“Is there anything else we can get you, dearest?”

It was your seven year anniversary, with your sugar mommies, Lara and Jill. A married couple who had happily taken to caring for your daily needs. Clothes? Bought. Food? Sent. Furniture? Delivered.

You name it, you get it.

Lara’s arm is looped around yours, Jill’s hand grasping your hip in a firm hold to walk you down the nearly-empty sidewalk. The scent of their shared cologne fills your nostrils, and by God, does it smell good. Smoked applewood and cinnamon.

Perfect.

“Anything at all?”