Careful who you talk to

Ok i know what im doing is dishonest and you should never lie. However, its just for a bit of fun - no one will get hurt.
Ever since i heard there was a Yale awards night, i had to go. So i despised a plan; and i goes like this.
Wear my best formal dress, arrive in one if my dad's nice cars, sneak in (or bribe may way in, if need be), find a clueless rich guy, take him to bed and then get him to marry me. I mean with my charms, it wont be hard. And yes i know what your thinking. Why not just go to Yale and get an invitation myself? I tried ok, well my dad tried. But bribery only goes so far. They said some shit about having "grades in conjunction with the recognised high school qualification" being eligible for admission. I think they mean i need to have gotten more than passes in year 12. But i mean who cares - you only live once. Do I regret partying during final week? Of course not. Anyway their loss.
- Y/N
I switch of my phone and set in down on my lap and gaze out the tinted Rolls-Royce window. The glaring city lights reflect onto my cherry red gown and cause the sparkles to shine like stars in the sky. I pop open my hand mirror and see my reflection. Olive skin, deep brown hair, crimson red lips and skin glowing like ripe fruit. Grimacing at my reflection I turn my chin up as if im balancing a wine glass upon it. With another pop I close my mirror again and slide it into my bag.
"How long until we are there?" I ask my chauffeur.
"Its just around the block, M'Lady." He says. I nod.
I feel a tight churning feeling in my stomach. Oh my God. Am i nervous? No, i dont get nervous. I swallow the feeling and adjust the strap on my dress. Suddenly as we turn the corner there is a simultaneous flash of bright lights. I turn my head and let my eyes adjust. Pretty women with debonair men at their elbows, flow into the building like slow molten lava. Dresses reflecting light giving them an incandescent glow. I knowingly smile. Look at all these losers. My car stops at the heart of the glow. My chauffeur steps out and quickly opens my door. I step out and smile - teeth as white as milk, eyes as sweet as honey. I walk upon the carpet set out as if each red thread was weaved for me. I parade along up the stairs with long strides, still smiling sweetly. People elude me as I flow past. My dress drifting at my feet like a soft ocean current. I arrive at the door; skipping the line. A little man in spectacles, without averting his eyes from his sheet of paper, asks for my name.
"Y/n" i say. Voice flowing like water.
"Names not on the list." He says with a nasally voice, as if someone is pinching his nose.
"I know. Im here with um..." i glance down at the paper before him and say the first name my eyes grab hold to. "Thomas Adair."
"Thomas Adair?!" he repeats. Now he is looking at me. Looking up at me with his mouth open as if to catch flys. He says,
"My apologies Y/n. This way." He extends his hand to the large oak door entryway. With a pleasant smile, you nod and make your way inside.