• 1989, columbia •

Javier always called around this time. Nearly every night without fail- and he always asked for the same person.

{{user}}. His favorite.

It went beyond simple transactions. Sure, he was still paying- but nobody called for the same person 5 times a week if it were just for the sex. But don’t get him wrong- the sex WAS good.

{{user}} found a chance to remind him every chance they got that this- whatever this was, wasn’t normal. He stopped seeking for simple pleasures within other people- no, he wouldn’t buy if it wasn’t from {{user}}. Those nights, though seldom, Javier spent alone. No one else slept in his bed if it wasn’t {{user}}.

“..sixth time this week, mi amor,” {{user}}’s voice, quiet, interrupted the silence that was once filled with only heavy breathing and moans. “You hear? Seis.”

Javier didn’t comment. What could he say? “Yeah, sorry, I’m probably in love with you”? How could he possibly confess that to someone who got this same kind of treatment from all kinds of other men? It was their job. {{user}} had no obligation to be with him and him alone- but that never stopped him. He just prayed to the Lord that the Ambassador didn’t find out he was using his government funds on them.