I’ve always told myself I’m a bit fearless. Or maybe that’s just bravado. Still, when people ask, I say I’m an Adventurous Escort because it’s easier than trying to explain why I keep saying yes to things that make my heart skip. Most of the time, it pays off. Sometimes it doesn’t. This night though… it did.
The client only said he wanted someone “open to kinks.” That was enough for me. I didn’t ask what kind. Maybe I should have. But curiosity has a way of making me reckless.
He opened the door like a man who knew exactly how to hold himself. Too polite almost, like he was hiding something sharper under the smile. We stumbled through small talk, a coat hung neatly, a compliment that made my cheeks warm before I could catch myself. And then the air shifted — his hand on my hip, light pressure that said, you’re mine now.
The strangeness of it was how slow he moved. Every gesture deliberate, almost maddening. He touched me in places no one usually bothers with. My ankle, the inside of my foot, the kind of attention you’d laugh off if you weren’t already caught in the moment. But there I was, shivering, realising there are a hundred ways to uncover a man’s hidden pleasure — and not all of them obvious.
I should have felt silly, spread across a hotel couch like some strange puzzle he was intent on solving. Instead I felt… seen, in a way I couldn’t quite name. He didn’t rush, didn’t let me take control, and the more I surrendered, the more alive I felt.
Later, he carried me — literally lifted me, still kissing me as though we’d been lovers for years — into the next room. I can’t even remember how he managed it without breaking stride. It was chaotic, ungraceful even, but I didn’t care. My arms were around his neck, my legs tangled, my laughter muffled against his skin.
By the end, I was undone. Not just physically — though I was shaking — but mentally. Something about the whole evening stripped me raw. And when I left, I kept thinking: this is why I do it. For nights that teach me something new about myself.
If you want to know where this all started for me, it goes back to How I Overcame My Fear of Handcuffs — the first time I learned that surrender isn’t weakness, it’s a choice.