I’m an internet rat who tried to order a male escort, but accidentally messaged a hitman. Me: [How much for one time?] Hitman: [How many targets?] Whoa. Do they offer group discounts or something?! I hesitated for a long time before sending him my name. [Just... just me. Do you offer any discounts?] 1 It was day ten after my breakup. A time when hormonal imbalances usually kept me awake. I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Left with no other option, I hopped online in the middle of the night to find some "sleep aid" material. As I was scrolling, a photo bursting with raw, explosive power suddenly slid past my fingertips. In the frame, a man was wearing a dark tactical helmet and face mask. His sculpted, massive chest looked like it was about to burst through his tight black compression shirt. The only exposed skin on his entire upper body was a pair of thick, strong hands gripping a weapon. His knuckles were pronounced, veins bulging against the skin. The massive, terrifyingly large weapon actually looked small and easily managed in his hands. I couldn't help but imagine those long fingers pulling a trigger. Except, what if it wasn't a trigger under his fingertips, but... I instinctively covered my tingling nose. Absolute perfection! A masked, massive-chested daddy with a mysterious vibe! I immediately clicked onto the creator's profile, desperate for more photos. But almost all of the account's content was locked behind a paywall. You had to subscribe to see it. There were anonymous, glowing reviews at the bottom. [Worth every penny.] [Excellent and highly professional service!] [Clean, precise, and leaves no loose ends.] I thought about it for a second, and then it clicked— This must be an OnlyFans! Doing the mental math on the subscription tiers, I hissed through my teeth. This guy is expensive. Normally, I would just drool for a minute and move on. But my cheating ex had recently infuriated me, and I desperately needed to treat myself to something nice to calm my nerves. Us girls need to know how to treat ourselves. I can always make more money. But I'll never again be in my twenties, single, and ready to play with a masked, massive-chested daddy. I instantly threw down the cash for the highest, most expensive tier. Sure enough, the creator DM'd me almost immediately. [What service do you require.] His texting style matched his vibe perfectly. Calm, steady, and ice-cold. I could easily imagine him looking at me with a sharp, lethal glare. Clutching my wildly beating heart, I gathered my courage and asked him. [If I hire you to come out once, how much does it cost?] He replied quickly: [How many targets.] Whoa. Does he do group sessions?! I was momentarily stunned by the sheer scope of his services. Sigh. The economy is rough right now. Even sugar mamas' money is hard to earn. They have to work for it. I took a moment to appreciate his hustle: [Just me.] Thinking about it, I asked again: [Do you offer any discounts?] The other side went silent for a moment. It seemed he hadn't anticipated my question. A moment later, he sent back four bolded words. [Prices are strictly non-negotiable.] So aloof. Seems like his business is booming. He probably realized his tone was a bit harsh, because a moment later, he sent another message. [Do you have any special requirements.] Me: ! Is the service really this good? Dropping serious cash really makes a difference. It's making my mind go to some very dirty places. My face flushed bright red. My brain, acting like a runaway horse, automatically replayed every steamy romance novel and spicy video I had ever seen. It took me a long time to finally, timidly type out a reply. [Is... anything allowed?] The other side fell into a deep silence again. The quiet lasted even longer than before. After a long time, a concise, two-word reply appeared. [Extra fee.] ...The little deer running around in my heart suddenly slammed into a wall and died. I instantly lost all impure desires: [Oh, never mind then.] After following his instructions to send him my name and a recent photo, I took the opportunity to ask a question. [What's your name?] The cool guy's response was very cool. [No need to know. Once the transaction is complete, we will never contact each other again.] Wow. So this is the legendary, ice-cold relationship built entirely on money. The adult world really is different. Me: [I still need something to call you. A stage name?] The other side seemed to consider this. He typed for a moment before slowly replying. [Codename: Phoenix.] 2 The agreed-upon date arrived. I excitedly grabbed my purse and rushed to the designated location for our "date." I sat in the coffee shop, unable to suppress my anxiety, checking the clock over and over again. But after waiting for what felt like forever, the other party still hadn't shown up. Watching the agreed-upon time pass with no sign of him, my heart felt like a beach at low tide—slowly becoming dry and empty. Did he... did he ghost me? Before leaving in defeat, I made one last, desperate attempt, stretching my neck to look out the door. Whether inside the coffee shop or out front, it was completely empty. There were barely any pedestrians on the street outside. Unwilling to give up, I repeatedly scanned the surrounding area. Until my eyes landed on a tall silhouette standing in the shade of a tree a little further down the street. My eyes instantly lit up. The man had a tall, lean physique. His full, sculpted chest strained against his button-down shirt, leaving not a single wrinkle in the fabric. Yet, he had buttoned it all the way up to his throat. