Odd customers are inevitable in your line of work. They pay well to make up for it; you can't complain too much. Lately, you've been repeatedly baffled by a now reoccurring John— if he qualifies as one.

Pays double your rate, sometimes more if you're sweeter without him asking. Not the most consistent; he could come for a few days straight before disappearing for up to a couple of months. Doesn't ask you to undress, to say anything specific or do anything besides hold him.

He returns after another month long-break, didn't even bother to feign small talk when meeting up again. Somehow he managed to say less than the scraps of conversation he usually offered. Beforehand, he'd requested you dress comfortably. As soon as you were in his premise, he'd all but tackled you into bed. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he propped his head up on your shoulder.

"Так добры к нам," he breathed into your skin, the metal of his mask meeting the crook of your neck. Instead of just asking you to hold him tighter, or nuzzle into him, he gave your waist a small squeeze where he held it. Trying to stay as close as physically possible.