After a three hour delay and late arrival to a new city I had yet to explore, my FA2 (second flight attendant) asked if I wanted to meet her down at our swanky hotel lobby and check out dining options so I obliged. We waited on a nearby couch after placing food orders and she says, “there must be a party downstairs!” (It was Saturday night after all).

 

 

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Despite being a bit jetlagged, I remember that I have been wanting to practice freestyling (aka approaching new potential sugar daddies at various places), so of course my curiousity begins to take over along with my imagination.

Suddenly a tall, dark (and much older) man walks by in a tux with a velvet bow tie and I think, “Hell yes, I need more glamour in my life!” Sure enough he comes by a second time and with an innocent grin I stop him in his tracks to inquire about the festivities. He gives a brief spiel about the history of his fraternity,  I ask if he’s the speaker of the house and sure enough he smiles and says, “Well actually I am the chairman…” Can you say “JACKPOT?!” I think to myself, he’s dapper and book smart and that usualy means one thing: he’s PAID.

With verbal tactics and a splash of charm, I get him to invite me in, hoping he isn’t entertaining a wife or heaven forbid- a sugar baby!

Despite meeting me in my chill-mode attire and with just a tinge of apprehension after stating the obvious, “Well it is black-tie…” he goes on to say those three magical words I had waited for; “I GOT You!” After I commit his name to memory (from here on I’ll refer to him as Mr. Atty.), I promptly ate some of my food and headed up to my 14th floor suite for a quick-change, feeling something like supergirl preparing for her next adventure.

At this point I am relieved that I decided to keep my new sexy peep toe booties and tasteful black sweater dress in my carryon luggage for just such an occasion.  Although the affair was formal, I rocked out my tasteful yet sexy bodycon ensemble, top it off with glasses to add that “schoolgirl” flavor and head down to the ballroom.

Once inside the main corridor I’m immediately accosted by a spritely old man who without pause reaches out to take my hand and introduces himself as “the biggest art dealer in the city”. If only he were slightly less decrepit I would have totally flirted with him and toyed with the idea of milking him as a POT too!  I quickly spot my original target, looking even more mature yet adorable than when we had so recently met, and savored moment of reflection as I stalked my prey.

Back at the art gallery display I proceed to drop Mr. Atty.’s name- mostly in my attempt to double check the accuracy of my aim, and politely parted ways with the art dealer.
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No sooner does Mr. Atty. spot me, his eyes filled with delight as I confidently headed to greet him.  He briefly places his hand on the small of my back and offers to buy me a drink. I notice a freshly glass of bubbly in front of him and say, “Well sure, I’ll have what you’re having!” We transition into the ballroom and I drop some choice facts about why I was so grateful that I had decided to stop him and blamed the flight delays and loss of my precious time as the main reason I was eager to enjoy my first night in the city.

As luck would have it I arrive just in time for 80% of the (mostly elderly) but fabulously dressed couples and party guests said their farewells and left the hotel.  After just a few sips of champagne Mr. Atty asks if I like to dance, and after feigning hesitation I lead the way to the dance floor.

The four-piece band and chanteuse was fantastic. I was immediately impressed by Mr. Atty.’s composed swag and energy for a man who must be at least 55 years old.

I’ve always loved to imagine what young people might be like when they age and in this case the opposite.  I briefly imagined him without his greyed hairs and perhaps a tad leaner, although he certainly carries himself well at about 6’2″ and 200lbs.

The band went through several old-school classics from legends like Aretha Franklin and Marvin Gaye and Mr. Atty was not shy about lacing his fingers between mine, pulling me in a close and twirling me as I caught him scanning my curves from head to toe.

After introducing me to a few of the remaining guests, a middle-aged gal brazenly walks over and starts dancing with Mr. Atty, without missing a beat I smile and say, “I’ll just rest a moment right here,” ensuring my peripheral vision was unobstructed.  I casually check a few messages, assessed the vibes ‘Miss Thing’ was emitting towards my new friend and was pleased when he obediently came back to me after just one song played.

Just as the band wrapped their performance I made my way over to Mr. Atty and simply thanked him for his lovely gesture and great dance moves.  I then mentioned that I would love to keep in touch and inputted his phone number. He watched me type the message “Thanks for making me dance tonight!” and with a warm hug told him that it was passed my bedtime.

In hindsight I should have looked back at him with a smile, but I’m sure he enjoyed watching  me walk out of the room.

A text pops up in my inbox a few hours later, just after midnight and he says “It was great meeting you,  looking forward to connecting again!”

Stay tuned…

 

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