Work Text:
Sodachi had a lot of bad habits. However, there was one she regretted most of all.
She didn’t need to pay women to have sex with them. She could have just gotten a girlfriend normally. She had, in fact, several times. However, she found that unsatisfying in comparison. She had specific tastes. If those tastes weren’t catered to, she lost interest. If she was paying a woman for sex, she could pick and choose. Apps made it so much more convenient, too.
Her regret came from how she expressed that taste. However, she couldn’t express it any other way, because she knew it to be true.
Dark brown hair, large breasts, and a certain way of carrying herself. Not fat, but certainly not skinny. A kindly demeanor, but with the ability to get mean.
In a word, motherly.
Capable of reminding Sodachi of her own mother.
Admittedly, Sodachi’s own memories were muddled. Her mother’s death was half a lifetime ago. Each year that passed was another year further away from that moment in her life. Neither did she try hard to remember. She had plenty of relics left over, stored away in boxes, but she didn’t want those.
For one, she didn’t want to remember her mom as a real person. The idealized form she imagined made for more pleasant memories. Despite all the bad, it was easier to compartmentalize those memories and move on.
For another, she didn’t want to become someone clinging to the past. If she wasn’t careful, she might convince herself that her life was never as good as when her mom was alive, despite that being demonstrably untrue. Her life had been awful while her mom was alive. She also didn’t want to relive those feelings.
However, the most significant reason she didn’t look back on those old pictures is because she didn’t want to mix her sexual interests with reality. She didn’t want to have sex with her own mom. She just had a twisted complex born of her mother’s grisly fate. IT was more normal when she put it that way, right?
She didn’t want to have sex with her mother. She just wanted to have sex with someone who could be representative of an idealized form known as “mom.”
This was why she couldn’t take her desires out on a girlfriend. It was sick and twisted. She needed distance from herself. Even hiring the same girl twice felt dirty. However, she rarely had that luxury. She was, after all, looking for something specific. It was easier to hire the same woman twice. If she didn’t, she would quickly burn through her supply.
She just needed to hide from them why she was doing this. Sex workers didn’t need to care about why they were hired. They didn’t even need to care about what they were paid to do. It was a job, and just like Sodachi did her job day in and day out, so did they. It would slow them down to consider why a woman might want to hire another woman with brown hair to be a little mean to her during sex.
Eventually, she picked a woman that appealed to her and scheduled the date. It would be later that week, on Thursday. A mid-week appointment wasn’t ideal, but that’s all that was available, so Sodachi had to compromise.
It didn’t matter to the women she hired, though. This was their job. One day was the same as any other.
The woman Sodachi picked wasn’t even older than her. They were the same age. It was a distressing thought to have, but as more time passed, she got closer to her mom’s age when she died. There would be a day when she was older than her mom ever was.
It was an oddly morbid thought. It was unfortunate for it to be brought on by hiring a sex worker that reminded her of her own mother.
If Sodachi ever got to the point where she was hiring girls younger than herself because they reminded her of her own mom, then she would truly be beyond saving.
After a mundane week, Thursday rolled around. Sodachi coordinated with the woman she hired. They figured out a hotel to meet at.
Once work was over, Sodachi briefly went home. She did what she could to make her look nice— shower, makeup, and so on. She didn’t need to, but sex was a two-way street. It felt rude to disregard the other person’s interests just because they were being paid. Making herself presentable wasn’t any different from being polite to a waiter or a cashier.
She waited in the lobby. She could have gone to the room right away, but that felt impolite, and besides, there was room for error there. However embarrassing it was to sit there waiting in a love hotel lobby, courtesy overrode it.
Tonight’s woman was one Sodachi had met before. Sodachi greeted her and they traded hellos. Then, they headed up to the room.
Sodachi had a good time. She knew she would. It was far from her first time having sex and it was far from her first time hiring a woman who reminded her of her mother.
It was a chance to stop thinking about her own problems for a little while and take part in mindless pleasure. She didn’t need to think about her life, its problems, or the levels of psychological harm that were implied by seeking out lesbian protsitutes which resembled the idealized image of her mother.
Until they were done, whatever problems Sodachi may or may not have were purely academic. More than that, she wasn’t in the mood for academics. She just wanted to enjoy herself.
It was only once they were done that Sodachi stopped to consider herself.
She couldn’t even do something dramatic like mutter about how disgusting she was. That would offend the woman with her.
She did, however, still say, “If you have another appointment, you can leave early. I’m done here.”
But the woman shook her head. “I’m fine. You paid for your time, you’ll get it. You usually like to talk afterwards, too.” She did, however, stand up and begin stretching.
After a couple minutes of silence, she asked, “Do you mind if I smoke?”
It was a courtesy to ask, but Sodachi usually said no. She hated the smell. She hated being around cigarettes. This time, however, she answered differently.
“I don’t care. Go ahead.”
Maybe the disdain in her voice struck the woman, because she hesitated. She didn’t hesitate for long, though. After a few moments, she began fishing around in her purse until she pulled out a pack and a lighter.
The woman sat down in one of the chairs the room had. Once it became clear that Sodachi truly had no interest in conversation, however, she got out, returned to her purse, and retrieved her phone. Sodachi, however, simply rolled over on her side to think about things.
Several minutes later, Sodachi got up. She wanted to take a shower. Before vanishing into the bathroom, she turned to the woman and said, “If the time runs out before I’m out, you can just leave a note.” The woman nodded.
Sodachi didn’t purposefully spend the rest of the time in the shower. Time escaped her. All the same, by the time she was out, she was alone.
It didn’t feel all that different from when the woman had been there. A hotel room was just a hotel room, no matter what had been done in it just a half hour before.
She didn’t feel great. She knew she would do this again.