6

Yuki sat up slowly, the pillow sliding off his face. He glared at Jun. "Really, bro? You're gonna flex like that? You think I care about your five-minute 'glory'? I'm just not out here catching diseases and regrets."

Jun scoffed. "Oh please. Don't act like you're some moral monk. You just haven't found someone desperate enough to give it up for you."

Yuki threw his pillow across the room, hitting Jun square in the chest. "Shut up, asshole. I'm tired, and your horny rants are not on my to-do list."

Jun laughed as he tossed the pillow back. "Fine, fine. But one day, that virgin card of yours? It's getting snatched. And I'm gonna throw you a party when it happens."

"Make sure the cake says 'Finally Got Some'," Yuki muttered, sinking back into his bed, arms crossed behind his head. But his gaze drifted back to his hoodie pocket. The flier.

That stupid flier.

He pulled it out again, stared at the neat folds, the bolded salary figure. ¥500,000. The kind of money that could change everything.

He reached for his phone, staring at the email address written at the bottom. His thumb hovered over the screen, then moved to his camera. He snapped a picture of the flier.

Jun peered over from his bed. "Yo, what's that?"

"Nothing," Yuki lied. "Just a part-time gig… maybe."

Jun narrowed his eyes. "That some underground host club shit?"

Yuki didn't respond. Instead, he sent the picture to himself and saved the address. He clicked on a new tab and opened his email.

To: servicemaster@tokyohighlife.com

Subject: Application for Male Servicer Position

Body: Good evening

My name is Yuki Minoru. I came across your flier at the train station. I'm interested in the male servicer position and would like to know more about the job requirements and application process.

I am a university student, physically fit, well-presented, and highly discreet.

Attached is my resume and a recent photo.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

Yuki M.

>>>>

He stared at the screen for a moment, hand poised over the send button. Then clicked it.

The message whooshed away. He looked away in silent, wondering if he made the right decision or not. And then a beep message came in. Excitedly, Yuki grabbed his phone from the side where it was plugged and scrolled to his email.

"They actually replied!" He yelled, waking Jun from his gaming mode. Jun threw him a pillow and gave him the fuck sign. Yuki scoffed, scrolling through the message.

[Congratulations, Mr. Yuki. It is a pleasure to have you on board. To continue with this, please fill out the requirements down below.]

Curiosity written all over, Yuki clicked on the survey link and it took him directly to a website. While scrolling, his face scrunched up with the first question popping up.

[Are you virgin or have you had sex?]

He looked to the sides and saw only two options: Yes or No. Awkwardly, he ticked No and proceeded with question two.

[If Yes, how many body counts do you have?]

Again he ticked none, and just like that scrolled downwards. He kept going, his thumb hesitating for a second at each new question.

[3. Do you consider yourself dominant, submissive, or a switch during sexual activity?]

Yuki's brows twitched. "What the hell kind of job needs to know that?" he muttered. He hovered a second, then selected Not sure and kept moving.

[4. Have you ever used sex toys with a partner?]

He blinked. "With a what?" He sighed, selected No, then muttered, "God, Jun would die laughing if he saw this."

[5. Are you open to BDSM experiences such as light bondage, discipline, or roleplay?]

"…What kind of host gig is this?" Yuki whispered under his breath. This time, he left it at Somewhat comfortable. Curiosity was a dangerous thing.

[6. How would you rate your sexual stamina?]

"...Unrated," he whispered. There was no Unknown option, so he picked Average to avoid suspicion.

[7. Are you comfortable with same-sex interactions if requested by a client?]

That one made him pause.

He stared at the screen for a good minute, shoulders stiff. His jaw flexed slightly. This was the kind of question that made everything real. It wasn't just playboy giggling and throwing drinks at women. This was something else entirely.

With a shaky breath, he ticked Yes. Then quickly moved on.

[8. Do you have any physical boundaries or acts you refuse to perform? Please list them.]

