Axel paused for a swig of beer. He got more animated as he continued. “Tell you what. I’m leaving Boulder at the end of the summer. Between now and then, I’ll introduce you to my clients and show you the ropes. Show you how hustling works. I’ll completely set you up.”
As surprised as I had been when Axel proposed screwing in front of an audience, I was blown away by Axel’s latest proposal. Could I make enough money to pay for college by having sex with men? Did I want to? Why wouldn’t I? What was the alternative?
“My tricks will love you,” Axel continued. “I’m getting too old for some of them anyway. You’ll be the hot new thing in town. Cute boy, dynamite body, hot fuck: guaranteed big bucks for you. A sexy twink who bottoms can write his own ticket. What do you say?”
Axel didn’t wait for my answer. He pulled me into a sloppy kiss, grabbing my ass cheeks with his big, bony hands and grinding against me. He growled in my ear, “All I want for setting you up is the use of your tight ass whenever I want to dump a load between now and when I leave town.” Left unsaid was that Axel would give me a crash course in gay sex, and after what he had done earlier, I wanted it.
My days as a rent boy had begun.
It was ironic that I had been thinking about quitting as a rent boy when the cops closed the noose in Aspen. I had collected three big paydays over the holidays, and with only a semester of college left, I had enough money to graduate. But now my career as a rent boy would die a quick death and my time as a college student would be abruptly cut short, both casualties of my arrest.
Six months after Axel started me on the path of being a rent boy, on the first anniversary of my parents giving me the boot, Christmas reared its ugly head. I was intent on banishing my bad memories of Christmases past. With no family, I decided a day of skiing by myself would be a perfect solution. The day was crystal clear, the fresh snow was perfect, and the skiing was wonderful. At least that was the way the day started, with no hint that getting kicked out by my parents on Christmas Day the year before wouldn’t be the last of my Christmas disasters. My day ended in a hospital bed after I shattered my leg and lay crumpled in the snow for a couple of hours before the ski patrol chanced on me.
The next year, Christmas approached like a dark cloud, but I convinced myself I had been merely unlucky the year before. The lack of early season snow meant few ski runs were open that year, and the weather was windy and bitterly cold, so I ruled out another day on the slopes. Not wanting to spend the day watching television, I figured I might as well make some money.
Christmas Day wasn’t the day most men went looking for a rent boy, but a guy surfaced and I agreed to meet him, even though some things about him were sketchy. I should have trusted my instincts, paid attention to the warning flags, and gone to the movies instead. The guy who rented me had two buddies, and they made sure they got their money’s worth. By the time each of the trio got their rocks off a couple of times, they were drunker than skunks. However, things went from bad to worse because the three guys were ugly drunks and, after they had their fun, they liked roughing up rent boys.
I was in plenty of pain by the time the jerks dumped me in the snow outside their condo. I didn’t exactly have a good story about how I got the shit kicked out of me, so I was intent on avoiding another Christmas Day hospital visit. That plan lasted until I coughed up blood and glumly concluded I had no choice besides the emergency room. At least I wasn’t there too long. I spent most of my stay avoiding pointed questions from a friendly and caring nurse about how I got the black eye, broken rib, and nasty bruises.
By the next Christmas, I fully expected Christmas disasters, so what happened was almost predictable. Once again I was in Aspen, where Landon and I were waiting tables during the holiday crunch. Not wanting to feel like a fifth wheel at Landon’s family celebration, I politely declined his repeated offers to spend the day with his family, and instead pulled a double shift at the restaurant. Exhausted after being on my feet all day long, I was a block from the restaurant when my junker car was broadsided by a drunk driver. My injuries weren’t severe, but I was bleeding enough that the police took no chances. I found myself in Aspen’s emergency room for the third consecutive Christmas. It’s not a good thing when you’re on a first name basis with the ER nurses.
Those yearly disasters paled in comparison to getting arrested. It was undoubtedly the worst of my Christmas catastrophes. Being disowned by my parents was inevitable. Injuries could heal. But this time I had wrecked my entire life.