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a face mask, covering his skin completely. The only bright spot in the entire picture was a pair of large, strong hands with pronounced knuckles. Normally, without seeing a face, it's impossible to identify someone. But am I just a normal person? I'm a premium subscriber who navigated four different links, bypassed three platforms, and created two email accounts just to get a taste! A subscriber's eyes are sharp! Goddammit, those hands definitely belonged to my man. I hurried over to him. Up close, he looked even more muscular. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, and he had to be pushing six-foot-three. His pockets were bulging. I couldn't even begin to guess what was in them. That chest. Those legs. That size difference. I was practically drooling internally. The annoyance from waiting so long vanished instantly. Maybe he just got the location wrong? I patted him on the back. "What are you doing standing here? Why didn't you come over?" The cool guy flinched when I touched him. He looked confused for a split second, then defensively took a step back, sizing me up coldly. "You have the wrong person." I couldn't help but touch my ear. His voice was incredible. Like a deep, resonant cello, every note he played scratched an itch in my heart. It was just a shame it was so icy. I tried to explain again: "I didn't get the wrong person. I waited for you for a long time. You never came to find me, so I had to come find you." The other party was silent for a few seconds, his tone remaining cold. "I don't know what you're talking about." I suddenly felt a little frantic. I put my hands on my hips, huffing angrily. "How can you be like this! You took the money, you have to do the job! Are you backing out? Too late!" The man stood in silence for a moment. His chest rose and fell as he seemed to let out a long exhale. As if giving up, he took off his sunglasses and mask, revealing a striking, handsome face. He shoved one hand into his slightly bulging pocket and stepped a little closer to me. His narrow, sharp eyes glanced at me, as if assessing my intentions. "Since you already know, what do you want to do." Having such a vibrant, stunningly handsome man this close to me... I instantly forgot my anger. I looked down shyly, my gaze wandering. "I, um... I booked a hotel room. We can go talk in there." I cleared my throat slightly, gesturing for him to look around. "There are people walking around everywhere here. It's not a good place to... get down to business." The other party didn't move a muscle for a long time. Afraid he misunderstood, I quickly waved my hands to explain. "Don't worry, I'm not actually going to do anything to you. I just... I just wanted to meet up and chat." My voice got quieter the more I spoke. "Anything else... only if you want to..." The man suddenly took a step forward, leaning down toward me. Instantly, his shadow engulfed me. Compared to his massive, muscular frame, I felt like a fragile little doll he could crush with one hand. I subconsciously held my breath. Seeing this, a brief, fleeting smile crossed his lips. In that instant, the ice cracked. Revealing the deep, dark water beneath. Dangerous and alluring. His deep, magnetic voice penetrated my eardrums. "I'm not worried. You're the one who should be worried about what I might do to you." With that, he turned and started walking toward the hotel. Leaving me standing there, dumbfounded. It took me a long time to finally let out a little squeal, covering my burning cheeks. Did... did I just get counter-flirted with? So this is the terrifying power of a professional male escort! 3 On the large bed in the hotel room. Phoenix and I sat side-by-side. The atmosphere was incredibly silent. To lighten the mood, I had to find a random topic to talk about. "Why did you get into this line of work?" "I don't know how to do anything else." My brain instantly conjured up the classic tragic backstory of a poor, dropout teenager eventually forced into sex work. I tried to offer some polite comfort. "It's not a bad gig. It's the oldest profession in the world. You shouldn't feel ashamed." Phoenix seemed to dislike discussing his profession. He frowned. "Let's get down to business. What do you want to do." Straight to the point? Isn't that a little fast? I rubbed my hands together shyly: "O-okay. What can we do? Can we... bang?" His frown deepened: "I bang you?" Huh? Obviously? I asked, confused: "Or what, I bang you?" "No." "Then can I, or can I not, touch your... um, gun?" "No." "Can I just look at it?" "No." "Can I at least touch your pecs?" "Absolutely not!!" Phoenix's suddenly raised voice scared me. I stared blankly at the man who had suddenly scooted a foot away, the tips of his ears turning red. Why is he getting so worked up? Weren't the things I asked for earlier way more invasive? Maybe his pecs are his sensitive spot? I thought about it, and decided to just ask him directly: "Do you only sell your time, or do you sell your body too?" The man also thought about it: "Yes." Wow. A man of virtue. Looks like tonight is going to be nothing but pure, unadulterated conversation under the covers. I let out a bored yawn: "Alright then. I'm going to take a shower. Make yourself comfortable." The other party didn't move an inch, seemingly unbothered. When I came out wrapped in a towel... I saw Phoenix sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through my phone. "Hey! Do you have any professional ethics at all?!" I furiously lunged at him, trying to wrestle the phone away. The man was tall with long legs and arms. He easily dodged me by simply raising his arm, letting me stand on my tiptoes without ever reaching the phone in his hand. Instead, it looked like I was throwing myself into his arms, rubbing and pressing against him. Several times, I almost buried my face in his massive chest. Phoenix pressed his lips tightly together, grabbing my wrists and pinning them against the headboard, restricting my movements. His voice was a suppressed, gravelly whisper. "You are my employer?" I was stunned for a moment, and then it suddenly clicked. Just now... he had been reading my chat history with him. Did he think the male escort I ordered was someone else?! What's wrong with a woman ordering an escort for herself? It's the 21st century. Seriously. I glared at him resentfully. "Yes, so what!" The grip on my wrists suddenly loosened a bit. Phoenix frowned, glaring at me intensely for a moment. He looked almost... disappointed. He scolded me in a low voice: "You're so young, why are you being so reckless!" I was taken aback by his scolding. When I snapped back to reality, I felt even more indignant— My intuition was right! This guy is a total prude! 