The Older Millionaire (editing bc cringe)

One

If I had to stay in that house any longer, I am almost positive that I would have been booked on murder charges by the end of the day. Okay, probably not, but I would have strangled my younger sister with my own two hands if she so much as looked at me.

As soon as I woke up this morning, Claire was in my face rambling about her plans for the night. She informed me of the girls night that her and her friends are having at a swanky bar in the city. She invited me, quite possibly out of pity or simply because she knew I would end up forced into buying all of the drinks. I thought about it for not even three seconds before she begun her backhanded compliments about my sex life, or lack thereof.

I stormed out of my home with a hankering for a frozen margarita. The waitress at Chili's looked at me as if I had three heads, but I only shooed her off with a twenty dollar tip. Not only was I ordering an alcoholic drink at ten in the morning, but I was also still wearing my silk nightgown covered by a black trench coat. When I tossed the coat onto the back of my chair, her eyes widened and she abruptly turned her head away and walked off to grab my drink without another word.

The buzz from the drink was relaxing and only made me crave more, that's when I finally went home after running a few more errands and agreed to go out with my sister and her shallow friends. She squealed and I groaned, a common interaction between the two of us.

My lips pucker and eyebrows raise in surprise, and awe, at my reflection in the mirror. I look good. No, I look hot. The white body suit hugs my chest and waist perfectly, the lace detail enhancing the top of my breasts just the right amount. The black high waisted skinny jeans are very slimming and is snatched at my waist by my favorite designer belt. I click the heels of my black booties together and shrug, "It's not going to get any better than this." And that's true. My closet is reserved for my work attire, a huge variety of pant suits and short pencil skirts, with a tiny section made up of going out outfits and sweatpants.

I enjoy my regular routine, something my sister calls ridiculous and obnoxiously boring. My mornings are almost always the same, the difference depending on if I find my sister perched up on my kitchen island eating straight out of a cereal box or find it empty and clean. I always start off with a cup of coffee, spend an hour in my gym, eat a light breakfast, shower and brush my teeth, and then I'm off to work. My days at work consists of boring office work and bossing around employees of the business that I co-own with my best friend Rebelle. While Belle has fun with the models in our agency, I get to be the bad guy when situations arise. Belle & Charlie's was created when we bonded over our love for photography during our freshman year in college. Our social media profile gained hundreds of thousands of followers after a famous actress, Evangelina Jolene, posted photos we took of her for her millions of followers to see.

After receiving my Bachelor's degree in Business Management and Belle receiving a Bachelor's degree of Arts in Photography, along with our consistently growing social media pages, we officially opened up our own agency at the ages of twenty-three and twenty-four years old.

"Charlotte, let's go!" The sound of Claire's voice causes me to roll my eyes as I step into the foyer with my cellphone in one hand and my wallet in the other. Claire is dressed in her usual clubbing attire, a little black dress with matching high heels and gold jewelry decorating her neck and wrists. Her blonde hair is tied up into a stylish high-pony while mine is carelessly sitting in waves against my back.

I grab my keys off of the hook and toss them at her, "You drive there and I'll drive back." I walk out of my white colonial styled home quickly and throw myself into my Lexus before she can utter a single word of disagreement. If I have to drive home a group of wasted and horny twenty one year olds, I'm going to take full advantage of the disadvantage. I'm limiting myself to one drink at the bar and then after making sure everyone is home safe, I will be finishing off a bottle of wine and binge watching Grey's Anatomy.

She gets into the drivers seat, buckles up and starts the car's engine all while glaring at me from the corner of her eye. "You're getting laid tonight." She says demandingly, and all I can do is stare at her with wide eyes and an agape mouth. She shrugs and pulls out of my drive way, beginning our thirty minute trip towards the city.

I cross my arms over my chest and look out of the passenger window with puckered lips. With a sassy tone, "I'll have you know, I get laid plenty." A snort leaves her lips and my eyes roll at the sound.

"Wet dreams don't count, Charlie."