He typed quickly: No violence. No bathroom stuff. No minors. Then backspaced the last line. They better already know that's a no-go.

[9. Are you comfortable being filmed (with consent and compensation)?]

Yuki swallowed. What the fuck is this job again? But money screamed louder than reason. No, he ticked. At least not yet.

[10. How would you describe your kissing technique?]

His face turned red instantly.

I don't even— He chose Gentle but adaptable, because it sounded like something a pro might say.

[11. Are you okay with being touched intimately during the first session?]

His finger hovered. Yes. What the hell was he getting into?

[12. Do you have any piercings, tattoos, or body modifications?]

Simple enough. No. He clicked and moved on.

[13. Have you ever engaged in roleplay scenarios? If yes, list favorite roles.]

Yuki scratched the back of his neck. He hadn't, but the options gave suggestions. Student, office worker, bodyguard. He ticked No experience and skipped writing anything down.

[14. Are you more skilled in foreplay or intercourse?]

"Skilled?!" He almost choked. None wasn't an option, so he picked Foreplay, praying no one ever fact-checked it.

[15. Are you comfortable using dirty talk during service?]

His ears burned. Still, he clicked Yes with the smallest grimace.

[16. Have you received any formal or informal sexual training (videos, reading, mentors)?]

He clicked Informal (videos) and immediately felt shame crawl up his neck.

[17. Are you comfortable performing under pressure or while being watched?]

He stared blankly. No. Hell no. He didn't even like changing in the locker room.

[18. What's your average duration during intimacy?]

"What kind of self-report bull—" he whispered, clicking Unknown and hoping that was acceptable.

[19. Are you interested in building a regular client base or doing one-time sessions?]

He thought for a second. If he could make real money… maybe regular wasn't so bad. Regular clients.

[20. Are you emotionally available to form pseudo-relationships for the client's satisfaction?]

Yuki bit his lip, eyes scanning the options. Yes. The idea made his stomach twist—but it was a job, wasn't it?

He hit Submit before he could second-guess any of it.

And immediately wanted to throw his phone into a volcano.

Jun rolled over and glanced at him. "You good, dude?"

Yuki plastered on a tight smile. "Yeah. Just… applying to hell, apparently."

"Hope they have dental," Jun said, snorting.

Yuki sank deeper into the bed, praying he hadn't just sold his soul for half a million yen.

Then his phone pinged again. Another email.

[Welcome to Tokyo HighLife, Mr. Yuki. Your answers have been received. You've passed the first screening. Your orientation begins tomorrow night, 9 PM sharp. Discretion is mandatory. Dress code: Black. Venue details will be sent 1 hour prior. Miss a second, and the offer is revoked.]

Yuki stared.

What the actual fuck had he just signed up for?

Now he was curious as to what a 'male servicer' meant! Switching to a private tab, he searched it into his keyword button, scrolling through the meaning.

Yuki's heart thudded as he typed "male servicer job meaning" into the search bar—this time in a private tab, like that would somehow save his soul from the internet gods.

Google didn't hold back.

First result: "A male escort providing physical and emotional companionship, often for high-paying clientele."

Okay… tame enough.

Second result: "Adult service provider trained in sensual massage, companionship, and fulfilling various client fantasies."

His face heated.

Third result: "A male servicer may perform anything from light conversation and dates to full-service sexual engagements, depending on client needs and agreed-upon terms."

Yuki audibly gulped. "What the hell is full-service supposed to mean?!"

He scrolled faster.

Fourth result: "In high-end circles, male servicers are expected to be adaptable, attractive, emotionally intelligent, and skilled in seduction and intimacy. Think host club meets escort agency… with fewer boundaries."

"…Holy shit."

The final link he saw said:

"Top 10 things they don't tell you about being a male servicer."

And the subtext read: #3 – You will fake love better than you'll ever feel it.

He could feel his d*ck hardening at each response and with a sigh, he turned off his phone. "Did I just sign myself up as a sex slave?"