He missed the magic of life. He and his friends were warriors that tracked the land, their main enemies had been the dinosaurs. He remembers large sticks becoming blades of destruction, the misshapen snowballs that were lobbed at him were fireballs, and his friend, the thrower, was a grand wizard, hellbent on bringing the age of dinosaurs and dragons back.
That magic was gone now. A part of growing up.
Those swords became sticks, that became mulch. The snow melted. The world became grey.
He flicks the butt of the cigarette onto the side of the street as he pulls himself up from the park bench with great effort. He remembers loving sports and going out with his friends on a Friday. The highlight of the week, running around, and kicking a ball. No rhyme or reason, just mindless fun.
They were all adults now. One had gone to her dream college, he could remember the excitement and sparkle in her eyes as she showed everyone who'd lent an ear the email. The other went into a family business, she didn't need college. The rest he couldn't recall. He wasn't that old and his memory already seemed like it was going. He let out a snort. Pathetic.
They promised that they'd always stay connected. They'd be friends forever. He tried his best, but he was awful at keeping in touch.
There's an email in his inbox and an unread text on his phone.
He glances down at his body. A nice person would say rotund, or dad bod. He preferred obese, vile. Only nineteen and he was already losing the plot. Madness. What had gone through his mind when he'd decided this?
He was in the second year of his degree. He's made friends, none he'd consider close. Video games, shows, generic discussions. Nothing thrilling, nothing exciting. He coughs his lungs out. He lets himself wander around town for a bit. Groups laugh as they exit the theatres. He tugs at the once oversized, now tight, reefer jacket. Embarrassing.
He finds himself in front of an "Adult Lounge". Boarded-up windows and a neon sign that flickers so much that if he stares directly at it, it'd cause permanent blindness. Not that that was what would kill him. Probably.
The building looked run down from the outside. The door seemed flimsy, yet surprisingly sturdy. There was no one there to receive him. He doubted that this was a place, to be honest. It's on the outskirts of town, quiet, not a lot of cars drive by.
He's about to leave, but the thought crosses his mind, what is there for him? Friends, no more, just the faint memory. Sports were lost to the void. Magic, non-existent, lost with his childhood innocence. He walks into the building, the dim light inside casting long shadows across the worn-out carpet. A subtle scent of incense hangs in the air, mingling with the mustiness of aged wood and faded memories. As he steps further, the muted sounds of distant conversations reach his ears, echoing from unseen chambers within the establishment.
The front room opens up before him, revealing a space that's a paradox of comfort and neglect. A weathered counter stands as a bastion against the years, its surface scarred with the traces of countless transactions. Behind it, an array of flickering candles bathes the room in a soft, warm glow, concealing the true age of the walls.
"Hey."
He seems surprised to find someone here. Not entirely.
"Weird time for someone to swing by." She adds.
"Uh, I was just uh. I-."
"First time? No judgment here."
An older woman plops her hand on his head. He's a bit taken aback by how hard and strong they are, yet gentle and calming. She pulls away, her features visible in the light. Beautiful in a non-conventional way. Her hair seemed a bit thin and patchy, but she brushed that off. On her left breast, a name tag read, 'Evelyn Hartwell'.
"Nothing's free. That's the rule. This is just a brothel that just... accepts any kind."
She clears her throat.
"Not including, incest or harm to yourself and others."
He's never been to a place like this. He generally preferred to stick to more commercial areas. Smoking and drinking at the back of a Bingo Hall, where his friends worked, was about the skeeviest thing he had done up until the point. A brothel was a completely different beast. It had its weird hierarchy. And then a place that accepted any "Kind", probably the freaks, which made this establishment even weirder.
His face twists in distaste at that idea. The woman sees his displeasure and gives him a light slap on the cheek before sauntering behind the counter.
"No prejudgement, that's the second rule."
He mutters his apologies. Watching as she leaned down to grab a pile of papers. He couldn't remember the last time he said he was sorry. Though it was certainly quite shocking that he was slapped by a stranger, he was impressed by her confidence. Oddly enough, that was the first time he'd had physical contact with another person in a year. He can't help but snort at the thought.
Hartwell hands him a couple of the sheets from the pile. Legal forms, all of them essentially boil down to asking him if he had an STI, and if he would behave himself. It gave the air of a legitimate business, which soothed his nerves.
There was a reason, at least. To reduce violence. To ensure the consent of both parties. Most of all, it helped keep this type of establishment above water at a time when strip clubs, bars, etc were going bankrupt. Hartwell takes the signed piece of paper, glances at it, and puts it away.
"Emir? Haven't heard of a name like that. Where are you from?" Evelyn makes idle conversation as she pulls out a binder and hands it to him. Inside it, are plastic sleeves, each one with a file. He flicks through the files, each one is essentially a profile of the escorts that worked here. A picture, a name, preferences, limits, general personalities, kinks, and the rates they charged. On the back of each page, were reviews, and a couple more pictures. All very official and business-like.
