I was trying to book a male escort online, but somehow I accidentally texted a hitman. Me: “How much per session?” Hitman: “How many people.” Whoa, group rates? Awesome! I hesitated, a blush creeping up, and typed my name. “O-only one person. Any chance of a discount?” It was the tenth day since the breakup, and my hormones were acting up again, just like every month, making me restless. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. So, in the middle of the night, I turned to the internet, looking for something to help me unwind. Clicking around, a powerfully striking photo suddenly scrolled across my screen. In my view, the man wore a dark helmet and mask, with only a pair of broad, strong hands, gripping a weapon, visible. His knuckles were sharply defined, veins bulging. The oversized weapon looked small and effortless in those palms. I couldn’t help but imagine his long fingers pulling the trigger. What if his fingertips weren’t on a trigger, but on… I instinctively covered my tingling nose. I instantly clicked into his profile, desperate for more eye candy. But most of the account’s content was hidden, requiring a paid subscription to unlock direct messages. Underneath, a flood of anonymous five-star reviews. “Totally worth it.” “Excellent and professional service!” “Clean, on point, no regrets.” I thought for a second and understood — It had to be OnlyFans! I did a quick mental calculation of the price and hissed through my teeth. It wasn’t cheap. This male model was truly expensive. Normally, I’d just drool for a bit and move on. But I was still furious about my cheating ex and desperately needed some good stuff to soothe my soul. We independent women deserve to treat ourselves. Money comes and goes, but I’d never again, in the prime of my twenties, alone, miss out on a masked, buff ‘daddy’ fantasy. I immediately splurged on the most expensive tier. Sure enough, a private message arrived quickly. “What service do you require.” His tone was as steady and cold as he was. I could almost picture him, stoic, giving me a sharp, knife-like glance. I touched my rapidly beating heart and bravely asked him. “How much for you to come out once?” He replied quickly: “How many people.” Whoa, group activities too? I was momentarily stunned by his wide range of services. Ugh, with the economy in the dumps, even us sugar mamas are feeling the pinch. My spirit animal must be a rusty old sponge – its flower language is pure, unadulterated suffering. I sighed for a moment: “Just one person.” I thought for a moment and then asked: “Any discounts?” The other side was silent for a moment, seemingly not expecting my question. After a brief pause, four bolded words popped up. “NO BARGAINING.” So cool and aloof. Business must be booming. He probably realized his tone was a bit stiff. A moment later, another message came. “Any special requests.” Me: ! Was the service *that* good? Paying definitely made a difference, making my mind race with naughty thoughts. My face flushed crimson, my brain like a wild horse, replaying every comic, video, and story I’d ever seen. It took me a long time to timidly type out my reply. “Anything goes?” The other side fell into a deep silence again, longer than before. Finally, after a long pause, two concise words appeared. “Extra charge.” …My inner fangirl suddenly keeled over. I instantly became pure and desireless: “Oh, then never mind.” After sending him my name, birthday, and a photo as requested, I casually asked. “What’s your name?” The cool guy’s reply was just as cool. “No need to know. Once the transaction is complete, we won’t be in touch again.” Wow, this is that legendary cold, hard cash transaction, isn’t it? Adulting is really something else. Me: “I need something to call you. A stage name?” He seemed to ponder, typing for a moment, then slowly replied. “Codename, Phoenix.”
