Youre So Unromantic

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Youre So Unromantic Page 5

by Roland Graeme


  "You're really good-looking, Nick--"

  "I thought the meeting of the Mutual Admiration Society was adjourned."

  "No, seriously. You are. What I was going to say was, I couldn't really be attracted to a man who didn't have a brain, too," Austin admitted. "Who didn't have something between his ears, as well as down there between his legs. Listen. I know that the sex was pretty good, at least I thought it was! But come on, tell me honestly, am I too young and dumb, too inexperienced, maybe, for you to want to get into a steady sex thing with me?"

  Nick returned his gaze just as directly. "No," he said, slowly and thoughtfully. "No, I feel the same way about it that you do. You remind me a lot of the way I was, when I was your age. When I first came out. You seem to have your head together. I think we have a lot in common." He sighed. "But I don't think it would work out."

  "Why not?" Austin asked, suddenly looking and sounding a bit belligerent. "What's the matter? Are you saying I'm only good enough for a one-night stand?"

  "I didn't say anything of the sort, Austin, or mean to imply it. Don't put words in my mouth, please, or jump to conclusions."

  "Okay. So talk to me. I'm listening." He waited without hearing a response. "Well?" Austin prompted, when Nick hesitated. "Do you want to see me again, or not?"

  "Of course I do. But--"

  "But what?"

  "There are a couple of things you might want to think about, first. For one thing, I'm a lot older than you are."

  "So what? I don't care about that."

  "Your friends might think it's strange, for you to be running around with an older guy."

  "I don't have that many friends, and I don't care what they think. What I do is my own business." Austin gave Nick a searching look. "You're out, aren't you? You don't care if people know you're gay?"

  "No. I'm fine with it, personally. But this is still a small town. It's not the same as being openly gay in a big city."

  "We're not all such hicks, here. You might be surprised."

  Nick had to smile at that. "Yes, you may have a point, there."

  "So, I still don't see what the problem is."

  "There's a lot you don't know about me, Austin. Things that may make a difference, to you."

  "Such as? What are you trying to tell me? Are you HIV poz?"

  The direct question took Nick by surprise. He'd underestimated Austin. The guy was indeed mature for his age. "No," he replied, quietly. "I've been very careful, and very lucky. But I've also been extremely promiscuous. I've had a lot of sex partners, over the years."

  "Well, that doesn't exactly surprise me," Austin said, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "You're really hot. I can understand why lots of guys would be attracted to you."

  "Yeah? Well, Austin, what you may not understand is that just as many guys wouldn't want to have anything to do with me. Because--"

  "Because what, for Christ's sake, Nick? Why do you keep dancing around it? What do you have to tell me that's supposedly so terrible?"

  "All right. I'll tell you, flat out. I haven't just been promiscuous. I've worked in the sex industry."

  Chapter Two

  The Story Of A Life

  Austin parked his old, beat-up car in the lot, and made sure the door was locked, although it occurred to him that anybody who did steal the heap might be doing him a favor. Then he ran down the gently sloping ground to the nearby dock as fast as his muscular legs could carry him. The squat, ugly, but efficient ferryboat was already sounding its bell, warning that it was about to pull away from the dock. Austin quickly exchanged money for a ticket at the booth. A crew member was already starting to pull in the gang plank. Austin bypassed it, risking a broad jump. He landed safely on a pile of mail sacks stacked on the ferry's deck. A couple of the passengers, who looked like typical tourist types, laughed and cheered.

  The captain, a guy named Rick, stuck his head out the cabin door and shouted, "Hey, Austin! You didn't have to hurry, I'd have been glad to slow down so you could've jumped right in the water and swum toward us, instead! We'd have fished you out."

  Austin knew and liked Rick, so he couldn't help reacting with a tight grin. Austin, however, was in a foul, belligerent mood, so he didn't make any retort, kidding or otherwise, but simply turned with a shrug of his broad shoulders and walked off toward the prow of the small boat. He stared out moodily at the water.

