Luke’s shoulders remained stiff as he tripped over the curb in front of the Wellesley Hotel. He regained his posture in time to smile towards, but not directly at, the doorman in the grey wool coat as the door was held open. Striding past the front desk, he got to the gilded elevator just as the doors opened, revealing an empty car. He stepped in and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, the penthouse. As the elevator rose, he cupped his hand to check the quality of his breath and fixed his collar in the reflection of the doors. By the time the elevator stopped, he deemed both satisfactory.
His client’s name was John. Luke wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be ironic or humorous. For him they were all named John anyway, except during the actual act, when they were babe or honey or whore or you dirty fucking slut. Most men usually came right out and told him what they preferred to be called while he was on top of them. For those that didn’t specify, Luke didn’t address them at all. He figured they preferred the sex to be impersonal. The anonymity was a bonus for Luke. His only concern was doing whatever it took to get them closer to opening their wallets and saying goodbye.
John was a lawyer or a doctor or a judge. Something he was awfully proud of, as he waxed wistfully about his days in school for about 20 minutes while Luke drank the champagne John had set out for him. After John finished his monologue, he asked Luke about himself. This was Luke’s cue to mention school and how he did this to pay for his education. In this version of himself, Luke had about a year and half left of classes and when he was done, really wanted to work with kids. This Luke loved children, had dreams of being a teacher. In truth, Luke hated kids. But no one wanted to hear that he had sex with strangers for cash because it was easier than getting an office job, where you have to dress like a monkey and kiss some moron’s ass all in the name of health insurance. Luke almost never got sick, and besides, no office manager was going to tell him that he was the best assistant they’d ever had and thank him profusely for one hour’s work.
John was an easy client, thirty minutes of passionless foreplay and mechanical sex after their conversation. He said he was impressed with Luke’s academic ambition and slipped him an extra hundred dollars for books. Within an hour of arriving, Luke was showered, out the door and heading towards the subway to drop off his receipts at the escort agency downtown.
As he rode the train, he read ads soliciting students for local colleges. They all offered promises of a better life through education. Luke thought it was all such bullshit. Why couldn’t they come right out and say that even if he did fork over the tuition, there was no promise of a better life? Like a course in paralegal studies meant a stellar future. How did these schools expect him to live while he was taking these classes anyway? He should put up his own ad. “Lay back and have fun while making more money than your neighbors. Negotiable hours and no experience needed.”
Before he moved to the city, he figured that he would wait tables or answer phones or something, whatever came up. He was confident that he could do pretty much anything. But after three weeks of looking for a job, he was still unemployed. He was told by potential employers that if he wanted to work in the city, he needed city experience. It was only on a night when he decided that drinking was more important than dinner, that he’d spend his daily ration of 10 dollars on a beer special at the local bar that he had met Andrew. Andrew, who offered to pay for Luke’s drinks with crisp twenty-dollar bills and laughed when Luke said that he’d get him back another time. Andrew was handsome in a movie star way, confident and sensual in his early thirties. It was he who introduced Luke to Peter, the man that was in charge of hiring new guys for the agency. After a few questions about Luke’s sexual inclinations, Peter took some photos of Luke naked, then sent him on his first call, to a regular who lived downtown. The guy ended up being friendly and seemed interested Luke’s recent relocation to the city. They had sex for only 20 minutes, and Luke left with an extra three-hundred dollars as a tip. From that day forward, Luke lost interest in seeking traditional employment.
The escort agency was located in midtown, a few blocks away from the tourist district. It was a one-bedroom apartment in an unassuming building. The bedroom usually housed one of the guys that was in from out of town, a man that the agency could rely on to be on call for an appointment at any hour. Luke stayed there himself for a while, after he ran out of friends' couches to crash on. It had a comfortable bed and the guys working the phones respected his privacy when the door was shut. The agency prohibited clients coming to the office, so it was more of a sanctuary from sex than a continuation of what he did while he was working.
After Luke handed in the credit card receipt from his call, he spent a few minutes chatting with the guy who was working the phones. His name was Paul, he was in his late twenties, had a good body, smooth caramel skin and a gravelly voice that could’ve sold sex even if he were reading the classifieds. In short, he was perfect for what management was looking for. Even if the clients never saw you, you had to be fuckable to work there.
Paul was stoned. He had a joint burning in the ashtray as he took a call, and said that selling the possibility of sex to clients was easier if he was already horny from the weed. It was still early, so Luke told Paul that he would stay on call until around 2am, but he would call when he went to sleep for the night, just to be sure. Luke was barely to the end of the street when Paul paged him. Figuring it’d be easier to get the details in person, he turned around and went back to the apartment. Luke got the location for the next call, an apartment in the lower-sixties on the east side, right near McAllister University. The client said that he would pay for a cab; he wanted someone right away.
Luke arrived at the client’s house within 20 minutes, and found himself on the doorstep of a brown stucco townhouse. He looked at his watch, estimated the amount of time it would take before he’d be home, and pressed the bell for the garden apartment. The door was opened by a tall handsome man in what Luke guessed was his late thirties, who introduced himself as Thomas. He had bright blue eyes hidden behind oval glasses and stubble that showed that he hadn’t shaved for a few days. After Luke called the agency to let them know he had arrived, Thomas led him directly into the bedroom. Evidently, he was in no mood for the small talk and pleasantries that had marked Luke’s other appointments.
There was a porn movie playing on the television, the haunches of the man on top filled the screen, his ass taking center stage. Thomas lay down on the bed, facing the screen and pushed Luke to his knees. As Luke took Thomas in his mouth, he heard moans from the TV behind him, not the normal grunts that he associated with gay adult films, but a higher pitched shriek. Was Thomas into straight porn? Luke didn’t want to turn around and see some girl on her knees, fake plastic tits cemented in place while some ugly middle-aged guy was ramming her from behind. The second shriek registered more clearly, it wasn’t a woman. Luke took his mouth off Thomas’s dick and looked at the screen. The kid, Luke guessed him to be around 6 years old, was crying on the screen as the older man laid him down to fuck him from the side. The boy's chestnut hair was trimmed into a bowlcut, and shook in rhythm to the man's thrusts. His fingers were gently laced over the boy’s mouth, slightly muffling the cries. Luke’s mouth dropped open as Thomas’s hand cupped the back of his head, pushing it back to work. Luke tried to pretend that there was nothing going on behind him, that it was just another fuck film, but the boy's screams grew louder and louder, competing with Luke's slurping noises for dominance. He'd have to finish Thomas off, he needed the money. But tomorrow he'd put his monkey suit back on and start looking for something better tomorrow, maybe something with health insurance.
