The Complete Story of Vincent Hancock

by K Westlake

  Valerie looked on at my story and commented. “That sounded like a very interesting encounter!”

  “Yes, it was. The night got better once we both got out of the Hot-Tub.” I smiled at Valerie and could see that the story had aroused her slightly. Her body and face gave the tell tale signs of sexual excitement but she was trying her best to stifle her natural responses.

  Valerie brought her attention back to business. “Is there any more you can add to this story?”

  “No, I am sorry. For the sake of my clientele’s privacy, I would be unable to give out further information. Please remember that our profession only exists if we are able to keep secrets!”

  Valerie pulled a face of displeasure. She did so even though she had enough details to write a decent article that I am sure her readers would appreciate.

  “Did you spend all night with this pop star?”

  “I did, she had to leave at breakfast to do a breakfast show for Capital Radio but I had the run of the Presidential suite until noon.” I smirked as I recalled ordering a breakfast fit for a King. It was paid for by Simone’s record label and she was adamant that I needed to restore my strength!

  Valerie laughed. “Did you ever see Simone again?”

  I recalled my meetings with Simone and smirked. “Yes, I have seen her on a couple of times in a professional capacity. She was eager to have a more regular commitment but rules are rules. And to succeed in this profession, I have had to play by the rules”

  *

  Play by the Rules

  Today’s meeting location was away from the interesting coffee of the truck stop and the motorway service station. Her stories must be popular as my interviewer invited me to meet in a fairly nice Italian restaurant. The village was pleasant and fixed with one of those names that were pompous and instantly forgettable. It was situated somewhere between Buckinghamshire and Bedfordshire. Geography was never my strong point, my teacher was a fossil who near the end of his career preferred to listen to the cricket on talk radio rather than actually teach his class. Valerie was here already and offered me a polite wave in order to gain my attention. Valerie was dressed to impress but doubted the effort was exclusively for me. My interviewer had allowed her femininity to escape its usual tomb of man-made fabrics, in honesty I was taken aback by Valerie’s true form; she was a delicate and beautiful creature in her own unique way. I decided to break the ice in my usual way, it would possible annoy her but it would break the tension that had appeared between us.

  “I didn’t realise we were meant to dress up for this interview. Did the message not reach me?”

  Valerie smiled and replied with a coolness I had not heard from her before. “Sorry Mr. Hancock but I am dressed up for somebody else tonight!” Valerie set her tape recorder running and I knew that she wanted this interview to be over quickly!

  De Costa had a look which made me feel anxious, she was about to ask me something either deeply personal or something she found embarrassed about.

  "Come on Valerie, spit out your question!"

  Valerie offered a slight smile to ease her own tension. "Okay Mr. Hancock, what criteria do you have to fill to get into your profession?"

  I saw the opportunity to set Valerie at ease and took it. "Is this interview not selling well enough?"

  My remark was met by a stern stare that faded into a genuine smile. "Vincent, please don’t be offended but you and I are very different. I know I could never contemplate such a thing!"

  Valerie did not seem the type to enter the oldest profession. I had noted that she was uncomfortable in her form and that could only lead to a rocky path of cosmetic surgery in our industry. Many a pretty girl had been corrupted by their inner demons. This leads to a desperate circle of drugs and surgical augmentation. Needing an answer I resorted to offering Valerie a flippant response.

  “I am sure you would be highly sought after Valerie, you have a certain element about you that is hard to find these days!”

  “It is called class Mr. Hancock, and you are right it is in short supply!” Valerie was being playful and I took her jibe as it was intended.

  “Ouch, that was almost a lethal strike from your tongue!”

  We both laughed and the mood between us settled back into its usual holding pattern of interviewer and interviewee.

  "Okay then, to satisfy the reader’s curiosity. Can you tell us the rules, code of honour and etiquette that you adhere to with your line of work?"

  I had not expected Valerie to ask me of these things, I had assumed she wanted the sexy details and as little of the background as possible. As the old saying goes, Sex sells!

  "Of course any occupation which gets emotionally and physically close to a client, will involve a certain amount of safeguarding." I saw the look Valerie gave me and knew the next words to leave her lips before she had even spoken them.

  "This is because your profession belongs to the black economy of this country?"

  This point railed me slightly; after all I was self employed and paid all manner of taxes to the state. There was very little difference in my mind when compared with some forms of stripping and the filming of pornographic movies. "The soliciting itself is illegal Valerie, sex with an age appropriate women is not!"

  "So let me get this right. You pay national insurance and submit tax returns like regular self employed business owners?" the contempt rolled of her tongue and my irritation grew at her use of words to demean my work. "Yes, Valerie I pay my way like a regular business owner."

  Valerie was astute enough to apologize but her opinion of my profession and industry was very much evident.

