Paid to Love

Sofia was my college girlfriendor rather, the girl I paid to date me. Though I never treated her as a plaything, that's how others saw us. No one believed a rich kid would truly love someone from her world.

Then I dumped her without explanation.

Years later, we met againI was a masseur at a luxury spa, and she, now a millionaire, booked me for a private session.

After graduation, my family went bankrupt. My father fled with his mistress. That same year, I killed a man in "excessive self-defense" and served two years in prison.

Inside, an old inmate taught me therapeutic massage.

Now, at the spa, former socialites who once chased me book sessions just to humiliate me. I endure itI need the money.

Today, as I was about to leave, the manager called: "Jason, VIP Suite 888. A major client requested you. Nail this, and you might not need to work all year."

"On my way."

I grabbed the kit Id just packed up, a knot of apprehension tightening in my gut. The wealthier the client, the higher the chance they were a creep. Just this morning, Id had a session with a woman who had to be over four hundred pounds. Shed periodically slap me across the face as I worked on her. A thousand dollars a slap. So, I endured it.

I knocked on the door to 888.

Come in.

The voice was cool and young. I opened the door and saw a woman sitting on the living room sofa, dressed in a sleek black power suit. Her long hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, a touch of languor that created a striking contrast with the sharp, professional lines of her attire.

Her face was breathtaking. More beautiful than I remembered from college. Shed been gorgeous then, but with a lingering innocence. Now, she possessed the captivating allure of a woman in full bloom.

It was her. Sofia. The girl I had kept in college.

Back then, her world had fallen apart. Her father, a construction worker, had been seriously injured on a job site, but the contractor skipped town without paying a cent. Faced with suffocating medical bills, shed considered dropping out of school. Her mother, however, insisted she stay, saying it would be a waste for the familys brightest to quit. So, her underachieving younger brother dropped out instead and got a job at a bar.

One night, some thugs girlfriend looked at him a little too long, and the thug and his friends broke her brothers legs. The shock sent her mother into a spiral, and she was hospitalized with a severe illness.

Suddenly, the weight of her entire family landed on Sofias shoulders.

It was a burden so heavy that a young college student saw only one way out: selling her body.

The campus rumor mill painted me as a playboy with deep pockets. I had, in fact, tried to flirt with her once, but shed turned me down. I left her alone after that; I was more talk than action, a smart-ass who liked to flirt but never pushed it.

But then, she found me. In front of a crowd of people, she announced she would be my girlfriend, on one condition: I had to lend her five hundred thousand dollars.

I agreed to the loan but told her she didnt have to be my girlfriend. I wasn't the kind of guy who took advantage of someones desperation.

But the day I transferred the money, she showed up at my door. I was living in a sprawling penthouse Id bought off-campus. It was raining, and the downpour had soaked her white blouse, making it cling to her. I wanted to look, but I didnt have the nerve.

I let her in, found her some dry clothes, and we sat in silence.

She was the one who finally broke it. Jason, until I pay back that five hundred thousand, Im yours. When the debt is clear, you can give me my freedom back.

I wanted to tell her it was unnecessary, that the money meant less to me than what Id spend tipping some streamer in a week. But I knew that would crush her pride. So instead, I said, Then you can be my housekeeper.

From that day on, Sofia lived with me. She cooked my meals, managed my life, and even cleaned me up when I came home blind drunk. The girls who chased me were relentless, constantly harassing her, calling her a whore trying to claw her way into high society.

She never told me about it, never defended herself. She just silently endured it.

When I found out, I confronted them, telling them to back off. But that only made things worse for her. Shed get accidentally hit in the face with a basketball or accidentally shoved down a flight of stairs.

I realized the more I protected her, the more she suffered.

So I changed my strategy. I started treating her horribly, even announcing to a crowd that she was just a dog I kept, one I wouldn't even let into my bed. After that, the physical accidents stopped, though she was still a target for vicious gossip.

Then came the end. The company went bankrupt. My father fled with his mistress. I killed a man and went to prison.

Before I was taken away, I did two things: I broke up with Sofia and signed the deed to the penthouse over to her as a severance package.

And now, here we were, our roles completely reversed. I was no longer the profligate heir but a spa masseur, a profession one step away from being a gigolo. And Sofia was the CEO of a gaming company, a woman I had to look up to, both literally and figuratively.

She saw me frozen in the doorway, a cold smile playing on her lips. I hear that these days, youll do anything for the right price.

Something like that, I said, forcing down the tidal wave of emotions inside me. The taunts from my old friends had never truly hurt. But to be seen like this, like an ant beneath her shoe that pain was real. It was sharp.

Sofia nodded, pulling open the vintage Louis Vuitton bag at her side and casually tossing several thick stacks of cash onto the sofa.

That bag

If I remembered correctly, it was a birthday present I had given her. Shed never once used it, saying it was too precious.

Why did she still have it?

I hear your technique is quite good, Sofia said suddenly. Come and massage my feet.

I snapped back to the present and nodded. I prepared a basin of water, testing the temperature before carrying it over to her. Sofia lifted one leg, her stiletto-clad foot hovering in front of me.

I pulled over the small stool used for foot treatments, but before I could sit, she kicked me squarely in the shoulder.

I believe you once told people that when I washed your feet, I did it on my knees. Im not mistaken, am I?

She looked down at me, her gaze imperious.

She wanted me to kneel before her.

