I had ordered her over the Internet. It was an impulse thing. I was lonely that night, and I just wanted to feel special, even if it meant spending money to buy myself some happiness. I’m not usually that kind of guy, okay? So don’t go judging me so quickly.

This was a one-time thing. Honest.

I was upset it was going to take so long for her to come to my house, but beggars can’t be choosers. And I assure you, I was begging. And after what felt like forever, the big day came. Today was the day she was coming. I was nervous, and I didn’t know what to expect. I raced around the house, making sure that everything was in order. I was a bit embarrassed, because she was going to see my room. And I’d have to explain to her, like everyone else. Yes, I live with my parents. Yes, I live in their basement. No, I don’t have a job. But listen, I paid for you, so you’re going to lay there and like it!

I folded my bed as neat I could, hoping my comforter would cover the stains on my rickety futon. I get the essential supplies ready. The lube, the tissues. The before and after, if you will. I didn’t know what she would be into, but listen, for the money I paid, she better be into everything. At least for tonight, she’d be my own, my precious.

It seemed like I had just double and triple checked my room when the doorbell rang. I had made sure to hide away my Voltron figures, my Wolverine bobblehead. I mean, I’m not ashamed of my lifestyle, I just didn’t want her to feel threatened. Hearing the doorbell, I raced upstairs out of my poorly ventilated dungeon and whisked open the door. There she was, beautiful. Quietly asking if she could come in. Oh baby, you know you can come in.

I knew she was probably impatient, and I wasn’t going to waste any time either. I quickly took her down into my room (and yes, of course I told her to watch her head on the low overhang down the stairs) and led her to my bed. I was staring at her intently, waiting for her to scoff at my forty-five video game systems, or the rack of shitty prog metal bands that I listened to. But if she thought I was a dumb ass (and who wouldn’t?) she didn’t let on.

I laid her gently on my bed. She just smirked a little smirk at me. It seemed to say “Well come on baby, come get what you paid for”, and I did. Slowly at first I began undressing her. But then I couldn’t help myself, and I began eagerly ripping at that which covered her goods. I was making a mess of her poor outerwear, but I didn’t care. My fat fumbling fingers that had failed to remove plenty of bras in my time wouldn’t matter now. I could be eager, excited, who cares what she thought afterward?

She was beautiful.

I felt my breath get caught in my throat and I got light-headed. I couldn’t believe she was really here, on my pillow. Just staring at me, waiting for me to open her box. I had to force myself to calm down. You can do this Ian, be cool. I knew I had to keep my voice down, because my parents were upstairs watching Millionaire Matchmaker. I sat down on the bed beside her. Nervous.

It got hot and heavy fast. She seemed to like me, just like I liked her. Who knows, maybe this could go somewhere, right? I mean, strippers always seem to like me, so maybe this was karma for all those dollar bills I had thrown away on Sinnamon and One-Legged Brenda and Latoya. I mean, I’m not Rico Suave, but she seemed to be really into it.

She even screamed my name.

I didn’t last long.

It didn’t matter though. All those nights of waiting for her to arrive were worth it. Every last penny was drained out of me, spent on her. I lay down on the bed huffing and puffing. My gelatinous body wasn’t built for this sort of tearing and lugging and lifting. I closed my eyes and snuggled up next to her. Sometimes, life was good.

- Caffeine Powered