  "Okay Vincent, what about the practice of safe sex, prevention of pregnancy and all that other yucky stuff?"

  The use of "Yucky stuff" caused me to laugh hysterically for a few moments. "You really are uncomfortable with this subject aren't you Ms Costa?"

  Valerie made the petulant huff of a teenage girl who did not want to discuss a subject further, so I decided to take control of this part of the topic.

  "Basically when the client approaches the agency to hire a talent, they have to sign a waiver which places the weight of prevention of pregnancy on them. They also have to be tested for any sign of an S.T.D a day before the rendezvous."

  "That is bloody typical! That does not surprise me one bit, Mr. Hancock." it seemed that Valerie had a dim view of men; maybe she thought less of them than my industry.

  I continued despite her outburst. "Obviously we encourage the use of a condom but for some clients they want to feel everything from the encounter!"

  Valerie was curious. "How frequent do you get checked out?"

  "As part of our business agreement with the agency, we are screened weekly and cannot work unless we submit valid documentation." As I replied, Valerie calculated the potential of error and infection.

  "That hardly seems a watertight procedure?"

  Her response humoured me. "Do you believe that we escorts work every single night of the week?"

  Valerie was stumped. "I thought it likely; Yes, I suppose that I did!"

  “Do you know how often I work in my line of work?” it was my time to question her and I enjoyed the lost look in her eyes.

  “I have no idea!” Valerie shrugged and looked ill at ease answering questions. “How many nights do you work a week?”

  I knew that Valerie had preconceptions and I was beginning to enjoy making her seem foolish. “I work at most two nights in a week. If I worked any more then I would get sloppy and my performance would be drastically reduced!”

  Valerie found my response unexpected. “So you basically work the hours of a Premiership football player?”

  “Possibly, but they probably get more sex!” my response was in jest but probably had more truth to it than we realized. “I have to abstain from sex the night before an event and sometimes the night before that!”

  Valerie smiled she had found an opportunity to ask a question that needed to be asked at the right momen
t. “Does your Girlfriend mind the lack of sex in your relationship?”

  “I do not have a steady Girlfriend, Valerie. I would be unable to have a monogamous relationship and to pursue my level of commitment to my career!” It was a sad fact that I had not had a serious relationship in the last few years and even my mother had given up on grandchildren.

  “No Girlfriend, wow!” Valerie was surprised at my response. “Do any of these women who sleep with you ever want a relationship with you afterwards?”

  I sighed and realized that Valerie had asked a question that was guaranteed to probe my personal life yet again. “On some occasions, the client wants more than we can offer them but our professionalism insists we do not form too firm a bond with the women. My agency will only allow us to meet a specific client once a quarter; this would prevent too close a relationship from forming!”

  “But bonds do form?” queried Valerie.

  “Of course they do, after all we are human beings not mindless robots ruled by our penis!” My response caused Valerie to smile; it was a true smile and made her features seem less harsh.

  Valerie remarked partially in jest. “That is funny Mr. Hancock. I must confess I do see you as more Robotic than human!”

  “Believe me Valerie; it is often best to appear robotic in this industry. That way you can keep your own life separate. It is the sacrifice we escorts must make to fulfill the intricate role we play in society.”

  My words tickled Valerie and she rolled her eyes in disbelief. “So let me get this straight!” Valerie stirred her herbal tea with exaggerated purpose; it was obvious she still did not appreciate my profession. “You believe that you fulfill an important role in society?”

  I laughed; her words were a trap to be used against me at a future point. “Do I believe I provide an important role in society? No not at all, but I do personally believe there is more to what I do than ploughing a client and making her giddy for a few hours!”

  Valerie shook her head with vigour. “You seriously believe that Mr. Hancock?”

  “I do, I solve many complex problems for my clients and despite the occasional hiccup; we escorts save many marriages by helping our clientele come to terms with the true failures in their relationships!” I looked Valerie in the eyes as I spoke and knew her mind was made up on my profession long ago.

  My interviewer was obviously less than impartial at this point and I wondered how this finished interview will look in the centre of her glossy magazine. I was sure that my fellow escorts would be portrayed as gormless and chiseled mannequins with the social conscious of a hungry Great White Shark. At that moment, I wondered if I should call the interview off for today and let Valerie decide if she wanted to try a different line of enquiry. Perhaps one that did not include my narrative or insight!

  Before I could broach the subject, Valerie posed a question which I felt a genuine need to answer.

  “So Vincent, if you believe that you perform a service to society at large, give me an example of a time you helped somebody not for money but for the sake of human compassion?”

  Valerie expected me to fumble an answer which would highlight my own ego and set myself up for her much expected fall. “Well, Valerie there is a lot of things I do for money. It is the nature of my job. Do you slave over your laptop to only give the fruits of your labour away for free?”