  The ferry was a convenience, linking the two towns that faced each other on opposite shores of the river. The authorities hadn't wanted to spoil the scenic beauty of this stretch of the Hudson by building a bridge here. People who found themselves in one of the towns, and wanted to go to the other, either for business or pleasure, had the option of crossing quickly on the ferry. The alternative was driving several miles north to the nearest bridge, driving across the bridge, and then driving back south on the opposite bank. It was a circuitous route, and enough tourists and savvy locals made use of the ferry to justify the expense of maintaining it.

  Austin was honest enough to admit that his restlessness and agitation were no doubt the direct result of sexual frustration. It had been more than a week since his memorable second encounter with Nick, the night he'd spent at Nick's place, but he hadn't seen the man since, only talked to him on the phone several times. He wanted to get together with him again, but Nick kept putting him off.

  "I want to see you again, Nick," Austin had pleaded.

  "I'd like to see you again, too. But--"

  "But what?"

  "You're so much younger than I am."

  "So what? What's that got to do with it? I'm over twenty-one."

  "I'm too old for you, Austin."

  "No, you're not. Let me be the judge of that."

  "Are you looking for a Daddy?"

  "I'm not looking for anything," Austin retorted. "I met you, and I like you, and I want to see you again. So what's the problem?"

  "There's no problem, Austin."

  "But I was just a one-night stand, is that it? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

  "Don't put words in my mouth."

  "I won't if you'll talk to me, and say something that makes sense. Do you like me, or don't you?"

  "Of course I like you. I like you a lot."

  "Then why don't you want to see me?"

  "Do you really want to get involved with a guy like me, Austin?"

  "Yes. I'd like to get involved with a guy who's exactly like you, Nick. All right, I'm not going to beg. I do have my pride, you know. Either you want to see me, or you don't. You decide."

  "Austin, I'm not trying to brush you off, honestly, I'm not. But give me a few days to think about it. Okay?"

  "Okay."

  "I'll call you. And I'm not just saying that. I really will call you," Nick promised.

  They'd left it at that, for the time being. Austin was frustrated. Nick was the most desirable man he'd ever met. Austin was obsessed by him.

  In his imagination, he replayed every moment, every detail, of their two encounters, searching for clues that might explain Nick's enigmatic personality, or his diffidence.

  After that tantalizing revelation of Nick's, I've worked in the sex industry, they hadn't left it at that, needless to say. Instead of going to bed right away that night, they'd gotten partially dressed. Nick had made coffee in his kitchen, and they'd sat up late and talked.

  So Nick, or rather Niccolo Grandi, as he was known in the adult entertainment industry, was a porn actor. And not just any porn actor. In the industry, he was a big name, a star.

  Before he'd met Nick, Austin had had only the vaguest notions of what a porn actor was. He'd imagined a specimen of physical perfection, a Greek god come down to earth, who existed in a state of priapic arousal twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. When this divinity wasn't actually sucking and fucking with other gods on a set, in front of a camera, he was no doubt being kept by some rich gay man, probably somewhere in California. He spent his days poolside, surrounded by palm trees, maintaining his
tan under a blazing sun. He spent his nights partying, having mindless, anonymous sex with a succession of equally gorgeous men.

  The thought that a porn actor might be a fairly ordinary human being who had interests besides sex, who might be perfectly happy living in a small town in New York, and who actually might hold down a real job, had never occurred to Austin. Not until that rainy night he'd spent at Nick's house.

  Over coffee, Nick had given him what amounted to a crash course in the porno industry. He'd encouraged Austin to ask him questions, and he'd answered them honestly, and, at times, humorously, in the self-deprecating manner that Austin quickly realized was part of Nick's personality.

  "How'd you get started?" Austin had wanted to know.

  "As an underwear and fitness model. That was the start of the long slide down the slippery slope," Nick laughed. "When I was your age, I was into weight training and bodybuilding. Like a lot of young guys. I wasn't particularly health conscious. I just wanted to look good, so I'd get laid. I was never big enough, ripped enough, to compete in physique competitions, but I guess I didn't look too shabby, if I may be so immodest.

