This morning, I woke up earlier than usual, but for once, I didn't feel heavy or angry. There was no regret eating me up, no frustration — just a strange energy inside me, like something big was waiting to happen. For the first time in weeks, my chest didn't feel tight. The air actually felt fresh.
As I stood by the window, I watched a few birds chirping and fighting over a piece of bread. Somehow, that silly scene made me smile. Maybe it's time I also fly a little, I thought. Free myself from all this nonsense — from the people, the memories, everything.
With that thought, I got dressed and stepped out. It had been ages since I went out alone, with no purpose except walking. The cold breeze hit my face, and for a few minutes, I actually felt alive. But then reality hit me like a boring friend — What am I even supposed to do the whole day?
I didn't want to go home early. If I did, there was a 99% chance I'd have to see her face again — and trust me, I'd rather walk barefoot on Lego pieces than deal with her voice.
While I was still lost in my thoughts, my feet automatically led me to a small tea stall at the corner of the street. It wasn't fancy — just a tin roof, wooden tables, and enough smoke to make it look like a crime scene. But the energy there was amazing. About fifteen people were standing around, laughing, gossiping, smoking, or pretending to read newspapers.
I found a spot at one of the tables and ordered tea. The stall owner was yelling something about "special adrak wali," so I decided to trust the hype. While waiting, I grabbed a newspaper — I hadn't read one in months.
There's something weirdly satisfying about reading a newspaper while sipping hot tea. That first sip with the first headline hits differently. I got lost in the articles, reading about politics, sports, and even the horoscope — which, by the way, told me I might face an "unexpected opportunity" today. I laughed at that. Yeah right, maybe I'll win a free samosa.
But then my eyes caught something — a bold ad printed in the corner of the page.
It said:
"Do you have charm?
Can you make people crazy with your confidence?
Then come, be part of our most unique show!
(18+ only)
Address – Pleasure Hall, Gali No. 4, Silvertown.
Starts 10 AM."
I froze. 18+? What kind of "unique show" was this? I re-read it five times, hoping I'd misunderstood. Nope. It said what it said.
While I was busy imagining all sorts of crazy possibilities, someone tapped my shoulder from behind. I turned around and saw a man in his forties smiling at me — not the "good morning" kind of smile, but the "I-know-something-you-don't" type.
"What happened?" I asked, half suspicious.
He looked at the ad and said, "You're looking at the right thing, son. They need guys like you."
"Guys like me? What kind of show is it?"
He smirked and said, "Go find out yourself," and walked away like some mysterious Bollywood side character who only appears for one line and disappears forever.
I stood there for a few seconds, confused… and then excited. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was exactly what they needed. That "18+" part did make me curious, though. My brain said no, but my ego said why not?
I looked at my watch — 9 AM. The show started at 10. I had one hour to change my destiny… or embarrass myself publicly. Either way, it was better than staying home. But first, I needed to look presentable.
So, I rushed home, still clutching the newspaper like it was my ticket to fame. I washed up, sprayed half a bottle of deodorant, and wore my flashiest shirt — the one that screamed, "Main hero hoon."
As I stood in front of the mirror combing my hair, I whistled a random tune, imagining myself walking into the audition like a superstar. But just then — cling! — I heard the sound of a teacup.
I turned and saw it on the table. And right behind it — her.
The one person I didn't want to see today.
I ignored her completely and started walking toward the door. But, of course, she had to open her mouth.
"Going somewhere?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
I clenched my jaw and kept walking.
"Tell me, na?" she repeated, louder this time.
That's when I lost it. I turned around, walked up to her, and pressed my fingers against her lips. "Stop talking to me," I said, trying to keep my voice calm — but clearly failing.
She looked stunned, but I realized I'd pressed too hard. Her lips started bleeding slightly. She licked it off — slowly. The sight was disturbing, but I was too angry to care.
I turned away and muttered, "God, please… not today. Don't let her bad luck ruin my day."
And with that, I stormed out.
By the time I reached Silvertown, my heartbeat was racing. The big banner outside read:
"PLEASURE HALL"
It was already 10:10 AM, and there were at least fifty guys standing in line. Half the city's population had apparently decided to become "charming" today. The walls were covered with posters of models — girls in bikinis, guys in tight shorts. I was starting to get the idea.
There were two middle-aged women at the entrance, judging every boy like talent show judges. "In" or "Out" — that's all they said. Out of every ten guys, only one was getting in. The rest walked away looking crushed.
My turn was coming closer, and suddenly my confidence started doing backflips. I tried to fix my hair again and stand straight. The guy in front of me got rejected within three seconds — not a great sign.
And then, it was me.
One of the women looked straight at me. Her eyes scanned me from top to bottom, and then… she smiled.
That smile was way too familiar.
She said, "So, you've come too? You don't need a test. Come in."
I froze. Not because I got selected — but because she knew me.
Before I could even ask her how, she walked away. The other woman disappeared too, as if they'd both vanished into thin air.
I stood there, heartbeat loud in my ears, wondering what the hell just happened.
Whatever it was, I knew one thing — my day wasn't ruined. It had just begun.
The room inside felt like a cozy little studio.
The studio reeked of cheap cologne and nervous sweat. One harsh spotlight, a shaky camera, and three judges behind a wobbly table: one curvy woman in a tight blouse, two guys trying not to stare at her chest. The air felt thick, like someone had cranked the heat just to watch us squirm.
"Next!" the woman called, voice husky.
I walked in, hips loose, cock already half-hard from the tension.
"Name?"
"Crown."
"Age?"
"24."
"Confidence?"
"I'll make you scream it."
The guys smirked; the woman bit her lip.
"Why are you here, Crown?"
I leaned over the table, letting my shirt ride up just enough to flash abs. "I fuck like a god. Here to prove it on camera."
They traded hungry looks. "Show us."
I rolled my shoulders, popped two buttons, and growled low:
"When you look this good, you own every hole in the room."
Silence. Then the bald judge whistled.
"Nice… now add the dirty flirt."
I turned to the lens like it was a wet pussy waiting for me. Slow grin, tongue tracing my lower lip.
"Hey, baby… your eyes are begging for my tongue. Let me write my name inside you till you forget every other dick."
The woman's thighs clenched; one guy adjusted himself.
"Innocence is cute," she purred, "but we'll train that out of you."
---
She explained,
"Crown, welcome to *Adult Personality Training*. We'll turn you into a walking orgasm. You'll learn to tease, to thrust, to leave them dripping and begging for round two. Just needs… polishing."
I took a slow breath. So this wasn't acting. This was real.
She smiled. "Class starts tomorrow. Be ready to learn how to own the night."