One morning, while I was fucking Aldrich, the door opened. It was Christoph and Benedict. They discovered our secret.
“What’s happening here?” Christoph asked.
“You mean, you’re doing this without us?” Benedict added.
They suddenly closed the door and undressed themselves. Aldrich was chuckling.
“It’s party time!” Benedict shouted.
--THE END--
Hustler’s Paradise
I was sitting outside a coffee shop one day when I spotted a sexy hustler standing on the corner across the street. I’d been in West Hollywood for about a week at that point and I was starting to get the lay of the land. I’d seen enough people in that time frame to immediately sense that this guy was working the streets. He kept his hand in the pockets of ripped jeans. His tight white t-shirt sensuously hugged his lean, muscular upper torso. There was a confidence and toughness in the way he held his body. I had to get closer to him. I had to talk to him.
****
I rolled out of bed and pulled back the curtains. Midday traffic was buzzing in the streets below. It was another hot summer day. It would probably get up into the nineties and the humidity would be off the charts. I was sick of these sweltering summers in the Northeast and hungry to get back out west. But that would take money and money was something that I didn’t have much of at the time. I just had enough to pay the rent, keep food and beer in the fridge, and a pack of smokes in my pocket. Maybe you could say that I had low expectations for myself but I would disagree. I’d just learned to see silver linings.
That’s something I’d struggled to do when I was out West trying to make it as an actor. Each day presented me with a new kind of rejection. I was constantly struggling to pay my portion of the rent. Eventually the three other people I lived with decided that it would be best for me to move out. They were so desperate to get me out that they didn’t even bother telling me before hand. I came home one day from yet another unsuccessful audition and all my shit was on the curb in front of the building. My first instinct was to run up in the building and start cracking heads but I figured that would only make the situation worse. And besides, it had been over three months since I’d contributed to the monthly payments.
I would have done the same thing. But I probably would have put my ass out into the street a couple months earlier. I knew that day of reckoning was coming. I was just hoping that I’d be able to land a gig somewhere and put some money in my pocket. The real world of Hollywood turned out to be very different from what they had prepared me for in acting school. For two years my professors had filled me with praise and convinced me that I was destined to be a success once I headed out West. What a waste those two years had turned out to be. The only good thing was that I’d been given full scholarship, so I wasn’t in debt like a lot of people I’d gone to school with.
I’d been dreading being kicked out of my apartment but when it finally happened I felt calm. It was like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t have to worry about when this big, bad terrible thing was going to happen. I didn’t have to worry about what my roommates were saying behind my back. I was free. I had no idea what I would do going forward but I definitely felt a sense of freedom. It also seemed like the right time to move on from my acting. It had only brought me misery and disappointment and I was tired of living like that.
For a few days I wandered the streets, slept in parks, and rode the bus up and down Sunset. When I got down to about fifteen bucks in my pocket, I decided to head over to the West Hollywood area. I knew there was a lot of money on those streets but I wasn’t sure how I was going to get it. Sure, I was thinking that I would turn some tricks in order to get paid. But I really wasn’t sure how to break into that game. What I understood was that most of those types of hookups were done online, particularly with smart phones. I didn’t have a phone at the time and the only access I had to computers and the Internet was through the public libraries.
I was sitting outside a coffee shop one day when I spotted a sexy hustler standing on the corner across the street. I’d been in West Hollywood for about a week at that point and I was starting to get the lay of the land. I’d seen enough people in that time frame to immediately sense that this guy was working the streets.
He kept his hand in the pockets of ripped jeans. His tight white t-shirt sensuously hugged his lean, muscular upper torso. There was a confidence and toughness in the way he held his body.
I had to get closer to him. I had to talk to him. I figured that if I had any chance of making it in the street game, I would have to get some advice from people who had been there and done it.
I crossed the street and walked directly towards him. He scanned the scene from left to right. A cigarette dangled from his hand. The other hand adjusted his crotch. My cock started wriggling. His buzz cut hair highlighted his masculine jar. What a fucking stud.
“Hey man do you have another smoke?” I said.
He didn’t turn towards me right away. He looked off into the distance. I worried that he was blowing me off. Maybe he thought I was cop.
With his eyes fixed in another direction, he began digging his hand into his pants. He pulled out a package of American Spirits. He flicked the pack open and extended it to me.
“Take one,” he said. He took another drag and blew out a cloud of smoke. He finally turned towards me with his head cocked to the side.
“You gonna take a smoke or just stare at me?” He said. I hurriedly dug into the pack and pulled a cigarette loose. Once I had it lit, I tried to make some small talk.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I asked.
He ignored the question and continued smoking and surveying the scene. “I’m not trying to be rude,” I said. “I’m just little lost in this city and I was hoping that you could help me.”
He flashed his light green eyes in my direction. “A little lost?” He said with a mocking laugh.
“Yeah, I’m sort of homeless and—”
“Homeless? You don’t look homeless,” he said, looking me up and down.
