Big O Box Set

The second half of the form, on the other hand, is a little bit less normal.

Describe your desires, it says. A little bubble beneath it clarifies. Please be as explicit and detailed as possible so that we can ensure the escort you’ve selected matches the style of interaction you would like. In parenthesis, it adds, Include any sex acts you do or do not wish to participate in.

I swallow hard. But then again, this is what I wanted. Practice being upfront. And besides, it’s behind a computer screen, completely anonymous. I don’t need to worry about anyone judging me or taking this the wrong way.

So I check the door of the office one last time, then lean over the screen and start to fill in the second half of the form. I write it all down. Everything I’ve been too scared to share with the world. Everything guys have been turned off by in the past. Everything I want.

I’m looking for a guy to fill me up in a way no man has ever managed. I want you to use anal beads, plugs, dildos, anything you’d like on me—don’t worry, I can provide any toy you want to experiment with, I write. My cheeks light up bright red even typing that, but I keep going. But I want you to make me feel like I’m being fucked by two men at once, without a second man being there. Double penetration is my game, but I’m not big on sharing beds with more than one partner… I’m a size queen—I want it in every hole at once, as thick as possible, and I want you to make me feel full in a way I never have before. Deep-throat and anal both better than okay—I want it.

I swallow hard. It feels so strange to see it all written out like that. Exactly what I want, how I want it. But this is just practice, I tell myself. I’m not going to actually hire this guy.

I hit send and close the screen as fast as possible. Then I wipe the browser history and clean up the computer. I don’t want to get our work computer infected with anything.

That done, I shake off the feeling that I’ve made a really strange decision. I finish eating my sandwich and head back into the kitchen without looking back. The website was probably a scam anyway. Or if it was legit, they’ll take one look at my profile and that message and delete it for being too weird anyway.

I distract myself by working on the cakes. We managed to get one order of the three finished, but we’re still hard at work on the second one for today. I doubt we’ll finish the third order, which means I’ll need to come in early tomorrow morning.

I try to ignore that as I roll up my sleeves and jump back in.

But within half an hour, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I rinse my hands off for long enough to check it.

New email.

From that website.

My heart leaps into my throat. Already?

I click it open on my phone. It takes me to the same site, to a log-in page. Once I log in, it shows a new message from Caleb British. My heart pounds, feeling like it’s lodged in my neck, as I click open the message.

Hey Hot Stuffed ;) reads the subject line. My cheeks flush, if possible, even brighter red than they usually are back here in the kitchen with the ovens fired up hot.

“Be right back,” I call over my shoulder to Carl and Jen as I duck into the bathroom. Only once the door is safely closed behind me do I let myself scroll through the rest of his response.

I’m getting hard already just thinking about stuffing you full. I can fill you like no other man has, believe me. You bring the toys; I’ll bring my thick cock, and let’s see if we can plug all your holes in one night. Tonight, specifically. My schedule is wide open—let me know if your legs could be too. Size queen, you’ve finally met your match.

He signs off with that promise alone. No name, nothing else. But I can’t deny the deep throb of desire I feel at that pledge.

Not only is this guy not freaked out by my request, but also he seems turned on by it. Can he really deliver on this promise? Fuck me enough for two guys combined?

There’s one way to find out.

My finger hovers over the reply button. There’s a little side note with his rates—honestly, not as much money as I would have expected—and then a dropdown option:

8PM Booking

10PM Booking

No Thanks

I stare at that for a minute and start to laugh under my breath. Then I shake my head and snap out of it. What on earth am I thinking?

I unlock the bathroom and slip outside, all the while scrolling through those options with one hand. I tap on the last one, No Thanks. This has been a fun experiment, but I’m obviously not going to go through with it.

Then I open the door wider and walk straight into Lara.

“Hey, how’s it going back here?” she asks, right as I’ve got this incriminating as hell website open on my phone, in plain view of her.

“Great!” I cry as I quickly tap the Reply option as fast as possible and try to close the window before she sees the message.

Unfortunately, the screen is tricky to work, and the website’s auto response buttons are a little finicky. I hit enter just as I realize that I tapped on the scroll selection again. This time, as I watch it hit send, my mouth drops open. I accidentally selected 8PM Booking instead of the No Thanks option.

“Shit,” I gasp.

“What?” Lara leans over my shoulder to squint.

An automatic popup appears.

Thank you for booking with Here to Serve. Your appointment has been set for 8PM. will meet you at the address in your profile section unless otherwise specified.

I’m too busy staring open-mouthed at that response to register Lara reading over my shoulder until I hear her faint intake of breath.

“Is this… what I think it is?”

“Um… Depends if you think it’s what you suggested earlier or not?” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to select that option. How do I cancel it?” I tap on the screen frantically, searching for other options. There’s not even an option to reply to the message, let alone change my preferences. “Oh my god, I can’t go through with this, I put in way too much detail.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lara starts. She pats my shoulder to get my attention.

I’m too busy freaking out at the phone to notice. “Crap, I have to cancel this—”

Lara snatches the phone from my hands before I go too far over the deep end. “Relax,” she tells me, and then she takes over searching for me.

I stand hovering over her shoulder, lips pressed into a thin hard line, as I watch my friend hunt for a way to cancel the appointment I just made with an escort for tonight.

We find a contact button at the bottom of the page, but their hours are listed as 9am-5pm, and it’s already past 5.

We reply within 48-72 hours, guaranteed! It proclaims cheerily.

“Shit,” I swe

ar again.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Lara rests a hand on my arm. “It’s a simple fix. He’s coming to you, right? So you just meet him and say it was a mistake, and ask to cancel. Worst comes to worst, you might have to pay him some kind of cancellation fee or something, but that’s all. It’s not worth panicking over.”

I can feel myself nodding. “You’re right, yeah. I’ll just tell him it’s a mistake.”

Lara searches my face for a moment to make sure I’m not still secretly freaking. Then she breaks into stifled laughter.

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“I can’t believe you did it, that’s all,” she chuckles.

“You told me to!” I protest, elbowing her.

“I was joking.” She rolls her eyes and passes the phone back. “Though hey, maybe this will help after all. I mean you do need to get laid, so… And who knows? Maybe he’s into your same secretive desires.”

My cheeks flare bright red yet again. I elbow her once more for good measure and tuck my phone into my pocket. “So not funny.”

“This coming from the girl who just hired an escort for the evening.”

If I could melt into the floor right now and disappear, I would. “If you tell anyone about this, I swear to god—”

“Oh come on.” Lara hooks her arm through mine and squeezes me to her side, trying and failing to placate me. “Who the hell would I tell? You’re the only person I talk to these days anyway. You’re turning me into just as bad a workaholic as you are.”

I snort, but fall into step beside her, headed back toward the kitchen. Just a few more hours here. And then I have to head home and…

Well…

I shake my head. No. I’m not getting dressed up or anything to meet this guy. I’m just going to open the door, tell him it’s all a big misunderstanding but no thank you, and then go to bed early.

Clearly I am sleep deprived. It’s the only explanation for the insane decisions I’ve made so far today.

Hopefully after a long shower and time to consider my life choices, I’ll make better ones tomorrow, I think.