Being A Virgin Whore In Japan

Thought Catalog

It was almost winter when I came to Japan last year. I was born Asian, but not Japanese. My mom lived in the country and every year since I was 17, I visit her. I was in my 20-somethings at my fifth visit and I told her that I wanted to have a part-time job. My mom said her friend can give me a job in a “snack bar”. “What kind?” I asked her, she look reluctant and answered, “Mixing alcoholic drinks and being a waitress.”

I accepted the offer and the owner of a rather club than a “snack bar” promised high compensation I can bring home at the end of the month. My mom seems happy so I complied. The next thing I knew, I there for the first time, wearing a thin cloth of fabric — a small dress that makes my cleavage peak and my legs…

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