My body, its price

My name is Alexandra. Or at least that's the name my body bears on paid nights.
When I look at myself in the large mirror in the suite, before the client arrives, I see exactly what they pay so dearly for: a slim waist, full, firm breasts, the curves of my hips that slowly undulate when I walk, skin smooth as warm marble, and long legs that seem made to wrap around a man. My body is the commodity. And this commodity has a very precise price: from €1,500 to €5,000 a night, depending on how much they want to possess me.
Tonight the price was €3,000. A discreet, married Swiss banker with refined tastes. He paid without blinking. For him, he wasn't just buying sex. He was buying the right to have me completely without limits, without boundaries, for eight hours.
When he entered the room, he slowly measured me from head to toe. I stood naked in front of him, only in a sheer black lace bodysuit and high heels. I didn't shy away. My body is my tool. I let him come closer, touch me with his cool palms. His fingers slid over my breasts, over my abdomen, over the curve of my round ass.
"You're perfect," he murmured.
"I know," I replied, smiling slightly. "That's why you pay so much."
I let him explore me. Every inch of my skin had its price. The kiss on my neck - €300. The caress of my breasts - another part of the amount. When he dropped to his knees and kissed the inside of my thighs, I knew he was paying for the supremacy of having a woman like me at his feet.
I led him to the bed. My body moved over him with professional precision. I knew exactly when to moan, when to look into his eyes with perfectly simulated desire, when to let him turn and take me by force. Every position, every movement, every drop of sweat on my shiny skin was calculated. Not because I didn’t feel pleasure, sometimes I really did, but because I knew the value of what I was selling.
At one point, as he penetrated me deeply from behind, holding me tightly by the hips, he whispered:
“It’s worth every euro.”
I smiled into the pillow. Yes, it was worth it. My body doesn’t come cheap. It’s trained, groomed, waxed, moisturized, perfumed, and educated to provide pleasure at the highest level. It’s a luxurious body.
When it was over, after several hours and several rounds, he got dressed in silence. He left me a thick envelope on the table and left.
I lay naked on the crumpled sheets, staring at the ceiling. My body still throbbed, marked by the marks of his fingers and kisses. Tomorrow there would be someone else. Another price. Another man who would think that for a few hours he could own perfection.
But my body doesn’t belong to anyone. It’s just for rent. Expensive. Very expensive.
Because this beauty, this perfection, this calculated submission… has its price.
And I know it exactly.