Real Money

I got to the guy’s house and knew I was probably done with the life altogether.

He was an old bald guy, kissed my hand when he answered the door. The house was huge, opulent. This guy had real money. The bedroom he took me to was bigger than my apartment.

I’m not a twink, I’m a teddy bear. But as a Catholic kid it’s weird seeing old dudes get turned on by my hairy belly and beard and everything.

I’m also not gay. I started this because the money is incomparable. I’ve never even been laid that much— I had one girlfriend and one one night stand when I was 19. That was it.

I moved to Nevada when I was 22. Reno.

Why Reno? I thought I’d be getting a job at Tesla. The Gigafactory. I interviewed for everything and it sounded sweet, but they laid me off after a month or two. I’d signed a lease, couldn’t find anything else that paid the bills, and it turns out there’s not a hell of a lot to do in Reno. So I started looking at the legal prostitution, wondering if I could get an administrative position or something. I knew the gig was legal, but I’d never considered being one myself.

I hooked up with this prostitute that my old boss was trying to fuck at a bar one day. She was older, about 27, and she was like, “You’re cute as hell, you’d do really well in this. I can get you started. You’re an adorable little bear.”

She was a small woman, blonde, with fake tits and big nipples like Mike and Ike candy. She’d done some hard living— was 27 like I said but she looked ten years older. Her name was Julia. I told her I’d think about it, assuming I’d never speak to her again.

I called her up after a month of square job hunting. My bank account was dry and my bills were due.

My first client was a waiter who flew me down to Vegas to meet him. I was freaking out so hard I thought I’d cry. I’d never even seen another guy’s dick in my life. I didn’t know if I’d be able to stomach looking at it, let alone suck it off.

“Do you smoke?” the guy asked when I got into his car at the airport. I thought he looked like a lumpier version of Charlie Day a little bit. He was smoking a cig. I thought he was offering me one.

“Uh, no,” I said. “Never smoked.”

The guy smiled. His eyes were wet with crinkly crow’s feet at the corners.

“I’m not talking bout cigarettes,” he said.

“Oh.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Not really. No.”

“I can tell you haven’t.”

He grabbed the back of my head and forced me over to him.

“That is so fucking hot.”

He kissed me and his breath smelled like weed. He grabbed my crotch, squeezed it, and put his finger in my asshole.

“You belong to me now,” he said. “Tonight, you belong to Daddy.”

I was terrified and repulsed, but I let him do it. He’d promised me a grand for the night.

We hung out at Treasure Island, where he bought me dinner. I didn’t eat much. He told me about his career — apparently he’d waitered in Europe where waitering is an actual career that you can make decent money at.

“But I couldn’t resist Vegas,” he said. “I couldn’t resist the lure of Vegas. The lights, the noise, the boys…”

He took me back to his apartment off the strip and we made out. We hadn’t been at it more than a few minutes when he was pushing my head down towards his fly.

I closed my eyes and did what I had to do.

His jizz tasted like a salty pool water. He made these noises as he came, and right before he came— he instructed me on how to jerk him off, it was similar to what I’d have my ex-girlfriend do to me — his cum shot out so quickly I didn’t have time to pull it away. I took two full shots before getting his dick out of my mouth. I gagged and spat it onto the sheet involuntarily.

He giggled.

“I’m giving you an extra hundie for that,” he said. “You are too fucking cute.”

He gave me my money and called me an Uber. And that was enough for me to get started. I didn’t work again for another two weeks even though I had requests.

Obviously I did not tell my parents about this. Or my sisters. My older sister would’ve come down here and dragged me home by the hair. I don’t want to think about what my parents would do.

I stopped being able to sleep. I kept waking up feeling dude’s hands squeezing my nuts sack or fingering my ass. I’d never considered myself “cute” or particularly attractive, especially to older gay men. But these guys were thirsty. They paid, but they were thirsty. I’d had no idea what it was like to be treated like this. To not just be lusted after, but to be consumed.

“Look at that fucking package,” one of the johns exclaimed upon seeing me for the first time. He was the youngest client I had, a guy in his 40's who looked like a real-life version of the Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons — obese with a brown ponytail and thin goatee. He was wearing a poorly-tailored tuxedo and had big thick glasses. He was so sweaty the sex was like wrestling with a wet orca or something.

They manhandled me. It was not a feeling I was used to. Tongues and fingers and cheeks and lips all over my body. One guy sucked my toes while jerking me off and I actually got an erection but couldn’t finish. I could never finish.

