The Secret Lives of Sugar Babies

sugar babies

IT’S A SUNNY afternoon when he sees me, standing in the center of 30th Street Station. He gives me the once-over, barely says a word. He’s not quite what I’d hoped: Two muddied-white knee-high socks appear to mask a fluid build-up in his legs; he has a bald spot that’s surrounded by a bush of frizzy gray hair; his eyes strike me as uncannily cold and beady.

Stuart*, 61, from North Jersey, heaves his luggage over his shoulder and heads off to buy two tickets to Atlantic City, our first-date destination for the next two nights.

Meet the sugar babies after the jump »