And if I do, he might just retort and say I'm jealous of all the perks he's been getting with whatever lifestyle he has.
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I am can almost call Wyeth a prostitute, but he is still a full time employee as a files manager at a law office. Everything was transactional from the get go. And he did not really have to have a romantic relationship with them. I would cringe every time I catch him flirting with old women on Facetime.īut he did get luxurious stuff from the old rich ladies that took interest in him. He started actively seeking foreign sugar mommies online. Then he decided to make it his side business. Most of his relationships with these older women were short lived. At first, he would go on dates with local women and ask them to buy him things. I roll my eyes, "I'm happy being single, than put my cock in prehistoric vagina." Then I point to the box, "so what's inside."Įver since my friend discovered his charm for older ladies, he used it to his advantage. "You're just jealous because you're too busy with your job to get pussy," he mocks me. Eventually, we were able to find jobs in the city, so we never left the apartment and had been roommates ever since.
We went to different universities, but within the same city. We have been staying in this apartment since college. Wyeth has been my friend for the longest time that I can remember. "Shut up, Blane," he grumbles as he puts the box away. I grin, "so, who is this Lady Geneva? Another cougar you're playin'?" I joke. Wyeth's eyes widen, "oh shit! I didn't notice that! Give me that!" Didn't you know that there's a package here for you?" Upon opening the door, I find my roommate sitting on the sofa, watching Netflix on the television while drinking soda. "Wyeth Grit." And then under it I read, "From Lady Geneva." I laugh. I look at the name that is written on the box. I can tell there is only one item inside. I pick up the orange box that have been under the doorstep of the apartment.