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As they both rush back to the living room, I sink my head in my hands and try to breathe through the tears of frustration. It’s not their fault. That’s just the age they are. They’ll grow out of it. They don’t really hate me.
I just need a break. I need a change from the same old routine of going through the motions, trying to pretend everything’s OK. I need a break from the constant worry about not having enough money and not letting Kalli see I don’t have enough.
I guess, maybe, I could do what she did and join that monster escort service.
I shake my head. It’s a stupid idea. No one wants the single mom with the small tits and the c-section scar as their escort. They want young, pretty, sexy girls, like my sister. My sister has always had a body I’m envious of. Soft, generous curves, full breasts, and wide hips.
I look like a scrawny rat compared to her. I’ve always thought that. Two pregnancies and breastfeeding later, it’s only gotten more pronounced. I thought breastfeeding was meant to make your tits bigger. Well, it didn’t do that for me. Just gave me mastitis.
I push up from the table, collect the dishes, and do the washing up. I need to stop having my pity party and focus on my kids. Despite all the frustrations, they are amazing and I need to remember that.
Doesn’t matter what happened between me and James. My kids are beautiful and I wouldn’t change it if it meant giving them up.
When they’re finally in bed, I switch on the TV and play the first thing my streaming service suggests. I’m not really watching it, so when I pick up my phone, I decide I might as well look into the whole Monstrous Deals thing. It won’t hurt to look at their website, right? I’ll just read their requirements for who they employ, and that will rule me out, and then I won’t have to think about it anymore.
Only their website says they take people of all body shapes and sizes, all ages and genders. You don’t need any experience, and you don’t even have to be prepared to do full-on sex work. They offer a range of services from simple companionship to full, penetrative sex.
I snort. Companionship. I’m not really what you’d call good company right now. Then again, if someone was paying me, I could probably put on a smile and some lipstick and pretend to have a good time. After all, eight years in a relationship with James was good practice for that.
I download the app and open the form. Before I know it, I’ve got it half-filled out, and I’m staring at the list of services wondering how far I’ll go.
I don’t want to have sex with a client. I don’t think I could do that. I’ve never been any good at the whole casual sex thing.
I don’t really want to do anything that involves taking off my clothes. I might be prepared to strip down to lingerie, if I could choose something that would cover my scar.
So I don’t check any of the boxes for penetrative sex, stripping, lap dancing, video sex, or modeling for erotic photos. As the list goes on, though, I do check some things. Companionship for one. Hand jobs, oral sex. I mean, if I could do them with my clothes on.
God, who’s going to want that?
Then I get to something I don’t recognize. Femdom.
I’m not even sure I’ve heard of that before. So I look it up. My eyes go wide. Being in control of a guy isn’t something I’ve ever considered before. The more I read, though, the more fascinated I become. I can’t believe there are guys who want to be humiliated or locked up in a cock cage. I find images of guys wearing leather and gags and ladies’ lingerie and—
I gasp and flip over my phone when Elsa comes out of her bedroom rubbing her eyes. “Mommy, I can’t sleep.”
Guiltily, I lock my screen and clear my throat. “That’s OK, baby. I’m coming.” I curl myself around her in her single bed, mind still whirling with ideas and the Monstrous Deals form still half-completed on my phone. When her soft snores reassure me she’s asleep, I sneak it from my pocket and open the femdom website again.
Financial domination. Service subs...
Could I?
Before I can back out, I click the femdom box and hit submit. It’s done. It’s out there. I’ve actually signed up to be an escort. Good thing no one will want to hire me, and I’ll probably never have to think about this again. Imagine actually having to go through with this stuff!
