Page 19 of Sugar Baby

The girls all have their hair done in braids and pigtails with fluffy scrunchies. Nightgowns made of see-through, flowy fabric with ruffles and bows. The models have modesty wear underneath, but it’s clear that there isn’t supposed to be anything worn beneath the sheer fabric.

About halfway down, I pause at the sight of a black lace bodysuit. The leg cutouts are high up on the models hips and the shoulder straps are tiny. But what really captures my attention is the massive black satin bow across the bust. Where you would expect there to be cups, there is only underwire, the edging of the black lace wrapping over the curved metal, leaving the model’s breasts exposed, if not for the bow.

I click on the image, and I’m taken to an online store that provides an even clearer image of the outfit on my screen. Thereis a tiny arrow to the side of the image, so I click it and am rewarded with another angle of the lingerie. The back is low-cut and the ass converts into a thick G-string that disappears into the perky crevice of the model’s ass.

Another click provides me with a third image and it’s a flat-lay. When my focus lands on the crotch, my mouth drops open when I finally figure out why it looks weird.

I was wrong. It’s not a G-string, well . . . the ass is. But the part that would cover my pussy has a slit down the center for what I’m sure is to allow easy access.

The outfit is basically gift wrapping.

It’s fucking perfect.

Chapter 8

Emery

I stand to the side of the entry to the lingerie store, staring up at the posters of the gorgeous women wearing the high-end undergarments. Their faces are in full makeup, and they probably starved themselves in the days leading up to the photoshoot. Not to mention all the retouching and mood lighting. But damn, they look amazing.

The fake tans are definitely helping.

I glance at the exposed skin of my forearms, and all I see is pale skin. I mean, my skin gets tan when I remember to spend time in the sun. But since bailing on my last foster home the day after I turned eighteen, because it was clear that my foster father was very interested in me staying in the house, I’ve become a bit of a homebody.

Couch surfing and bouncing through shelters while I waited for my college accommodations to open up became a full-time job. I did odd jobs here and there, like babysitting and dog walking, but the people I was doing the jobs for didn’t have that much spare cash lying around.

Now, with the five Benjamins burning a hole in the pocket of my threadbare jeans, I’m struggling to find the courage to go into the store. I want to go in, and I definitely need to, because I’m pretty sure the originally-plain-white-but-now-gray panties and the bralette with the strap I’ve attempted to stitch back on aren’t what they want to pay ten thousand dollars for. I’m just struggling to get my feet to move.

A woman brushes past me and, without a sideways glance, she enters the lingerie store, like it’s as easy as walking into a grocery store.

I mean, I’m sure it is that easy. It’s not like there are any physical barriers stopping me from getting in there. It’s the mental ones. It’s the thought of spending literally the most money I have ever held in my hand on clothes that are designed to be ripped off, rather than buying things I actually fucking need to live, like food and a good winter coat.

That is a complete mind fuck, for sure.

It doesn’t help that the last time I went shopping was at a thrift store, and I spent a total of fifty dollars for an entire summer wardrobe. Two years ago. Hence the threadbare nature of mycurrent outfit. I don’t even know what size bra I actually need, always just having purchased whatever felt like it fit.

Okay, I need to do this. If I want that money in my bank account by the weekend, then I have to go in there and buy the things I need to make it happen. I’ll be able to pay Oakley back as soon as I wake up tomorrow.

Taking a deep breath, I commit to my decision by opening up the SugarLife app and snapping a picture of the front of the store, being sure to get the golden logo in, before sending it to the guys.

SugarBB_Emmy:First stop.

There has been radio silence since I said I was going shopping. So, when my message goes toreadbefore I can exit out of the app, I start to wonder if I crossed some sort of sugar baby line.

Brat4Us:Do we get to see what you buy?

I pout.

I wasn’t planning on showing them, because the outfit I want is so perfect, I want to surprise them with it.

But maybe I could play a game with them? Try on a bunch of other outfits and tease them with those, but never let them see the one I plan on wearing?

Would that be fun for them?

Shrugging, I decide to go with it.

SugarBB_Emmy:How about I show you what I’m trying on? I want to keep my actual outfit for our evening a surprise, though.

I bite my lip and can’t help adding one more thing.