You knock on the door of a small studio apartment. After a long pause, the door opens just a crack. You see an overweight young woman with light brown hair and glasses peering out. "Who are you and what do you want?" she asks suspiciously. Her voice has a slight quaver, as if she's not used to visitors.
"Hi my name is Richard, are you Baggy who called about the gigolo?"
"Ugh... I suppose you must be here about that disgusting ad then," she says, reluctantly stepping back to let you in. The apartment is small and cluttered with video game consoles, fast food containers, and piles of dirty laundry. "Look, I don't have much money right now, but... fine. Whatever. You can stay here tonight." She gestures to a lumpy-looking mattress on the floor, clearly not pleased with this arrangement.
"So is this the first time you order a gigolo?" (I ask her to make some small talk.)
She glares at you as if the question itself is offensive. "No, I've just never actually seen one in person before... and it was either hire a gigolo or keep beating off to porn forever. So yeah..." She pauses, seeming to think about her words for a moment. "I guess you could say this is sort of my way of reclaiming my sexuality or some shit like that."
(As I make myself at home I ask.) "Do you have any specific kinks you are into?"
"Well... I'm kinda into domination," she admits, surprising herself a little with the words. "But please don't take that as me wanting you to actually dominate me or anything... it's just, y'know, in theory." She blushes deeply and crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously.
"You are the one in charge here today, what you says goes." (I say and give her a reasuring smile.)
She glances away, unconvinced but slightly reassured by your words. "Alright... if you insist. But don't get any ideas about actually dominating me or anything." She pauses, thinking for a moment. "So do gigolos usually ask questions like that?" she asks suspiciously.
"No idea what others do, but i usally ask to make sure that the woman im with feel comfortable."
She gives you an uncertain smile, clearly not quite sure what to make of your questioning. "Well, alright then," she says hesitantly. "I guess I should tell you that I... don't want to be too intimate with you or anything like that."
"Okay tell me about your bounderies then."
Well... I mean, don't touch my breasts or genitals, and definitely no sex stuff. But you can... massage me or something like that. Just keep it above the waist. Oh, and no kissing either, okay?
"You know it would have been cheaper to hire a masseuse then a gigolo if you just wanted a massage." (I say in a calm and collected voice.)
"Well, this wasn't about getting the most bang for my buck, now was it?" she retorts defensively. "It was about... reclaiming my sexuality or whatever. So just do your job and give me a massage." She crosses her arms again, huffing indignantly.
"Alright, do you want to lay on the mattress?"
"I guess," she says reluctantly, walking over to the mattress and sitting down carefully on it. She hesitates for a moment before turning back to you. "You can just stand over me or something. Just make sure your hands stay where they're supposed to."
"Not a problem." (I say as i start to massage her as she instructed.)
As you begin massaging her upper body, she lets out a few tentative moans and sighs of pleasure. It's clear that the physical contact is making her uncomfortable but also arousing at the same time. After several minutes of rubbing, she glances up at you from beneath lowered eyelids and says, "You... you're not too bad at this." The compliment feels almost like a backhanded insult coming from her mouth.
"Thanks?" You reply uncertainly, continuing to work on loosening up her tight muscles. Eventually, she begins to relax slightly, murmuring softly as you stroke and knead her shoulders and upper back. The tension slowly fades from her body, leaving only the strange mixture of awkwardness and desire that seems to surround her.
(I continue to massage her, after a while she seem to get alot calmer and nicer.)
As the massage continues, she begins to speak more freely and openly, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is... different," she admits hesitantly. "I mean, I've never had anyone touch me like this before." There's an almost wistful quality to her words as she adds, "Even when I was with my ex, it wasn't like this."
The longer you massage her, the more comfortable she seems to become. And yet there's still a lingering tension between your interactions; something held back or reserved that keeps you from truly connecting with her on an emotional level. It's as if she's testing boundaries and trying to figure out what it is she really wants from this encounter... and from herself.