She would do it. Once, maybe twice. Unlike Ava, Nat didn’t need expensive clothes, shoes, and bags; didn’t need precious art hanging on her penthouse walls. She just needed to pay back her roommates, cover her bills, and buy some groceries. And then, when she was out of the red, she would stop. Before things got intimate. Before things got creepy.

She pulled out her phone and texted Ava.

I want in

The reply was almost instant.

Welcome to the sugar bowl

7

The Profile

Nat had taken no offense when Ava recommended a substantial makeover prior to taking a photo for Nat’s dating profile. She’d been trimming her own hair with paper scissors for the past year; her coif was in desperate need of a cut, some shaping, and a few subtle highlights to “add dimension,” Ava’s gifted stylist explained. The salon was high-end, classy, expensive. As Ava paid the bill, Nat poured on the gratitude.

“It’s my pleasure,” Ava said, slipping a platinum card back into her wallet. “Take me for a facial when you have your finances sorted.”

Nat had never had a facial. A pedicure at a Bellingham strip mall was the sum total of her pampering experience. She could scarcely imagine a life where one regularly paid to have one’s toenails painted, one’s blackheads squeezed, one’s pubic hair ripped out. Nat could do all that herself. All she wanted was to be able to pay her own way and, maybe, buy some sort of protein for dinner, like the occasional chicken breast.

Before they took the photo, Ava did Nat’s makeup. The blond girl was skilled with contouring and highlighting, giving Nat a tutorial as she transformed her into a woman worthy of a rich man’s attentions. When she was finished, Natalie took in her reflection. With her smoky eyeliner, her nude glossy lips, her subtly glowing skin, she looked like a different person. All traces of the creative, messy, complicated girl she was were obliterated, glossed over by a sheen of perfection. Nat stared at the stranger in the mirror and nodded her approval.

Ava loaned her a short black dress. “You’ve got a great body. You’ll get more interest if you show it off.”

While it felt exploitive, it made sense. As Nat posed in the figure-hugging outfit, pushing out her breasts, arching her back, she shook off her qualms. This was no different than wearing tight jeans to work at a bar, letting customers ogle her butt to increase her tips. She had a great ass, that she knew. Angling it toward the camera, she looked over her shoulder, smiled coyly. She could play this part.

When a suitable photo had been selected, gently retouched and uploaded, they turned their attention to the write-up. “Keep it fun and flirty,” advised Ava. “You can talk money when they message you.” Together they crafted a blurb. Nat was honest, mostly, sharing that she was an art student from the Pacific Northwest. Creative and cool, with a good sense of humor. She selected a no-strings relationship, which suited her perfectly. It was what she had wanted with Miguel, but he’d been too immature to handle it. An older, powerful, wealthy man would desire it, would pay for it, Ava assured her. But it would never get that far . . . Just a couple of dates would get her out of financial trouble.