  "But I'm getting a little ahead of myself. I grew up in a small town in upstate New York, not all that different from this one, except that it wasn't on the river, it was in the middle of dairy farm country, farther north of here and to the west. My family wasn't all that well off, we were always trying to make ends meet. So, I sort of grew up taking for granted that any job was better than no job, and that any source of income was better than no income. You didn't turn your nose up at anything that could bring in a few bucks, or think it was beneath you.

  "So, there I was, with a decent body and a pretty good work ethic, if I do say so myself, and no real prospects. I'd landed a summer job as a lifeguard at a little resort town, on a lake. I already knew I was gay. I'd fooled around with some of my buddies in high school, and enjoyed it. I had sex with some of my gym buddies, too. I was still pretty naïve, but when some of the guests at the resort would cruise me, I knew what they had in mind. Then, one of them invited me to come to his room for a drink, and we had ourselves one hell of a good time. Afterward, he handed me money. He'd taken it for granted I expected to be paid. I was shocked, but I took the money. I figured what the hell? The guy could afford it. It was icing on the cake…a tip.

  "Later, this other guest, who was obviously gay, struck up a conversation with me, but interestingly enough, he didn't seem to want to go to bed with me. He gave me his business card. He was a photographer, actually a rather well-known one, as it turned out. He told me if I was ever in New York City, I should look him up, and he'd take some photos of me. And not charge me for doing it.

  "I liked the guy, but I didn't take it too seriously. The thought that I could be some sort of a male model struck me as absurd. I didn't think I was nearly good-looking enough.

  "But I kept that business card, and, sure enough, it wasn't long before, like a lot of young guys, I moved to the Big Apple to try my luck. I lived in a dump and I had a lousy job, but I started making the rounds, getting my first taste of what gay life was like in a big city. Then I made the phone call. The photographer remembered me, and he and his boyfriend sort of took me under their wing. They showed me around, introduced me to people, and he took lots of pictures of me in his studio. Mostly nude photos. I didn't mind posing in the nude. I wasn't shy.

  "My photographer friend showed those photos around, and I started getting modeling work. Some of it was respectable underwear and swimsuit shots, for advertisements, or what they call fitness model gigs in which I'd be the guy in gym shorts and no shirt, demonstrating a workout routine in some exercise or health magazine. Still, some of the jobs weren't so respectable--posing naked with a hard-on, or with my butt cheeks spread wide open to expose my ass, for gay sex magazines.

  "It's like I said before, extra income was extra income, so I didn't see anything to be embarrassed about. I was beginning to learn how to promote myself, and I was always on the lookout for new work.

  "Meanwhile, of course, I was sleeping around, getting in and out of relationships, most of them pretty casual, one or two a little more serious. One of my fuck buddies, who was kind of a sleazebag but really a lot of fun to be with, in and out of bed, kept telling me I was sexy enough to be an escort, or a porn actor, or both. I laughed it off, at first. However, I started to get curious, and I did a little research on the Internet.

  "One of the things I found was Jeremy Stark's website. He was a big porn star at the time, and a really successful escort. I can still remember how naïve I was back in those days. Jeremy had tabs on his site labeled About Jeremy, Contact Jeremy, and so forth. I was actually shocked to see that one of them was labeled, Fuck Jeremy. When you clicked on that one, information came up about how you could apply to work with Jeremy, either as a porn actor or a hustler, or both. There was the usual online questionnaire to fill out, well, now I know it was usual, but back then I was still clueless about such things. It included questions about what you looked like and what you were willing to do in bed. Of course you had to send in a nude photo along with it.

  "My fuck buddy dared me to fill out the questionnaire and send it back, along with one of my pictures, so I did. I picked out one of the hottest photos the professional photographer had taken of me to send, and I guess that did the trick, so to speak. Jeremy Stark contacted me and we agreed to meet for coffee, to talk. I ended up going back to his place with him. There I was, tricking with a famous porn star! He had a fantastic body and a huge cock, and he fucked me until I was screaming for mercy. It was the best sex I'd ever had, up until then.

