Who's Your (Sugar) Daddy?

Meghan looked Nikki over from head to toe before saying, "Should I ask who you wear this kind of stuff for?"

"If you want to make the kind of money I make, then yes, you should ask," Nikki told her.

"Okay. I'll bite. Who do you dress up for and what kind of money are you talking about?"

Nikki went to her closet and punched in a code on a small personal safe she kept inside it. She pulled a thick stack of cash that was mostly $100 and $50 bills. It was at least half an inch thick.

"Holy crap, Nikki!" Meghan said. "That's more money than I've ever seen at one time."

"I only have this much here because I haven't taken the time to get to the bank after my last two weeks worth of um...appointments."

"Appointments?" Meghan asked.

"Uh-huh," Nikki replied.

"With whom do you have these um...appointments and how often do you have them?"

"That depends," Nikki told her. "You can have them as often or as infrequently as you like."

Meghan sat up straight and said, "Okay. Let's stop playing 'Clue' and just tell me. What is it we're talking about here?"

Nikki looked at her very expensive watch and said, "Listen. I've gotta go. When I get back, we'll talk. The bottom line is there are some very generous men who well, let's just say...really enjoy...the company of younger, beautiful women." Nikki grabbed her cell phone and before Meghan could react, snapped a picture of her. "I won't tell them your name. I'll just ask if you're someone they might be interested in meeting. I can guarantee you they will be and if you're willing to um...spend time with them...you can make that kind of money and more every week."

Nikki dropped her cell into her gorgeous little clutch and opened the door. "Hey, wait! I need to ask you something else!" Meghan said.

"Sorry. I'm gonna be late and that's a serious no-no. We'll talk tomorrow, okay? Now get back to your studying."

The door closed and Meghan sat there staring at it for several minutes before she realized she needed to get back to her chemistry book but also knew there was no way she could concentrate. Not after hearing that. Nikki must have had close to $20,000 in the room. And that was only two weeks of work or whatever it was she did.

Her mom and dad were behind on the house, the car, and the hospital was getting ready to turn them over to a collection agency. Meghan was a traditional girl, but she also knew desperate times called for desperate measures. But first, she had to know what the measures were because there was desperate and then there was reckless and dangerous. Beyond that was uncharted territory.

______________________________________________________________________

Grant Ziegler took a look around the room and thought, "So now what?" This had been his home away from home for the last 40 years. He'd built the business from the ground up as a little start-up in his garage. He smiled when he thought about how afraid he'd been when he'd signed for a small business loan of $25,000. It was more money than he'd even seen in his life, and the thought of paying it back kept him up at nights.

While he was in college, he'd developed a passion for computer software, something that was in its infancy. Recognizing the potential for information security, he spent his time developing and eventually figured out how to provide data protection on computers. All he needed to do was convince computer manufacturers to produce them with his product installed. He called his product FireSoft and once he got the chance to demonstrate how well it worked, the product sold itself. And in a very big way. He'd become a millionaire by the time he was 25 with a staff of just ten people. By the age of 35, he had over 2,000 people working for him, and his net worth had just crossed the one billion dollar mark.

At the age of 50, he retired and handed the day-to-day operations to his 23-year son and recent college graduate, Mark. Grant and his wife of 25 years, his high school sweetheart, Gayle, sailed, traveled, and lived life to the fullest. Almost no matter where they were in the world, one way or the other, Grant found a way to swim and play tennis, his other two passions in life. Even during Gayle's illness, Ziegler rarely missed his morning swim or his three sets of tennis in the afternoon.

She'd found the large lump in her breast four years ago. It had spread quickly and in spite of a radical, double-mastectomy and the best care in the world, she lost her battle in less than a year. That's when Grant had gone back to work full-time to force himself to stay busy and to think about something else—anything else—but losing Gayle. Mark wasn't happy about taking the number two slot, but the truth was the company had lost a lot of money with the younger Ziegler at the helm. Grant quickly turned things around and spent a lot of time teaching and mentoring his son.

Now, three years later, at the age of 62, he'd had enough of the grind. He was selling FireSoft for $3.2 billion to his son, Mark.

"I saw your new digs, Grant. Think that's gonna big enough for you?"

