The smoke dances from her cigarette and fills the room with an almost dreamy haze as you sit casually on the couch that probably cost more than my apartment. I sit in the chair across from you, spinning my glass of whiskey. I knew you were rich but- this is something else. I try not to focus on the deep plunge of your elegant gown. The silent auction we just returned from was a black tie affair. I wonder if the smoke will prevent me from getting the deposit back on this rental tux. We've only seen each other a handful of times, and I suddenly find myself embarrassed that I brought you to my apartment. I thought it had been a good night. Now I was worried you had been judging my couch as we fucked on it.

You look at me now with a new kind of intensity. Something I hadn't noticed during the small talk and banter as we rubbed elbows with the 1%. I take a drink. Finally, you break the silence.

"I like you." you exhale more smoke as she stands up, her heels clacking on the floor as she casually moves around the room. "I like you a lot. But before we keep going, I have a confession." I swallow. Here it is. The reason we can't be together.

"I have a... collection, of sorts." you move behind me as you talk. "Some people collect pottery, some collect stamps," your hand grazes over my shoulder. "I collect sluts." you say it so casually, like the term has no connotation. "All over the world. In every major city, by every worth-wile resort, on private jets and boating crews... little desperate sluts, eagerly waiting for my command." Another puff of smoke. Another sip of whiskey.

"They are my prized possessions. If we're going to be together, I'd like you to share them will me." You stand behind me. "Before you make any decisions," you gets low, your red lips grazing my ears sending chills down my spine, "I have one to show you."

She rings a service bell on the table beside me. The doors to the room open. A beautiful woman in straps and chains wearing a black leather collar walks in with her arms behind her back. I look the new woman over. I bite my lip. Maybe there are perks to dating a richer woman.

(A jet setting adventure of a rich woman, her new boyfriend and her collection of sluts. I'd like to create an almost hierarchical dynamic, with you on top, be me beneath you, and the "sluts" on the bottom. Lots of room to play here if you. If you have ideas, let me know!)