"I" need help....ladies and gentemen
- 45
- 62
- 18
Hypothetically…
You are young, confident, and composed. You have sun-kissed skin and long, luxuriant hair that rivals that of a Greek goddess. Your figure feels undeniably blessed, shaped with curves that seem almost impossible on such a small frame. There’s something striking about the way it all comes together. You don’t demand attention, but it finds you anyway, effortlessly. You’ve been in the business for several years—starting out with a well known agency before gradually branching into independent work. You manage it all well. You’re successful enough to have a steady rotation of regular clients of your choice and the luxury of a flexible schedule, likely balancing it alongside other conventional “side” hustles in your other time.
Over the years, you’ve mastered the art of emotional compartmentalisation. You know how to leave your feelings in the room. You’ve also sharpened your ability to listen, empathise, and respond in ways that put others at ease. You understand people. You know exactly what to say, and when to say it, to make someone feel comfortable - desired, even.
Then there’s him.
A man in his thirties or maybe forties. Polite. Slightly shy at first. Always well presented, though never over the top flashy. He has the look of someone with a corporate job, the dependable nine-to-five type. Predictable. Secure. A little boring, if being honest.
Conversation flows easily, but mostly because you’ve met his type before. You recognise the patterns, anticipate the cues, and offer exactly what he’s hoping to hear. Occasionally he stumbles over his words, blurting out phrases that feel stolen straight from a romance novel. You smile gently and let it pass, as if it’s perfectly fine.
Physically, he’s unremarkable but pleasant enough — not overly muscular, not too thin. His skin is soft and warm, and it’s actually quite nice to lie beside him, especially after a long day. He respects your boundaries. He follows your rules. Still, there are moments during your routine when the silence lingers, and you find yourself wondering what’s going on inside his head.
He brings small gifts sometimes. Extra cash. Nothing extravagant. Thoughtful, but restrained. He asks about your life and seems to genuinely care about your answers. It’s obvious he likes you— more than he should. But you have others like him. You want him to keep coming back, of course, but only if he stay within the lines. An overly attached client is a dangerous one. Obsession is worse. A stalker? blasphemous!
The future is uncertain, but you know this much: the power is yours.
There are only a few ways this can end.
1. He stays within the lines.
He keeps his boundaries intact and continues seeing you regularly. He never oversteps, never asks for more than what’s offered. His emotions remain carefully managed, and the arrangement stays exactly what it was intended. You share many more sessions together—pleasant, predictable, professional. Nothing more and nothing less.
2. He crosses the line.
One day, he says it out loud. He tells you he loves you. He wants more time, more access, something beyond the transaction. It’s unsettling, and annoying, because you know the truth: this is business. That line is firm, and once crossed, there’s no going back. You won’t allow it to continue.
3. He stays, but he changes.
Something subtle shifts. He becomes quieter, now more restrained. The gifts become infrequent. The poetic words fade into polite conversation. He still books, still shows up, still respects every boundary—but there’s a deliberate distance now. He has learned how to want you without overreaching. It’s safer this way, for both. Less warm, perhaps, but grounded in mutual understanding: transactional only, and nothing more.
4. He replaces you.
One day, he mentions another provider casually, almost apologetically. You smile, unbothered. Clients move on; that’s the nature of it. Still, when he eventually stops booking altogether, you feel a brief, unexpected absence—not loss, more curiosity about how easily people substitute intimacy, and the truthfulness of spoken words.
5. He disappears.
The messages stop. No explanation. No farewell. Just silence. Perhaps he’s finally come to terms with the reality of it—that this connection, however comforting, was always temporary and carefully orchestrated. You never hear from him again.
6. He fades into memory.
Nothing dramatic happens after a few more visits. No confession, no rupture, no final message. Years later, you’ll struggle to remember his face clearly—only fragments remain: the warmth of his skin, the way he avoided eye contact at first, the softness in his voice. He becomes just another quiet chapter in a life full of many.
