A suicidal girl is offered the choice of having her memories wiped and becoming a sex worker. She agrees. Part 5/5
Chapter 5: Third life
Jessie browsed through her inbox, mercilessly deleting the spam and the messages that started with an insult. She stopped at the one that caught her eye.
“Hello,” it said. “I saw your videos, I watch them every day. You are beautiful. You are the most sexy girl I ever saw. I saw in your profile that you are meeting in person, too… So, could I have a chance to have you? I am 19, and I am a virgin. Will you be my first?”
Jessie’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, a small, private smile playing on her lips. A virgin. A clean slate, like she was. And an honest one. It felt… fitting. Her fingers danced across the keys, a response taking shape. She was good at this, the digital dance of seduction, the careful crafting of words that promised pleasure and discretion. She had a gift for it, one of the many talents she’d discovered in her new life.
“Ha, of course! I do it for money, you know, but for my own pleasure as well! So I’ll give you a discount! So, please, find a place for the whole weekend where nobody would bother us. I can suggest some affordable motels whose owners don’t ask questions if you’d like to. Don’t worry, don’t try to prepare or to impress me. Your only job is to come, relax, and let your feelings lead you. I’ll take care of everything else. And… I’m glad you’ll be my new partner to care for.”
She sent the message and stretched, her muscles a pleasant ache. The sun was streaming through the window of her room – the same old room, but with most of its contents changed. She had kept her old books, though. It seemed that her old self and her present self had similar tastes in literature. Or maybe her new preferences had been guided by a forgotten echo of the girl who had devoured these books under the covers with a flashlight.
Her notebook chirped. The answer came fast; he must have watched his inbox.
“Oh, thank you! I have the place. Could it be this weekend?” And the address, and the phone number.
A week later, Jessie stood in front of a cheap-looking motel, a faint smile on her lips. The air smelled of dust and exhaust fumes, a stark contrast to the exquisite perfumes of the salon left in her past. But she was in such places before, too. She was wearing a new sundress, pale yellow, and was still barefoot. She got so used to being barefoot over the past year that wearing shoes irritated her, so she included bare feet into her brand image. Some clients simply drooled at them.
She had her hair tied back with a ribbon, the silver stud in her navel hidden, the butterfly on her hip a secret – for a while. The silver bell on her anklet made a tiny, melodic sound with each step she took. It was her new normal, a blend of innocence and experience, of the girl she was and the woman she had become.
She knocked on the door of the room, and a moment later, a young man opened it. He was thin, with a nervous energy that reminded her of Jack, her first client, but without the predatory edge— well, maybe with an edge of a predator cub. His hair was a bit too long, falling into his eyes, and he had the kind of face that was still growing into its features, a little awkward, a little unsure.
“Hi! I’m Jessie,” she said, her voice bright and cheerful. “And you must be Tom. Nice to meet you!”
And before he said a word, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He responded. Oh, he wasn’t that inexperienced!
“I— um—” he muttered when she let him go. “Maybe breakfast? I have wine, and—”
“No time!” She pulled his jeans down decisively. “We’ll have the whole weekend for this too! And now let’s relieve your first tension! You must be bursting!”
She giggled at the sight of his hard cock – long enough, just as she liked – and knelt by him, taking it deep into her throat. The only proper way to greet a new client!
He moaned, his hands hesitantly tangling in her hair. She could feel the tremor that ran through him, the sheer, overwhelming force of a sensation he had only ever dreamed of. She worked her tongue, her lips, her throat, a symphony of practiced motion designed to push him to the brink and then pull him back. Her job wasn’t just to make him come; it was to make him never forget the moment he did.
When she finally let him finish, his body shuddered with a release so profound it seemed to shake the very foundations of the cheap motel room. He collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaving, a look of stunned disbelief on his face. Jessie lay down beside him, propping herself up on an elbow, a contented smile on her face, licking his cum off her lips.
“Welcome to the club, Tom,” she whispered.
***
They talked for a long time after his third orgasm – she had eight by that time – wrapped in the rough motel sheets, the cheap wine a prop in their little play. Jessie loved that simple, raw honesty of her virgin clients. He wasn’t trying to buy power or dominance. He was trying to buy experience. A memory he could hold onto.
“It’s just… I’ve watched all your videos,” he confessed, his voice hushed, a little awed. “Over and over. You seem so— free. So happy. So enjoying, doing— everything. I thought… maybe if I could be with you, just once, some of that would rub off on me.”
Jessie reached over and took his hand. Her touch was cool and confident. “It doesn’t rub off, Tom. You have to find it in yourself. But I can show you where to look.”
They had the whole weekend ahead of them.
And she had her whole life ahead of her.
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