Routine Work

The warm southern wind gently caressed Chase’s already slightly tanned skin as he lazily ran his hand through the long, curly hair cascading past his waist. Hair. Fuck. He wanted to cut it almost immediately, but he couldn’t even do that. Something inside twisted the moment he brought the scissors near. Now, it was a part of her—heavy, silky, like a golden web that kept him trapped in mirrors and admiring gazes.

The white bikini hugged the body softly, the cover-up barely draped over the shoulders—it all looked perfect. Cursed perfection. But the genie never asked how exactly Chase wanted to "have a great body," giving him the body of a beautiful woman. And "live without working" turned into an endless beach, where time moved too slowly—except for the one thing Chase didn’t even want to think about, trying to convince himself that he found all of this disgusting.

"Though... maybe it's not so bad after all." The thought flashed through his mind, and he didn’t even notice how he smiled slightly, looking at the horizon and remembering his routine office job, which he had hated just a month ago. Still, this was far from what he had imagined when he made his wishes to that damn genie.

— Hey, baby. — A man's voice sounded from behind.

Chase didn’t even flinch. He was used to it. Fucking used to it! In just a few weeks. "A lot of sex"—his third wish. The irony was that the sex wasn’t with women, as he had imagined, but with men. And what kind of men? Almost anyone—sometimes, like now, the first guy who came up to flirt. And Chase couldn’t do a damn thing about it. It was always too easy, and by now, it was even starting to feel... routine? A routine that just had to happen...

Sighing, knowing that his "daily sex" was about to begin, he turned around. A fat man, about forty, with a weathered face and an overly bright smile, was already approaching. Chase—or, as he was sometimes called now, Cassandra—felt something tighten inside him. He wanted to turn away, pretend he didn’t notice, but his body was already reacting on its own. A slight tremble in his knees, warmth spreading through his stomach, and that cursed feeling like he owed something, like he simply couldn’t say no.

— Hey, gorgeous. — The man was already close, his voice too loud, too intrusive. — You here alone?

Chase wanted to say "no," wanted to scream for this guy to leave him the fuck alone, but instead, his lips stretched into a smile on their own, and his voice, soft and melodic, said:

— No, not alone. But... — He stopped, feeling the words get stuck in his throat. His body already knew what would happen next, and resisting was pointless.

— But what? — The man smirked, already sensing his victory. — Come on, don’t be shy.

Chase closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He hated this. Hated himself for not being able to just say "no." But the genie, goddamn it, had done his job too well. One time, he had tried resisting for an entire day—and by nightfall, he had ended up in the arms of three men at once, not even remembering their faces. The genie wasn’t joking about "a lot of sex."

— Cass! — A female voice called out.

Chase flinched as if he had been caught doing something shameful. Which, in essence, he had.

To his relief, it was Jenny—a slender brunette with freckles and lively brown eyes, one of the few people he actually talked to here. She stood a little way off, leaning on one hip, her beach tunic fluttering in the wind, her gaze impatient.

— What’s taking you so long? — she asked with a hint of reproach. — We already ordered cocktails. We’re waiting for you.

Chase hesitated. He could just leave with her. Just get up and go. But...

— Jen, wait for me a minute, okay? — He turned to his friend, trying not to look at the man who was already licking his lips hungrily. — I... need to finish something.

Jenny frowned, her gaze flicking from Chase to the fat guy and back.

— Seriously? Again? You said this disgusted you.

Chase clenched his teeth, but that damned sweet, soft smile stayed on his face—his second nature now whenever a man spoke to him. He felt a dull wave of frustration rise in his chest, but not at Jenny—at himself. At the heat pooling between his legs, at the trembling in his knees, at how his lips were already quivering in anticipation.

— Jen, — he forced out, his voice carrying a barely noticeable desperation, — just wait for me a bit, okay?

Jenny rolled her eyes, but there was not just irritation in her gaze—there was something like pity.

— You’re sick, Cassie. Really. — She sighed. — You know, sometimes I feel like you don’t just love fucking... there’s something wrong with you.

She threw up her hands as if giving up and turned around.

— Whatever, do what you want. But I’m tired of watching you... — She made a vague gesture, as if searching for words but never finding them. Instead, she turned and walked away, her bare feet leaving light traces on the hot sand.

Chase didn’t watch her go. He had already made his choice. Or the choice had already been made for him.

She left without looking back, and Chase felt something inside him tighten even more. He wanted to run after her, to explain, to apologize, but the man next to him had already placed a hand on his shoulder, and Chase’s body responded instantly.

— So, shall we go? — The man grinned, and Chase nodded, feeling his legs carry him forward on their own.

They walked along the beach, past noisy groups and laughing people, toward the place Chase had been to far too many times. It was a small house hidden behind palm trees—the place he now called his "sanctuary." This was where he spent most of his days, pleasing one man after another just to satisfy that cursed need.

That was where he had been yesterday. And the day before. And last week, with another man whose name he hadn’t even bothered to remember. He knew this route down to the smallest details.

— You’re a fast one, baby, — the man growled when they finally stopped. — I like that.

Chase didn’t even respond. He just dropped to his knees, like he had done so many times before that he no longer remembered what it had felt like the first time. He wanted to hate himself. He should have.

But this was already just a part of life...

Like going to a routine job you hate but have to show up for every single day.