On the appointed day. Excited, I grabbed my bag and rushed to the agreed-upon meeting spot. In the coffee shop, I couldn’t help my anxiety, checking the clock again and again. But after a long wait, he still didn’t show up. As the agreed time passed and no one appeared, my heart felt like a receding tide, slowly becoming dry and empty. Could I have been stood up? Before leaving in disappointment, I made one last desperate attempt, craning my neck to glance at the entrance. Both inside the coffee shop and right outside the door, there was no one. The road outside was also sparsely populated. Unwilling to give up, I repeatedly scanned my surroundings. Until my gaze landed on a tall figure in the shade of a distant tree across the street. Suddenly, my eyes lit up. The man had a slender build. Even the top button of his shirt was perfectly fastened, and he wore dark sunglasses and a mask, his entire body meticulously covered. Only a pair of distinctly jointed hands were the sole bright spot in the picture. Normally, without seeing a face, one couldn’t identify a person. But was I a normal person? I’m a seasoned connoisseur, capable of navigating countless websites and creating multiple accounts just to find the *really good stuff*! My instincts are never wrong! Damn it, those hands *had* to belong to my muscular god. I quickly ran over. Up close, I noticed he was even more robust, easily standing at six-foot-three. His pants pocket was bulging, making me wonder what treasures he might be hiding. That chest. Those legs. That absolute unit of a physique. My mouth watered, and my long wait’s annoyance significantly diminished. Maybe he got the location wrong? I tapped his shoulder: “What are you doing standing here? Why didn’t you come over?” The cool guy stiffened when I touched him. He looked bewildered for a second, then cautiously stepped back, eyeing me coldly. “You’ve got the wrong person.” I couldn’t help but rub my ear. His voice was amazing too, like the low thrum of a cello, every note scraped a delicious itch in my soul. Too bad it was so cold. I tried to explain again: “No, I haven’t. I’ve been waiting for you for ages. Since you didn’t come, I had to find you.” He was silent for a few seconds, his voice still distant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I instantly felt a little annoyed, putting my hands on my hips, huffing. “What’s wrong with you?! You got paid, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, it’s too late!” The man was silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling as if he let out a long breath. He gave up and took off his sunglasses and mask, revealing a handsome face. One hand slid into his slightly bulging pants pocket, and he took a step closer to me. His narrow eyes flickered toward me, as if assessing my intentions. “Since you already know, what do you want?” Such a captivating beauty was now so close. I instantly forgot my anger. Shyly, I lowered my gaze, my eyes darting around. “I, um… booked a hotel room. We can talk inside.” I cleared my throat, gesturing around us. “There are too many people coming and going on the street, it’s not suitable for… business.” He didn’t move for a while. Afraid he might misunderstand, I quickly waved my hands in explanation. “Don’t worry, I don’t actually intend to *do* anything to you. It’s just, well, I just wanted to meet and talk.” My voice got softer and softer as I spoke. “As for other things, unless you’re willing…” He suddenly stepped forward and leaned over me. Suddenly, I was enveloped in his shadow. Compared to his strong, tall physique, I felt like a fragile doll that could break with a touch. I unconsciously held my breath. Seeing my reaction, a short smile flitted across his lips. For a moment, the ice melted. Revealing deep waters, dangerous and alluring. His low, magnetic male voice penetrated my eardrums. “I’m not worried. On the contrary, *you* should be worried about what *I* might do to you.” With that, he turned and walked towards the hotel. Leaving me standing there stunned. It took a long while for me to let out a little “Awooo” and cover my burning cheeks. Did I just get reverse-flirted? Is this the power of a professional male model? Terrifying!
On the big bed in the hotel room. Kaelen and I sat side by side, the atmosphere very silent. To liven things up, I had to find a random topic. “Why did you get into this line of work?” “Couldn’t do anything else.” I instantly imagined the classic tragic trope: a poor young man dropping out, losing his job, and finally ending up in the escort business. I tried to offer polite comfort. “Hey, this isn’t so bad either. It’s a long-standing profession with a rich history, you shouldn’t feel ashamed.” Kaelen seemed disinclined to talk about his job, frowning. “Let’s get to the point. What do you want to do?” Straight to business, huh? Wasn’t that a bit fast? I shyly rubbed my hands: “O-Okay. What can we do? Can we… get intimate?” His frown deepened: “*I* ‘intimate’ *you*?” Huh? What else? I asked confused: “Or, should *I* ‘intimate’ *you*?” “No.” “Then can I, uh, touch your… gun?” “No.” “How about just looking?” “No.” “Touching your pecs must be okay, right?” “Absolutely not!!” Kaelen’s suddenly raised voice startled me. I stared blankly at the man who had suddenly moved a step away, his ears flushed. Why so agitated? My previous requests weren’t any less scandalous, so perhaps his chest was a sensitive spot? I thought for a moment, then just asked directly: “You’re all about show, no… other services?” He thought for a moment: “Yes.” *What a chaste man*. Looks like tonight would be pure conversation under the covers. I yawned bored: “Alright, I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home.” He didn’t move, seemingly indifferent. When I came out wrapped in a towel. I saw Kaelen sitting on the bed, looking through my phone. “Hey! Don’t you have any professional ethics?!” I angrily pounced, trying to snatch it back. The man was tall with long legs, and with one arm raised, he easily evaded me, leaving his phone out of my reach even on tiptoes. Instead, it looked like I was throwing myself into his arms, rubbing and touching him. Several times, my face almost buried itself in his bulging chest. Kaelen pressed his lips tightly together, grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the headboard, immobilizing me. His voice was a little strained and hoarse. “You’re my client?” I froze for a moment, then suddenly understood. He had been looking through our chat history. Did he think someone else had booked the male model for me? What’s wrong with a woman booking a male model for herself? The Dark Ages are over, you old-fashioned conservative. I glared at him in dissatisfaction. “Yes, so what?!” The grip on my wrists loosened slightly. Kaelen frowned, looking at me sharply for a moment. His expression seemed to hold a hint of disappointment. He chastised me in a low voice: “So young, why are you so reckless?” I was startled by his scolding. When I came to my senses, I grew even more indignant— I was right! This guy was a total old-fashioned conservative!
