BETWEEN Soph and Abs

"I guess I have all the documents needed. Do you have any concern before we end this meeting?" Yes. I do, I do have a lot of concerns.  Am I an i***t for doing this? Am I an i***t to complete all those procedures and still not pulling myself out of this deal? Am I an i***t to want to proceed even after all the red-flag questions i just answered just now? Am I?  "No," I'm indeed an i***t. No doubt.  "Very well then. I shall contact you once we find a match. Thank you for your time, Miss Grey." She stands up and collects all the papers on the table, putting them in a white folder with my name on it.  She grabs her Prada with another hand and hangs it on her wrist. She looks like a character from Suits. She looks like Veronica. White suit, Prada bag, high heels, totally professional that I would never, in a million years, think that she runs this kind of business.  I'm not judging.  Though I sound like I am but really, I'm not. How could I when she's the one who should judge me for the thing I just signed up a month ago.  I was an i***t. Wait, I still am. I am an i***t.  One month ago, I kinda signed up to be a sugar baby. They made me fill up all my personal details, submit 5 pictures that would describe me of who I am and who I'd like to daddy with, and went through a thorough medical check up. I guess it's important to cross off the possibility of 'died of heart attack during orgasm with her sugar daddy' on my autopsy report later.  But seriously, the extent of this company to even go for a thorough medical check up and background check really ease my worries.  They even had a stack of questions that ask me what range of age would I want, type of compensation if it's money, gifts, and/or 'others'. My hand itches to type in one Mercedes Benz, 2 thousands a month, and one thick eight inch c0ck. I submitted the questionnaire & my biodata 4 weeks ago into this Cupcake website and boom! The following week I got an email requesting 5 pictures that best describe me. Few days later, they sent me a Guarantee Letter that pays for a medical check up at a prestigious private hospital. It took two weeks for them to contact me again telling all the results are great so they'd like to meet me in person to complete the contractual part.  Today Cupcake sends Veronica to verify if I am actually the 5ft-108lbs-brunette-browneyed girl as I claimed to be. I even have to produce my passport to make sure I am indeed one i***t Abigail Grey.  Jokes on them because I'm not.  I'm not the 19 year old Abigail Grey.  Muahaha I'm not, suckers!  It concerns me how easy it is to cheat at all the check points; website, medical check up, this meeting.  I'd be cheated too if I were them because the 19 year old Abigail Grey in this passport really looks like me. We get that a lot.  No we are not twins.  Or like in the movies that two bodies switch with each other because of the bad weather- lightning is it?  I feel a vibrate from my sling bag signalling a call is coming. I dig into it producing my iPhone 4s. Geesh, I really take this acting into a whole new level.  "What?" I ask rudely, knowing I'd gain a laugh from the person on the other line.  "Senora, can you buy me dinner now? I'm hungry, Senora Sum-mah." She giggles thinking it's funny to emphasize my last name in British accent.  "It's only 3. Nobody eats dinner at 3! I just bought you McDonald's for lunch!" I half shouted at her, keeping my voice low enough not to be heard by the people around me but loud enough to have it as a yell.  "Oh shut up Fifie, just buy me dinner now! You owe me, remember. K bye!" She hung up on me when I am so ready to fire back at her.  You're lucky I owe you one big favor, Abigail Grey!