  "Jeremy and I got along just fine, in and out of bed. He talked me into making a video with him, for his studio--aw, hell, who do I think I'm kidding? When I say he talked me into it, what I really mean is, he offered me a job, and of course I jumped at the chance. He didn't have to put any pressure on me. I was raring to go, as they say.

  "I started working as a male prostitute, too. Jeremy had more customers than he could handle, so he would steer the surplus clients my way, and of course, he'd take his cut. Some of the johns wanted to hire two hustlers at once, so Jeremy and I would tag team, so to speak.

  "Jeremy had lots of contacts in the industry out on the West Coast, so almost before I knew it, there I was, flying out to Los Angeles to have an audition with a guy Jeremy knew who ran one of the major porn studios. He hired me right away. It was a beginner's contract, one scene in one video, but with an option to make two more if they liked how that first one turned out. They did like it, so that launched my career.

  "I remembered reading somewhere that the average porn actor's career lasts about two years. I figured I'd been handed an opportunity, so I might as well make the most of it while it lasted. That old work ethic of mine kicked in again. I was smart enough to know that I didn't know anything about the industry, so I kept my eyes and ears open, and I tried to learn as much as I could, and learn it fast. I developed a reputation as somebody who was reliable. Someone who showed up on the set for a shoot on time, prepared, and did the job, without any attitude or any unrealistic expectations. I was there to do a job, namely to have sex with other guys in front of a camera and ejaculate on cue, so I decided I might as well try to do it well. Gay porn had already become a big industry, with a lot of money at stake, so the studios seemed to appreciate me. They liked working with me, so I got a lot of work.

  "And yes, I was hustling, too, turning tricks. You can sugar-coat it as much as you want, call yourself a male escort or a call boy, but the truth is you're still just a whore. There're only a handful of gay porn actors who can make their living doing only videos, full-time. Most of them have other jobs, and do the porn shoots in their spare time. Or they hustle, because that's where the big money is, and it's money that's usually not reported to the IRS, needless to say. And you barely have to advertise. All you need is a website, and maybe a few classified ads in gay newspapers and magazines. Your videos are
free publicity--the johns know who you are, they've seen you having sex on film, and you can just about name your price. Some johns collect porn stars the way people collect coins, or stamps.

  "There's a dark side to the sex industry, Austin, of course. I won't lie to you about that. Some guys get into it in the first place because they have personal problems, including self-esteem issues, and they're the ones who tend to crash and burn early. I've known at least three guys, all well-known actors, who died of drug overdoses, one who killed himself, and one who's in prison, convicted of murder.

  "I was a whore, but I tried to be a smart whore. I lost a lot of hustling work, probably hundreds of thousands of dollars over the years, because I wouldn't PNP, you know, party and play, with johns. Get high with them, in other words. Of course, if I'd done it, I'd have gone through all that money, supporting my own drug habit. Don't get me wrong, I was no saint. I liked to smoke pot and do poppers, and even snort a little coke sometimes. Pour a couple of shots of booze into me, and I was usually ready for anything. But I always refused to do crystal or ecstasy or GHB, or any other heavy shit like that. So I got a reputation for being a bit of a puritan, ironically enough. Luckily, I was never really much of a party boy, at least not in the more extreme, circuit party sense. I do enjoy group sex, I admit that. As you can tell from watching me in all of those gangbang videos I've made," he added, with a rueful laugh.

  "To make your living exclusively as a porn actor and an escort, you really have to hustle, twenty-four seven. It's exhausting. Which is why I never really lived that way. I always had my day jobs, so to speak. Sometimes, back in those early days in LA, it was nothing fancy--waiter, car valet, maintenance man, shipping clerk in a warehouse, security guy. That's how I first got interested in all the computer stuff, in fact. I was the security guy for a place that did website design and maintenance work, sitting there guarding their equipment at night and on weekends. Sometimes the computer geeks would come in to work at odd hours, during my shifts, and I'd strike up conversations with them. I thought it was interesting, and since so much of the porn business relied on the Internet, I began to see how you could eliminate the middle man and handle a lot of the technical stuff yourself, if you were smart and willing to invest some of your own money in it.

 

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