Finishing my first day of work at the Club felt anti-climactic. I finally met the third masseuse, a friendly woman named Catherine, who went by Charlie, on my way out. She was in her fifties and had the casual demeanour of someone who had been doing her job for a long time and wasn't particularly concerned about doing anything else.
I went home and crashed in the little one-person loft I'd managed to find in town to rent. It was small, but it was all mine. I was sure if I'd asked my Mother would have let me move back home, but there I would have been dealing with my Father's disapproval at my choice of career and I'd gotten enough of that s**t before I left.
Before I went to sleep that night, I couldn't help it. As soon as my head hit the pillow, my hand was on my c**k as I closed my eye
