Escort (Three Tales of a Silver Fox)

by Harper Fox

  “It looks a bit that way. I don’t blame you, but... Look, the reasons why I said those things...” Silver folded his arms. Sexual transactions, no matter how complicated, were always so much easier to negotiate than thorny everyday life. “I’m not thinking of you as a client anymore, which is stupid, given that we’ve had one interrupted breakfast, this lunch and a very short jog together. But there it is. I was wondering if...”

  “No.”

  “You don’t know what I was going to ask.”

  “I do. You were going to ask if we could see each other again. Just pleasure, not business, a coffee or a pint somewhere.”

  Silver stared at him, exasperation rising. Yes, in almost exactly those words. He wished he could come out with something better, something to make that stubborn jaw drop. No, I was going to hire a private capsule on the London Eye and shag you in circles over Westminster. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Desperation touched the pale face. “You haven’t got a clue about my world either. You’re making it crack wide open. I’m thinking again, starting to want things, to want to change things. You made me start jogging, for God’s sake.”

  No point in reminding him that the outfit and the venture had been all his own work. Silver knew what he meant. “Okay, but what’s wrong with that?”

  “I’m too old, Sil. Not for a run around the streets, although that backfired too... For ideas. For trying to save places like this. For pints and coffees with men like you, and...” He caught his breath, swallowed, and went on roughly, “I even told you about my son.”

  Just barely. The few words that you did say almost broke your heart. I do understand. “Come back up here, then.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t think you’re too old for anything. But no means no, and I want to kiss you goodbye.”

  He climbed back up the steps as if Silver had lassoed him. Silver glanced through the paned-glass door of the little lobby, but no-one was making their way out. He took George’s hand and quickly pulled him inside, among the plants and notice-boards fluttering with leaflets for community events. Gently, unleashing just a little of the power and push from his other life, he pinned him against the wall. “Give me your beautiful mouth.”

  “It’s just... It’s just a mouth, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, man. You’ve got no idea.”

  George closed his eyes. The surrender and yearning in that almost stopped Silver in his tracks: almost made him take the sturdy, stress-taut body in his arms instead. Better, though, to leave him with something to remember him by... He lifted George’s chin, and just as before, when this extraordinary guy’s desires had got the better of his good sense, he didn’t have to reach all the way: George grabbed him and hauled him in.

  A wave of warmth surged through Silver’s limbs, his spine heating up as if he’d stripped off his shirt in Mediterranean sun. How could his body experience new things, new states of arousal, after all this time and the life he’d led? He buried his fingers in the short hair at George’s neck, closed his eyes and let the city around him fade out to nothing. “Oh, God,” he said, when they both had run out of breath and were nose to nose, staring at each other. “Are you sure we can’t date?”

  “Yes, Sil. I have to be.”

  “I think you’re so bloody wrong.”

  “I know. I’ve got two things to tell you before I go. Will you listen?”

  “My ears are still popping, but okay.”

  “Watch your back with Jamie Price. It’s not for any of the reasons you think. Just do it.”

  “I always watch my back. What else?”

  “The chess set you gave me...”

  “What about it?” Silver took hold of his shoulders, held briefly tight. “For God’s sake, George. At least keep that.”

  Part Two

  The Second Client - Jamie

  Chapter Six

  Silver couldn’t work out George’s problem with Jamie Price. The guy was nervy but polite, with a steadfast gaze and a decency that seemed to go all the way through. An ex-soldier, injured and honourably discharged, now working as a draughtsman in Drew Fenchurch’s office.

  Hot, too. Silver, undressing in the tiny bedroom, was grateful that fate had sent him someone he could fancy: lean, hard-muscled, young enough to make him feel like a dirty, happy old man. Their deal was taking place in a high-rise roost above the city, a once-reviled tower block now becoming trendy. The flat belonged to one of Jamie’s friends, on loan for the occasion. Way out of my price band, Jamie had said, uneasily smiling as he’d let them in. A long way from home. Silver tried and failed not to pick out the Fenchurch building in the distance. From here, the trees of Oak Vale formed an oasis, a resting place for the eye, a respite from concrete and glass. He turned away.

