The room was warm and quiet.
Soft lighting cast a golden hue over everything — the king-sized bed, the bottles of massage oil, the champagne bucket on the table. There was a mirror in the corner, and soft jazz playing in the background. Everything was designed to feel luxurious, but Mika's hands were still shaking.
She stood near the edge of the bed in her new uniform: a black silk slip that clung to her curves and left her back bare. Lace panties. Stockings. No bra. Her nipples pressed against the fabric, already hard with nerves.
This is real, she thought. My first client. My first paid fuck.
The door opened.
He was older than she expected — maybe mid-forties, with sharp eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. Tall. Expensive watch. His name was Mr. Hayama, but Hina had told her never to say it unless he gave permission.
He looked at her in silence for a moment. Not like a man about to undress her. More like a collector studying art.
"You must be Mika," he said at last.
"Yes."
His gaze was calm, controlled. "You're nervous."
"I'm… new."
"I know. That's why I booked you."
He removed his coat slowly, then his tie, never taking his eyes off her. Mika felt the weight of his gaze — not cruel, not cold. Just owned. Like she was already his for the hour.
"Come here."
She walked forward, barefoot on the carpet.
"Closer."
He sat down in the leather chair. She stood between his knees, her breath unsteady.
"Do you know how to take care of a man, Mika?"
"I'm still learning."
"Good. Take off your dress."
Her fingers trembled as she reached behind and undid the clasp. The slip slid down her shoulders, then over her breasts, slowly revealing skin.
His eyes never blinked.
She let it fall to the floor.
Now she was in just her panties and stockings, standing before him like an offering. He leaned in and kissed her navel — softly, deliberately — before standing.
"Get on the bed," he said. "On your back."
She obeyed.
The sheets were cool against her skin. Her heart thundered in her chest. She felt her own arousal begin to stir — shamefully, confusingly — just from the tension.
He undressed without ceremony. Slacks, shirt, briefs — everything folded neatly. His body was lean, toned. His cock was already half-hard.
He climbed onto the bed and knelt between her thighs.
"I don't need you to fake anything," he said. "But I do need you to pay attention."
He pulled her panties down slowly, kissing the inside of her thighs as he did.
"You smell sweet," he murmured. "And your body's honest."
Mika moaned softly as his fingers spread her open.
"You're already wet."
"I—I'm nervous," she whispered.
"That's not nerves. That's need."
His tongue touched her — and Mika gasped.
He licked slowly, expertly, teasing circles around her clit. Mika moaned, arching her back, grabbing the sheets.
"Ohh—fuck…"
He didn't rush. Every lick was slow, methodical, almost studied. She wasn't just a body — she was a puzzle he was enjoying solving.
"You taste like jasmine," he said, sliding a finger inside her.
She cried out — not in pain, but in surprise. The stretch, the rhythm, the way he curled his finger upward — she couldn't believe a stranger was making her feel this good.
Then he added a second finger. Then his mouth returned.
"Oh god—yes, please—keep going…!"
Mika felt it building — the heat, the pressure, the helpless waves pulsing through her. Her thighs trembled.
"I'm gonna—fuck—"
He pulled back.
She whimpered, legs twitching.
"Not yet," he said, voice calm. "Turn over."
She obeyed.
Face down, ass up, the pillow catching her gasps. He mounted her slowly, his cock pressing against her soaked entrance.
He leaned in, lips by her ear.
"Now."
He slid inside her with a deep, smooth thrust — and Mika moaned, loud and breathless.
"Ahhh—yes—!"
He filled her slowly, inch by inch, letting her feel every pulse of his cock. His hands gripped her hips as he began to fuck her — slow strokes, deep, deliberate.
Mika was lost in it.
She wasn't faking. She wasn't pretending.
Her body responded like it had always known this. She pushed back against him, her moans becoming louder, wetter, messier.
"Yes—yes—deeper—fuck me—"
His pace quickened.
The bed creaked. Skin slapped. Her slick heat made obscene sounds with every thrust. He reached forward and grabbed her hair, gently pulling her head back.
"Touch yourself."
She did — fingers rubbing her clit furiously as he pounded into her from behind.
"Cum for me, Mika."
And she did — hard.
Her whole body convulsed, her pussy clenching tight around him as her orgasm hit. Her moans turned to screams, her thighs shaking uncontrollably.
He groaned and came seconds later — deep inside her, hips jerking, hands gripping her waist.
Afterward, they lay there in silence.
He cleaned her gently with a warm towel, then helped her sit up. She was dizzy, glowing, and dazed.
He looked into her eyes.
"You're not just a pretty body," he said. "You're alive. Use that."
Then he dressed, kissed her cheek, and left.
Mika sat alone in the bed, legs still trembling.
She wasn't ashamed. She wasn't afraid.
She was… proud.
And her client had left a tip that was double the rate.