“Yeah, I’ve been showering and shaving at the YMCA on La Cienaga. But I’ve been sleeping outside.”
“Where?”
“Grant Park.”
“That’s pretty stupid. Cops are always rolling through there.”
“So you’ve been on the street too?” I asked.
He snickered and slowly turned his head towards me. “You could say that,” he said.
I really wanted to know more about him. But I was afraid to say the wrong thing. I was afraid that he would tell me to fuck off.
He took one last drag on his cigarette then tossed it onto the sidewalk. “You hungry?” He asked.
Ten minutes later we walked into a burger shop on sunset. When I reached into my pocket for my wallet, I felt his hand on my arm.
“I got you,” he said.
I stared at him for a few moments, confused. It’d been a long time since anyone had offered to buy me anything. Even though it was a just a burger and fries, I was grateful.
I sunk my teeth into the delicious meat. Beef, onions, lettuce, tomato, and barbecue sauce sloshed around my mouth. It wasn’t the fanciest meal I’d had since being in LA, but it was definitely the most enjoyable. A couple of hours ago my stomach had been crying out with hunger pains. I’d figured that I would have to go most of the day without eating. But just when I was starting to lose hope in myself, in other people, and everything else, this tough-talking street dude came to my rescue.
Once I’d finally showered and shaved, I headed out of my apartment and onto the downtown streets. There wasn’t much competition for hustlers like myself in this town. Most people who were into this kind of work plied their trade down in the city. Friends of mine were always trying to get me to move down there, but I would always refuse. The rents were too damn high, food too damn expensive, and there were way too many people. I’ve always been the kind of person who needed space. That’s wh
y I left home at a young age. I couldn’t stand being around all my brothers and sisters and I figured that I would do better out on my own.
“Hey Johnny! I looked up and saw a familiar face coming towards me. It was Miguel. He was being tugged down the block by his short and stocky female pit bull. Wherever he went that dog was sure to be there with him.
He had a beaming smile on his face as he approached me.
“You up slinging dick this early?” He said. His face was full of playfulness.
Noon was early in the day for me and I usually didn’t do a whole lot of joking around until I’d at least had my first cup of coffee. But there was something about his yellow-toothed smile that put me at ease.
“Early bird gets the trick,” I said. We both laughed and slapped hands. Miguel had been one of the first people to help me when I’d moved back East. He knew everyone on the streets. Or you could say everyone knew him. He could go into almost every neighborhood and not worry about anyone bothering him.
“So what’s up?” I said. “Where’s the action at?”
He smiled broadly and licked his lips. Miguel was known for turning tricks but he was always generous about giving me the heads up about potential clients.
“You ever been over to the Trump Tower?”
“Trump tower? Isn’t that place a little two high class for us?”
“Bullshit!” He said, spitting onto the concrete in disgust. “Those rich bastards need cock just as badly as the faggots down in the barrio.”
“So we’re gonna walk up in there with a pit bull? You think the people at the front desk won’t have anything to say about that?”
“Nah. We’re not going to walk up in there and do anything. But your white ass won’t have a problem getting in there.”
He might have been right about that. Even on the streets there were different rules depending on your race. It wasn’t anything scientific or anything. It was just the deeply entrenched prejudice that still swam just beneath the surface. As long as I had on a decent pair of clothes, my pale skin and green eyes would give me access to just about any place in town. I mean the nice, predominantly white places.
It’s not something I spent a lot of time worrying about, except when I went down to the barrios. Those were the neighborhoods filled with black and brown faces. There were lots of immigrants from the Caribbean and Central America. When I went over to those parts either to turn a trick or to visit a friend, my whiteness was immediately thrown in my face. I was made to feel unwelcome because of my race. That gave me a bit of perspective of what the other hustlers encountered when they tried to go into white areas or establishments.
“How many tricks in there for me?”
“Depends how you do on this first one. There might be some more in that building.”
“What’s the fee?”
He grinned like a cat on the prowl, then pushed a long lock of black hair out of his face.
“Ah, the fee,” he said. “I thought you were in this for the love of the game.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about my love of the game,” I said. “But this month I really got to focus on my rent.”
“This job will solve any problems you have with rent.”
“How much?” I said.
“250 an hour.”
I stared at him for a moment in silence. I wasn’t sure that I’d heard him correctly so I waited for him to repeat himself.
“You want to do it?” He said.
“Hell, yeah, I want to do it. What’s the catch?”
He shook his head. “I guess you still don’t trust me. That really makes me sad,” he said sarcastically.
“Well, I’m sorry,” I said. “But really need to know more details.”
“Not many details. When you get up to the suite, the client will let you know what exactly he expects from you. Cool?”
I nodded my head yes.