Ziegler politely smiled and said, "Yeah, it should be. But I've got Shay to think about, too, you know."

"Oh, right! Does she get her own separate bedroom?"

"No. She gets her own wing." Shay was their yellow Lab and other than Mark, the only thing that really mattered to him any more. He loved his son and now that he was fully prepared to take the helm, he wanted him to run the company again—and to own it. He'd worked out the financing with his attorneys and Grant had agreed to sell it to his boy for $500 million less than it was worth, something he would never have done had he not sold it to family.

Money no longer mattered to him, but Shay did. She was his real best friend. She'd been there the entire time when Gayle was sick and she was at his feet during the funeral and then at the cemetery on that cold, gray morning when they laid his wife to rest. Gayle was the best friend he'd ever had, but Shay was a close second. Okay, maybe Mark was second, but that one was a toss up.

He'd bought an enormous mansion near the sleepy university campus where he'd been a computer science major until dropping out his senior year to work full-time on his firewall software. He'd been warned of the dire consequences of leaving with the degree in hand and yet he now had an honorary BS, MS, and PhD from that very university. "Not bad for a college dropout," he thought to himself.

Ziegler wasn't antisocial, he'd just lost the need to be around people after Gayle had died. He could still be charming when necessary, and he could be just as ruthless as ever when business was involved. But as far as relationships went, he just didn't care. He'd thought about dating again recently, but when he looked at available women his age, he decided being rich and single wasn't such a bad thing. Besides, he had Shay and the rest of the world to see and explore. And he made sure he had an Olympic-sized pool and a tennis court in his new home. He also had a third room that was the size of a football field where he could play fetch on days when going outside wasn't an option. He'd had the entire area carpeted so Shay could run and stop without sliding around on a slick hardwood floor. After all, Ziegler would do anything for his one remaining girl.

"It's absolutely gorgeous, Grant! If you'd like some company, you know you can call me anytime, right?" Marge Johnson was one of Gayle's best friends and she'd recently been divorced for the third time. She made no secret of her interest in her late friend's husband, but Grant always just told her he'd call knowing full well she'd be the last person he'd ever call let alone go on a date with.

"Thanks, Marge. I'll call you, okay?"

"I'm gonna hold you to that, Grant!" she teased. She stopped, leaned closer then said, "Or maybe I'll just hold you!"

Grant smiled politely and assured her again he'd call as he closed the door. She was the last to leave after the retirement/house-warming party. Only Charlie Davis remained. Charlie was the closest thing he had to a best friend. He'd been his personal assistant for nearly 20 years, and Ziegler trusted Charlie with everything. He had access to a fair amount of his money, he had unfettered access to his home, his cars, his private jet, and pretty much everything Ziegler owned. If Charlie wanted to take the yacht out for the weekend with one of his never-ending new girlfriends, he didn't even need to ask. He just had to tell Ziegler where he'd be and how to reach him. Of course, he still had to be available 24/7, but he need not be physically present. That arrangement had worked for as long as cell phones and email had been around, and it was still in effect.

Davis may have been the most highly compensated personal assistant of all time. Ziegler paid him just over a million a year in salary plus 2-3 times that in bonuses at the end of each year because he was worth every penny. Add to that the access he had to all of Grant's toys, and Charlie Davis lacked for nothing. Most of all, Charlie had Grant's trust and that's what allowed him to be completely frank with him on any issue.

Unlike Grant, who was a younger, better-looking version of Robert Redford, Charlie Davis wasn't the kind of guy anyone would call handsome. He wasn't unattractive for a guy who was 55, but he certainly wasn't more than average looking. In his case, money really did seem to buy love. Okay, maybe just companionship but Davis seemed very happy having some new, young, pretty girl on his arm every week and they seemed very happy to be with him.

Charlie was the one person who wasn't family he trusted unconditionally. So when his beloved Shay suddenly went lame as Labs often did and there was no surgical option, Ziegler called on his best friend to arrange having the vet come to the house and put her down. Ziegler held her as she died. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the tears from flowing just as they had when he'd laid his wife to rest. Some might say it was only a dog, but they couldn't possibly understand the bond they'd shared.