“I’m not taking this job.” The man coldly tossed out the words, releasing me. I stared blankly as he turned and strode out. What did he mean? Was he looking down on me? A male model, daring to choose his clients. This was outrageous! How dare he choose his clients! I was going to leave him a five-hundred-word scathing review! Furious, I sprang from the bed. I threw on my clothes and chased him out, yelling. “If you won’t do it, plenty of others will! I’ll buy even better ones in a bit! Ten of them!” The figure ahead in the hallway suddenly paused. The man turned his head, his expression complex. “If I refuse, you’ll just buy someone else?” He crossed the distance between us in a few steps. His tone was almost heartbroken. “Can’t you think of something better? Give up that idea, do you *have* to… do *that*?” Why couldn’t I have some worldly desires? Men aren’t the only ones with needs, you know. Just as I was about to argue with him. A familiar, irritating voice suddenly sounded behind me. Someone called out with a smile: “Zara Campbell, what are you doing here?” I turned back, annoyed. Sure enough, I saw a handsome but utterly repulsive face – my ex-boyfriend, Bryce Coleman. Bryce’s silk robe was loosely tied. A trail of vivid red hickeys snaked from his neck down to his collarbone. Several ambiguous scratch marks were half-hidden beneath the fabric on his chest. Who knew whose bed he’d just gotten out of. Not long ago, I discovered he was frequently hooking up with other people. When I caught him in the act, he casually zipped up his trousers, leaned against the hotel headboard, and lit a cigar. He exhaled a perfectly formed smoke ring, smiling faintly at my furious questions. “It’s just for fun, don’t worry.” He reached out to take my hand, his voice almost gentle. “You’re my only real girlfriend.” It was like ice-cold water poured directly onto the magma of my surging anger. In that moment, I suddenly calmed down. Bryce might have looked human, just like me, but the chasm in our beliefs was wider than the gap between species. You can’t reason with a dog, and there was no point in arguing further. I pulled my hand away from his touch and slapped him hard across the face. “Not anymore.” As I left, I saw him standing there stunned. The cigar, which he’d been holding leisurely, fell to the carpet, burning small, irreparable black marks. I closed my eyes, trying to suppress the unpleasant memories that rose in my mind. But the dog across from me wouldn’t stop barking. Bryce eyed me, idly stroking his chin with interest. “Are you here to check up on me? You just said you wanted to break up, but you’re already regretting it?” He chuckled: “You little hypocrite.” …Oh my god! If I had committed a crime, the law should punish me, not put me through this torture by disgust. I felt so sick I wanted to throw up. Then I thought, I shouldn’t be the only one suffering. I looked around, grabbed Kaelen by the arm, and intimately linked mine with his. “Don’t say such silly things. My boyfriend will get mad.” Bryce was incredibly self-absorbed. He believed his little ex-girlfriend would be pining for him, so me quickly finding someone new was another slap in the face. Hearing my words, Bryce’s expression indeed stiffened. A moment later, a malicious smile suddenly appeared on his face. “Oh really? Well, then he should call me ‘senior.’ “After all, he’s just playing with my sloppy seconds.” “…!” I felt a chill run through my body. The next instant, my hand was suddenly enveloped in a warm grip. Kaelen took half a step forward, blocking Bryce’s slimy gaze from me. He coldly swept his eyes over the suggestive marks on Bryce’s body. “Are you calling yourself even sloppier?” Society taught women to be ashamed of their sexual experiences, but men boasted about how many women they’d slept with. Bryce probably never expected Kaelen, another man, to break that unspoken rule and judge him by the very standards society imposed on women. Bryce gaped for a long moment. Finally, unable to maintain his civilized facade, anger filled his eyes: “You…” “Want to fight?” Kaelen cut him off, stepping forward until he was right in front of Bryce. His six-foot-three frame and imposing, muscular build instantly made Bryce look like a scrawny stick. Bryce stared at him darkly. After a long pause, his gaze went past Kaelen’s shoulder and landed on me. The intensity in his eyes seemed to want to flay me alive. “Fine. I’ll remember this.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298792”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic
Leave a Reply