I never did anal. That was the line. I put that on my itinerary. Some guys tried to get out of it, one dude offering me 10 grand to take my virginity on the spot, but I always refused and I’m a big enough dude that no one ever really tried to do it by force. If I’d kept going after only the 8 or so clients I had, I might have not been so lucky.

I thought about “The Sunken Place” from Get Out when I was sucking these dude’s dicks. I was never able to swallow. After that surprise hot shot from the first guy, I told every john to tell me when they were going to finish so I could get the fuck out of dodge.

The money they gave me wasn’t always worth it. I could do two clients in a week and pay my bills. I’m not greedy. I did the bare minimum. I just needed to live.

But it was wearing on me. I was already so fucking tired.

I contacted Julia again.

“I really appreciate it but this isn’t for me,” I said. It had only been about four months. I’d been on about ten “dates”.

“Just give it another couple of tries, baby,” she said. “You’re doing great.”

I protested but she ended up talking me into doing one more gig. She told me to really try and get into it. I didn’t know that I had it in me. I didn’t particularly want to. But if I busted my ass, I could get a big enough payout to move back home. I thought about that 10 grand the old gambler had offered me for the honor of being the first man to core my asshole, but I knew I’d made the right decision. I wanted to be going home with my asshole intact.

I wore my tight briefs. I got the guy’s address.

The guy met me at his front door wearing a bathrobe. He was another old and bald dude, glasses and wrinkled face. Looked kind of like a Martin Scorsese without any hair, more tall rather than wide. His lips were cracked. He was holding a highball and his gut sloped down. I could see he had a tent the second he opened the door.

“It’s gonna be a great night, baby,” he told me.

He took me to the bedroom and instructed me to lay down on my back.

“Don’t take anything off yet. I want to see what you look like when you’re just hanging out.”

He sat down in an easy chair in front of a large tv and watched me.

I stretched out on his bed. It made me feel like a kid it was so big. I don’t know that there is a bed size larger than king, but this bed was definitely it. I had to admit, it was mighty comfortable.

“You are so fucking adorable,” the guy said, smiling. I was so fucking sick of hearing that. I wanted to scream.

I rarely learned my john’s names, but this guy called himself Jimmy.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Feel yourself through your clothes,” said Jimmy, leering at me like Uncle Junior from the Sopranos.

I did.

I felt myself for awhile. I surprised myself by starting to fall asleep. One second I was feeling my balls through my jeans and the next I was jolting awake.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I don’t sleep much these days.”

He smiled and got up. He took his robe off. He was in his 80s, an old rich fruit, and what was underneath wasn’t pretty. I tried to hide my disgust. I thought of how much respect I had for women now, having to deal with men and their urges all the time.

“No, no,” Jimmy said, smiling. “You’re on this ride with me now.”

He came over and lay down next to me.

The moment hit me like lightning.

I couldn’t do this. Not anymore. The thought of Jimmy’s shriveled Viagara-pumped dick between my lips was causing skull-vibrating rage within me. I couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Can I use your bathroom really quick?”

“Certainly, sugar,” said Jimmy, smiling at me like a schoolboy. “Just down the hall. We passed it on the way in. I’d rather you use the guest bathroom. I hope you don’t mind.”

I speed-walked down the soft carpeting to the bathroom and shut the heavy door.

I was so distracted I pissed all over the floor.

There were paper towels and toilet paper under the sink and I mopped my mess up off the expensive-looking tiles. The bathroom smelled like flowers.

Randomly, I saw some spilled grape soda over under some empty soda can boxes in the other corner. Some off-brand of soda I’d never heard of. Rich person soda, probably.

I started mopping that up, too. I was stalling.

I didn’t want to be here anymore but I didn’t know how to bail.

It hit me again. I was thinking too much. I didn’t have to be here. I could just leave. Why did it need to be complicated?

I had some money saved up. My bills were paid for the month. I could easily rent a car and go home. It’s not like I was a drug addict. My parents would understand if I came back. And they’d never need to know. No one would, except maybe my spouse, if I ever had one, and even then not until we’d been together for decades.

So that was it. I threw away the piss- and- grape- soda-soaked paper towel, got up off the bathroom floor and just took off.

From down the hall, I could hear the creepy noise of the tv and see the light on the wall from Jimmy’s bedroom. I couldn’t see him. He never said anything or called for me.

I just got out of there and started walking. I had an Uber pick me up at the front of the sub division.

As the lights of the city sparkled on the car’s windows, I’d never felt better saying no to something. And the future was still waiting for me.