In any other circumstance, she would have pounced on the chance to spend a weekend at Hotel Duval, one of Tallahassee’s most luxurious.

She would have paused to admire the lobby’s contemporary decor, with its low-slung leather lounge chairs and cascading chandeliers. She would have casually scanned the crowded bar, locking eyes with one of the younger, clean-shaven and crisp-collared professionals sipping after-work cocktails.

But tonight, her steps are quick. She ducks her head and silently prays nobody sees her.

She’s working this weekend, her first time. She’s nervous.

Her name is Mel. She met this man on the Internet. He’s older than her dad. He told his wife and two children that he was going on a business trip. I’ll be back Sunday night, he told them.

She’s spoken to him on the phone a few times. His name is Tom. She sensed he was distracted, not much interested in deep conversation. So she clucked enthusiastically about hollow topics, like the weather, or her minimal knowledge of football.

He sent her some photos. Professional photographs taken from when he was featured in a magazine article. He is bald, and not in a muscular, Mr. Clean kind of way.

She’s in the lobby, laden with two matching pink duffel bags, one for shoes.

It’s not too late, she can turn around, march back to the parking lot and drive away.

Now she’s in the elevator, crammed between serious men in suits with briefcases and BlackBerries. Her lower back puddles a nervous sweat.

It’s not too late. She could be at her apartment in 15 minutes.  The apartment with her second-floor bedroom painted pale yellow, decorated in picture frames of her with friends, her parents and yellow lab, Caesar, when he was a puppy.  Her room, just how she left it, textbooks piled on a desk next to empty coffee mugs, clothes scattered on the floor, this weekend’s reject pile.

Now she’s on the top floor in the hallway. She moves past closed doors and double-checks the number scribbled on a crumpled scrap paper.  She’s here.

It’s not too late. If she hurries, she can make it to the end of happy hour. Her girlfriends seated at their usual table near the bar, surrounded by empty margarita pitchers, frequent bursts of laughter interrupting the table’s chatter.

Her palms are clammy and tense, heart thumping like a frightened hare within her ribs.

She knocks.

She met him in an online dating site. The site didn’t broadcast promises of love or soul mates. It didn’t crow about a commitment to compatibility matching. It wasn’t adorned in pictures of doting couples or flushed brides.

The site is SeekingArrangement.com, where older, affluent men meet women who are young, fresh-faced and sometimes, quietly desperate.

It’s a trade-off. His gifts can include monthly allowances, posh vacations, spa visits, jewelry and designer-clothing shopping sprees. In return, he’ll get a stroked ego, doting attention and the arm candy of a younger woman, whose winsome, youthful beauty requires little artifice or cosmetic enhancement.

He’ll also get sex.

On Monday, Mel will be a 22-year-old student at Florida State University, a social science major with a 4.0 GPA. Tuesday, she’ll be a babysitter. The kids, 3 and 6, are pictured on her cell phone.

But this weekend, Mel is a sugar baby.

There are thousands like Mel. On the surface they are normal college girls, with internships, Facebook profiles, boyfriends and career goals. But they are more defiant, daring, restless, promiscuous. Or it’s a last resort.

The benefits of becoming a sugar baby are attractive: paid bills, fancy clothes, new jewelry, expensive haircuts, monthly allowances, luxurious vacations, the consummate feeling of financial security.

There is one prerequisite. A sugar baby must be sexually willing; maybe not on the first date but probably by the second and almost definitely by the third. Sooner or later, sex is almost always a must.

Hannah, a 22-year-old model and actress in Tampa, calls herself an “accomplished magazine model” and a European Playboy model.  She costs $5,000 – $10,000 a month.

Vanessa, a 22-year-old full-time student in West Palm Beach, considers herself a “far cry from ordinary.”  She enjoys horseback riding, conversation and cooking and says she’s mature for her age. She is looking for a successful sugar daddy to show her “all that the world has to offer.”

