The Complete Story of Vincent Hancock

by K Westlake

  *

  Chapter Two: The Same but Different.

  I dialed my Agency contact and waited for them to answer. The Agency was always had its phones manned. They were a twenty four hours a day and seven days a week operation. I was unsure if we were open religious holidays but having never worked Christmas, I was unlikely to ever find out. The phone rang for close to a minute; it was very likely that my calls did not warrant an immediate response as most inbound calls were sent to a different number which dealt exclusively with bookings for the talent. The phone was finally answered by Maureen; she acted as my handler and did her best to organize my hectic schedule. In fairness she knew my routine and would never try to force me to work in my downtime. Maureen had looked after me from my first year in the trade and she was an unofficial parent to many of the guys who worked for her. Maureen was not a woman to take lightly and those who crossed her, usually ended up bruised and humbled.

  “Hancock, have you finally finished your little break?” Maureen lacked her usual affection towards me, I had been away for nearly a month and I had obviously cost her and the company money.”

  My desire was to get to the point of the message and not have to explain my absence from the roster.

  “Hi Maureen, I believe there is a message about meeting Ms De Costa again?”

  Maureen did not reply straight away, I knew she already had all the information that I needed and I knew that she was happy to keep me waiting on her response.

  Finally she spoke. “Both Ms De Costa and her company have left a number of messages over the last week for you. I keep telling them, that you were on annual leave and they took your absence as you playing hardball with them. Every phone call saw your fee increase, it seems like the journalist is adamant about using your experience to further her career!”

  I sighed down the phone and immediately regretted my response, it was unwise to let emotion show to Maureen; she would sense my trepidation and take me to task for it.

  “Is it worth doing these interviews, Maureen?”

  Maureen sighed in a similar manner to my own. This surprised me greatly; she was not one for displays of personal opinion or dramatic pauses.

  “I think you should do it for the money, Vincent. It is well above what people are usually paid for the interviews and you get to keep your clothes on for once.”

  I sensed there was a counter argument waiting to be explored but Maureen left it for me to decide the next course of action. “Okay Maureen, see if you can squeeze a bit extra out of De Costa’s company. I am in this to make money and after what happened last time, a message needs to be sent!”

  Maureen laughed at my hard stance. “Okay Vincent, I will get you a good rate. And remember if you ever need to talk, find someone else!”

  I laughed at Maureen’s flippancy and realized that she filled many roles for the Agency. “Give me a text when they reply, but don’t start asking for silly money!”

  Maureen knew the conversation was over and felt no need to indulge in her usual small talk. “Very well Vincent, I will get you a good rate and get back to you. I assume that you are back on the roster from the weekend?”

  It was time for me to return to action and I had waited long enough. “Yeah, I am available for regulars from this weekend. If no regulars are interested then I will give the weekend a miss!”

  Maureen tapped at her keyboard and gave a satisfied response. “One of your regulars has been pestering for your return date. Is Saturday night in Birmingham okay for you?”

  “That should be fine, thank you!” I disconnected my call and wondered what the weekend would bring. I found myself more interested in the response of Valerie and her interviews, rather than the forbidden joy of sex with one of my elite clients.

  *

  Valerie was waiting for me at the same pub that led to the breakdown of our business arrangement. She saw my arrival and waved enthusiastically as I walked through the door. The pub was deserted and I was not accustomed to entering a public house this early in the morning. The last time I had been in a pub this early was in my Navy days and for most of my term in the Navy; I spent most of my day drunk or gearing up to drink more alcohol. Things were very different now and I would be indulging in nothing stronger than a soft drink.

  Valerie called over to the barman. “Can you get my friend a bottled cola, no lemon and two ice cubes?”

  “That is great, thank you Valerie.” At least Valerie doubled checked that I required ice, but her actions did little to reassure me.

  My interviewer cleared her throat and spoke meekly. “Thank you for coming Vincent, as I am sure you are aware; my publishers would like us to continue our business relationship. They are eager to produce a sequel to our previous collaboration.”

  I was disappointed by Valerie’s lack of explanation; she seemed keen to get back into the old routine and did not wish to explain her actions.

