Mousey Girl

I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm creating a profile on Adultfriends.com.

I feel dirty – like the kind of bad girl I never thought I could be.

But ever since graduating, I haven’t been able to figure out how to get a job, and rent is due soon…it’s been stressing me out. I’ve literally been eating ramen noodles every day since my last paycheck at the grocery store I’ve been working part-time at. 

But then, I overheard a couple of women my age at the nail salon. One said she had found a sugar daddy on one of these sites – who knows if she was telling the truth, but she had a Burberry purse and paid for all her friend’s manicures.

“He’s actually kind of cute!” I remember her saying. 

“Yeah, whatever!” Her friend retorted. And then she whipped out her phone. Whatever her friends saw must have not been that bad, because they all murmured in shocked approval. Even the nail tech was into it. 

I took a deep breath and came up with a username: Madchick89. Because hey, if I’m going to do something a little crazy, might as well make myself laugh a little with a stupid screenname.

My mind was a mess for the rest of the sign-up process. My nervous fingers tapped on the keyboard, answering the questions that were both mundane and explicit. Location? Age? Kinks?

Yikes. I guess I’ve never thought about it beyond the couple of lame hookups I’ve had outside of relationships. Mostly drunken and clumsy. Guess that makes me vanilla?

As I reached the end of the form, I hesitated before uploading a picture of myself. Was I really ready to venture into this weird website, all black with red font and ads with women in black leather and bondage gear?

It all made me a bit uneasy, but I couldn't help but be curious anyway.

With a deep breath, I browsed Facebook for a good photo. Huh, turns out I never smile. Well, I had gotten that kind of feedback my whole life, but I kind of brushed it off. Now, scanning through the photos that are just posted here for the world to see, I couldn’t help but cringe-how morose. 

 I found a simple photo of me in a tube top from a 2000s party–one of the few parties I went to during my last semester of graduate school. Sultry enough, no matter how uninspired my facial expression. I cropped off my face anyway–didn’t seem like I had any reason to attract stalkers or anything. 

I uploaded my photo and hit save– and just like that my profile was live on the site. Almost immediately, messages popped up all over my screen, causing me to jump and yelp unexpectedly. My cat hissed and scattered away into the other room. 

“Sorry Princess,” I murmured, as I reviewed the messages I received, some explicit, some polite, and others downright dull. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I read through a few uninspiring greetings from men who lacked any creativity in their introductions.

Then, there was soloprenuercuck. Such a weird name–why mix work and fetish? His message definitely caught my eye out of the sheer absurdity of it. 

Nice shirt. Did you get it from Spencer’s Gifts? 

He caught me offguard, only because,yes, in fact I had. I checked out his profile before answering. A bare chest with some greyng chest hairs, and a tight pair of work slacks with a bulge. The photo was cropped, tightly, so it could have been taken anywhere. But at the very top of the photo, something caught me off guard–you could see a chin and just the peek of something in his mouth–was it a ball gag? 

Hey, I typed back, good catch. 

I hesitated for a moment, but I couldn’t help myself.

What’s with the name? You like to mix work with pleasure?

There was an ellipses as he typed. I held my breath, feeling a tingle of unexpected excitement for being so bold. 

I make a lot of money running my own consulting business. And I want nothing more than for you to extort me.

The air came out of my body, and I froze. Was this guy for real? 

I would give anything to kiss your feet.

What is wrong with you? I wrote and sent before I could even question myself. Apparently, I couldn’t have said anything better.

You’re right. I don’t deserve to even touch your feet. How much would you demand for me to see them?

Rent was due in two days, and I was exactly $500 short…

$500, I typed before I could second guess myself.

Within seconds, he responded. Yes mistress. Where shall I send the money to?

I just about fainted, but I gave him my handle on cashapp. Within seconds the money appeared. I looked at my feet, and back up at the screen.

HAHA CUCK. I wrote, and slammed my laptop shut.