"From the states."
Emir found it amusing. And impressive. There were a lot more workers here than he expected.
"Damn, you traveled far for some fun."
"For college." His answers were short, he tried his best not to come off as curt but he wasn't a very talkative fella.
His eyes roamed through the pages, searching. Hartwell perks up and begins speaking again, breaking the comfortable silence between the two.
"Got your eye on someone?"
He was about to open his mouth when he froze. For some reason, a mix of embarrassment and guilt settled in his stomach, bubbling in the pit of his gut. He didn't have anyone that'd put out for him.
The files are ordered on popularity, it seems. With the most popular at the front, and the least at the back. He flicked to the back of the folder.
Lily Chen. No pictures, no preferences, two hundred euros per hour, no kinks, her limits stated "no penetration", and only a single review, describing her as a "waste of money," and a, "bitch".
"Chen, huh? Room three."
Emir shot her a grateful look and took off up the stairs.
The lights flickered on when Emir entered, but his eyes didn't linger. He let the door shut behind him, immediately undoing his belt as he threw himself towards the bed. She looks up, and when she sees him, a frown emerges.
"You? Why... What... Does it matter, you have money, no doubt." The woman seemed a little shaken and confused for some odd reason. Yet, why did it matter? Maybe she wasn't the right one, a disappointment, and a problem.
She then shrugged, sighed, and lay down on the bed.
"Have at me. Let us get this over and done with. My day is not improving." He raises an eyebrow at her as she stares at him, as though she is analyzing his body.
"Tall, decent arms, okay face. Not exactly impressive. About three points." She says, rolling her fingers on the table to her right, as though the person she was describing wasn't even in the room with her. It was hard to tell if he should feel insulted or not.
"Hu-?"
"The gut, the unkempt hair, the deodorant, the aftershave - or lack thereof, the beard and that skin. Minus eight points." Jesus. He thought the reviewer was just an asshole, but no, he could see where he was coming for. Was this meant to be a fetish?
"N-"
"Just shut up. Let me get it over and done with. My name's Chen, I'm eighteen years old and have been working here for about three months. Now, please hurry and stop your staring." Lily interrupts, crossing her arms under her ample bust, which seemed like it would spill out with any movement.
A sigh escaped the teen's lips.
"Your demeanor is gross. If you choose to stuff yourself so much, then hold yourself higher first. Minus one point." Lily pointed out his stomach as he approached her. He can't say this is what he expected. She was extremely critical of him, his size, and his overall attitude. Did all women think of him like this? Was she the only one who said it out loud? Something else to be paranoid about.
She pulled out her phone, "It's a quarter past six, your time started about ten minutes ago. Hurry up." This started feeling less like sex, and more like training. He just stared at her, perplexed.
"Is this your first time?" He simply nodded, almost dazed.
"Use your words. Shyness is disgusting. Minus two points." She rolled her eyes as she lay down on the bed. Was she just making this point system up as she went? He approached her body, careful as though to avoid her ire.
He reached with his hand down under her dress. Her hand shot up and slapped his, earning an agitated response.
"Minus two more points. How old do you think you are? Wait, don't tell me."
"What do you want from me?" He hissed out, starting to get agitated.
"Foreplay, going in straight away is so cliché. What a virgin." Lily criticized as she looked up at the boy. He shook his head, at the very least, he was learning how to treat a woman. Right? That counted for something.
"Get better at foreplay or get a vibrator for all I care. How dare you call that touching?" she spat at him, interrupting his thoughts.
The boy cringed inwardly, but he continued, with what limited experience he had.
"Start the bottom." She ordered, pushing her foot against his head. He could feel some anger course, and he became more forceful. He began to massage her body from the bottom. Unwittingly, the pressure he applied began to amp up. His thumb pressed against the base of her toe. His eyes stared at the spot that glistened, her thighs seemed extremely soft. A hunger burned in his soul, though a sense of danger held it back.
Lily's back arched slightly and she let out a satisfied groan.
That noise was like music to his ears.
"P- plus two." Her tone had wavered, showing uncertainty, he raised his eyebrows as he was encouraged. She recomposes her stoic, and frustrated face.
He began to massage his way up her leg. Prior experience helping his grandparents come in to play, something he had never expected. Though, admittedly, he was shaking, his body was running on a sort of lust, it wasn't even turning him on anymore, he couldn't find it in himself to care, his entire brain was fixated on that leg.
He neared the center, her stomach twitched, as though she could anticipate what he had been thinking about. His head was nearing her lower mouth. Emir reached his arms around her backside, reaching the clasp of her dress, and tugging it away. Her face turned away, but her face contorted into a mix of disgust and relief.
