"It's spring 2017, just over 100 days into Trump's first term, and we're sitting in a hot tub at a luxury spa in Richmond, Virginia. Post-massage and pre-facial, we're celebrating John's recent move East and his new $400,000 salary. He orders the strawberries off the spa menu like it's nothing. It is nothing to him. A spa day is something we've never done before. Back in Denver, our meetups were in budget hotels."
"I was a poor college student living with my mom, sister, and nephew in a cramped two-bedroom apartment, sleeping on the couch. John walked into my strip club one night, tipped me $400 alongside his business card, and extended a dinner invitation with three bonus words: "I'll pay you." I was a dancer because I was desperately broke, not because I possessed rhythm, a hot body, or hustle. I'd never made $400 in one fell swoop. How could I have refused?"
A young woman describes a spring 2017 spa visit with her sugar daddy, John, celebrating his $400,000 salary while he orders gold-dusted strawberries. The strawberries taste like sugar and nothing, but John frames them as extravagance. The narrator met John at 24 while dancing in a strip club and accepted his offer after a $400 tip and a promise to pay. Their meetings evolved from budget hotels to luxury spa days, with John insisting on calling payments "help." The narrator portrays gratitude alongside discomfort, noting public assumptions focus on sex and transactional dynamics.
Read at Slate Magazine
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