Chapter 11: Beau

Beau

“The nerve of that man.” Running a hand through my hair, I pulled on the ends in frustration.

“Dick pic or obnoxious?” Zoe asked from her perch on my bed the morning after we’d set up my account. She looked so out of place. Nothing like the well-put-together chick from school; she was in sweats and an old tank top, having spent the night. “Bet you twenty bucks it was both. Am I right?”

My mature reply, I flipped her off. “Shut up.”

We were eating breakfast from a bagel place down the street while she helped me navigate the mass of messages I’d accumulated since last night. Not even twelve hours into my sugar baby journey, and I was overwhelmed.

Felt like cattle on display for the highest bidder. As if I had “fresh meat” tattooed onto my forehead.

So far, I had looked at ten invites to connect, and all were creeps.

Three pictures of small dicks offering a good time.

One serial clinger who’d begun to plan our wedding.

And six pompous I own everything jerks.