Emir gulped. Lily was hot. Her dress had a slit right down the middle, a boob window cut into the side. With one last squeeze, he hooked his arm under her ass, squeezing it lightly.
"Decent pace. Plus one."
Was this the right person? Or just the one that was closest to what he desired? Or did he just not notice that he was so horny he didn't care what the lady looked like anymore. At this point, Emir could not even remember if the image of Lily was burnt into his mind and how she currently was.
She was fit and toned. It was very subtle, but her figure had an elegant allure to it, he supposed a slight hourglass shape. The only problem was her breast, seemingly much bigger than the average girl. How on Earth was she an escort instead of a model? The question flew through his mind but never formed a reply, he was too occupied in his sexual desire.
Emir lay her down with caution, but there was little time for embarrassment. The thin fabric of her panties was the only obstacle, a gentle barrier that had to be passed. Her hips were pliable and warm. They were positioned, arched in the air with legs crossed in anticipation and excitement.
"Mm..." She let out a soft murmur as he began to touch her from over the panties. The slight vibration of her body was enough, and the blood rushed into his brain. His hormones exploded, sending a pulsation of adrenaline. A daze, clouding all sensations, except lust. His stomach was in a knot, as he tugged at her underwear. She eyed him with a dour stare.
"Sorry." Emir felt bad, her panties ripped, exposing her bare vagina, glistening with sweat and fluids, juxtaposed by her dry expression. She shook her head.
"It's fine. Don't apologize. Minus one point." Her voice wasn't nearly as sharp as it was a bit ago.
"You don't have to do this," Emir spoke, almost too calmly. She pulled him back, aggressively.
"Don't act high and mighty."
"I'm not, but-."
"Can it? I'm a prostitute, you've paid for me already. Don't get a hero complex." He didn't protest, unable to formulate an excuse, unable to speak. She put her hand on his chin, pulling his face to be eye level with him as a tongue slithered into his mouth.
It was all a haze, he hadn't been expecting the kiss at all, and neither did he know that it was what he wanted. His hips began moving again.
He stroked the silky lining, her insides hot, ready.
She guided his arm, making him insert a finger inside her. He hesitated, only a little as he pushed his finger inside, slowly, making his way deeper.
He kept pushing. She hissed, biting her lower lips, her eyes closing for a second.
Then a sudden wave of liquid squirts from her.
"F-four points... for creativity. You win this round." The woman said, in between kisses. Her voice seemed more feminine, erotic, and calming. Likely due to her current situation. Emir's ego got the better of him. He brought out his middle finger now, to tease and spread out the hole even more. She moaned loudly now.
"Do- don't- FUCK!" She squealed, "...Do that. Ngh" Lily bit back her whines as her grip tightened on his back, fingernails scratching and leaving marks. The rational part of his brain was telling him that it should hurt, and yet, his erection spiked so far that his entire being felt sore. His clothes, even the friction of his penis against his pants, hurt.
They were going too fast.
Her nails dig deeper, breaking the surface of his skin. Pain surges, but the daze stays unbroken. He becomes more vigorous, tearing her walls in, scraping at her insides, pressing down on a tender spot.
"That's my G- Spot, fuck. Fuck. You bastard." She let out a low, sexual growl, an animalistic display of dominance. He doesn't back down this time and keeps probing.
Her words are more guttural and rushed now, all trace of the professionalism was gone. Lily tries desperately not to scream, as he puts the final nail in the coffin.
Her walls close on him and her juices ooze from her, squirting over his chest and a little on his face.
She let out a soft pant. The hand clutching his back slowly loosened, and her arms returned to her side, slumping.
Her legs collapsed, as did his resolve. A deep sense of self-loathing washed over him, regret and guilt flooding his senses. That wasn't even proper intercourse, that's wasn't even...
"T- that's not proper fucking. That's just foreplay. Right?"
"Minus... three... stuttering is gross..." The woman motioned weakly. He was shocked to see Lily's eyes, which had been glaring a few moments prior, were a warm brown. Before long they rolled into the back of her head. He had never seen an expression that mixed such tenderness with ferocity. His chest tightened. He found this attractive, beyond words.
She licked her lips, an animalistic spark behind her eyes. His heartbeat picks up a little.
"No. It's not. So why didn't you take the plunge, huh?" She glared. Her strength and will had recovered quicker than he had expected.
"That doesn't sound very encouraging."
"Of course not! Minus two points." She scratches him in the sides of his torso and she moves herself to be over his waist. Emir, under her gaze, started to sweat a little. He felt as though he was a pig about to be served on a silver platter.
"T... wait." Emir instinctively pushes the woman off him. His breathing was a little rapid, as a nauseous feeling rushed over him. Lily rolled her eyes.
"What a fucking tease. Fine. Don't blow a load in your boxers, then."