An hour later, I walked through the huge glass doors that led into the lobby of the Trump Tower building. This was by far the nicest building in town. Its construction was supposed to start some kind of real estate renaissance around here. Unfortunately, that never happened and the beautiful building seemed to stand on an island of its own, overlooking the rest of the small city’s modestly sized buildings. This definitely wasn’t my kind of place but in this line of work you had to be willing to go where the money was. This location definitely fit the bill. Money was everywhere—new and old.
I gave my name to the receptionist and waited nervously while she called up to the room. When she hung up the phone, she told me that I could take the elevator up.
On the sixteenth floor, I got off the elevator. I looked at the room number that Miguel had written down on a piece of paper. I walked down the hall and knocked on the door. Within a few moments, I heard footsteps approaching the door. Nervous energy flowed throughout my body. I was trying to imagine all the weird shit that this guy could be into. How far would he make me go to earn my fee?
The door opened slowly and a hand waved me into the apartment. I was a little nervous about entering before I saw the trick’s face. Then I remembered what Miguel had said about the $250 fee. That helped me get over my nervousness. I walked into the apartment. The door shut quickly behind me. I turned around and looked at the dude.
He was tall and slim with a swimmers body. He was wearing a long white robe. His face was handsome and it had a bit of stubble on it. His eyes were on fire with lust as he walked towards me.
“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a living room area with a couch and a TV. The condo was a lot nicer than any apartment I’d ever lived in. Everything seemed so new and shiny. I was afraid to break anything. I was really afraid to touch anything.
I walked over to a red couch and sat down tentatively. The guy was smiling down at me. I could feel an instant attraction between us. It was undeniable.
“I’ve heard about you Shawn,” he said. “From all accounts you do very good work. High quality.”
That threw me off a bit. Miguel hadn’t said anything about this guy knowing me. I would have asked for a higher fee if that were the case.
“That’s interesting,” I said. I knew that it would be best not to ask how he’d heard of me. That sort of stuff eventually would come out. But it was always best to let the trick volunteer that information.
“I’m not sure if you’re Mexican friend told you what I’m looking for.”
Miguel was from Guatemala but I didn’t see the point in quibbling about the matter.
“No, he didn’t say anything about what you wanted specifically. He just mentioned a fee. That’s all.”
The trick sat down on the couch and crossed his legs towards me. He slowly turned his head in my direction and smiled. “Yes, the fee is 250 an hour. And maybe more than that if you meet my standards.”
“I don’t think I’ll have a problem with that,” I said.
“Do you have any other clients?” He asked.
I didn’t like when people started prying into my business. I’m sure he was looking for some kind of leverage. I knew better than to give away any information that would hurt my bargaining power.
“I always deal multiple clients,” I said. “I’m kept very busy.”
The trick crossed his arms against his chest then stood up. He began pacing around the condo. Something was clearly bothering him. He turned suddenly on his heels and stared at me sharply.
“That’s not acceptable,” he said. “I need you to be a full-time employee of mine.”
“I’m sorry,” I said getting off the couch. “But that just doesn’t make business sense for me.”
“I’ll pay you three thousand dollars a week.”
I quickly sat back down on the couch. He had to be kidding. I stared at him, expecting him to break out into raucous laughter. But to my surprise the expression on his face was intensely serious. He wasn’t kidding.
“I will give you a brief trial period. If you meet my qualifications, I will expect y
ou to work for me and only me. You will be on call twenty-four hours a day. Any work you do for me between 10PM and 5AM will be counted as overtime and you will receive twice your normal rate.”
At this point I probably had my mouth gaping open. No one had ever made me such an offer. He still hadn’t told me what exactly he expected from me. But with the kind of money that he was offering, it didn’t really matter to me. I would be willing do almost anything to bring home that sort of cash every week. Within no time, I’d be able to move to a nicer place.
“You seem impressed by that offer,” he said. “Do you agree?”
I hesitated before answering. Before I agreed to anything, I would need some details on what would be expected of me.
“What do you want me to do?”
He smiled slyly and sat back down on the couch. He slid a few inches closer to me. The white robe was slightly open and I could see a smooth, hairless chest. I felt my cock begin to squirm in my pants. I loved guys who took the time to thoroughly groom themselves.
“I’m sure it’s nothing that you haven’t done before.”
There was a moment of silence before he continued. It all sounded too good god be true.
“I’m going on a one hundred day self-denial diet,” he said. “That means that for one hundred days I’m forbidding myself to cum.”
This was already different from any job I’d done before. But I didn’t want to seem like I had no idea what he was asking of me, so I stayed quiet and let him continue.
“But I don’t want this to easy on me,” he said. “Actually I want it to be extremely difficult. And I also want to ensure that the punishments meted out, in case I fail, are extremely harsh.”
He stared at me intensely, his eyes boring a hole through my skull. I had no idea why he’d picked me for the task. But I figured that the best thing to do was to agree. If I couldn’t handle the work, I could always ask out.
Interracial Romance: Gay Romance: Bound By His Own Desires (MMM Endowed Black Men Bondage Threesome Romance) (A Billionaire's Freedom Book 3) Page 58