CHAPTER 3: Harmless lies

*JAMIN*

   The mister?

Mister what?

Should I ask what his name was?

I suddenly couldn’t find my voice.

   Calmly, he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite to me.

          “Let’s eat first.” He began and pressed a button.

     Two waitresses came around.

         “What will you like to eat, Jamin?” He asked in a deep, very deep baritone voice.

I guess puberty hit some people more than some.

I also have a deep voice though. Just, not as deep.

       Clearing my throat, I replied. “Anything’s fine.”

I was glad he didn’t press on the matter. One thing about restaurants like this was that the stuff on their menu was hard to pronounce talk more of knowing what they were.

    He spoke to them, ordering for two.

And then we sat there, in a quite suffocating silence. I didn’t know what to say. I felt so awkward and intimidated.

His profile had been a black picture so I honestly didn’t know what to expect.

But I certainly didn’t expect to see such a breathtaking greek god. Like the ones that were always casted to be main leads in movies.

Damn it, was I one of those ugly supporting characters then?!

Ugh!

Calm down, Jamin.

Come back to the present.

   I glanced at him and he was looking straight at me, intently. I quickly looked away.

It felt as if his eyes were boring holes into my skin.

He didn’t say anything. He just stared.

I didn’t even know what he thought of me. I couldn’t make out the expression on his face.

Was I pet material?

       After some time, the food came and I was so glad.

A welcomed distraction.

     We were served. The table filled with all sorts of dishes. It felt like blessing to my eyes and my stomach grumbled wanting to receive some of that blessing.

    I began to eat, the meals tasted heavenly. Oh boy, this was a once in a lifetime experience.

    Noticing he wasn’t eating and was just staring at me, coldly, I realized I might have made a mistake.

Was I supposed to eat or not?

        I slowly dropped my fork.

              “Why aren’t you eating?” He asked, coldly.

          “You…why aren’t you eating?” I shot back.

You left me feeling awkward, man.

             “I will. So go on, eat up.” He urged, picking up a knife and a fork.

  I was still hungry and didn’t need to be told twice. I continued eating, eating until I had my fill.

I would remember this meal for a long time.

        “Do you want more?” He asked.

No, I was satisfied and it might not look like it but I didn’t want to be too greedy.

          “I’m okay. Thank you for the meal.”

          “You’re welcome.” With that, he stood up. “Follow me.”

   I swallowed and stood up, grabbing my bag. The trepidation was back again.

It was too late to turn back. I already ate the food he paid for. That must have cost a fortune.

I have to do this.

       We got to a suite. He swiped a keycard and led me in.

  As soon as the door closed behind me, my fists clenched.

  What was he going to do to me?

        Wordlessly, I followed him into a wide, luxurious bedroom.

  Taking off his jacket, he sat on an armchair and brought out a pack of cigarettes.

I stood there, awkwardly, wondering if I should sit or not.

        “You want one?” He asked, stretching one to me.

I quickly shook my head. “I don’t smoke.”

It might not look like it but I’m trying to live long.

       The white long-sleeve clung to his frame, accentuating his icy, aristocratic bearing.

   

     A lit cigarette dangled between his fingers. After exhaling a faint smoke ring from his sensual, thin lips, his icy voice echoed once more.

         “How old are you, Jamin?”

I frowned, I thought we’ve gone over this before.

        “Twenty-six.”

He scoffed. “You don’t look twenty-six.”

  There was no way he could have caught on, right?

I ran my hand through my hair and continued.

     

        “I’ve been told I look younger than my age but I really am…twenty-six.”

          “How many men have you been with?”

And the lies continued. “Two.”

  He continued smoking.

        “How long have you been a Masochist?”

In my research last night, I had also discovered that a masochist was someone who derived pleasure and satisfaction from experiencing pain.

I had been shocked to find out such kind of people existed.

I knew I had to be everything he needed me to be if I wanted to keep this job.

Was this even considered a job?

  Taking a deep breath, I let out. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to feel pain and I love having pain inflicted on me.”

It felt nerve-racking to lie to such a powerful and scary looking man but I had no choice.

I was already here. I had to go through with this.

Also, these were all harmless lies, right?

It won’t hurt anyone.

Just me. I can handle it…I think.