A 23-year-old student in Miami, who calls herself ItalianDoll, wants $3,000 to $5,000 a month. She is looking for a long-term relationship and wants to get started right away.

Critics say that a sugar baby is nothing but a refined term for a prostitute, and a sugar daddy, no more than a well-off john.

But unlike prostitution, “sugar” dating is legal. In the 1970s, courts ruled that as long as women are paid for a service other than sex, such as companionship or a personal assistant, it is not the same as prostitution.

“If I believed what I did was prostitution, I wouldn’t do it,” says Brandon Wade, CEO and Founder of SeekingArrangement. “Sugar” dating is a relationship, he says. It is more emotionally involved than escorting or prostitution.

“Members often write to us to tell us what a great thing Seeking Arrangement has been for them,” Wade said.

The “trivial” differences between a “kept woman” and a prostitute make it difficult for courts to prove illegality, explains Robert Buschel, a criminal defense attorney in south Florida.

“Criminal courts may have a tough time (corroborating prostitution) when the arrangement is for more than an hour, and the money is not just about the sex, but the companionship, too,” he said. “Only the woman’s conscience and ethics can really answer that question.”

There are thousands like Tom. Older, moneyed men, married, divorced, single and widowed, flocking to sugar daddy sites like SeekingArrangement.

They want beauty, youth, companionship, intimacy, a travel partner, the fulfillment of a sexual fantasy, even love.

A 50-year-old UF professor is seeking a “young playmate.” He is married, likes movies, reading, traveling and wants a discreet relationship. His budget is less than $1,000 a month.

Gary, a 56-year-old married attorney in Orlando, is looking for “casual fun meetings once or twice a week for mutual enjoyment.” Besides his love for spoiling the right woman, he enjoys movies, books and sporting events. His budget is $5,000 to $10,000 a month.

Don, a Tampa CEO who alleges his net worth to be between $10 million to $50 million, is pictured in a white tuxedo, toting a cocktail. He is 65, married, but lives alone and has had successful arrangements for 10 years. He is looking for a “thin, very good looking” 21- to 35-year-old woman “who would enjoy a couple of evenings each week devoted to physical activity, drinking, fine dining and club dancing.”

“I have the financial capacity to fulfill my end of the arrangement,” Don says. “If you have the physical attributes to fulfill your end.”

Mel says she never quite understood why Tom wanted a sugar baby. He had young kids and a pretty wife. He mentioned that his marital sex life was fine. Another time his wife called, conversation ended with “I love you.”

“The roles are defined. It cuts through all the BS,” explains Bryan, a 49-year-old divorced doctor who has a profile on SeekingArrangement. “Each party gets what they want without the normal bitching or moaning from either person.”

In other words, Bryan says, it’s real life and a fantasy all at once.

Like any other dating site, sugar daddy dating allows its users to upload photos to their profiles. But most of the sugar daddy profiles don’t post identifiable pictures. Some upload photos of an expensive car or yacht, others use a picture of someone else, many distort their own photo or crop out their head.

And some include no picture at all.

In the modern world of sexual liberation, of one-night stands and of fleeting sexual encounters, sex with a stranger isn’t a big deal to some women. If they can get paid to do it, then why not?

Still, in the age of the Boston Craigslist killer and rampant STDs, the risk is obvious.

“I had $12.62 in my bank account,” Mel explains. “There was no food in my fridge. I needed a pedicure, highlights. I was so sick of my clothes.”

Mel’s parents — her dad is in sales and her mom is unemployed — helped her as much as they could. But after monthly rent, utilities and groceries, her weekly babysitting money was near gone.

Mel could have survived without becoming a sugar baby. But it would have meant Ramen noodles for dinner, thrift store clothing and bagging groceries at Publix.

She runs a manicured finger through freshly highlighted hair.

“I hated being broke; I was just over it,” she said.

She joined SeekingArrangement.com in December 2009. She exchanged a series of flirty and suggestive messages with sugar daddies. If a sugar daddy’s punctuation or spelling was poor, she didn’t respond.

