“Slide your card, please.”
Milly took one last glance at her benefactor (which was his preferred term for “sugar daddy”) and waited for him to give a nod. “Go ahead,” he said. “That credit card’s nowhere near its limit.”
Her heart skipped as she swiped the thick, heavy plastic card and gazed at the number on screen. $3566.42, more than she had ever spent in one place in one time.
And it was just shoes! Designer heels, lovingly handmade flats, fashionable sneakers, even some foot wraps. Milly had never even seen the point of foot wraps, but why not? It wasn’t her money. It was her benefactor’s. She could get whatever she wanted.
The last of her lingering doubts dissipated as the keypad flashed “APPROVED,” and a long receipt printed out. The cashier calmly gathered it up, folded it over several times, and handed it to her. “There we go.” This cashier’s tone was friendly and professional, of course, but her eyes flashed at Milly with a mix of jealousy and awe. They said: You lucky bitch, you found yourself a sugar daddy.
But Milly was distracted, because there was one last part of this deal that’d yet to come to pass. She didn’t mention it as they walked out of the store with a rolling rack full of designer shoes and waited for the chaffeur to come fetch them and take them to the limo that was waiting for them, but… something was yet amiss.
As Milly and her benefactor sat on a bench outside the store with their cart full of luxury items, she couldn’t help but turn to him and pester. “I thought,” she began, “there was going to be some transformation.”
Her benefactor was a handsome but slight man, and for as long as Milly had known him (four days) he had been acting the part of a sugar daddy: aloof, generous, and haughty. But he hadn’t been dismissive of her as he outlined his guidelines and fielded her questions about this whole findom situation. That’s why it surprised Milly when he laughed at her right then. Rather loudly, too. There were people around!
“Oh, silly Milly,” he said. “I’ll let you see something. Take a look at my lips.”
His lips were… wait! For the last few days they’d been thin, often pursed, with a tendency to wrap into a cruel smile. But now, Milly noticed, his lips were a bit fuller, rounder, redder. Not obvious, but undeniably different if you were looking for it.
Likewise – he was an exceedingly well-groomed man who had an executive’s short and cropped hairstyle. Except… not anymore. His hair bunched and fell, just a little, around his ears and the back of his neck. It was shaggier now than Milly remembered. Although he had already been blonde, the light seemed to catch it just a bit more now and bring out a platinum sheen.
“Oh,” Milly said. That was all she could say. The evidence was small, but it was undeniable.
“Glad you can see,” he said.
At this point their chaffeur came and, without saying a word but a gregarious nod to them, began loading the boxes of shoes into a jet-black stretch limousine. Milly’s benefactor didn’t bother to lower his voice. Presumably the chaffeur knew the deal.
“Really though, Milly,” her benefactor continued, “You thought thirty-three hundred dollars was going to do it? You’re going to need to spend better than that. The card –” he motioned to Milly’s handbag, where she had stored the credit card - “has a high limit.”
“Okay,” she said, regarding her handbag and wondering if she might get a better one. To go with all the shoes.
Visions of shopping sprees began to enter her head.
The next stop was a store entirely for purses and handbags – and Milly tossed aside her trepidation this time. She bought a different designer handbag for every day of the week. Then one for every different social situation she could think of. Not just the designer brands that people knew, like Balenciaga or Saint Laurent, but the fancy ones, with Italian names that ended in ‘I’. Pratesi. Empoli. Paolo Masi. When it came time to ring up the bags, the total was $20,728.
This number, it seemed, was more to her benefactor’s liking, although he still seemed like he wanted more.
“Swipe your card, please.”
As the transaction went through, Milly couldn’t help but glance at her benefactor and notice his cheekbones move a bit higher, his eyes get doe-ier, and maybe even some inches disappeared.
It was real. It was happening!
Once again they waited outside for their chaffeur to come pick up the bags, her benefactor let out a little giggle. It was so unexpected that Milly looked around at first to see if someone was watching them. But, no. It had been him.
“Milly, this is fun,” he said, his voice sounding a bit more of helium, less edgy, more eager. “Can we do more shopping, Milly? Can we, please?”
