I met someone unusual today. For the first time in years, I was with a client who was good looking. He probably could have gotten another girl, but for some reason he showed up at my motel doorstep. 

It was 4 AM, and I popped a melatonin to go to sleep. As I’m about to get into bed, I hear a knock at my door. It scares me at first because decent people aren’t the ones awake at 4 AM, but then I hear a voice:

“Is this Stella Scarlet?”

It sounded like a middleschool or highschool boy—slightly higher pitched. Still, I had concerns. Most clients made an appointment with me online before showing up, and whoever this was had come unannounced at 4 AM. Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened the door.

It was like there was an angel standing at my doorstep. He was a couple inches shorter than me. Dirty blond hair. Deep blue eyes. He was only dressed in a tank top and jeans so I could see his smooth, soft skin. He looked young—maybe 17 or 18. I must have been staring at him because I think he got embarrassed and blushed.

“Yes, I’m Stella,” I said to him. “Why don’t you take a seat on the bed?”

He followed what I said and then reached into his pocket to take out a wad of money.

“Oh, I can take that later, dear,” I said to him. “First, tell me your name.”

“Everyone just calls me Paris.”

“And what are you here for, Paris?”

He blushed and said, “I wanna sleep with a woman for the first time, and I heard that’s your business.”

“Most of my clients make their appointments online.”

“Oh, I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

“It’s no problem. But how did you even hear about me in the first place?”

“I overheard the name in a conversation, and I asked about you.”

“Well, am I everything you were expecting,” I began to undress and kissed him on the cheek.

“You’re very beautiful.”

“You don’t have to compliment a whore like that, dear,” I gave him another kiss. “But thank you.”

I could see that he was staring at my chess so I took my top and bra off so he could see everything. 

“Now, it’s your turn to take your clothes off,” I said.

I started off with giving him a handjob, but he could barely last three minutes. I didn’t mind. His moans sounded so innocent and precious to me. He didn’t call me names like some of my other clients. He didn’t have a weird fetish for me to accommodate. He sat there and took it, and so I called him “good boy” because he was a good boy. I think he liked that.

I got on top of him and began to play with him to get him hard again. He seemed to react to every touch. He didn’t do nothing without my permission. But just when things were getting good, he looked out the window. The light from outside was getting brighter.

He got up and put his clothes back on. He tossed me a hundred dollar bill, said “thank you”, and then ran out the door. I got up—still nude—went to the door and peeked out to see where he was running off to. It looked like he was running to The Platform.

For once, I saw something bright and shining in my world full of darkness. I hope he comes back.