The Test

I glanced at Diego. For a split second, I had the uncomfortable feeling that he’d read every silent word I hadn’t dared to say out loud.

“If you were up for it, we could straight-up auction off your virginity,” he blurted, nudging my shoulder with a grin, clearly amused by his own idea.

I nearly died on the spot.

My face burned so hot I was sure it looked like I’d stuck my head in an oven. Ágata stared at me, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise, and the worst part was how seriously she seemed to be weighing the suggestion.

“With that face and that body? The money would be insane,” Diego added, no filter whatsoever.

Shame crashed over me like a wave of molten heat. I needed to change the subject before I spontaneously combusted from embarrassment.

Diego shot me a sideways look, suddenly a little less cocky.

“I don’t know… I figured you’d pull away from me once you found out,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m not ashamed of it, you know? Back in college—even before—I was already sleeping with plenty of people for free. At least now I get paid well for it.”

He smiled that easy, uncomplicated smile, like he was talking about the weather or the ending of a movie.

And me? Even with my face still on fire, I found myself smiling back. Maybe things weren’t so black and white after all. I didn’t judge him. If he was comfortable with it, who was I to say anything?

I just knew I could never do the same.

The mere thought of unfamiliar hands on my body already made my stomach tighten with nerves I couldn’t fake my way through.

I turned away to change clothes, hyper-aware of his gaze following me. When I lifted my head, Diego was watching openly, chin resting on his hand, studying me like I was something he was deciding whether or not to buy.

“Fuck, man… if you weren’t my friend, I swear I’d be all over you,” Diego said, his low laugh sliding through the room like smoke.

I rolled my eyes, but the smile that broke free was real. Diego had known I was gay for years. He also knew that despite all his attempts to set me up, I’d turned every single one down. He loved teasing me about it, calling it “some princess shit—saving yourself for Prince Charming.”

He didn’t understand that it had never been about waiting for someone perfect. It was about not betraying the only person who had always put me first.

And Diego, for all his constant shit-talking, respected it. Deep down, he really did.

Once we’d changed, Diego leaned back against the locker room wall and started breaking it down for me.

“Only people on the list get in. Pure elite. You’ll handle a few tables and get a cut of everything they drink.”

He shrugged like it was no big deal.

“If someone pays for VIP and wants you upstairs, the commission jumps. And if the guy books you as a companion… that’s a whole different level.” He gave me a half-smile. “I’ve done everything up there, but some nights I just serve drinks, flirt a little, keep them happy, and head back down. No pressure.”

My head was already spinning. The more he talked, the heavier the reality of what I was about to do settled on my shoulders.

Diego noticed and smirked.

“Relax. Pro tip so you don’t end up wasted: always keep an empty beer bottle in your hand. Pretend you’re drinking. When you need to fake a sip, just pour a little in.”

I let out a laugh and shook my head, still not entirely sure I’d survive the whole night without bolting.

That was when I glanced at the clock.

The club was about to open.

I hurried back to the locker room and grabbed my phone. I needed to call my mom before she started worrying.

The moment I heard her voice on the other end, the knot in my chest loosened a little.

“Hey, Mom. How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. What about you?”

I let out a quiet breath of relief. As quickly as I could, I explained that I’d picked up a second job at a bar and probably wouldn’t be home until late.

I could tell from her tone that she didn’t like the idea. Still, she didn’t question me. She just wished me a good night and told me to be careful.

After I hung up, I stared at the screen for a few seconds longer. The weight of the lie, and of everything I was about to do, settled heavily across my shoulders again.

I didn’t have a choice. Every extra dollar meant another treatment session the insurance refused to cover.

It was for her.

It had always been for her.

I slipped my phone away and headed back into the main room. Diego gave me a few last-minute instructions, discreetly pointing out details about the tables and service flow. A few minutes later, the doors opened.

The elite started pouring in.

Men in perfectly tailored suits. Women dressed in outfits that probably cost more than my monthly salary. The air filled with expensive perfume, soft laughter, and that unmistakable scent of money and power.

I watched the other waiters move into position with almost military precision.

Before I knew it, it was my turn.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I approached the table.

Two women, probably in their mid-thirties. One wore a tight black dress that left very little to the imagination. I wrote down their order, trying to keep my hand steady, but I felt the other woman’s gaze drag slowly over my body, from my chest down to my waist, lingering where it shouldn’t.

When she bit her lower lip without even trying to hide it, heat rushed straight to my face.

I forced a professional smile and got away from the table as quickly as I could, taking their order to the bar. The discomfort clung to my skin like sweat.

While I waited for the drinks, I looked around the club. The place was already getting crowded, the murmur of conversations blending with the low music and the constant clink of glasses. The air smelled like expensive perfume, alcohol, and something else.

Anticipation.

It was only the beginning of my first night there, and I already knew it was going to feel endless.

For a moment, I found myself wondering if hungry looks would be the worst thing I’d have to deal with… or if, eventually, someone would try to push past my limits.

The rest of the night passed without any major incidents. I sat with a few clients, encouraged another round here and there, and used the empty bottle trick Diego had taught me to fake most of the drinks they offered.

I barely drank.

I couldn’t afford not to stay in control. Besides the fact that I was working, my body had practically zero tolerance for alcohol.

Ágata already knew I had another job, so we’d agreed I’d leave around three in the morning. That way, I could still get a few hours of sleep before dragging myself back to the office.