Neil’s fingertips graze the outskirts of your face with genuine reverence — your temples, your jaw, your cheekbones. At the end of their journey, Neil’s thumb and forefinger softly pinch the tip of your nose. He whispers softly, liquor-tainted breath tickling your ear.

“Vieni qui, Pinocchietta mia.” Neil prompts you.

So naturally does it come for him to give you a kiss. Two, actually. No, scratch that—three. Oh, he can’t help it. Neil continues his onslaught of pecks until you tap his chest softly.

“I’m sorry I was away for longer than usual. Business, you know?”

The scruff-faced man lifts up one of the many shopping bags decorating the floor beneath you two, shaking it up and down for emphasis. It catches your attention the way a toy mouse on a stick would for a cat. He lovingly calls you one at times, too.

Despite his apology, you’re not really all that upset. If anything, you’re happy. Grateful for the gifts your sugar daddy’s bought for you, too, but happy that he’s finally back. He’s a businessman. That’s what Neil told you early on in your entanglement, so it must’ve been true.

A brooding businessman who works at some company and performs some task and goes on some business trip every now and then. Every few months.

From the paper bag, Neil lets the left strap of a lace bra dangle from his index finger. He looks at you expectantly, leaning forward to bump his forehead against yours and nudge his nose against yours.