“If they are inarticulate, odds are they aren’t rich either,” she said.

By February she had roused enough courage to meet her first sugar daddy, Tom.

The occasional stares are less uncomfortable as the martinis flow.

They drink, eat and manage to minimize awkward silences. Mel only half listens when he puffs about his importance. Occasionally he says something of interest, jolting her back. She’s a good listener, and she disguises her indifference well.

Tom does not ask too many personal questions, uncomfortable with the reality that he is quite possibly older than Mel’s parents. His children from his first marriage are older than Mel, but he probably would rather not think about this.

He does most of the talking. She chimes in with “mhm” or “uh huh,” or “wow!  you’re kidding me?!” or “really?” as appropriate.

He pays with cash.

Too much alcohol makes his cheeks ruddy and broken capillaries surface.

He doesn’t say anything, but looks impatient for Mel to finish her martini. Mel slurps it down and wishes she could order another.

She can tolerate him; he has no deformities, unbearable habits or bad breath. For the money, she will make it work.

Back in the suite, he wastes no time.

He runs his fingers through her blonde, carefully straightened hair, and she knows, Tom has vanished. The older, somewhat boring gentleman, it seems, transforms. The natural oils on his bald head glisten.

He subconsciously works his jaw back and forth, like a hungry animal.

She shuts her eyes.

Now, under the protection of darkness, she can pretend that the grunting on top of her is Orlando Bloom.

Deep in fantasy, she’s a natural, a woman of sexual rigor and prowess.

It doesn’t take long. A final grunt, followed by a shudder.

Mel opens her eyes and feels sick.

Mel would “endure,” as she later described it, the weekend with Tom, eyes squeezed shut for many other short-lived sexual liaisons.

She never saw Tom again. He called, sent text messages and left voicemails. At first he sounded concerned, later irritated and finally, angry. The $2,500 was intended for her monthly allowance, meaning she was expected to be available for the rest of February.

“He was not amused,” Mel said, laughing.

Still, Mel now describes her first weekend as a sugar baby as “the easiest money I ever made.”

But it was also the easiest money she ever spent.

Despite her aversion to Tom, she began to search for a new sugar daddy, this time with less trepidation and more experience.

Mel went on lunch, dinner and drink dates. She shared ritzy hotel rooms, was a guest in an oceanfront condo, sailed in a yacht and got a couple’s massage with a near stranger.

She learned from her mistake with Tom, always meeting a potential sugar daddy at a restaurant or bar for the first time. This way, she wouldn’t feel obligated to disrobe hours later, and if she disliked him, she could leave.

When Mel mastered how to compartmentalize her feelings, being a sugar baby became a viable way to make money. And since graduating summa cum laude at FSU in May, Mel, taking a year off, has been a full-time sugar baby.

She has money for manicures, pedicures, cute shoes and new clothes.

She put the money she got from Tom toward an active social life with age-appropriate friends and an LSAT prep course.

Her most hefty purchase, breast implants, cost $5,000.

In a rare moment of introspection, Mel does recognize that while her financial position has improved, it came at an emotional cost.

In an era where daughters are frequently close confidants with their mothers, Mel has secrets. She feels pangs of guilt every time she invents yet another story as to how she got her Fendi bag, another spa trip, a tan during a cold front or another dress.

Keeping a boyfriend is also difficult, with long, unexplained absences when she cannot be reached.

Until a few weeks ago, Mel wasted few thoughts on sacrifices. She had little intention of retiring from her part-time career.

Then she started to date someone, a relationship that didn’t begin on the Internet.  He’s mature, she says, has a good job, laughs at her jokes and he’s her age.

There are no discretion and pay-to-play rules. He can meet her family and she can meet his. People don’t stare. She’s not a trophy but an equal.

He is worth giving up sugar dating, at least for now.

Editor’s note: Mel is a real person, and all the details in the story are real. Due to the nature of the story, her last name is being withheld. The hotel scene was recreated from interviews with Mel.