4 "I'm not taking this job." The man dropped that cold sentence and let me go. I stared in shock as he turned and took long strides toward the door. What does that mean? Is he rejecting me? He's an escort! How dare he refuse a client! This is outrageous! I'm going to write a five-hundred-word one-star review! I scrambled out of bed in a fury. I threw my clothes on and chased him out the door, yelling after him. "If you don't want the job, someone else will! I'll just buy someone better later! I'll buy ten!" The silhouette walking down the hallway abruptly stopped. The man turned around, his expression incredibly complex. "Because I refuse, you're going to buy someone else?" He closed the distance between us in a few strides. His tone was almost heartbroken. "Can't you just try to think about something positive? Can't you just let go of this kind of desire? Must you... absolutely do this?" Why can't I have a few worldly desires?! It's not just men who have physical needs! I was just about to have it out with him. Suddenly, a disgusting, familiar voice came from behind me. Someone laughed and called my name: "Chloe? What are you doing here?" I turned around, annoyed. Sure enough, I saw a handsome face that I absolutely loathed. My ex-boyfriend. Brad was wearing a silk robe, tied loosely around his waist. A trail of bright red hickeys extended from his neck down to his collarbone. There were also several ambiguous scratch marks on his chest, half-hidden under the fabric. God knows whose bed he just crawled out of. Not long ago, I discovered he was frequently hooking up with random girls behind my back. I caught him in bed with someone else. Brad lazily adjusted the zipper on his dress pants, leaning against the doorframe of a hotel room, and lit a cigar. He blew a perfectly shaped smoke ring at my furious, questioning face, smiling faintly. "It was just playing around, don't worry about it." He reached out to hold my hand, his tone almost gentle. "You're my only official girlfriend." It was like freezing snow water poured onto the erupting magma of my fury. In that moment, I suddenly calmed down. Even though Brad looked human... The gap in our moral values was wider than the gap between a human and a dog. You can't reason with a dog. There was no point in arguing. I dodged his touch, pulled my hand back, and delivered a ringing slap across his face. "Not anymore." As I left, I caught a glimpse of him standing frozen in shock. The cigar slipped from his fingers, falling onto the carpet, burning a small, irreparable black hole. ... I closed my eyes, trying desperately to suppress the disgusting memories bubbling up in my mind. But the dog in front of me wouldn't stop barking. Brad sized me up, rubbing his chin with interest. "Were you coming here to check up on me? You just broke up with me, and you're already regretting it." He chuckled: "You little liar." ...Oh my god. If I committed a crime, the law should punish me, not subject me to this greasy torture. I felt sick to my stomach. Then I realized, why should I be the only one suffering? I looked left and right, grabbed Phoenix, who was standing nearby, and pulled him close. I smiled, linking arms with him intimately: "Watch what you say, my boyfriend will get angry." Brad was incredibly arrogant. He probably thought I, his ex-girlfriend who couldn't let him go, had immediately rushed out to find a rebound after dumping him. To someone like him, this was basically another slap in the face. Hearing my words, Brad's face instantly stiffened. A moment later, a malicious smile appeared on his face. "Is that so? Then he should be calling me 'Senior'." "After all, whatever he's playing with right now is just the trash I threw away." "...!" I was so angry my whole body went cold. The next second, a warm hand suddenly wrapped around mine. Phoenix took a half-step forward, blocking the slimy, disgusting gaze the man was aiming at me. He coldly swept his eyes over the explicit marks on Brad's body. "Are you insulting yourself for being even worse trash?" Society conditions women to feel ashamed of having sexual experience. But among men, they take pride in sleeping with as many women as possible. Brad probably never expected... That Phoenix, a fellow man, would break the unspoken bro-code and judge him by the same standards society uses to judge women. He stood there, dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open. Finally, unable to maintain his sophisticated facade, his eyes filled with rage: "You..." "You wanna fight?" Phoenix cut him off, stepping right up into his personal space. His six-foot-three height and incredibly intimidating, muscular physique instantly made the other man look like a short, scrawny twig. Brad stared at him darkly. After a long moment, his gaze bypassed Phoenix's shoulder and landed on me. The malice in his eyes looked like he wanted to skin me alive. "Very good. I'll remember this."
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