Easy Money

"You need to shut up baby. Let me take care of your needs. Can you do that for me?" He unzipped my dress, as it falls freely down to the floor. ***** The lifestyle is not for everyone. That was the first warning that she got from the woman.  She's in need of cash. Her parents suddenly got a divorce. Leaving her to struggle with her financial education alone.  She never imagined at the end of her college years to be like this. Gone was the lifestyle that she used to have. The best friends, and even the boyfriend. She jumped at the first chance to be a sugar baby. Because deep down she knew that she needed the money, that it would be over in a year. Then she can find a job and move on with her life.  ***** He never needed a girlfriend. They're always too needy for his time. And time was the one thing that he treasured.  He's a workaholic. He likes the arrangement of a sugar baby where he can pay a sum of money for a companion of a young attractive woman.  His friend actually suggested the idea. With the last sugar baby being too attached to him. It's time for him to find another one. A less demanding one. ***** Will he get what he paid for? *Warning! R-Rated for 18+ due to strong, explicit language and sexual content*.

When my mother won a million dollars from a lottery ticket, she prepared an envelope for each of her three children. After we opened them, my younger brother and younger sister each found a bank card inside. But from my envelope, two 1-dollar coins clinked onto the floor. Seeing me freeze, a trace of unease flickered across Mother's face. "Cassian," she said hesitantly, "Logan and Sienna suffered a lot growing up because your father passed away so early. So I gave each of them 500 thousand dollars as compensation. "You're the eldest son—like a father to them. Don't fight with them over this, okay?" I glanced down at the faded down jacket I had worn for years, the fabric so worn that it had lost its color. Then, my eyes drifted to my younger brother's limited-edition sneakers and to the designer bag slung over my sister's shoulder. Mother seemed to have forgotten that when Father died, I had only been eight. I smiled faintly. "Alright. I won't fight them for it." Hearing this, Mother let out a long breath of relief. The next second, my voice turned cold. "Then I won't fight for the responsibility of supporting you in your old age either."

I need a wife. Now. It doesn’t have to do with love and living the good life. This is all about getting the money my billionaire father left to me. And I’m running out of time. But who proposes to a stranger after the first date? Me. That’s who. As if I have another choice. Luck is on my side though, and a beautiful model shows up in my office. Single? Gorgeous? Funny? All of the above. Our first date goes so well that I feel unsure about my decision to do this thing with her—you know, fake it. I put it off and decide to do it later, to ask for her help after we get to know each other better. But I like her more and more each time we meet, and eventually, offering her a ring isn’t for my dad’s money—it’s because I want her more than anything else in the world. Besides, who’s going to know if it’s fake or real? And does it really matter? Yeah. It does. To her…

I finally managed to score a dream tutoring gig that paid an incredible $500 an hour. Nevertheless, looking at the family portrait sitting in my employer’s house, I saw my own supposedly honest, simple mother. In the photograph, she was leaning affectionately against a wealthy, tailor-suited sugar daddy, who was holding a 5 or 6-year-old boy in his arms. Her smile was even warmer and more tender than the day she sent me off to college. My mind went entirely blank. I whipped out my phone, ready to start a video call with my dad to catch her in the act. Suddenly, a rough hand firmly clamped down on mine. It was my mom. She dragged me into a blind spot out of sight, lowering her voice to a desperate plea. "Sweetheart, please don't tell your dad! His dialysis treatments can't be interrupted! This man is loaded, and he's more than willing to give me cash. I'm just bleeding him dry to pay for your tuition and keep your dad alive!" The corner of my mouth twitched into a bitter smirk as I set the family portrait right back where it belonged. "Mom, do you actually believe your own lies?" Her face turned deathly pale in an instant. I didn't press her any further, though. Instead, I reached out and thoughtfully wiped a speck of dust off the glass frame. "Fine. Make sure you do a good job then."

I'm the top salesperson at a tutoring center. Payday comes, and my commission is 50 cents. I'm so furious that I march straight to my boss to demand answers, but his secretary, Sasha Watson, steps in front of me. She digs through her pocket, pulls out 50 cents, and flicks it straight at my face in front of everyone. "Here's your 50 cents!" My ears ring. Heat crawls up my neck and into my skull. "Ms. Watson, this has to be a mistake. I closed 1.5 million dollars on my own last month. My team pulls in over three million dollars. My commission should be at least 200 grand." Sasha rolls her eyes. She reaches into her wallet, pulls out a dollar bill, and slaps it against my cheek. "Stop barking! Fine, I'll throw you a dollar. Keep the change!" I'm about to lose it. "My mom is still waiting on that 200 grand for her surgery. Without it, she could die." The coworkers around us start whispering. "50 cents? For the top salesperson? That's insane!" "Lower your voice. She's the boss's niece! What she says goes. Unless you want to get fired, pretend you didn't hear anything." I turn away, pull out my phone, and dial our biggest competitor. "I'm in. Five million dollars a year."

People does hardworking, tiring and stressful workloads everyday while Ethel just need to sway her hips and she'll earn money. She is an entertainer, she has the confidence to dance naked publicly because she convinced herself that if she won't work today, they'll starve tomorrow. Everything about her life was repetitive until he met Terrius, the rich man who wants her for himself.