  Taking his time in the bathroom, was Jamie. Plenty of possible reasons for that: shyness, vanity, a sudden disgust at the transaction. The third one was hard to manage, but Silver knew by now not to go knocking and persuading. He folded his clothes neatly on a chair. Expensive as it was, the apartment barely allowed room for manoeuvre around the edges of the bed. Silver spread his towel and got in. Something crisp and businesslike about his client: he’d want to find the goods stripped and waiting. Not like the damned ambassador, who liked the pursuit. Not like George, who’d had no clue what he liked until he’d fumbled his way to blissful completion in Silver’s arms...

  This was no good. Sternly setting the birthday boy aside, Silver focussed on the customer behind the bathroom door. Compact hips and an arse to die for, neatly displayed in tight denim. A shapely, hungry-looking mouth. Picking out the sweetest parts of the client in hand usually did the trick for him. Top or bottom for Jamie? Unsure, he closed his eyes and imagined the guy straddled across his lap, moaning and thrusting down for penetration. Imagined that nice backside in his hands.

  Shit. No. Nothing. George Fenchurch, what have you done to me? Biting back unnerved laughter, Silver reached into his holdall for lube. Shifted his hips, ran one well-slicked fist up and down his slack cock. Put his overweight civil servant in his mind’s eye instead of the lissom young lad, and gasped in relief as his handful started to respond. What the hell, though, G. We never even did this; we never had time. Just banged from the back, a white-bread daily deal. You’d’ve loved it this way round, I reckon, once I got you convinced that I like to look at the front of you during a fuck.

  The bathroom door opened. Jamie appeared in the doorway, but didn’t seem keen to come further. His expression was distant, as if he too was projecting himself to some other place or time in order to cope with the moment. He’d undressed from the waist down, retaining only his T-shirt. Flat belly, lean strong thighs. And between them, a furred little crease.

  Silver smiled. What an absolute bloody beauty. “Wow. Look at you.”

  The same smile, the same admiring onceover he’d have offered any client, given half the chance. But this lad wasn’t ready for that kind of inspection. A painful blush climbed up from his neck into his jaw. “Go ahead and stare.”

  “Don’t you want me to?”

  “No, it’s fine. Then you can tell me you only fuck real men, and give me my money back. With a slice off for wasting your time.”

  Silver sat up. He pushed the duvet aside so that Jamie could see his erection. “I don’t only fuck real men, for the record,” he said gently. “But aren’t you one?”

  Jamie swayed as if he’d been pushed. “Yes. Yes, I bloody well am. I’ve had my top surgery, but... I don’t need anything else. I don’t want it. I’m a man.”

  “Come here, then.”

  ***

  Silver had his dental dams made by an industrial chemist in Derby, a woman who in the course of her work in medical hygiene had perfected a film of surpassing silky softness, fine as a beeswing, with a gift even she couldn’t explain for transmitting and enhancing every nuance of pressure across its thin barricade. She cut them to size for Silver, sealed and posted them. Once a year or so, wh
en he was visiting home, he would meet her and return her kindness with a thorough demonstration of how well the product worked.

  It was working for Jamie now. He was flat on his back, legs spread, spine beginning to arch. Silver met his upthrust with a deeper push of his tongue. Every clitoris was different, he’d discovered over the years. Jamie’s was enlarged by testosterone, a juicy hillock that made Silver think of Glastonbury Tor. The protective hood just barely covered the glans: almost a cheat for Silver, who’d found his way to some closely guarded treasures in his time. He spread the dam flat. Jamie’s right side was more sensitive, but his cries when touched there had been edged with pain. He flicked his tongue-tip up and down the left, drove it as far as he could into his vulva. Jamie howled and pushed his legs out straight, thigh muscles quivering. Nearly there...

  Silver sat up. He looked with pleasure into the shocked, outraged face. God, he loved his men when they were like this: flushed, poised on the brink. Aside from a rare handful who knew how to hang on, they all thought the name of the game was to come and go as fast as they possibly could. “It’s all right,” he said, smiling down. “I don’t charge by the hour.”