I had said those words, but only to protect her. The girls who pursued me came from families as wealthy as mine, some even wealthier. I had no real power over them. Belittling her was the only way I could think of to lessen her suffering.

My heart throbbed. I wanted to explain, to tell her everything, but I held back. I was afraid she wouldnt believe me, or worse, that she wouldnt care.

So, I dropped to one knee, reaching out to remove her high heel.

Sofia kicked me again. One knee? she sneered. Am I not paying enough?

She grabbed the cash and started flinging the stacks at my face. I stood there and took it. When she finally stopped, I looked her deep in the eyes. If it makes you happy, Ill kneel.

I lowered myself to both knees. A satisfied smile finally graced her lips, and she extended her foot again. I slipped off her shoe, carefully cradling her small, delicate foot in my hands. I used to steal glances at her feet, so small and pale, like they were carved from white jade. But Id always been a coward, too afraid to even look for too long.

Test the water.

I scooped some water with my hand and gently dabbed it onto her perfect foot. She flinched, her elegant brow furrowing. Is this how you provide a service?

I knew she was just trying to make things difficult. The temperature was perfect. But I didn't argue. I just reached for the kettle to adjust it.

Suddenly, she plunged both feet into the bamboo basin, splashing water all over my face and shirt.

She stared at me, a cruel smirk on her face. Jason, name your price. How much would it take for you to drink this water?

My heart seized again. I never imagined she could hate me this much.

But then again, it made perfect sense. The old Sofia had been sensitive and fiercely proud. And I had publicly degraded her. If our roles were reversed, I would hate me too.

God, I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell her it was all to protect her. But I couldn't. I was afraid of her scorn. I was even more afraid that she might come back to me.

If she dismissed my explanation, it would shatter what was left of my heart.

And if she came back to me did I even deserve her?

I looked at her, my voice steady. No charge. If it makes you happy.

I bent down, leaning over the foot basin like a dog lapping at a bowl.

From an angle where I couldn't see, her eyes reddened for a fleeting moment. Then she lifted her foot and kicked my shoulder, knocking me away.

She burst into laughter. Jason, have you completely lost your pride? If it makes you happy? Or did you figure saying that would make me give you more money?

I stumbled back, landing hard on the floor. I couldnt meet her eyes. She had no idea. No one else could trample on my dignity because, frankly, I didnt care what they thought.

But she was different. All it took was one scornful laugh from her, and my pride was already in a million pieces.

I shook my head, saying nothing.

Sofia beckoned to me with one finger. Come here. On your knees.

I crawled back to her, kneeling so close. I had been this close to her once before, when shed fallen asleep at her desk while coding late at night. I had wanted to steal a kiss, but I couldnt bring myself to do it. Back then, I had leaned down to cover her with a blanket.

Now, at the same distance, I had to look up at her, and she looked down at me as if I truly were a dog.

Sofia tilted my chin up. Jason, two years and youve become more interesting. But why arent you smiling? Youre a gigolo. Is this how you treat your clients?

I couldnt help but correct her. Not a gigolo. A masseur.

Sofia laughed. Is there a difference?

I didnt argue further. I just forced a smile.

She nodded, satisfied. Begin.

How many times had I dreamed of holding these feet in my hands? But I never dared, afraid it would upset her. I figured no woman would want a mans touch to be transactional. So I never crossed that line. I sympathized with her plight, admired her resilience, and respected her ambition.

All of that coalesced into love.

Or maybe I would have loved her anyway, without any of it. Why I loved her, what it was about her I didnt really know. I just did.

In prison, the only thing that kept me going for two years was the thought of seeing her again, just once. The hell I endured in there would have been enough to kill me ten thousand times over otherwise.

Thanks to the old-timer in my cell, my skills were excellent. For the rest of the foot massage, Sofia didnt give me any more trouble.

When the session was over, I dried her feet and carried the basin away. After tidying up, I managed another strained smile. Maam, the foot treatment is complete. If theres nothing else, Ill be on my way.

I turned to leave without waiting for her reply. Yes, I was running. I was even ready to quit my job. Because this, being stripped of all my dignity in front of her, was the one thing I couldnt bear.

Stop.

Did I say you could leave?

Her voice came from behind me, sharp and cold.

I knew it. She wasnt going to let me off that easily.

I hesitated for a moment, then turned back to face her and let out a long sigh. Under her amused gaze, I dropped to my knees again, a self-deprecating smile on my face. I admit it. I said a lot of things that hurt you, and I apologize. If you cant accept my apology, then please, punish me all at once. Get it over with, and then just let me go. Can you do that?

A complex expression flickered across her face. She stood up and walked toward me, barefoot. Her fingers found the gap between the buttons of my shirt and she gave a slight tug. Get up.

I rose, following the gentle pressure, but I couldn't meet her eyes.

Jason, am I stupid? she asked.

I was taken aback. I shook my head. If she were stupid, how could she have built a multi-million-dollar empire? I had no idea why she was asking me that.

She didnt seem to expect an answer. Instead, she walked toward the plush king-sized bed. Just my feet isnt enough. Give me a full-body spa treatment.

She sat on the edge of the bed and then gracefully lay on her side, her body forming a breathtaking curve.

Jason, I asked the manager about you, she said, her tone laced with mockery. He said your patron this morning, the four-hundred-pound one, was praising your Golden Fingers.

So let me see for myself. Show me just how much pleasure a gigolo like you can give a woman.

Then, right in front of me, she began to remove her clothes, piece by piece.