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RECAP: Jennifer Baylin, a college student at Boston University, is funding her older brother’s detox and rehab program by finding a sugar daddy named Mel Klienman. With his first installment of $5000 per month, Jen must now respond to the contract: giving Mel a “girlfriend experience.” Still, Jen manages to talk Mel out of sex on their first date, and then visits her brother in rehab. Dixon is going through a heavy withdrawal, and it’s obvious he must complete the program. Without Jen’s money, Dix can’t do it.

Meanwhile, Jen’s boyfriend, Trent, is growing annoyed at Jen’s current unavailability, and when they spontaneously meet on campus, Jen makes a date with Trent for Friday, but then remembers she committed that night to Mel. Jen tries to postpone. But Mel won’t let her, and now she has to break another date with Trent, a young man she loves.

DKNY JACKETS, ALBERO FERMANI BOOTS and farfalla pasta   [Part 6 of 14]

Friday evening, Mel was right on time, picking me up in another kind of Cadillac, which he later told me was a DTS sedan. I’m not impressed with cars, unless they’re old. I like the ones from the sixties and seventies. I’m really a displaced hippy, ‘cause I like all the music from back then too. And if I didn’t have to wear makeup or do my hair, I wouldn’t. But fashion, that is my friend.

It’s again a cold night, and again I dressed in jeans and a tight sweater, adding a leather DKNY jacket and high Albero Fermani boots. Those boots are the most expensive things I own, even more than my car. So for Mel, to see me vamped out, meant I wanted to make up and be nice. Mel however, dressed in his usual forget-what-I-look-like suit, tie and no-style coat covering all that. Mel matched his car – big, bland, conservative and soft to sit-on.

An Italian restaurant was the destination tonight, on Columbus Avenue. I guess he thought I’d find something pasta-ish that I could eat. Or would eat. And I did. I ordered the Bowtie Aglio Farfalle pasta with broccolini, fresh spinach, sun-dried tomatoes and grated parmesan. And started it with a spinach salad and a glass of the house Pinot Noir. Mel ordered Spaghetti with Meat Sauce, water and an extra napkin, which he tucked into his shirt under his chin. Sexy.

The conversation tonight centered around the Boston Celtics, which I know nothing about but agreed with Mel by occasionally nodding with added smiles. And while he went on and on about his “stats,” I kept thinking about how pissed Trent was for my cancellation and I wondered about what he might be doing without me. And then my mind drifted to Dix, speculating about his improving health, and hoping this is all worth it. Then I wanted a cigarette, really bad, and considered lying about going outside to toke one when Mel capture my attention with, “So… Would you like to go to a game?”

“Oh, sure,” I say. “That would be fun.” No it wouldn’t. I couldn’t be more bored.

“You having a good time?” he continues.

“Oh yeah! It’s great. I never would have known about basketball if it hadn’t been for you. You’re so fascinating.”

“Well, I try.” He looks down. I think I embarrassed him. Like he’s never heard a compliment before.

His eyes raise back to mine. They look tentative. And he’s going for the water again and taking that sip, and that means he’s nervous.  And now he starts. “I was thinking about later tonight. I got us a room at the Christopher Hotel. It’s a cozy little place on Columbus. Fireplaces, hardwood floors, flowers in the rooms…”

I feel a cold chill drop down my back. I knew this was coming. This time there’s no place to run.

“Okay, umm…” I can’t believe I countered with ‘Okay, umm.’ I start again. “Do you think this would be the best night for something that special?”

“Oh yeah.”

He smiles. He’s not letting me get away this time.

“But isn’t that expensive? Dinner and a hotel?”

“You’re worth it. And tomorrow morning, we’ll have breakfast in the room. They’ve got kitchenettes.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t stay the night. I’ve got plans for tomorrow.”

“At nine in the morning? I could get you home by ten.”

“Oh, earlier! I’ve got to be with my…Aunt May by eight. We’re leaving to see my grandma in a home in Medford. We’re taking her out for the whole day.” Thank God I didn’t have to make that up. Except it’s with my dad.

“Starlyn, I am very disappointed. I planned this whole night.”

“I’m sorry Mel, but you didn’t tell me. You wanna cancel the hotel? We’ll do it another time?” I can’t believe I just said that. I do NOT want to spend a whole night with this man!

“No. I put a deposit on the room. We’ll use it.” He goes for his water again, sulking. I push a smile, and reach across the table to grab his hand. I stroke it, and now Mel’s happy again, starting a smile, and looking into my eyes. “It’s okay,” he says to me. “We’ll have fun. What time do I have to get you home?”

Actually, now.

Wish I could say that. Instead, I behave, and murmur, “I’d say by twelve.”

“Okay. Twelve it is!” He raises his free hand and flags our server.

Damn! Just remembered. I don’t have a condom! I grab Mel’s attention by squeezing his fingers.



“Do you have a condom?”

“Oh sure. I’m Mr. Prepared.”

Great. At least someone is. I hate condoms.


I could go into details about our romp at the hotel, but it would bore you. It did me. Mel’s sex is like his clothes, easily forgettable and something that just hangs. But for Mel’s lack of zest, he made up for it with noise; like over-the-top moaning when absolutely nothing was happening. We’ve all experienced that farce, if not with sex, at least with TV where they pump in laugh tracks that make you think a dead joke is funny. Mel was not funny in bed.

The upside was, he wasn’t repulsive either. And he came in three minutes. So I can’t figure out how we were supposed to fill the rest of the night, except maybe by watching TV and talking more about sports, which we did not. Mel got me home by eleven-twenty, and I think he was happy. He told me he was. And I told him I was. So who knows how many lies went down in that moment. Or the whole night, for that matter.

Theresa was wrong about this sugar daddy thing. It’s NOT like dating. It’s like a bad marriage after ten years. Or so I’ve been told.


I’m sitting in my Internet Journalism class, trying to take notes, but thinking more about my next hook up with Mel, because that’s what it’ll be. I’m into my third week, forth date, and now there’s a routine: dinner and a hotel, except each meal is a scaled down version from the one before, and the rooms after eating are turning into just that, a room for intercourse.

I’m trying to make it pleasant, and for the most part it is. He’s not forcing me into over-nights. He considerate, listens when I talk, considers me intelligent, wants my opinions (about sports), and holds my hand a lot. Actually, he’s a nice person. Just not my type. At all.

So either I’m a good actor, or he doesn’t care. Because Mel’s always happy to see me, and that’s the good part I guess. The bad part comes with Trent. I cancelled our  Friday date and changed it to Sunday. But then I had to cancel that one too because Dix needed me. And when I’m with Mel, I can’t take Trent’s calls. So now my boyfriend  thinks I’m trying to break up by avoiding him. I’ve got to turn that around.

I leave the lecture, take out my phone and dial. In seconds I hear a connection.

“Yeah, Jen.” Good. My I.D,’s still in his phone. That’s encouraging.

“Tonight’s Wednesday,” I tell him.


“So… It’s Wednesday. Will I see you there?”


Does anyone want to predict what’s going to happen between Jennifer and Trent? Will she be able to keep that relationship going and still date for cash? Would YOU be able to do it? I’ve heard some prostitutes are married. I’ve known a few that had children.

Part 7 publication date: 01/06/12


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