Please help choose a path.
You are young, confident, and composed. You have sun-kissed skin and long, luxuriant hair that rivals that of a Greek goddess. Your figure feels undeniably blessed, shaped with curves that seem almost impossible on such a small frame. There’s something striking about the way it all comes together. You don’t demand attention, but it finds you anyway, effortlessly. You’ve been in the business for several years—starting out with a well known agency before gradually branching into independent work. You manage it all well. You’re successful enough to have a steady rotation of regular clients of your choice and the luxury of a flexible schedule, likely balancing it alongside other conventional “side” hustles in your other time.
Over the years, you’ve mastered the art of emotional compartmentalisation. You know how to leave your feelings in the room. You’ve also sharpened your ability to listen, empathise, and respond in ways that put others at ease. You understand people. You know exactly what to say, and when to say it, to make someone feel comfortable - desired, even.
Then there’s him.
A man in his thirties or maybe forties. Polite. Slightly shy at first. Always well presented, though never over the top flashy. He has the look of someone with a corporate job, the dependable nine-to-five type. Predictable. Secure. A little boring, if being honest.
Conversation flows easily, but mostly because you’ve met his type before. You recognise the patterns, anticipate the cues, and offer exactly what he’s hoping to hear. Occasionally he stumbles over his words, blurting out phrases that feel stolen straight from a romance novel. You smile gently and let it pass, as if it’s perfectly fine.
Physically, he’s unremarkable but pleasant enough — not overly muscular, not too thin. His skin is soft and warm, and it’s actually quite nice to lie beside him, especially after a long day. He respects your boundaries. He follows your rules. Still, there are moments during your routine when the silence lingers, and you find yourself wondering what’s going on inside his head.
He brings small gifts sometimes. Extra cash. Nothing extravagant. Thoughtful, but restrained. He asks about your life and seems to genuinely care about your answers. It’s obvious he likes you— more than he should. But you have others like him. You want him to keep coming back, of course, but only if he stay within the lines. An overly attached client is a dangerous one. Obsession is worse. A stalker? blasphemous!
The future is uncertain, but you know this much: the power is yours.
There are only a few ways this can end.
1. He stays within the lines.
He keeps his boundaries intact and continues seeing you regularly. He never oversteps, never asks for more than what’s offered. His emotions remain carefully managed, and the arrangement stays exactly what it was intended. You share many more sessions together—pleasant, predictable, professional. Nothing more and nothing less.
2. He crosses the line.
One day, he says it out loud. He tells you he loves you. He wants more time, more access, something beyond the transaction. It’s unsettling, and annoying, because you know the truth: this is business. That line is firm, and once crossed, there’s no going back. You won’t allow it to continue.
3. He stays, but he changes.
Something subtle shifts. He becomes quieter, now more restrained. The gifts become infrequent. The poetic words fade into polite conversation. He still books, still shows up, still respects every boundary—but there’s a deliberate distance now. He has learned how to want you without overreaching. It’s safer this way, for both. Less warm, perhaps, but grounded in mutual understanding: transactional only, and nothing more.
4. He replaces you.
One day, he mentions another provider casually, almost apologetically. You smile, unbothered. Clients move on; that’s the nature of it. Still, when he eventually stops booking altogether, you feel a brief, unexpected absence—not loss, more curiosity about how easily people substitute intimacy, and the truthfulness of spoken words.
5. He disappears.
The messages stop. No explanation. No farewell. Just silence. Perhaps he’s finally come to terms with the reality of it—that this connection, however comforting, was always temporary and carefully orchestrated. You never hear from him again.
6. He fades into memory.
Nothing dramatic happens after a few more visits. No confession, no rupture, no final message. Years later, you’ll struggle to remember his face clearly—only fragments remain: the warmth of his skin, the way he avoided eye contact at first, the softness in his voice. He becomes just another quiet chapter in a life full of many.
Please help choose a path.
wishes come true, hypothetically speaking, of course 
