After three or four days of almost complete immersion in Second Life, I had a plan. I wanted to be a kept woman, a mistress, arm candy. The blonde, aloof and not dumb type. Gwyneth Paltrow. Grace Kelly. All I had to do was get a man with loads of money to go nuts over me. That shouldn't be too hard, should it?
Poor BT. He had the misfortune of being the first man I met on SL. He gave me transferable skins, bodies, and clothes from his real life girl friend's inventory. I took them, screwed him once, then dumped him the next day. No, of course it wasn't really as cold as that. I was going to keep him around, but he got in the way when another guy with more potential came along. GD, a Greek with "payment info on file," the important thing to note on a man's profile when you're a mercenary like me. It means he has money. Of course it's still up to you to get it out of him, but at least you know the well isn't dry. I tried to humor BT, even if he had "no payment info on file" and looked like a Disney hero. I couldn't see myself as the Little Mermaid, but he'd been nice to me, and besides, I was still very new and clueless, and someone with more experience could be useful. But he got his feelings hurt, and the Greek was a handful, so I let it go.
GD called me his "porn star." He had a thong fetish and made me wear a body with a big butt. The cheaper I looked, the more like a street whore, the better he liked it. Micro cut offs. Halter tops with half my tits hanging out. I did whatever he wanted and managed to squeeze some nice clothes, jewelry, and even a few lindens out of him. The routine was about the same as it had been with FD back on the RLC site. Sometimes it would be just him. Other times we'd pick up another guy and they'd both do me. It was great fun, and I learned a lot, but in the end I'm afraid I broke his heart too. He wanted me to love him just for himself, and not his money, and that was out of the question.
I have to admit, though, he was one of the more interesting guys I met on SL. The day I met him he was wearing a King Tut outfit. He looked like the lid of a mummy coffin. That was interesting. Pole dancing for King Tut. Then he took me to his apartment and turned himself into a Smurf, which apparently amused him, since he let out this weird laugh, half cackle and half guffaw. I wasn't exactly swept off my feet, but he'd tipped me 50 lindens, a lot to me at the time, so I decided to be charmed. He was a man of many moods and faces. As I soon learned, he could also be an old man, or a tall lean biker attired from head to toe in black leather. And he could be charming, even gallant, or rude and angry, even abusive. The last part was my fault. Mostly. I lead him on. I told him I loved him, that I'd do anything in the world for him, that I was his willing slave and whore. All lies. As soon as I knew the well was dry, I left him.
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