Nowhere but at SukRose.net will you personally benefit from rigorous geographical screening. Sure, it’s a big country. But not for discerning Sugar Daddies and Sweeties.
That’s why SukRose.net limits its membership to two clusters of meticulously researched zip-code databases: the elite environs of New York City and the elite environs of Los Angeles. And if that sometimes means a transcontinental flight on a Daddy’s Gulfstream while sipping Moet & Chandon and nibbling on beluga caviar?
Well, you know the answer:
.
So cross our gilded portal and learn what SukRose.net has to offer. No obligations to potential Daddies who want to browse. No obligations
to Sweeties. If you pass our rigorous screening, consider yourself accepted at one of the most exclusive clubs in the world.
ENTER
“Brainy
I said, “And oh-so-loving when they respond from the depths of their beings. Who knew discussing Proust would be so popular?”
“Free browsing, let’s partake. Not that either of us would fit the bill.” Laughing. “For different reasons.”
The first page that came up in the Sweetie database was bordered by photos of a gorgeous young woman with long legs and golden, wavy hair.
Headshot, bikini shot, black-leotard ballet shot, bending over a pool table flashing cleavage, leaning on the rail of a boat flashing cleavage, sitting on a couch flashing cleavage.
Identical toothy smiles in every image. Impish combination of wholesome and corrupt.
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To Contact This Sweetie: You must first log on and receive your Platinum Daddy account number. All Major Credit Cards and PayPal accepted.
Next page: green-eyed brunette, 23 years old. Codename: Sherbet. Occupation: model.
Codename Surfrgrl, 24.
Leilani, 21.
Milo said, “Such wisdom. Maybe Harvard should open up a West Coast branch.”
“For the Western Elite.” Anonymous tip. No sense wondering about the source but I had good reason to surmise.
We read a few more profiles before Milo phoned Deputy D.A. John Nguyen, described the site, and asked why it wasn’t prostitution.
“Didn’t know that kind of thing troubled you, Milo.”
“Only when it relates to a pretty girl getting her face blown off.”
“Ouch,” said Nguyen. “Okay, let me take a look—got it right here on my screen—nice colors … okay … okay … okay … like the pictures … okay … okay. Nope, my friend, not even close. The courts dealt with the issue years ago. Even when sex is offered as part of a transaction—and it can be a lot more overt than what these bimbos are advertising—as long as other services are offered in addition to sex it’s kosher. As far as the law is concerned, these girls are selling companionship and flattery and shared good times and if that gets carnal, no big whoop. Think of it as an alternative to marriage.”
“Always knew you were a romantic, John.”
“Even if it was considered prostitution, do you see Vice bothering to prowl cyberspace when we can’t even clear the streets of diseased crack whores? Whoa!”
“What, John?”
“This one. Nice. These are some fine-looking chicks.”
Milo printed SukRose’s home page, called a downtown detective with computer skills named Darnell Wolf, and asked for a street address for the site.
