I couldn't get her out of my head, even during the day now. I started rushing home at the end of the workday so I could look upon her and bring myself...off. This couldn't go on. Something had to happen.I went to the brothel in person. I told myself I wouldn't go in, and knew that was a lie. The woman behind the front desk was surprisingly human, older and a little overweight. The owner, maybe? A madam for the modern age. She looked up and smiled as I entered, then said, "Hello there, welcome.. Like masturbate? She asked, barely whispering the last two words. “I’m afraid I do, almost every night...I’m not proud about it, I...” I let my voice trail off and looked away as if in shame. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, all boys and men do that; females too.” “Really” I said naively “women masturbate...do you?” “Yes I do, fairly often too.” “But...but aren’t you married?” “Yes, but my husband’s job takes him away for long periods of time, so when the feeling for sex gets me I. More

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