  “Okay, I see what you mean. But you cannot tell me your profession helps any of society’s ills!” Valerie looked determined to prove her point but I would not allow her an easy victory.

  “Does a Butcher help cure society’s ills, or a plumber? Does a banker offer discounted loans to the needy?”

  Valerie nodded her acceptance of my argument; she seemed to have gathered as much information as she needed for her piece. She turned off her Dictaphone and sighed.

  “I could never do what you do and I do not understand the reason why an articulate and educated man such as you chose to continue your secret life.”

  Her frankness was unexpected but her feelings were never truly secret. My response to her was designed to educate her rather than start an argument.

  “I do what I do for money. I know it seems a mercenary occupation but I could list a hundred jobs with a similar murky ethics. My job does not change who I am and I do not believe I sell myself totally.”

  Valerie was itching to argue this with me and her response was filled with her own morality.

  “Would an Adult movie star feel the same way? Would they offer me the same response you have?” Valerie had a point but she still failed to grasp my original points.

  “I cannot answer what a Porn Star would. Their exploits are stored forever on film and there is a permanent record of them sharing themselves with the world. What I do is offer an intimate service with my client, what we do is fleeting in a moment of time. All that is left for my client is a memory and hopefully it is a memory that they cherish. I rarely make an emotional attachment with the client as it is a service I provide, pure and simple!”

  Valerie thought on my words and could only respond. “Then it would seem a very cold and businessmen like arrangement. I am not sure I could ever be the provider or the payee after hearing your words.

  “In fairness, my profession is not for everyone. If it was, I would not be able to afford certain luxuries in life.” I smiled at Valerie but she was not convinced by my world view or moral code.

  *

  Regular Clientele

  The local watering hole was barely a step up from the grotty service station off the motorway. I was met with attitude from the disgruntled bar staff and innuendo from a gaggle of women who had clearly drunk enough Pinot Noir to launch and float a battleship. I hated the pack mentality that was adopted by women of a certain age once they met up with other women and cheap alcohol. These were the same type of women who would put housekeeping into the oiled trousers of a stripper yet lambast their partners for daring to look at the breasts of a passerby. I was extremely glad that my level of prostitution avoided such blank and gruesome creatures.

  Valerie had already arrived in the grotty pub and had squirreled herself away in a booth far from the view of the drunken women. She had heard the comments aimed at me and could not help but laugh at my reaction.

  “Surely if they all clubbed in together you could service that gaggle of crones! Maybe that would shut them up?”

  I decided to reply with an expression that would communicate my response much better than words. I mimed a retching motion and my interviewer laughed with glee at my dislike of that idea.

  “Come now Vincent, I thought that you were a professional. Maybe your famed abilities do not stretch to women over a certain age?” a laugh filled with contempt came from Valerie’s throat, she still held onto her own little opinion of my profession; even though it seemed that she was warming to my personality.

  “What do you mean by women of a certain age?” I disliked her generalization, as an escort we obviously had to work within the legal rules of consent but like any business we couldn’t refuse our services on age grounds. So any women aged over eighteen was a potential customer, to do otherwise was a slippery slope to court action or hastily agreed settlements to keep the business out of the headlines.

  A quizzical look crossed my interrogators face. “So you don’t just sleep with the young and nubile upper classes?”

  “Of course not, I would estimate that at least a third of my clients fall into your image of starlets and frustrated trophy wives. In reality much of my client base is over the age of forty.” I could see my interviewer digesting my disclosure and her brain was working over drive to fix this new information into her opinion of me.

  Valerie looked me over with a professional interest before asking. “Ok, give me an example of your over forty clientele. Make it interesting and not just some lottery winner from Kent. I would like to hear of the highlife and your list of mature conquests!”

  “Very well, but can you not refer to them as conquests.
You make me sound like a predator on the prowl and that is not what I do!” Valerie acknowledged my point, but deep down it was obvious that she still saw me as an articulate gigolo!

  “So do you have a good example for me today?” Valerie tapped her teeth with her pen and awaited my reply.

  “There is one client who I think you would find interesting and she is approaching her 50th birthday, so she would appeal to the demographics of your readership! Her name is Claudette and she is a very special woman who I care greatly for!” Valerie looked surprised that I had researched her work and the magazine that had employed her.

  “Very well, let me hear of your work with one of your regular clients! Is she the typical kind of woman who employs your services?”

  I laughed at Valerie’s continued prejudices; it would seem that Valerie was intent on stereotyping my profession and the women who employed me for company. “Really Valerie, this would be much easier if you could keep open-minded!”

  Ms De Costa rolled her eyes and held her tongue, it was obvious that she wanted to argue the morality of my profession but she had a deadline to keep and my story was obviously a page turner.

  “Please tell me your tale, I will try and be professional from now on.”