Lara Sing, a goddess latina with jet black hair

It's been one week since you told your salespeople to discretely spread the word about your next past time. Of course, you made sure to pay them well to keep their mouth shuts when it concerned them. Your advertising sprint on social media sites and web browsers has also been running it's course with millions of personalized ads shown to soon-to-be brides.

So for the past 7 days, you waited, in the personal suite of your bridal shop, waiting for the right, **** love-struck soul to come crawling in. As if on queue, your assistant knocks on your door before entering, whispering to your right ear before handing you a file. You quickly scan through the file, reading and absorbing all the pertinent information before nodding your head.

Your assistant retrieves the file, promptly exists the suite before entering once more, this time with a Latina woman trailing her from the back.

"Ms. Sing, meet Mr. Rich, your benefactor and proprietor of this establishment" Your assistant introduces you to the woman who's name on the file read 'Lara Sing'. You don't even bother looking up to greet her, instead reaching for a sip of coffee on the marble table.

"So you're the perverted creep huh...honestly thought you'd be older" Your assistant looked offended at Lara's words but you signaled her to let it go.

"Yes, I am the gentleman that will pay for your wedding, honeymoon and housing expenses if that's what you're referring to" You spoke with a clear voice, finally gazing at the women's direction. Her outfit, a pink-laced tank top with shorts that barely covered her matching pink panties contrasted greatly with the actual dress code customers are expected to don in the bridal shop.

"Wow, a millionaire wants to pay for my life, I wonder what's the catch" Lara rolled her eyes sarcastically.

"I'm sure you've been briefed prior" You sip your coffee again.

"Basically, I get to be a play thing for a 50-year old man" The disdain in her voice sharp.

"I'm 45 actually and seeing how it's going to be your third marriage at the age of 38, it seems this might be your last straw to get your happily ever after" Lara looked shocked when you mentioned her failed marriages, her cogs churning in her head as to how you knew that.

"Your current fiancee is out of a job yes? Part of the cull of the tech industry, what a shame. Meanwhile, the supportive girlfriend and soon wife works two minimum wage jobs and is barely coping while dreaming away of a lavish wedding to before she reaches her forties" You smirk, you private investigators are as through as ever.

"ENOUGH! I didn't come her for you to recap my life, creep" Lara looked like she was about to turn around and leave, that is, before you dropped a cheque worth $25,000 on the coffee table, with Lara's bank details listed on the paper. The black-haired babe's eyes widened in shock as she snatched the cheque to examine it.

"That's only the start, need more for your wedding? All you need to do is ask away"

"Your honeymoon to Las Vegas that you've been googling for, all expenses paid" You continued.

"Want a down-payment so you can stop living in that shitty trailer of yours, I'll make it happen and all you have to do is sign this" You gesture to a stack of papers, contracts with legal jargon enough to make a lawyer cream in their pants. That defiant look on Lara's faced disappeared as she seriously considered selling away her body and rights for a shit ton of money.

"The offer ends when I finish drinking my coffee" You smirk as you reach for your coffee cup.

"WAIT WHAT!? I haven't read anything" Lara panicked as she grabbed the mountain's worth of paperwork.

"The contract was sent to your email prior, it is your responsibility, not ours to make sure you read it" Your once quiet assistant chimed in.

"Fuck man, that's bullshit" Lara frantically reads the contract line by line as you slowly take your time, sipping your cup of warm coffee at intervals. The soon-to-be bride clenches the pen on the table tightly, completely absorbed and confused by the legal jargon. Finally, you swallow your last gulp before placing your coffee mug onto the table.

"April, please escort Ms. Sing out of the premises" You signal to April, your personal assistant.

"Huh, wait what? That's it? I'm not done reading" Lara looked in disbelief.

"Let's go Ms. Sing, you had your chance" April said firmly as she picked up the $25,000 cheque before tearing it up in one swift motion.

"No fuck that, you think I don't know what you're doing huh? Inviting me here then playing hard to get like a bunch of assholes"

"That's quite enough Ms. Sing" April grabbed Lara by the arm only to be surprised as the feisty woman reached for the pen before signing the entire deck of papers.

"There you happy? I signed my body away, now give me my damn money" Lara demanded, adrenaline still pumping in her chest. You smirk, reaching out for your cheque book before filling up the details and passing it to Lara.

"Text your fiancee, tell him you'll be busy and you can't text for the next few hours"

"Fine!" You gestured for April to leave the room and she does so willingly before locking the door. You finally stood up from your sofa chair, walking towards Lara before ripping off what little clothing she came in with.

"Hey asshole, I'm not done texting" Lara moans as you unbuckle her shorts and pull her panties down, almost as if you were unwrapping a present under a Christmas tree. One that you're going to enjoy playing with for a long time.