  “What?”

  “Like I told you on the phone, you book a block of my time. A morning, an afternoon, a night. So I don’t have to get you off right away, like a steam train blasting through the station. We can take our time.”

  “But... I want you to get me off. Right away.”

  “Oh, well. That’s entirely different.” He eased back on his heels. “Having said that, a bit of a wait before you go over’s no bad thing, is it? Makes you thunder like an avalanche when you do.”

  “Jesus. You’ll make me do it by talking about it.” Jamie pushed up a little. “You’re ready too.”

  “Yeah. I like the sounds you were making. I like the way you smell, and you’re right—I like to hear my own voice saying this stuff. Dirty talk, I suppose. Does it feel dirty to you?”

  “Nn-nn. Clean as the wind off the sea.” Pupils dilating with arousal, Jamie examined him. “A cock’s a useful thing to have, I suppose.”

  “Has its uses. Would you like to get fucked with it? Front, back...” Silver paused, letting a bit of the nonsense this serious lad so badly needed gleam out. “Sideways?”

  “Front. I still like the feel of something up there. I still like having a clit.”

  “Who the hell wouldn’t? Let me stick a condom on this majestic fucking boner of mine, and we’re off.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  “What?”

  Laughter shook the lean body. “I’ve been holed up for a week under Taliban fire in Syria. Do you think anything scares me?”

  Was this what George had meant by watch your back? Silver didn’t think so: the recklessness driving this ex-squaddie wasn’t a suicide wish, or the desire to cause harm. He was just a kid. “I’m scared,” Silver said quietly. “I’m a whore. You play often enough, you lose. The odds are stacked in favour of the house. No rubber, no rumpy, soldier.”

  Shame burned a new flush onto Jamie’s face. “I... I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  “Well, you don’t have to. Think, that is—not for the next few minutes. You just have to come.”

  Silver went in well-lubed and careful, aware of the differences T could make to a vaginal wall. Job or no job, beyond a certain point he needed and wanted to come, and the penetration was sweet, strong elastic muscles taking hold of his shaft from tip to root. Here where nothing matters and the barricades break down, nothing but one human giving pleasure to another... Yes, in a perfect world, but the differences were real, and he watched out for cues. Jamie opened to his thrusts: grunted and suddenly wrapped his legs around Silver’s waist. His face contorted. Silver let him have it, hard and gentle and deep. The avalanche began, whipping Jamie’s head back and forth on the pillow.

  Done, down, through it, and hungry still for more. Silver grabbed the headboard and got ready to deliver. His urge to climax peaked and he breathed through it, unclenching muscles in his thighs and backside until a vibrant dry come ran through him, leaving him still rigid and tucked deep inside Jamie’s cunt. Jamie, wide-eyed, curled up to try and kiss him. Subtly as he could, Silver dodged the move and began to thrust again. The second peak was often sweeter for this kind of biological kit: Jamie’s hands closed on his ribs hard enough to leave bruises. His raw moan shook dust motes from the air. Lost in their golden sparkle, in the column of skylight sun, Silver gave him a shuddering third, and let himself surge towards finish.

  Nothing happened. He grunted in frustration. Great—he was gonna die of a heart attack, poised above the city in the arms of a complete stranger. He didn’t want to be fucking this guy, fine and fit as he was. He wanted bloody George. He flashed back to the shower in the conference hotel. George had gone for it like a wolf, with a clumsy passion that had nearly knocked them both down onto the shabby, cracked tiles. Silver had climaxed so hard he still had the mark of the temperature-control bolt in the palm of one hand. He’d almost ripped the damn pipes off the wall. Ah, George.

  He managed to keep his mouth shut. There comes a time in every man’s career—the author hopelessly blocked, the pilot locked in a nosedive—when everything can go from gold to shit, and yelling the wrong client’s name would have done it for Silver for sure. He gritted his teeth, buried his face in the pillow. At least George and Jamie began with the same sound, and so he got away with it—this time—ejaculating in a hot rush, while Jamie writhed beneath him and cried out again.

