I thought I’d seen most things by now. Apparently not. The message came through the London Escort Agency and at first I thought it was a mistake. A man wanted me to come to his hotel. Not for him. Not to play a role. Just… to lose myself while he sat there, watching.
Strange, right? He booked three hours, said I could stop whenever. If I only lasted one, he’d still pay. Something about the way he said it—steady, no rush—made me trust him. Oddly gentle. I said yes.
The keycard was waiting downstairs. I went up, and the moment I opened the door I felt the air shift. Lamps on the bed like a stage, everything else dark. A shadow in the corner, not moving. My audience. I swallowed, pretended not to notice. That was the deal.
I set my bag down too carefully. Slow, almost dragging it out. I told myself to stop overthinking—this is theatre, not a test. A silly flicker of panic hit me, what if I looked absurd? Alone, undressing under spotlights. Then I decided absurd might be exactly what makes it work.
When I lay back, I could feel his eyes pressing down on me. It was heavy, like heat on bare skin. Pretending I didn’t see him made it worse, or maybe better, I’m not sure. My hand moved slowly, not rushing. Playing with the edge of a woman climax, tugging at it, not letting it come too soon.
I don’t normally give myself that much space. Work is for giving, not taking. But here, the indulgence was the job. Every small sound felt magnified. Even my own breathing startled me, like it wasn’t mine.
Time bent. Sometimes I went still, counting heartbeats just to feel them. Sometimes I let go too fast and heard myself cry out before I could stop it. It was almost a duet—his silence, my surrender.
By the end I felt wrung out. My body weak, skin damp, head light as though I’d run a race. Except I hadn’t moved, not really. I sank into the pillows, smiling faintly, half embarrassed. Who knew being paid to unravel yourself could feel this strange. This right.
That’s the thing about the Escort Agency people imagine it’s routine. It isn’t. It’s these odd little moments that leave you changed, whether you meant them to or not.
Curious for more? Step into Behind Closed Doors with an escort and see how imagination plays when the curtains are drawn.