Getting comfortable

For most of my life, I felt uneasy at the very thought of sex work as an intimate exchange. I couldn’t fathom that anyone would willingly trade money for such a personal experience—except, perhaps, out of sheer desperation. I still remember a trip to Vegas when friends suggested we visit one of the brothels. Both my then-husband and I were utterly mortified. Why would we ever pay for something that felt so intimate? We didn’t go, and the idea quickly fell by the wayside.

That all began to change when a newer boyfriend casually shared that he had paid for the services of Korean sex workers during his time as a Marine. The story sent a jolt of discomfort through me. Although I managed a laugh—after all, his story was decades old, and I assumed he was simply recounting an anecdote—I couldn’t ignore the unease bubbling beneath the surface.

Later, in a more significant relationship, my partner opened up about a moment from his past. He confessed that he once sought out professionals to connect both romantically and, more discreetly, intimately. “I wasn’t paying for sex—I was paying for discretion,” he explained softly. His words, laced with a lingering sense of shame and rejection, stirred something inside me. I found myself feeling deep compassion for him, and his confession began to shift my understanding of what drives us to seek out such connections.

I started to see the underlying human need for intimacy in a new light, even as I recognized that true compatibility in these areas is incredibly rare—even in the happiest of relationships.

About a year into that relationship—the first mostly monogamous one I’d experienced in years—we began discussing the possibility of a threesome with another woman. The idea was enticing. My partner was passionate, I had plenty of experience with FMF encounters, and I was curious to share something unique with him. Yet, neither of us was interested in dating casually; our goal was a purely physical encounter. The prospect of finding the right partner on Tinder felt dehumanizing. So, I suggested we hire a professional instead. My partner loved the idea. He pointed me to his preferred website, and soon I found myself browsing through profiles with a mix of excitement and hesitant anticipation. Every ad sparked an electric, tingly thrill, even as my apprehension persisted.

I was still uneasy—perhaps that uncertainty was part of the allure or even a sign that this journey was only just beginning…

[TBC]