As a dominatrix in Shanghai, I occasionally receive some unusual requests, but one particular inquiry truly stood out. A European gentleman sought my company for a day, with the peculiar requirement that I speak to him exclusively in Cantonese and wear purple lipstick. Though initially taken aback by the odd specifications, my curiosity got the better of me, and I accepted his booking.
Our meeting place was the iconic Shanghai Bund, where he arrived—a distinguished and handsome "silver fox." His charismatic demeanor and unique sense of humor made our visits to various art museums thoroughly enjoyable. However, as we strolled through the galleries, I couldn't help but notice a certain fragmentation in his eyes, a hidden sorrow that seemed to shadow his every smile.
At the end of our day together, feeling a deep sense of empathy, I gave him a warm hug. Just before we parted ways, he pulled out a photograph and handed it to me. The image was of a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to me, right down to the purple lipstick. In that instant, everything fell into place. The woman in the photograph was his late wife, and my presence, coupled with the specific details, was his way of momentarily rekindling a cherished memory. It wasn't just about companionship; it was a poignant attempt to reconnect with the love he had lost.