Jail time would not be easy, and criminal records didn’t disappear. Despite that, I was halfway relieved to have my days as a rent boy come to an end. I had lived on borrowed time as I turned trick after trick. The conclusion of my gay escort story was obvious; I would be locked up with the key thrown away. I feared that was my destination all along.
The opening of the door to my padded cell—uh, acoustic room—startled me out of my reverie. I peered up at Agent Richardson, wondering what was going to happen next. Damn, in the dim light, he looked even more like Morgan Freeman. Maybe Freeman in The Shawshank Redemption. Fuck. Was I going to be locked in prison forever like Tim Robbins’s character in The Shawshank Redemption?
A young man appeared behind Richardson and entered the room. Time seemed to slow as I realized, to my astonishment, that the man was my college roommate Landon. My first reaction was that I had never seen Landon in a suit. It took me a few moments to clear my sleep-deprived brain and piece together that the handsome man in the suit wasn’t Landon. Instead, Landon’s look-alike cousin Hayden was gazing at me.
What sort of bizarre alternative universe had I slipped into? I was stark naked, in police custody, and Hayden Adler was smiling at me like he was happy to see me.
Hayden was older than Landon but barely looked it. I first met Landon the day I moved my meager belongings into the freshman dorm at college. I wasn’t aware Landon was my roommate the first time I saw him, but that first look was memorable. I was blown away. My roommate-to-be was dressed in gym shorts and a tank top that served mostly to expose his ripped chest and abs, and it was clear Landon’s body was to die for. His dark hair and smoldering eyes, framed by long eyelashes, left me weak in the knees. When the confident, outgoing, fun, and handsome guy entered my room with a big smile and a happy face and announced we were sharing the room, I thought I had hit the jackpot.
On the surface, Landon and I had little in common. I was from small-town Colorado while Landon came straight from an exclusive boarding school on the East Coast. My passport was pristinely untouched. Landon’s looked like a round-the-world travelogue. Nevertheless, we became fast friends and stayed roommates for four years. We shared many of the same interests, and Landon never planned anything without including me.
Landon was puzzled and a little hurt that I never introduced him to anyone I was dating, but I had my reasons. Actually only a single reason: due to my rent boy career, I never dated. If I ever got involved with another guy, how would I explain my periodic disappearances for paid sexual liaisons? School was my number one priority, not romance. The entire time we were in college, I desperately struggled to keep my rent boy activities secret from Landon.
To my regret, Landon was straight, not even a tiny bit bisexual. But he raved about a gay older cousin. Hayden. Landon’s comfort level with Hayden’s sexual orientation eased my path to coming out to Landon, and as soon as I confided to him that I was gay, Landon immediately announced Hayden and I would be the perfect couple and went about trying to set us up, despite Hayden being twenty-four while I was barely eighteen.
Landon constantly showed me pictures of Hayden, and Hayden easily could have been Landon’s older brother. Although Hayden was six years older than Landon, he didn’t look it. I met Hayden when he came through Boulder to see Landon during the fall of my freshman year, and I was completely infatuated. After that, I saw Hayden on brief occasions, and each time I came away convinced he was hotter than ever. Today, in a suit with his tie slig
htly ajar, he might have looked the best.
“Thanks, Paul,” Hayden said to Richardson, “I can take it from here.”
“You sure?” Richardson asked. “I’m happy to stay.”
“Not necessary,” Hayden replied, shaking his head. “You’ve been away from your family long enough on Christmas, and Denver is a long drive, particularly in the snow. Tell the wife and kids hello. And have fun putting together those two bicycles! Your hardest job of the day is still in front of you.” Richardson chuckled as he shook hands with Hayden and then left the room.
Hayden was a superstar in Landon’s extended family, which said something because everybody in the family was demonstrably famous, rich, talented, or all three. When I first met Hayden, he was president of the Harvard Law Review, like a certain guy with the last name of Obama had been years earlier. After law school, Hayden clerked at the US Supreme Court for two years, and following that he took a job with the US Attorney General. The sky was the limit for his legal career.
