In this week’s story, a woman travels in search of sugar daddies, extra income, and adventure: 42, single, London.
DAY ONE
9:30 a.m. I have no rush to get out of bed … but I do need to take some pics for my followers on OnlyFans. I live in Mexico and I have a plane to catch to London soon. The main reason for the trip is to see my favorite band play, but I’m also looking for guys! It’ll also be nice to take a little vacation. In addition to being an OnlyFans model, I’m a freelance journalist, freelance publicist, and sugar baby, so I wear a lot of hats, and I could use a break.
5:11 p.m. After a nine-hour flight, I arrive at Heathrow. I follow directions to get on the right train. Another tourist-seeming guy is sitting opposite me; he looks like he’s in his mid-20s. The train gets delayed and we start talking. I have an Airbnb waiting for me, but if he happens to be staying somewhere luxurious with a hot tub, I’m coming with him. He says he’s staying at his friend’s small flat. No thank you.
9:20 p.m. After a very long ride to my final destination, I get into the Airbnb, take a shower, and put my PJs on. I open Bumble and start swiping. Boring. Depressing, actually. I know I am in the U.K., but I was expecting more Henry Cavill and less Daniel Radcliffe. I switch to Seeking. Weirdos everywhere with a Christian Grey complex.
10:00 p.m. I have an idea. I Google “Where to find rich men in London?” and “Where do rich people club in London?” It’s mostly private members-only clubs popping up. I keep scrolling down and find an article headlined, “Meet the new generation of gold-diggers who never pay for a meal and manipulate dating app algorithms to bag a rich man.” Love that!
DAY TWO
9 a.m. Check my OF messages. Some complain about the prices. I always get mad and wonder, What are you doing here then? My content is not hard core. I’m trying to keep it classy, sexy, and provocative.
10:00 a.m. After some dry shampoo, I start posing. Jeez, I look tired, like a sexy zombie. Or just a nude one. Change of plans. I take a few shots of my boobs and post them for $15. In the meantime, I read a message: “Playing with my thick cock. Could you help me with this? $50.” Only 50 bucks? Not today.
12:05 p.m. I’m still a bit jet-lagged and moving in slow motion. I go to Hatchards and buy four books that are on sale. I really like this city.
12:15 p.m. I go grocery shopping. Need some rosé.
4 p.m. I’m done spending my money. I match with an Italian guy and agree to meet up.
11 p.m. The Italian is boring; he keeps asking me about Mexican culture and cuisine. One glass of Prosecco and it’s over. I refuse to give up, so I go back to my Airbnb and keep swiping. I match with an entrepreneur who owns a start-up and is doing really well financially. He invites me over for a drink at the bar in the hotel where he’s staying, which is really close by.
1 a.m. I’m here. The businessman is smart, but boring, and pretty average looking. We have a nice-enough conversation and after an hour we go up to his room.
1:07 a.m. We fuck. He’s not a very confident lover because of some insecurities about his body, so it’s not great sex. At least his bed is more comfortable than mine.
DAY THREE
6:30 a.m. Walk of shame. I read an overnight text from the CEO of a furniture company who I’ve seen a few times back home. I only hear from him when he’s in Mexico. He says, “Come over now. I can send you an Uber.” I reply, “Sorry, I’m in London.” End of conversation. Feels empowering.
10:20 a.m. I text my cocky British crush, Nick. A complete hunk who slid into my DMs last year. Our sexting faded away months ago, so I’m not sure if he’s still interested. I take a selfie that shows I’m in London and type: “Fancy a drink?”
11:20 a.m. He replies an hour later: “You in town?” I text him back: “Yes, Daddy.” He texts me: “I want you.” I ask him if he wants to show me around. His answer? “I want to go down on you.” We arrange to meet tonight.
3 p.m. As a vegan, I try to eat at the most famous vegan/plant-based restaurants in town. This one gives me a glass of Prosecco for free because I booked my reservation on OpenTable!
5:46 p.m. Back at my Airbnb to shower and get ready. Nick texts to tell me he’s sending a car to pick me up. I love the daddy type.
7 p.m. I text Nick to ask him about the dress code. “Very chill tonight.” I change my clothes.
8:05 p.m. Driver leaves me at an Italian restaurant in Highgate. Nothing fancy. As he said, pretty casual.
9:49 p.m. After dinner, we go straight to his flat. No romance, no foreplay … It’s going to be just a shag.
10:13 p.m. I beg him to talk dirty to me during sex. I want to hear him call me his naughty slut in a British accent. He says he doesn’t know how to talk dirty, which is strange. He also doesn’t take his socks off during sex. Frankly, he’s not great at fucking.
10:48 p.m. Second round. Doggy style.
