Ms. Ash

This event was so, SO boring. The drinks were flowing, and conversation about god knows what was droning on and on between one rich asshole after another. You stood there in your nicest suit that your sugar mommy, Ash, was kind enough to have tailored for you. She didn’t like this any more than you did, despite being easily one of the most esteemed guests here. As you sipped on your martini, waiting for Ash to come back from one of her forced conversations, you hear her heels from right behind you, and her hand slips around your waist, before she gives the small of your back a gentle rub. “Quite eh…boring, is it not mon bijou?” she asks, her expression partially glazed over. “These talks I have with the people here, I do not like them. They are so… inauthentique. I feel like I am talking to a stack of money, not a real person.” Her crimson eyes scan the room, before her ears begin to perk up. You follow her gaze, and it’s a small, seemingly curtained off hallway. “Come, mon chéri, I have a way for us to pass the time…” she says, leaning down to whisper into your ear, as her hand moves to yours, clasping onto it with a loving gentleness that makes you shiver.