After my wife “signed the contract,” the “company” added me to a WeChat account for an “exclusive customer service” representative the next day. The rep sent several videos explaining and demonstrating Dongguan-style services, instructing my wife to study them carefully. There was also a detailed explanation of precautions, covering everything from avoiding cameras that could capture her face on the way to the appointment, to how to approach clients and upsell upon meeting, how to handle different types of guests and choose services accordingly, all the way to safely leaving after the session, and even what to do if caught—basically everything a “fallen woman” needs to know.

After the customer service sent the “study materials,” there was no further contact. A few days later, I asked the rep, “Don’t you assess how well the employees have learned?” They replied, “No need for that.” The following days of waiting made us start worrying we had been scammed—after all, 6000 yuan is no small amount for us without jobs right now. It would be ridiculous if we never got any work and only bought a set of “How to Become a Qualified Prostitute” study materials!

I kept sending messages to the “customer service” asking for updates. The replies were always that the “company” takes new employees’ first assignments very seriously and will only “open an order” when a suitable one comes up, telling me to wait patiently and reminding me to make sure my wife loses some weight during this time. At this point, we had no choice but to believe them. Now, worried about the 6000 yuan, we hope every day that an order will open soon.

Although there was still no news about my wife’s “job,” my luck took a small turn. At a class reunion, a high school classmate I was close with heard about my situation and generously gave me a 10-year-old van he had just phased out, on the condition that I handle the “aftermath” for the vehicle. I had no choice and agreed without thinking. Afterward, I smoothly found a job to support the family: a Huolala driver.

“Good things” often come in pairs. On the very first day I officially became a Huolala driver, my wife finally got her “order.”

“11:30 PM, Room 1606, Huamei Jiahao Hotel. Do not be late. The room card is in the delivery locker, pickup code is 1278.”

Before 10 PM, I drove my wife to the hotel and slowly parked at the entrance of the five-star hotel’s parking lot. The night breeze drifted in through the half-open window, carrying a slight chill. My wife in the passenger seat wore a tight red dress that outlined her full figure in a sexy, alluring way. Her face under heavy makeup looked a bit pale and nervous. Her hands tightly clutched a small handbag containing lubricant, condoms, wet wipes, and other “essentials” we could think of, plus a pack of popping candy and a male pleasure capsule.

My wife’s fingertips were turning white from gripping so hard, and my hands were trembling slightly. This was my wife’s first “outcall.” Tonight she would finally become part of that “oldest profession in human history” I had fantasized about countless times, stepping into an unknown future as a prostitute. I could feel my own body trembling slightly.

We stared at the glass doors of the hotel lobby outside the car window, where luxurious lights and passing figures flickered faintly. My wife glanced down at her revealing red dress—her ample breasts almost bursting from the low neckline, her fair thighs fully exposed under the short skirt. She murmured softly, “Honey, dressed like this… what if someone we know sees me? What if the cops raid for prostitution and we get caught—what then?” Her voice trembled, her mind flooded with worries, her breathing rapid, yet there was a faint trace of anticipation about earning money.

By now I was also a bit scared. Gripping the steering wheel, I forced myself to stay calm and reassured her: “It’s fine. There are plenty of women dressed like you in hotels like this. Didn’t you dress like this when we came here to eat before? Don’t overthink it, no need to be nervous. I’ll be waiting outside, it’ll be okay!” Though I was comforting her, my voice couldn’t hide a hint of unease.

“Wait in the car, I’ll go check first.” I parked the car and quickly walked toward the hotel. At the entrance, I saw a row of delivery lockers on both sides of the door. I went up, entered the code, and successfully retrieved the room card. With the card in hand, I entered the hotel. Though down on my luck now, I had been a rich man for a few days back then and often visited high-end hotels, so I didn’t attract the staff’s attention. Suppressing my excitement, I crossed the lobby to the elevator hall, pretended my neck was uncomfortable to check the camera positions, and took the elevator to the 16th floor. The ride felt endless. Finally, with a ding, I stepped out quickly, followed the signs to the far end of the corridor at a corner. This room must have been carefully arranged by the company—its location looked very private, and three room doors were at this corner. From the hallway, you couldn’t see which room someone was entering.

I pressed my ear to the door and listened for a while—no sound inside. I rang the doorbell several times with no response, then boldly swiped the card to open the door. Inside was a lavishly decorated suite: a comfortable living room, bright bathroom, spacious king bed. The room was empty. I sat on the bed for a moment, imagining my wife soon serving an unknown man on this very bed. That faint green-tinged thrill welled up again. I stood up, smoothed the bed, checked the room, found no cameras or anything similar, didn’t dare touch anything else, and didn’t stay long. Before leaving, I thought for a moment and hid the screwdriver I carried in my pocket under the right side of the bed. After one last check, I hurriedly closed the door and took the elevator downstairs.

Back in the car, my wife sat in the passenger seat scrolling on her phone, a large expanse of fair skin and a long cleavage exposed on her chest. Her tightly wrapped full breasts were gently trembling with her breathing.

“It’s a suite. Looks like this guy is pretty rich,” I said, catching my breath.

My wife checked her phone—it was already 11:10. She took a deep breath, pushed open the car door to get out. I grabbed her arm, and she looked at me with watery eyes.

“Take the room card. Don’t rush to undress when you go in. Remember to use a condom on the bed! There’s a screwdriver under the right pillow…” I instructed.

My wife shot me a glare, snatched the room card, shook off my hand, got out of the car, and walked quickly toward the hotel.

“I’ll head over soon and wait in the hallway!” I called out softly. She didn’t respond and walked straight into the hotel lobby…

#TheTakeoutIDeliveredIsMyWife

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