Page 7 of Deep in You

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.

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