I spent four days in LA recently, and somewhere around day one I realized I needed a damn driver. My schedule was insane. Meetings all over town, dinners, social events, random networking bullshit. And if you’ve ever been stuck waiting on an Uber in LA traffic while sweating through your outfit, you know exactly why I was over it fast.

Thankfully, I have a sub in LA. “Stu.”

Stu was more than happy to take time off work and become my personal chauffeur for the week. Smart move on his part, honestly. He drives a decent Mercedes, keeps it spotless, and knows how to shut the fuck up unless spoken to. Huge bonus.

And I have to admit, it was nice. Just walking out of a building and seeing him already waiting. Door open. AC blasting. Water bottle ready. No rideshare apps. No awkward drivers trying to make conversation. Just me sliding into the backseat while my good little service boy took me wherever I wanted.

By day two, I was already getting spoiled by it.

One afternoon we arrived early to a meeting that got pushed back at the last minute. We were parked in one of those underground garage structures, no one around, and Stu gave me that hopeful little look in the mirror.

So I rewarded him.

I told him to get in the backseat.

The second he climbed back there, I spread my legs and put that mouth to work. And let me tell you, after a long day of meetings and heels and pretending to be professional, having a man kneeling between your thighs in the back of a Mercedes is exactly the kind of stress relief I recommend.

Poor boy looked absolutely thrilled with himself afterward. Meanwhile I was fixing my makeup and checking emails like nothing happened.

Honestly? I could get very used to having a full-time service chauffeur. Someone to carry my bags, sit through traffic for me, and occasionally earn a reward session when he behaves.

LA might be unbearable. But Stu definitely made it easier.