Although Landon tried his best to link me with Hayden, I chalked it up to Landon’s naiveté and an overabundance of silly romantic notions, ungrounded in reality. Not only was Hayden six years older than me, he was royalty and I was from the other side of the tracks. If Hayden’s credentials didn’t put him out of my league, his looks certainly did, with his incredible body and dreamy eyes. He could have any gay or bisexual man he wanted. Probably some straight ones too.
I was only a college kid, and even in the unlikely event that Hayden’s status and looks didn’t put him out of my league, another small problem existed. One that had forestalled any relationship between Hayden and me. A guy like Hayden—working for the Supreme Court and then the Attorney General, for Christ’s sake—couldn’t chance being associated with a guy like me. The hustler, rent boy, boy whore, working gay prostitute. Hayden and I were from opposite sides of the tracks in more ways than one.
Hayden had been in Aspen over Thanksgiving a month before my arrest, and I chanced on him then. Landon had invited me to Aspen over the holiday, and I happily accepted, because I knew I could turn a few tricks during the week even if the skiing wasn’t good. As usual on my trips to Aspen with Landon, we stayed at his great-uncle’s house on Red Mountain. We had arrived a couple of days early because we didn’t have classes. Landon’s great-uncle asked if we would fire up the hot tub and turn on the ice makers before guests arrived, along with checking the heat in the bedrooms and opening the shades. The routine was like opening a beach house for the summer. Landon had planned a quick trip to Beaver Creek to see his girlfriend Barbara, but I was happy to undertake the job. I had enjoyed frequent stays at the house with Landon after we became college roommates, so it was the least I could do.
I made my way through the quiet house, debating whether to get in a few ski runs before an après-ski rent boy appointment in the late afternoon. As went the snow, so went my rent boy bookings; the good, early snow meant my schedule for the weekend was reasonably full. In the last bedroom in the house, I flipped the switch to open the shades—the shades in the house were all electronic—and I heard a deep voice say, “What are you, a human wake-up call?”
I almost jumped out of my skin and spun around, staring at a shirtless Adonis in bed. As the morning light streamed across his incredible body, it took me a breathless moment to recognize Hayden.
Hayden may have been naked, although I couldn’t tell for sure because he had a sheet pulled up to his waist. What I could tell was that he was gorgeous. He had Landon’s longish, wavy hair, but it was a little lighter and, close up, his bare chest was amazing, even better than Landon’s.
“Oh, shit,” I blurted out. My face immediately felt hot, and I’m sure it flushed bright red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here. The guests weren’t supposed to arrive until this afternoon. I’m really sorry.” I plotted how to gracefully close the shade and run.
A smile broke on Hayden’s face. “Don’t worry about it. I got in late last night, a day early. No reason you would have known.” I was wearing only basketball shorts, and Hayden’s eyes scanned me up and down, pausing on my bare chest. He opened his mouth slightly before saying, “Best wake-up call I’ve had in a while. If you hire out for human-alarm-clock work, I’m interested.” He gave me a sly wink.
Holy crap, I thought. Did the Adonis I was staring at just make a veiled pass? I was probably fantasizing. I started to apologize again but, recalibrating quickly in light of the possible opportunity, I caught myself and instead said, “Uh, well, I’m sure we can work something out,” returning Hayden’s smile. Lame response, I thought.
“Well, that definitely needs a fuller discussion,” Hayden said, pulling off the sheets and reaching for a pair of boxer shorts. He was naked after all, and I couldn’t help but stare, my eyes riveted on every move of his muscles. He glanced up, catching me blatantly scoping him out, and grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Now that you’ve disrupted my plans of sleeping in, you can at least make me a cup of coffee,” he said.
“Sure!” I replied, not wanting to stop staring but realizing I had to pull myself somewhat together. I hit the kitchen, starting the coffeemaker while my heartthrob detoured into the bathroom. By the time the coffee was finished, I was already well down the road of an elaborate fantasy where we spent all morning in bed, fell deeply in love by nightfall, got married by the weekend, and lived happily ever after.