He coughed as he heard her insult, getting up immediately. This whole exchange had taken a turn he didn't expect, even so, he was at least thankful that the charge didn't increase further, right?
He smiled and laughed it off. It was oddly refreshing. He felt like he walking on air, felt like a fool.
"What." There was no mistaking the contempt that laced her words.
"Ah." It was like a cold bucket.
"This is so pitiful,"
"Do you have a problem with me, then?" He asks, turning a little annoyed.
"As far as men go, you're definitely below average, what about it?" She got up on her feet, walking to her dresser, picking out an extra pair of lingerie. She stripped down to her underwear, her large chest hanging free. He watched her carefully as she lifted her hair, exposing her neck and the upper portion of her back, in its entirety.
"That was cruel..."
"Mister, there's not a day that goes by when I'm not told I'm a bitch. Why does it matter if I do it myself, huh?"
He groaned a little in acknowledgment.
"True."
Lily sneers at him.
She's fire and ice.
"Let me try again," He looks up at her with determination. She tilts her head curiously as he takes her arms in his, holding her body like he sees men hold women in posters. He tenses up and kisses her gently on the neck. Perhaps the first kiss he'd ever initiated.
A crescendo in their passions, tongues intertwined and locked together. She comes back with more passion.
"Not good." She says, with the same kind of displeasure and disinterest as if she were returning misordered food. Her demeanor, at the moment, was oddly serene. Emir struggled, his tongue tripping over her. Their teeth clash. Emir let out a hiss of pain.
She wrapped an arm around his shoulder as her lips explored his neck. Her hot breath pressed against his nape. Lily placed her hand over his heart, pressing it in to feel the heartbeat. She gently sucked and bit on his neck, leaving a mark.
"W... wow." The word escaped before he could even comprehend it, in disbelief, he'd feel pleasure from a gesture he always found creepy. Lily giggles at him, satisfied that the plan worked.
"You are so weak." She leaned against him. Her voice was softer, not as biting, or harsh. Emir didn't respond, focused instead on trying to slow down his heartbeat. Her cheeks were stained crimson. She leaned in closer, and they held each other for a minute. Lily's hot breaths caress Emir's ear.
She was shorter, yet the way their bodies connected, a small sensation of superiority enraptured him, an alluring confidence. It was a shame an ear-piercing ringing sound interrupted them.
"Shit." She hissed out. Lily approached the side of the bed and pulled out her phone, clearly agitated.
"Look's like time's up."
'So this is how she ends the engagement without the customer feeling bad, or losing immersion, huh? Pretty smart.' He mused to himself, clearly overthinking. Watching as she went off on her phone, before she threw it on the bed, an agitated look plastered over her face. Emir sighed and shifted on his foot whilst Lily stared at the phone, only seemingly getting more provoked at its existence.
The mood, for both, had all but disappeared. The satisfaction and pleasure he had felt a second ago were completely gone. It was nice while it lasted. He supposed this was a fitting conclusion, and he began to leave. He could at least take the hint.
"Two- no, three hours of working out every day. No junk food at all, and a lot of fruits."
He turned back, glancing with a raised eyebrow at Lily who was staring at his back.
"If you ever come here again, you better be most presentable as well. You stink, and that unkempt hair is vile. Now shoo." She ushered him away. He'd only known her for a couple of hours, and yet it already felt like she was going to be the death of him.
"And by the way."
"You weren't the most terrible client I've met, but you could always do better, and I'm holding you to that." His brain went on overdrive. It was almost like his own body betrayed him and his heart was beating out of control once more. Before he could even respond, she had closed the door. Was he now obliged to come back?
He stared at the closed door, staring at the bronze "three" plate that was nailed to the front. It's pretty bland and makes his heartache.
Lily Chen.
Perhaps she was his ideal type, or it may have been something much deeper. Only a third person would know, perhaps, a deeper reason as to why he couldn't just let go, yet he hadn't met someone who had made his heart stop quite like her before. It didn't feel like it was the most genuine meeting, either. Though, as his adrenaline left him and the passion waned, he suddenly realized. He wasn't quite as physically capable or mentally trained, she was better than he was in many ways. And that made it exciting.
He walked back, approaching Ms. Hartwell, who seemed to have a grin on her face. Oh God. He just remembered. He'd need to be ready to send at least two hundred euros, but sure he couldn't have been in there for that long. He glanced at his phone, checking the time. They had started at quarter past six, and now... he could feel dread build up as he read the time. It was a little past nine.
"Enjoyed your stay?"
"Something like that."
"Four hundred."
He raised a brow. Still incredibly pricey, he almost cried at the thought of spending four hundred on something he hadn't planned on doing. But still cheaper than what he expected. Seeing his inquisitive expression, she answered for him.
"The escort chooses the price, we just take a cut."
Now he was even more confused.