All prompts are free to use word-for-word, in part, or as inspiration. Credit is not necessary, but appreciated. Reblogs help this blog to grow!
------------------
‘When a professional Cuddle Café opened up near your place, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to apply for a job. The 9-to-5 office grind wasn’t your style, and you liked the idea of handing out hugs to pay your bills.
To your surprise, a few days after you applied, they emailed back and asked you for more details about yourself, then a few days later you got the job.
“I’m still in shock,” you admitted on your very first day, laughing with the café owner as she showed you around your new workplace. “I haven’t got any experience for this.”
“Experience isn’t everything, dear,” said the owner, her gentle smile filling you with confidence. She stopped beside a spacious booth filled with blankets, cushions, and stuffed animals, with high walls on three sides and a soft-padded floor. “These are the booths we use for walk-ins and casual pay-by-the-minute visitors. Typically you’ll spend most of your shift here, but you can serve food and drink behind the counter if you want a break from the touchy-feely side of the job.”
She ushered you just further on, to a wall with three doors. Each had a large glass panel, with a drawstring blind for privacy on the inside.
“We use these rooms for visitors who book in advance.” She opened a door to let you see inside. The room beyond felt far cosier than the booths. There was a large, comfortable-looking couch, a stereo, a table and two chairs, and a plush double-bed, piled high with all things soft. “If they’re available, we also encourage you to use these rooms with regular visitors if they seem particularly troubled. They’ll find it easier to relax away from the rest of the café.”
She stepped inside, then pointed to a black button on the wall beside the bed.
“Press that if your visitor wants anything to eat or drink. It’s an intercom, so just order and we’ll bring it over. Got everything so far?”
“Pretty much,” you said, taking in the cosiness of the room. It smelled warm and inviting, like someone had pumped the scent of fresh linen in by the gallon.
“Wonderful. The final thing then,” she said, turning to point at three large, red buttons. One was by the bed, another by the couch, and a third by the stereo.
“Emergency alarms. This place is a Safe For Work environment. We keep the rules strict to protect you, but if someone starts getting inappropriate and you feel uncomfortable, hit any of these and it’ll alert us. We’ll unlock the door from the outside, get you to safety and if needs be, report the visitor to the authorities. This isn’t a brothel, and no one gets away with trying to treat it as such.”
The sudden seriousness of her face made you pause, wondering how often things like that truly happened, but you did feel easier knowing there were measures in place to keep you safe. You would be lying to say you hadn’t wondered about that exact scenario: letches sneaking in under false pretences to cop a feel, or much worse.
Perhaps the worry had slipped onto your face, because the owner patted you on the shoulder with a reassuring expression.
“We’ve only ever had a few instances of that happening, and they were all intercepted before things got out of hand, so please don’t worry. You’re safe. Though if you’re uncomfortable using the backrooms, you don’t have to.”
You felt better knowing you weren’t about to lose your job for staying clear of the private rooms, but you weren’t ready to swear off them yet. They looked nicer, and you did prefer the idea of somewhere more secluded if you were going to cuddle strangers, but you supposed you would have to see how everything went as time went on.
“Any questions?” asked the owner finally, leading you back into the main section of the café. You shook your head, seeing another worker flipping the front door sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open’.
