The College Girl's Secret Job

I was cooking in the kitchen when the client wrapped his arms around me from behind.

His hands slipped inside my clothes.

My name is Emma Hill.

I have a sweet, innocent look.

To earn money during college, I provide private chef services for wealthy older men.

They’re all like hungry wolves.

Their eyes gleam with desire when they look at me.

Mainly because my figure is stunning.

Long legs, a slender waist—perfectly proportioned.

Up front, two soft peaks bloom like white lotuses, full and ripe.

My shapely legs paired with my pale, delicate waist and that generous curve make me the center of attention for every guy on campus.

Unfortunately, my family isn’t well-off.

My parents always tell me to save money.

Over time, I developed the idea of earning my own way.

Lately, my roommate Olivia has been using high-end skincare products.

I was curious how she suddenly had so much money.

After persistent questioning, Olivia finally told me the truth.

"Emma, someone as pretty as you is wasting her looks if she doesn’t offer private chef services."

"You can make thousands per visit!"

I was shocked.

Could I really earn that much just by cooking in someone’s home?

Olivia showed me a discreet website.

The women there wore provocative outfits.

Their figures were curvaceous and alluring.

Their perky backsides swayed enticingly.

They looked both seductive and sexy.

"The clients here are wealthy older men."

"They pay immediately after each visit."

"The money is easy."

"Is this… legitimate?" I asked, blushing.

If I dressed that provocatively to cook for someone, I’d probably be assaulted before I even started.

But Olivia just giggled.

"Nothing like this is completely legitimate."

"But don’t worry."

"At most, you might get groped or hugged."

"If your boyfriend touched you, he wouldn’t pay you."

Her words stirred something in me.

She had a point.

I have a boyfriend.

We kiss and touch sometimes.

I don’t mind that.

But earning thousands just for letting someone squeeze my backside or fondle my chest?

That seemed too good to pass up.

Yet another voice in my head hesitated.

What if my family or boyfriend found out?

The shame would be unbearable.

Strangely, that intense shame made my body grow warm.

Olivia noticed my flushed cheeks.

She suggested I try on one of her outfits.

Maybe I’d be even more popular than her.

"Come on, try it."

"There’s nothing embarrassing about making money."

The dorm room was empty.

Olivia took out a sheer lingerie set for me to wear.

I couldn’t resist the temptation.

I put it on right in front of her.

The front of the outfit was largely transparent.

Everything underneath was visible.