Coffee & Lighthouses

You stared at the card for so long that your vision blurred slightly. Shaking your head and blinking a few times, you focused once again on the little business card in your hand. 

Professional Cuddlers. Rates vary. Call the number on the back of this card for inquiries.

You sighed and chewed your lip. Were you really going to do this? Were you really so desperate for comfort that you were going to pay someone to cuddle you? It felt so pathetic but at the same time, you almost felt like you had no choice.

Tomorrow was your birthday and you were alone. Completely and totally alone. Your break up from months ago had left you broken and still recovering. All of your friends were busy and you weren’t close enough with your family to spend your birthday with them. Honestly, you were worried about what you would do if you were left alone all day. The last thing you needed was to slip back into old habits, responses to the weight of your depression. 

Your friend had given you the business card a few weeks ago when you met for dinner. “Seriously,” she’d said, holding the card out to you, “don’t be alone on your birthday. You know I’d be there if I could.”

“Doesn’t this seem a little…desperate?” you’d asked.

Your friend had shrugged. “There’s a market for anything, Y/N. Physical touch is a form of therapy.” You weren’t sure that was true, but the thought of simply being held was a nice one. “Give it a try. If you hate it, just leave.”

So here you sat, thumbing the number into your phone with red cheeks. You drew in a steady breath as the line began to ring. “Comfort Cuddlers LLC,” a cheerful voice answered.

“Um, yes, hi,” you greeted nervously. “I was just calling with a couple of questions about your, uh, services.”

“Of course! Ask away,” the woman on the other end of the line chirped. 

“How does it work, exactly?” you asked.

“Well,” she started, “you answer some questions about preferences. You fill out a waiver online. And then you come to our office to meet your Cuddler.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “How long is the wait list?”

“It really depends on your preferences,” she explained. “Are you interested in filling out a preference inventory? No pressure to book a session!”

“Um, sure,” you answered.

The lady asked you some questions about gender preferences, things you were and weren’t comfortable with, whether you’d prefer to talk or have a silent session, and more. She was so kind and nonjudgmental that by the end of it, you were nearly convinced. You had one more question.

“Do you have anyone available tomorrow? It’s…it’s my birthday tomorrow and-” you swallowed the lump in your throat. You weren’t sure why you even felt the need to share this with the lady. “I just…”

“Don’t want to be alone,” she answered for you, and her voice held such kindness that your eyes filled with tears. “Yes, we have someone available tomorrow.”

“I’ll take it,” you sniffed. 

“Great. I’ll send you the waiver and a confirmation of your appointment. Just arrive at the office five minutes prior to your appointment tomorrow,” she explained. You gave her your name and number, and immediately, your phone pinged with the confirmation text. 

“Thank you for all your help,” you said gratefully. 

“Of course, sweetheart. Happy birthday.”

The next day, you dressed comfortably in a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, making sure you smelled okay. You were sure these people had cuddled people in all states of hygiene, but you wanted to be courteous. You grabbed your purse and headed to the office. 

You walked inside and were greeted by soft music playing over the speakers. The office was cozy with lots of plants in the waiting room, and a little water fountain trickling peacefully. You checked in with the receptionist, confirming that you’d completed your waiver. 

“You’ll be with Colson today,” she said with a warm smile. “He will be out in just a moment.”

You thanked her and sat in a cushy chair, fiddling with your fingers. You were nervous. These people made money off this, but were you being judged? Did Colson find it weird that people paid to be cuddled? Your insecurities were so big that you almost got up to leave, but it was then that the door opened. A tall, blonde man stepped out. He smiled at you and you were immediately struck by how attractive he was. 

He wore a long-sleeve t-shirt and sweatpants, but the sleeves were rolled up, revealing arms covered in tattoos. He had hoops in his nose and jewelry all up and down his ears. Blue eyes and a kind smile greeted you and drew you in. Despite how gorgeous he was, there was something comforting about him. 

“Y/N?” he greeted. You nodded and got to your feet, grabbing your purse. “I’m Colson. Come on back,” he said, leading the way. “We’ll be right in here.” He gestured inside a room where the lights were low. Soft music continued to play and it smelled amazing. A huge, pallet-like bed lay on the ground with soft blankets and sheets. It looked so inviting. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Colson asked. 

“That’s okay,” you said quietly, setting your purse on a chair. 

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Colson said. He sat on the pallet and held out a hand. “Ready to get started?”

You swallowed hard and eyed his hand nervously. “Hey.” His voice was soft, comforting. “Don’t be nervous. This is all about you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” His blue eyes held yours and you tried to relax.

