened to provide my details at this one sugar-baby website I found on a boring Saturday night, and once I keyed in everything, there, just hit submit. Simple, right?

Very simple indeed.

Two hours later, despite it being past midnight which technically it was already Sunday morning (I repeat: Sunday morning! They fucking worked on a weekend, at 1 freaking a.m.) I received an email saying my ID had been verified which granted me to the next step; answering a stack of questions to help them know what kind of a person am I, what range of age do I prefer my Daddy to be, all those enquiries you normally get on the first dates.

But the one that caught me the most was when they asked what type of compensation would I like if it's in a form of allowance money, gifts, and/or others.

I've gotta admit my hand itched to type in 'one Mercedes Benz, five thousands a month, and one thick six inch penis'.

Because according to the Internet, world's average penis size is five inch so six should be generous enough. Because hey, that’s one inch (equals 2.54cm, equals 25.4mm) more than usual.

I submitted the answers of those never-ending questionnaire along with extensive information of my biodata to this Cupcake agency and boom! The following day I got an email requesting three pictures that best described me.

Sipping a glass of virgin cocktail at a hipster cafe, smiling in my modest swimming suit (by modest i mean a non-revealing top with a high waisted bottom), and reading a romance novel on my living-room sofa; those were the three pictures that best described me.

Hah! Yeah right! More like feet up on the coffee table while munching junk food with eyes glued on Netfl!x.

Few days after the photo submission, they emailed me a Guarantee Letter that would pay for a medical check-up at a prestigious private hospital. It finally hit me how real everything was the moment I saw the name in that letter; it was exactly the same one I provided when I registered that Sunday night.

They really wanted me to go through a thorough medical check up by the list they attached along with the Guarantee Letter. Heh, guess it's important to cross off the possibility of 'died of a heart attack during orgasm with her sugar daddy' on my autopsy report later on.

But seriously, the extent of this sugar-baby agency to provide such thorough medical check up and background check really ease my worries. They seems legit.

It took two weeks for them to contact me, informing all the results were great so they'd like to meet me in person to complete the contractual part.

Today, Cupcake sends Miss Collins -though I prefer calling her Veronica- to verify if I am indeed the 5ft4in-135lbs-brunette-browneyed girl as I claimed to be. I even had to produce my passport to make sure I am indeed one idiot Abigail Grey who signed up to be a sugar baby four Sundays ago.

Jokes on them because I'm not!

I'm not the 19 year old Abigail Grey!

Muahaha I'm not, you suckers!

It's funny how stupid they've been not to realise I am not Abigail Grey, though once the humor is out of my system, I am now concerned by how easy it is to cheat at all the check points; website registration, medical check up, this face-to-face meeting.

But I'd be tricked too if I were them because the 19 year old Abigail Grey in this passport really look like me. We get that a lot.

No, we are not twins.

Or like in that movie when two bodies switch with each other because of bad weather- lightning, was it? No, none of those nonsense.

"Have a nice day, Miss Grey." She leaves after wishing me goodbye.

Like the child I am, I try hard not to giggle every time she calls me Miss Grey. I'm not, Veronica. You just got fooled. I'm not Abigail Grey. Jeez, I wonder if the Daddy she's going to pick for me will be fooled too?

She explained in great details about the procedures from the first step of signing up at the website until the last step when I'm done with my contract as a Sugar Baby.

I've completed the preliminary steps to put me in their database so now they will suggest me to a few Daddies that suit my preferences, and if one of them is interested in me, both of us will meet at a public place.

The contract will only take place if both of us agree to it, which the most important part in this story is, I don't have to pay a cent to them.

If I sign a contract, I'll get the money/ gift/ others. If I don't, I can keep on meeting more Daddies until I find one which is what I plan to do, since I'm registering just to accept my niece's challenge, not that I REALLY want to be a sugar baby. I'm not insane to jeopardise my career and good image I've retained since forever.

So the point here is, I'm not losing anything except time, which I have plenty of it especially on weekends like this. Take it as another hobby since all I've done is lazying around at home anyway. Might as well meet guys though I have no intention to proceed further.

I feel a vibrate coming from the sling bag on my lap signalling a call from someone. I dig into it producing an iPhone 4 that lights up with the caller ID shown on the screen.

"What?" I ask rudely, knowing I'd gain a laugh from the person on the other line.

"Whoaaa what happened, Senora Sum-mah?" She giggles thinking it's funny to call me by my last name in British accent.

"What do you want."

"Jeez, so serious. You definitely did the right thing signing up for a Daddy. WHICH BY THE WAY," I startle at the sudden increase of volume, "Can you buy me dinner now? I'm hungryyy, Mummyyy."

"The fuck? It's only 3. Nobody eats dinner at 3! I just bought you McDonald's two hours ago!" I half shouted at her, keeping my voice low enough not to be heard by the people around me but loud enough to have it as a yell.

"Oh shut up Fee," she grunts at my scolding, "just buy me dinner now! You owe me, remember? NOW! OKAY? Bye!" She hung up on me when I was so ready to fire back at her.

Urgh. You're lucky I owe you one big favor, Abigail Grey.