Some six months later, Davis had watched his boss and best friend spiral downward until he became concerned enough to say something.

"Grant? How 'bout we have a drink?"

"No thanks, Charlie. You go ahead. I'm not much in the mood."

Charlie paid no attention and poured two glasses. He handed one to Ziegler and said, "I want to discuss something with you so can you humor me at least?"

Out of respect for his friend, Ziegler took the glass and said, "What's the occasion, Charlie? You finally gonna marry one of those beautiful young co-eds?"

Davis laughed and said, "Hardly. But you're pretty close.

"So what shall we drink to?" Ziegler said.

"Well, that ties into what I want to talk about. How about to 'new opportunities'?"

Ziegler looked puzzled but raised his glass and agreed to the toast. "So what new opportunities, Charlie? And it better not have anything to do with business or making money."

Davis smiled and said, "No business. I promise. But I really do have something...or someone...I'd like you to consider."

"Charlie. If you want to hire someone, you know you don't have to ask. You have cart blanche when it comes to the staff. Just do it."

"It's not about hiring anyone, Grant. It's about you, my friend." He paused, looked directly at his boss and said, "I'm worried about you, Grant. It's just not good for a man to be alone all the time. Women do okay without a man. They tend to have tons of friends. They're social creatures. They're supportive by nature. Men are competitive. We just don't do that kind of stuff well. Look, I'm your best friend so I'll hope you'll at least hear me out."

"I'm listening, Charlie, but I don't like where this is going," Ziegler warned him. Even Charlie had limits when it came to Ziegler's limits and dating was one of them.

"I want to show you a picture of someone, and I want you to keep an open mind, okay?"

Grant didn't answer him. He just stared then raised on eyebrow. "I told you I don't want another dog. I can't ever go through that again."

"No dogs, Grant. Trust me on that because I mean it both figuratively and literally. Here. Take a look."

Davis handed him his phone and Ziegler turned it from landscape to portrait then back to landscape. "She's very pretty. But she's not even Mark's age," he said flatly as he handed the phone back to its owner.

Davis spent the next few minutes explaining the constant stream of pretty, new faces on his arm. Charlie told him who these girls were. All of them were stunningly beautiful, highly intelligent, very thoughtful, and all were incredibly charming. Davis knew he wasn't making progress so he spent the next five minutes making his case as persuasively as he could. He pushed every button Ziegler had even though there were very few of them to push.

When he finished, Ziegler sighed and said, "Okay. You've made your point. I'll think about it. But only because you're asking, Charlie. I'd have thrown anyone else out of here after the first sentence. I'm not making any promises, but I will give it some thought."

"That's all I'm asking. Look, I know how you're feeling. First Gayle and then Shay. Women our age are nice company but, well...let's just say I understand your feelings about dating them. I had my own reservations about dating girls this young but Grant, after doing it for over a year, I can tell you I'll never date anyone over 30 again."

______________________________________________________________________

Meghan had fallen asleep at her desk. She heard the door open and it took her a second to realize where she was and who or what caused the sound. Even though no one else saw it, Meghan was a little embarrassed at the small puddle of drool on the table. She carefully pulled a tissue from the box on the desk and carefully wiped it up without drawing attention.

"You're still up?" Nikki said as she closed the door behind her.

Meghan's mouth was dry and felt...nasty. "Uh, yeah. Kind of, I guess," she mumbled. Then she remembered their conversation from earlier that evening.

"How was your...appointment?"

Nikki pulled off the four-inch heels and stretched her calves. "God, that feels good!" she said as though it were ecstasy. "It was...pretty routine."

"Pretty routine? What does that even mean?"

"Come over here and I'll explain it," Nikki told her. She patted the spot next to her on the bed indicating where Meghan should sit.

"Okay, I'm sitting. Now spill it."

Nikki turned slightly to her left to better face Meghan. "As I said, there are some very generous men who very much appreciate the company of attractive women our age."

"Uh, yeah, you already told me that. What's the catch? There's always a catch, you know."

"Of course," Nikki agreed. "The catch is that in exchange for an evening of your time, you can come home with this." Nikki reached into her purse and laid out fifty, hundred-dollar bills.