You nodded and took his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm transfer to your chilly fingers. Gently, he pulled you onto the pallet. “Typically we start with spooning so you can get comfortable,” he said. You nodded again and lay on your side. “Is it okay if I touch you?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you said quietly. You closed your eyes against the threat of tears as Colson curled his warm, tall body around you. His chest pressed to your back, one of his arms slipped beneath your neck, and the other draped over your waist to pull you closer. It felt so good to be held, to be pressed against someone warm and solid. It was amazing how quickly Colson’s presence comforted you while at the same time, drawing an emotional release. You were ashamed to realize you were crying.

“Shhh,” Colson soothed. “You’re not alone.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeaked as you reached up to cover your face. Your body trembled against his. 

“Hey, don’t be,” Colson murmured. “This is so much more common than you think.” After a moment, he asked. “Do you want to roll over?” You didn’t answer. Instead, you just did it. You were shocked at how easy it felt to turn over and wrap your arms around this stranger, resting your head on his chest. One of his hands cupped the back of your head and the other slid up your forearm, holding you to him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

You bit your lip as more tears streamed down your cheeks, wetting his t-shirt. “Shit,” you sniffled, trying to pull your head away.

“Hey,” he said, gently guiding your head back to his chest. “You don’t need to worry about that, okay?”

“It’s my birthday,” you blurted.

“Happy birthday,” Colson said quietly. 

“And I’m paying for someone to cuddle me because that’s how alone I am,” you finished. 

Colson nodded. “I get it. It can be intimidating to seek help,” he replied. You couldn’t have agreed more. It was intimidating. 

“How did you get into this?” you asked, desperate for the conversation to shift away from yourself.

Colson chuckled softly, his chest rumbling against your cheek. “I actually found this as a client,” he confessed.

You lifted your head to look up at him. “Really?” you asked, surprised.

Colson nodded. “Ironically enough, I was also alone on my birthday.” He smiled softly. “So I know how you feel. Trust me, I was terrified and ashamed but desperate, you know?”

“Exactly,” you replied, feeling a million times more comfortable knowing Colson had utilized this service, too. “It makes me feel pathetic.”

“You’re not,” Colson said. “It took me a while to accept that. It’s like therapy, really, for some people. Therapy’s become a lot less taboo but professional cuddling still is.”

“I can imagine you might get some gross people,” you said.

Colson shrugged. “We have waivers and a no nonsense policy. We kick people out if they’re weird or break the rules,” he explained. 

“Gotcha,” you said quietly. Lying there with Colson, talking with him and being held, it was comforting you. For the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel miserable. It was such a relief that you were suddenly exhausted. You stifled a yawn. “Does anyone ever fall asleep?” you asked.

Colson chuckled. “All the time,” he said. “We get lots of tears, too.”

“It’s an emotional release,” you replied, and Colson nodded. 

“So,” he said, “do you want to talk about why you’re alone on your birthday?”

You sighed quietly. “My boyfriend of two years broke up with me. It was months ago, but it’s been really hard,” you confessed, throat tightening. Colson gently rubbed your back, listening intently. “All of my friends are really busy and I feel bad talking to them about things. I’m not close with my family. I’ve struggled with depression for a while, too, so it just wasn’t a good idea to be alone.”

Colson nodded. “That makes sense. I’m glad you came here.”

You smiled and closed your eyes, nuzzling in. “Me too.”

The two of you talked the entire rest of your session. He talked about his life, sharing that he had a daughter and that he wasn’t close with his family, either. You liked talking to Colson. By the end of the session, you had laughed far more than you’d cried. You were disappointed when a chime announced that time was up. 

Neither of you made a move to get up. “That went by fast,” you remarked.

“Yeah. It did,” Colson agreed.

“I’m really comfy,” you admitted.

Colson laughed. “Yeah. Me too. You should look into professional cuddling. You’re good at it.”

You felt a flush of affection and bit back a smile. “Well, you should be promoted,” you said, and the two of you laughed. 

Reluctantly, you pulled away and sat up. Colson sat up, too, and he wrung his fingers. He looked like he had something to say but was nervous to say it.

“Are you okay?” you asked, turning to face him.

Colson smiled sheepishly. “I was thinking about doing something totally inappropriate and unprofessional,” he admitted. You raised a brow. “I was thinking of asking if you wanted to get dinner tonight. So you wouldn’t have to spend your birthday alone.”

Pleasantly surprised, you lifted your hand to cover the wide smile threatening to take over your face. “Don’t do it because you feel obligated,” you said.

Colson shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “I wouldn’t risk my job just to be nice.”

You studied him for a second. The thought of having dinner with him, continuing your conversation, sounded a lot better than spending the rest of your birthday alone. “I would love that,” you said, and Colson smiled widely. 

“Awesome.” He got to his feet. He really towered over you. 

You looked up at him. “Thanks again,” you said. “This, uh, really helped.”