11:50 p.m. Nick tells me he has to wake up early tomorrow so he Ubers me back to where I am staying. I hear him say the usual “Hope to see you before you leave” bullshit.
DAY FOUR
10 a.m. I find a T.K. Maxx ( the British version of T.J. Maxx) and buy a few skin-care products that are hard to find at discount prices.
11 a.m. I need someone more into me than Nick, so I text C. We matched two years ago on Tinder when I was planning to visit London for the first time but then the pandemic hit. After a couple of video calls, the thing between us vanished. “Fancy a brunch?” I ask. After a few rounds of arguing about my expensive taste and where to eat, he agrees to meet.
1 p.m. I arrive at the restaurant. He hugs me and lifts me up like he really means it. It takes me by surprise. He’s more attractive in person than he was on camera.
5:15 p.m. After a very long meal of eating and talking and then some walking around, he takes me to his place. He actually lives with roommates, which is fine — we have some drinks with them. It’s so much fun that we end up all going out together.
9:40 p.m. We go to a club and dance until late. All his friends say, “You two look like you’ve known each other forever.” I can’t deny the chemistry, but I know it’s just fun. Playing boyfriend and girlfriend for a night.
12:30 a.m. He takes me back to my Airbnb. We get into the room and he starts touching me. I ask him to put on a condom, and he does. He fucks me good. Twice in a row, actually.
DAY FIVE
6:30 a.m. C has to work out of the city, but he fucks me one more time before saying good-bye.
8:40 a.m. Can’t sleep any longer. I open Seeking. I like C, but he’s not the one for me. He can’t give me the life I want. The scrappy bohemian boat life isn’t my style.
10 a.m. A few hours later, I read a message on Seeking: “I have an offer for you. Ben.” “I’m intrigued,” I write. Ben’s answer is pretty straightforward: “A financial offer.” I try to not feel like a prostitute; to me it’s more like a reward: “For one of the best blowjobs of my life, you deserve $$$” — I’m not sure how much or what that means exactly, but I’m into it.
10:16 a.m. He picks me up in his Audi SUV. He’s short but it doesn’t bother me. He invites me to have breakfast at his hotel to figure out if we click, and to discuss his offer. At breakfast, we have a nice time but the actual arrangement isn’t addressed. Elephant in the room. He’s said nothing concrete about the fee and I haven’t asked. My inner Jerry Maguire is slowly dying. When will Ben show me the money? Out of the blue, he offers to drive me back to my Airbnb. I guess he doesn’t like me?
12:05 p.m. Ben parks close to my place in a parking lot. He starts to get touchy. His kisses are soft in the beginning, then become very passionate. He asks me to move to the back seat. Okay. Not sure if I like this teenager move. I mean, it’s actually somewhat arousing, but Ben surely has a nice hotel room. Why are we in the car? We start making out. He unbuttons his jeans … I go down for a bit to tease him, but money’s not on the table yet. What is he waiting for? I decide to get out of the car because he’s not mentioning a fee and I’m over it. Sorry, not sorry. He’s not that handsome and I want to have a nice dinner — this isn’t going to serve me.
4:20 p.m. No calls or texts from Ben. I knew he was fake.
6 p.m. I do this thing that’s like a diner in a bus. They drive you to the main attractions in London while feeding you a personalized menu. After this, tonight is the concert I came all the way for!
9 p.m. I’m at the show. It’s amazing. Totally worth the trip!
11:13 p.m. Ben texts. He apologizes for being busy with work: “Maybe tomorrow we can meet again?” I send him the Jerry Maguire “Show me the money” GIF.
DAY SIX
8:46 a.m. I wake up, open Instagram and think about Mr. Producer, an avid viewer of my sexy stories. He told me he was going to be in London this week for some work. I text him to see if we’re meeting up.
9 a.m. I look at some pics Mr. Producer and I took during our first sexual encounter in L.A. I touch myself while thinking about some memories with him.
3:00 p.m. Nothing yet from Mr. Producer.
6:30 p.m. Mr. Producer finally texts. He has dinner with his boss, who I assume is his wife. But we make loose plans to meet up after his dinner.
9 p.m. He cancels with no apology. I don’t like him anymore.
DAY SEVEN
10 a.m. It’s my last day here. The trip didn’t really work out the way I wanted it to. Maybe I’ll meet someone at the airport and have a cute rom-com moment.
2:15 p.m. On my way to the airport, I’m fantasizing about getting an upgrade on my flight.
7:32 p.m. I’m looking through the in-flight movies and see the last movie Mr. Producer worked on. I’m too pissed to watch it. Instead I pick Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania.
8:17 p.m. Vacay is over. But not quite yet. I debate reading or touching myself under the blanket … I’m sitting in 41D and there’s no one sitting next to me. Dare I?
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