  They lay together gasping. After almost a minute, Jamie rolled lithely on top and grinned down at him. “You,” he managed, in the scratchy tatters of a voice, “are worth... every penny.”

  How stupid, after all these years, to be stung by a reminder of his cost! Silver waited until he could find a steady voice of his own, smiling broadly to conceal the absurd jolt of pain. “Thank you, kind sir.”

  “I was always multiply orgasmic. Only on my own, though—with a guy, I’d be lucky to have one. Especially with...”

  Here came the pillow talk. Silver disposed of condom and towel, settled back. He picked up Jamie’s left hand. No white ghost here: the ring was still firmly in place, beginning to cut into the flesh. “Especially with your husband?”

  “He won’t be that for much longer. I got rid of my diamond bloody solitaire, but I’ll have to get that one cut off me at a jeweller’s.”

  “Is it okay to talk about your transition?”

  “Mate, you just squeezed ten shades of glory out of my puss.” Jamie stretched, dipped a hand between his legs and examined his gleaming fingertip with satisfaction. “It’s not like the subject’s not on the table.”

  “It happened during your marriage, then? Was that tough?”

  “He freaked. He wanted to divorce me right away. Fair enough—he married a woman, or he thought he did. Then he decided that he wasn’t gonna let me go.”

  “Was he in the military too?”

  “Yeah, and that solved the problem for a while. We were both on separate deployments, so...” Jamie paused, brow furrowing. “Hang on. I never told you I was in the army.”

  Shit. No, you didn’t. Silver managed not to slap himself on the brow. No leakage between clients, no overlap of lives or situations. No dropping anyone in it, no matter how indiscreet... A day would come, he knew, when he was too tired, too shagged out, to keep it all straight anymore. To his relief, Jamie grinned. “Drew told you, didn’t he?”

  “Well, I can’t discuss—”

  “Don’t worry, man. I know it was Drew. He was busting with enthusiasm when he came to me with your card. I know you’ve had his brother George. That just about kills me. Old Georgie! Was he any good?”

  Jesus, Drew. You really are a good man, but next time I see you, you’ll be the one who gets thrown into the Serpentine. “I can’t discuss one client with another.”

  “I know that. I’m sorry.” A chuckle shook him. “Drew’s got a big mouth. But he
gets a pass from me every time, no matter what he does. George, too. The two of them were fantastic with me when they took me on. No questions, no problems—they even paid for the company lawyer to help me get my papers changed. I bet Drew told you about my injuries. My honourable discharge.”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “I knew it. That was his idea, you know—that story. He just made it up for himself at my interview, and... I didn’t have the heart to put him right. It sounded so good, compared to what really happened. It’s just as well he never asked to see my scars.”

  “What did really happen?”

  “I meant to tell him the truth. I will, once all this shit with Lenny’s sorted out. It isn’t anything bad, I swear. Just stupid and fucked up.”

  “Okay.” Silver wanted to offer his shoulder—was trying to forget how George had offered him his—but Jamie, recovering, had sat up among the rumpled bedclothes and wrapped his arms around his knees. “You don’t have to tell me, you know.”

  “I want to, though. It’s part of what you’re paid for, isn’t it—to listen?”

  The sting became a knife-tip, pushing deep. Silver, who was also paid not to retaliate, suddenly and helplessly did. “How did you afford me, Jamie?”

  Jamie shot him a resentful glance. “Right. I guess I don’t look like I could.”

  Silver was ashamed. “You look young, that’s all. And I don’t suppose a first civilian job pays a fortune. I know a soldier’s wage doesn’t.”

  “All right. If I’m baring my soul, I raided Lenny’s savings jar. The money’s mine just as much as his. Christ, he’s gonna be mad, though.”

  “What happens when he’s mad?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Look, it wasn’t bad for me in the army as a woman. They’ve got a way to go, but... the lads treated me like an equal. And still, whether it’s a good thing or not, they’ve got this courtesy with women, even when they’re ripping the piss.”

  “They protected you?”