Meghan picked a bunch of them up and spread them out like a fan. She felt the crisp paper in her hand and watched it as it turned into a mortgage payment and then into a second car for her parents. She sat it all back down on the bed then said, "That's not the catch, Nikki. That's the compensation. What do you have to do in order to come home with that much money?"

"Well, that depends on how much you want to come home with," she said. "Let's say your personal comfort zone is going out to dinner in public. You might come home with maybe $1,000. If you're willing to have dinner and slow dance a few times, you could possibly double that."

Meghan turned to face her and said, "And if a girl wants to come home with this much?"

Nikki sighed and said, "That depends." She saw a look of frustration on Meghan's face then said, "Look. If you want to play it safe, you can make close to this much by agreeing to be some gentleman's...um...missionary." She paused for effect then said, "Am I being clear enough yet?"

Meghan raised an eyebrow as she asked, "So is that what you mean by a 'routine' appointment?"

"Yes and no," Nikki said.

"Can you possibly answer a question without a question just once, Nick? Please?"

"There isn't a pay scale or anything, okay? It's what you and the guy agree to. I've had guys offer three grand for doing what I got five grand for tonight. Once I made six. So it just depends on what you're willing to do and how generous the guy is."

"So...how old are these generous men you're talking about?"

"How old is your father?" Nikki asked.

"Jesus! Are you serious? That's disgusting! My dad is almost 53."

"Sorry, kiddo, but 53 is on the younger side of these gentlemen. There are a few guys in their forties but most are well—older than your father. Many are a LOT older."

Meghan wretched slightly as she said, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Nikki touched her forearm and said, "It's not that bad, Meg. Really. I mean, you get used to it. You can...you know, close your eyes and pretend it's the best looking guy you know. But that's only one part of the um...appointment...and that part is optional. Most of these guys are really nice. They just want a pretty young girl to talk to and show off in public. All you have to do is be nice back."

"You and I have very different ideas about what the term 'being nice means', Nikki." Meghan sat there for a moment then asked, "You said most of them are really nice. What are the rest of them like?"

"I've only had one appointment outside my comfort zone. I took a chance on a guy who seemed really sweet. He had a bondage fetish and he offered me $10,000 for two hours."

"And?" Meghan demanded.

"And...let's just say I'll never make that mistake again. I thought it meant maybe a blindfold and some light spanking or maybe even handcuffs."

Meghan had tried all of those things with Steve and she'd even enjoyed it. But the thought of doing that with a total stranger who was older than her father made her nauseous and scared the living hell out of her.

"It ended up with a lot of bruises and bleeding and then being...." Her voice trailed off before she said the final word but Meghan didn't need to hear it to know what happened.

"So what did you do? Did you tell anyone?"

"There's no one to tell, Meghan. I mean, I guess you could tell the cops, but it would be your word against his...and his army of lawyers. Oh, and you'd have to admit you're being paid to do it so...."

"How do you avoid getting into that kind of situation? I mean, how do you know what you're getting before you get there?"

"I've never had anyone lie to me. Even that guy told me what he planned to do. In his mind, I'm sure he thought what he did to me was completely consensual. They tell you upfront what they want and then if you agree, you negotiate the fee. You do what they paid for and go home. But if you're asking for an ironclad security guarantee, there isn't one." Nikki pointed at the money again. "But if you want...or in your case...need...this kind of money, well...."

Nikki saw the concern in Meghan's eyes. "Meg? I showed a guy your picture tonight. After the appointment, he texted me and said he has someone who's interested in meeting you. Just dinner. Inside, at his place. No hanky-panky, no nothing. Just talking and eating the best food and drinking the finest wine on earth. Oh, and he'll pay you $10,000."

Meghan's eyes opened wide in shock. Nikki grabbed her arm and said, "I had to get hurt to make that kind of money, hon. This guy is either mega wealthy or he really, really likes what he sees." She waited then added, "Or maybe both."

Nikki stood up and said, "I gotta take a shower, okay? Look. There's no pressure. You don't have to do this. But it's ten grand for dinner and small talk. If you want to give it a try, text the word "Meghan" to this number. The guy's name is Charlie. That's all I know."