The Price of Bought Passion

Alright, that’s it! I’m going to do it! Enough chickening out! I’m twenty-three already, and I’m still a virgin! What a disgrace!

Some girls have already been married a couple of times and have two kids, while I can’t even get past first base!

This time—no more talking, straight to action! And less thinking. Thinking is bad in this case! I just need to go with the flow and let the man seduce me. After all, he’s getting paid for that!

Twice already I’ve thrown money to the wind. At this rate, I’ll go broke, and my so-called “honor” will stay perfectly intact.

No, no, no—away with it! I don’t need that kind of “treasure”!

Maybe if I knew what it was like to actually be with a man, I wouldn’t bury my brain in dry formulas at work all the time. Maybe I’d even try to build some kind of personal life. And when the right guy comes along, I want to be at least a little prepared for it—and not shaking like a coward.

Better my first time be with a stranger who knows exactly what he’s doing and can make it beautiful, than what happened to my friend Marina. She slept with her boyfriend when she was seventeen—and not only was it, as she put it, “terrible, clumsy, and barely worked out,” because he had no idea what he was doing either—but the jerk went around bragging to everyone afterward that he’d “won a bet” by taking her virginity. And she actually loved him. So it hurt her twice as much. You can’t blame her for turning into a total bitch after that—angry at the whole world.

We’re still friends, probably only because we’ve known each other since childhood. I don’t have time to make new friends anyway.

I don’t need that kind of emotional rollercoaster! With my lifestyle and workload, there aren’t many men around me to begin with. I don’t have time to go out searching for the one—the so-called “worthy man” who deserves my purity, as some women like to call it.

And honestly, at twenty-three, it already feels awkward to admit to anyone that I’m still a virgin.

So yes, this is my well-thought-out decision, and I see nothing shameful about it.

It’s not going to make anything worse—in fact, I’ll get it over with and move on, with minimal losses. Right?

This whole idea came to me after one of my clients got a little too honest during her beauty treatment and told me about an interesting website called “Pepper dot com.”

She’s a stunning, wealthy, and confident woman — old enough to be my mother — and as it turns out, she often uses that site’s services. Specifically, she orders herself handsome young men for private meetings.

Being an extremely busy woman, she doesn’t waste time hunting for random lovers or boy toys who might ruin her marriage. Her husband, as she admitted, isn’t exactly capable of performing miracles in the bedroom anymore, while she’s still a fiery, passionate woman overflowing with energy and desire.

“For me, it’s the perfect solution!”, laughs Alevtina as we wait for the warming mask to take effect on her face.

“You pay, you get pleasure, and that’s it — no strings attached. No one begging you afterward for an apartment, a vacation, or expensive gifts. I’ve been there, done that!”

She says it knowingly, like a woman with experience.

In the beauty industry, clients tell their masters a lot. So at this point, I’m not even surprised by anything anymore.

“And the boys there are really nice,” she continues. “Plenty of variety, too. Who said only girls can work in escort? Guys are in high demand! My friends love the service as well!”

At first, I was just curious and wanted to keep the conversation going. After all, Alevtina has been my regular client for two years now. She feels completely at ease and trusts me. And as we both know — whatever is said in the beauty room, stays in the beauty room.

“So… how do you even choose a man from the site?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“First, you register,” she explained. “You can use a nickname instead of your real name. Everything’s quite confidential — as long as the payment goes through. You set the date and time for your meeting, by the hour or for the whole night. Then you simply mark your preferences — you know, like classic, oral, anal, domination, BDSM, and so on.”

My eyes widened in shock at that point. Thankfully, her eyes were closed, so she couldn’t see how bright red my face had become.

“Then,” she went on calmly, “you describe the kind of man you want — tall, short, blond, brunette, muscular, bald, hairy, whatever. The site sends you photos of men who best match your preferences and are currently available. After that, you pick the one you like — or even two, if you want — and they send you the details of where your meeting will take place. The deposit is charged immediately and non-refundable, and the rest you give him in person after the ‘date.’”

Alevtina said all this as casually as if she were explaining how to order food delivery.

“Well, I don’t really need it… I was just curious,” I said, blushing like a schoolgirl. After a moment’s pause, I added with a laugh, “You know… asking for a friend.”