I feel like a Whore… After Having the Best Sex of My Life

There I was in Minorca, trying to destress after months of work. My plan was pretty basic: soak up the sun, chill at the beach, and drink way too many cocktails. But clearly, the universe had different plans for me.

Everything changed one night while sitting at the hotel bar. In walked the tall, darkly handsome hunk straight outta a Spanish movie with a smile that killed me.

Girl, red flag alert!

We started talking. He said he was a civil engineer, not married (at least according to him), and had a voice so smooth it could make reading the phone book sound sexy and I would still have been turned on.

Focus, girl! You came here to unwind, remember?

But who was I fooling? The sparks between us were stronger than the margaritas I had been downing all week. And then, he dropped a bomb. He made his proposal.

I was expecting a invitation to his room. Let’s be honest. I am not innocent, and the idea of spending the night with a hot local didn’t sound awful.

But no. He talked about paying me 10,000 euros for being his luxury companion for a week.

Wait, what now?

“Do I look like an escort to you?” I asked, part shocked and part offended.

He calmly explained he had big business meetings, and showing up with a smart, attractive woman (his words, not mine) would give him an edge.

Deep breath. This is a lot to process for day two of vacation.

I told him I needed time to think. I mean, how often does a total stranger offer you a small fortune for a company?

Then he invited me to his room so we could “talk about it more.”

Oh no. Classic trap!

And yet, I followed him. Like a moth to a flame. He started talking about his dreams and ambitions in his room. And God help me, I was mesmerized.

Is this guy manipulating me or is he real? Maybe it is both.

The night kept going. He sat at the edge of the bed, sipping whiskey, his eyes looking at me.

Screw it.

I kissed him. And wow — what a kiss. He tasted like top-shelf whiskey and trouble. His hands. Let’s just say they knew exactly what they were doing.

Oh God did I moan out loud?

Could the people next door hear At the moment, I could not care less.

He tossed me on the bed like I weighed nothing. His eyes were full of hunger, like I was his next meal. And honestly. I was ready to be served.

Maybe it was because I have not had sex in a while Or maybe this guy was just straight fire.

Every touch sent shivers down my spine. Every kiss made me gasp. And when we finally came together. I understand why “caliente” is such a perfect word. My whole body felt like it was on fire, and I did not want it to stop.

It was wild. Intense. Absolutely unforgettable.

The next morning, I stirred awake to the sweet caress of the Mallorcan sun on my naked skin. Beside me was one handsome devil sleeping like an angel.

A very naughty angel, lets be real.

I stared at him as my thoughts came rushing back. The whole 10,000 euro offer hit me again like a splash of ice water.

No! No, this is something that I cannot even dream of accepting.

Dignity is worth more than 10,000 euros, or isn’t it?

I had gently awakened him and seriously told him that I could never accept. After a moment of silence, there came a smile from him: an ironic one which left my mind reeling.

“So why are you smiling?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “I just respect your decision.”

Something feels quite odd here.

I got dressed quickly and grabbed my bag and returned to my room. It was not until I went to charge my phone that everything flipped upside down.

I opened my purse to find my power bank and saw an envelope inside.

“Thank you, Sara.”

Sara? That’s not even my name.

Hands shaking, I opened the envelope. Inside was a thousand euros.

Does he actually think I am a prostitute?! Seriously? WTF.

I ran back to his room, banging on the door like a maniac. No answer. I went to reception, he checked out two hours ago.

Now I feel disgusting. I feel used. Like I have been a whore for a thousand euros.

The feeling is strange. It is confusing. I have to share this alien story with you. I need an outside view.

What would you do in my shoes?

Keep the money as a wild souvenir or Give it away to charity or Try to track him down and return it?

Or just go shopping and buy some sexy lingerie and flirt with the next Spanish heartthrob I meet?

One thing is certain that this relaxing holiday taught me more than I expected. And honestly? I don’t fully regret it.

Now, I am sitting here, having yet another margarita, sunken in sea views and thinking: Do all women have some story like mine or am I just a magnet for these weird happenings?

What the heck am I to do with a thousand euros?

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