09 : Taking It

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
                          
A/N: I'd put my explicit content warning here, but I'm tired of fourteen-year-olds calling me a stupid bitch. Here's your smut.

                          
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The address led me to a high-rise condo building on the opposite side of town from Remy's. It's taller -- much taller -- and this guy lives near the top. A doorman greets me and lets me inside. No one stops me on my way to the elevator, which is good considering I already have a card. Remy didn't want me to meet at his place alone for the first time, but enough of the girls vouched for him that he ended up letting me. I take out my cell phone and tap the keys to send the text.
                          
Me: I made it 
                          
Going up now
                          
Remy: Be careful
                          
Me: Stop worrying!
                          
The elevator doors open and I go inside, swipe the card, and press the button for the correct floor. When the doors close, I check myself out in the reflection.
                          
I didn't know whether to dress up or not. There isn't really a guideline for Sugar Baby interview attire, so I went casual. Now that I'm seeing this place, I wish I hadn't. I tug at the bottom of my long-sleeved Henley, making sure the open buttons at the top showed off enough but not too much. Not sure how much that matters considering I'm not even wearing a bra.
                          
The doors open and I walk out towards a large pair of wooden doors. An engraving of ivy traces the inset portions of the mahogany. Even the fucking doors are expensive. I shake off my nerves and knock.
                          
It seems like minutes pass before anyone answers, but when it finally swings open, there he is.
                          
My eyes trail up his body. He stands barefoot in similar colors to me; his white button-down shirt left untucked over khaki trousers. He's tall and fit, looking modelesque with his narrow hips and broad shoulders. His hair is dark and perfectly groomed. Only the lines at his forehead and eyes signal his age.
                          
He looks at me with a neutral gaze, his blue eyes appraising me. "You must be Maggie," he says, his voice smooth and alluring.
                          
"Ye--" my voice comes out raspy and I clear my throat. "Yes. And you're Daniel?"
                          
"I am." His eyes trace over me from head to toe. "Come in."
                          
He lets me inside and I try to keep my jaw from falling to the floor.
                          
The place is huge. The dark, marble floors have a golden grain that coordinates with the taupe-colored walls. A formal dining room sits to the left, a pristine kitchen opens to a living space to the right. In the seating area, black, Corbusier couches and chairs surround a glass coffee table, all resting on a beige rug next to an unlit marble fireplace. Behind it, a glass wall with oversized doors leads to a large outdoor seating area with views of the city.