Hayden reminded me of Landon in more than merely appearance. His voice sounded like Landon’s, he had some of the same mannerisms, and even his smile was Landon’s. As I watched him climb the stairs to the kitchen, I salivated over his bare arms.
It’s bizarre, but I’m an arm guy. Most guys are into pecs, asses, or abs, and of course cocks, but for me all I need to decide if a man is handsome is to see his arms. My soon-to-be coffee-mate’s arms were wonderful, not hugely muscular, but ripped and well-defined. Incredibly well-defined. His shoulders stuck out from his body noticeably, making his slender torso look even leaner, and when he bent his arm ninety degrees, his bicep popped out like a balloon, barely contained under his smooth, tight skin. His toned forearms were graced by thick veins and he had big hands, which I pictured holding my shoulders as he moved in to kiss me.
“So, Alec,” Hayden said as he accepted a cup of coffee and sat down on a bar stool. Still in his boxer shorts, he looked amazing. “I’m glad we’re getting a chance to spend a little time together and get to know each other. Seems like only yesterday that you and Landon were freshmen.”
It suddenly hit me that everything about the situation was wrong. What was I thinking? I couldn’t chat up Hayden and dream about him taking me to bed. I was a fucking rent boy and would be like a toxic plague to Hayden. As much as my heart felt differently, in my head I knew I could have nothing to do with the man. The tatters of my fantasy drifted away like a puff of smoke dissipating in Colorado’s strong Chinook winds.
“Landon talks about you all the time,” Hayden continued with a warm smile, “when we’ve had the chance to talk, which hasn’t been enough. Where is he these days?”
“Uh, he’s dating a woman in Beaver Creek,” I replied dully, plotting my escape. We were both shirtless and wearing only shorts, but I suddenly felt exposed and naked. What was I thinking, prancing around the house shirtless? I had to get out of here and soon. “I think they might be serious,” I added. I took a big gulp of coffee, quickly regretting my move because the coffee was way too hot. But I needed to move.
“Really?” Hayden said. “He always has beautiful women around, but I’m surprised. I want to meet the woman who can tame him.” Hayden took a sip of his coffee. He set his cup on the counter, and his hand lingered next to mine.
It was my cue to respond in kind, to up the ante, by touching his leg or letting my hand drop on his. He wanted me, I desperately wanted him, and I couldn’t let it happen.
“Look, I’m really sorry about this morning,” I said. Not having a clue as to what to say next, I took an en
ormous gulp of my still too-hot coffee, reducing it to almost nothing and scalding my throat.
Hayden shrugged, grinning at me and saying, “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, it was a great way to start the day.”
I hurriedly drained the last of my coffee. I got to my feet and said, “Great to get to spend some time with you. And sorry again about the shades. Unfortunately, I have to run, but maybe I’ll see you around.” I would make sure that wouldn’t happen.
A puzzled looked crossed Hayden’s face as I raced away. He was probably having trouble reconciling the two boys he had seen—one in his bedroom giving every indication of being ready to hop in bed, and the other rushing for an exit like the house was on fire. I glanced at Hayden one last time as I headed for the lock-off room I shared with Landon, at least on the nights when neither of us was otherwise engaged. The man of my dreams was sitting on a bar stool, shirtless and eager to talk, and I was running away as fast as I could.
I was depressed for the rest of the day and declined Landon’s offer to join his family for Thanksgiving dinner. I made sure to steer a wide berth over the holiday, slipping in and out of the house so I wasn’t noticed. This was part of the price I would pay for having gone down the path of being a rent boy. No boyfriends, at least none with anything to lose.
Skiing the next day, I obsessively thought about Hayden and when I got back to my room, I gave in to the temptation to google him. I spent a good couple of hours reading about his career and staring at various pictures of him. I was correct that he was totally out of my league. I got thousands of Google hits for him. In contrast, googling my name got exactly three hits—a reference to pitching a no-hitter in a high school baseball game, my college mug shot, and an article about a program I started at college that recruited volunteers to help prepare and serve meals for homeless people. I was the invisible man next to Hayden. I might as well have been lusting after Brad Pitt.
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