Ramya: the hired escort path.

There will always be a special place in my heart (and between my thighs) for Claire, but with her dating Tanner, she and I inevitably grow apart. She's on the right path.

The jet black Indian bush grows back. Claire was shaving my pussy, so I let it go to honor her.

I focus on work, and I thrive. I love the new job. Great pay, great company, and the prestige of being an executive at 23. I'm the Chief Information Security Officer, and after a few months it's obvious I will be tapped for the CIO position when the current executive retires soon. Insane.

Maybe it’s all the sexual frustration I’m channeling into the role to distract me. I meet with several Indian potential grooms coordinated by my parents, and those turn into several disappointments. I’m still hoping for arranged marriage success, but the hunger between my legs is more pressing. I date, swallowing load after load, occasionally doing anal for a few very lucky guys. It’s a blast, but hollow. I’m risking a reputation among Indians, even with precautions.

As power grows at work, I want to reject Indian sexual norms more. Would my peers take me seriously if they knew I still had an intact hymen, waiting for a man I haven't met? I'm approaching 24 and feel like the oldest virgin on earth.

Things boil over in Las Vegas. What happens there stays there, right?

Our executive team is here for a tech conference to chase new business. I have a speech on day one (goes well, thank God). I can relax. But the team dinner is awkward. I blame the wives. No plus-one for me. I’m the threat: unmarried, tall, exotic, young, big tits, ambitious and obviously sleeping my way up. How could I possibly be this successful if I wasn't fucking their husbands?

Friday night, post-dinner, I get the crazy, very "Vegas" idea: hire a male escort for tomorrow’s dinner. I’ve fantasized plenty of times about hiring a super hot professional to pop my cherry. Why not live out the fantasy but just for a dinner date? I don't expect to actually do PIV (my husband gets to break the seal), but the right man can be perfect company and make me less threatening to jealous wives. He won't come cheap, but I'm on executive pay and still live in a shitty one-bed apartment and have money to burn.

A half hour of research later, I’m an expert on Vegas laws and the escort scene.

I pick an independent versus an agency, so there's more discretion / privacy if I choose right. After a deposit, I get more details. He's Reiker, Germany-based, tech job, 29, escorts for fun. Probably here for the same conference. His pic is hot. With his real name now, I can check his company. It's legit.

We agree to meet tomorrow at the hotel pool to get to know each other, with final payment if it’s a match.

Pool’s crowded by 11 AM (multiple events in town). I nurse a drink in my bikini and read.

I spot him at the bar first. If that’s Reiker, the picture under-sold. He's the best-looking man I’ve ever seen: light brown hair, handsome face, taller than advertised, 6'5" at least, perfect for 6'1" me.

He catches my eye with a warm smile and approaches with my exact drink refreshed.

“Good to see you again, Ramya.”

Smart. I stand to hug him, loving the hard muscles through his shirt, my breasts pressing. He feels it.

He settles beside me. It's crowded and noisy, but low voices give privacy.

Small talk flows. He takes off his shirt to relax and blend in, and I try not to stare. Then I do stare, because I am paying for it and he doesn't mind! He has a sexy slight German accent with flawless English, and he's easy to talk to.

“I emailed you two documents if you want to read them over later,” he says quietly. “I have a current STD screening. You know, just in case."

I blush at the insinuation. Sex can’t be negotiated in Vegas. It's illegal. But the “just in case” sends a thrill through me.

"Also there's a signed NDA to protect you. It's up to you who you tell the truth to about me while we are together, but I recommend we make up a back-story. It's better for me, since discretion matters for my day job too.”

"I like the idea of a backstory,” I say. “College ex, brief fling?”

He laughs. "You broke my heart didn't you?"

"I was chubby back then. You seduced me, then broke up with me for someone prettier."

"It has to be a believable back-story, Ramya," he says and touches my thigh. "I would never do that to you."

I scoff as heat hits my cheeks. This guy is good.

"Come on, this will be fun. We'll pull off the dinner no problem. I look forward to getting to know you.”

I love him already. “You’re hired. Obvious, right?”

He laughs. We settle payment, then plot.

He makes the backstory fun. It was a month of dating in college with a story fleshed out expertly. All the details about me are true, and we just make up his side and the dating details. It will be easier for an untrained liar like me to pull off.

I'm horny all afternoon. My lips loosen after a second drink with him; and he slows me gently, already taking care of me. We slip into role-play, handsy and flirty like old lovers. His touch light, gaze lingering on my body. I catch myself staring at his crotch, the impressive bulge that's proportionate to his tall frame.

My bikini isn't the most supportive. The sag and stretch marks on my breasts show. I have on zero makeup, hair is casual. But the bikini shows all my strengths too, like my great ass and fit figure. His eyes say he likes what he sees, and not just because I'm paying him.

We swim to cool off, then talk another hour. I open up about my family and career. He listens with genuine interest. I feel like an open book. He doesn't talk about sex once.

"The restaurant is next to my hotel," he says. "Let me come get you in my rental."

“I’d like that.”

He offers to come early to help get ready and review our story. I agree.

“Do they know I’m coming?”

“Yes. I told the group chat I have an old friend in town, and you're added to our reservation.”