  “So we are sweeping the events of the last time we met, underneath the table?” my question did not surprise her and she had expected such a query.

  “Vincent what has passed is now the past, we have an opportunity to earn good money together and we would be fools to pass up this chance.” Valerie removed her Dictaphone and seemed unlikely to add any more to the subject.

  I was not impressed by Valerie’s words and pressed the subject further. “I am surprised that you are willing to work with me again, considering your last words to me.”

  Valerie scowled again, it had been a few months since they had last been furrowed in displeasure at me but they were an enduring memory of her. “Vincent, you are getting close to a £1,000 per interview, you are a huge wealth of information and my readers find you fascinating.”

  “I am getting £1,000 per interview?” I was shocked by that amount; it would seem that Maureen had been busy negotiating on my behalf. “How many books have you sold based on my exploits, Valerie?”

  Valerie sighed and then allowed a small smile to escape her lips. “I believe that we have sold a few thousand, worldwide!”

  “Really, are that many people interested in my life?” I was shocked by the numbers and had not even thought to check if a book had been released. “Do I get royalties too?”

  Valerie laughed. “No Vincent, perhaps your Agencies vulture should have negotiated that for this book!”

  “So I get a flat fee and no artistic direction?” my response was intended as humour and for once Valerie accepted it as such.

  “Do you call yourself an artist, Vincent?” Valerie mocked me openly, she seemed more confident around me than she had done previously.

  “My clients have testified to that, yes!” My response was ignored and Valerie moved on with her questions.

  “So Vince shall we continue our arrangement or shall we go our separate ways?” Valerie was to the point and seemed disinterested in my answer. I had a sneaking feeling that beneath her stoic façade, Valerie was very eager for me to agree to an ongoing agreement with her. With this in mind I decided to theatrically mull over the offer, I was eager to continue our liaisons but I needed answers.

  “I shall agree to continue our interviews, on one condition!”

  Valerie smiled nervously; she was relieved that I was open to the idea but wary of the as yet unmentioned condition. “Very well Vincent. What is this condition?”

  I breathed deeply and spoke with restrained emotion. “I would like to know what happened the night of the kiss!”

  Valerie rolled her eyes and uttered words that were obviously rehearsed beforehand. “I will speak on this at a later date, I promise. But we need to crack on with our interviews as my publisher is very keen for results!”

  “Very well, I shall hold you to that!” I smiled with my response and was rewarded with a genuine smile from Valerie. It was obvious that she was happy that we could still work together and I was also glad to continue our project into its next phase.

  *

  Chapter Three: New Beginnings.

  We
met in a remote American style diner in East Anglia; I had a client to see in Yorkshire whilst Valerie was visiting friends in some village I failed to remember the name of. Valerie was cordial but seemed preoccupied as she ordered a burger with some curly fries, I had a Caesar Salad in front of me which had failed to meet the minimum of my expectations. I was somewhat surprised that the cook had failed to provide me with the most basic of light foods. I was not hungry anyway, tonight I was to be wined and dined at a quaint restaurant in the Yorkshire Dales; before we would head into York to experience the culture of the often neglected city. Valerie’s lack of warmth worried me; perhaps she had changed her mind about the enterprise and wished to end our project before it began again.

  “You do not seem your usual self Valerie, is something wrong?”

  Valerie looked at me with a look that offered surprise at me noticing and caring. “It’s okay Vincent; I just had some bad news about some friends who are going through some issues in their relationship.”

  My reply was cliché but it had to be said. “Well if you ever need to talk, my shoulder and ear is always there for you.”

  A tear rolled down Valerie’s cheek which she cleared away and laughed at her own emotional weakness. “Thank you Vincent, that is very kind of you. Let’s keep this purely business, we have a lot to get through today!”

  Valerie had closed the subject down and I was not going to press the issue. “Okay then, what is the business we need to discuss today?”

  “Well, I have a question from my publisher and what she asks is a very interesting question. It is also one I had not thought to ask you!” Valerie sipped on a freshly arrived Orange Juice and waited for me to reply.

  “Okay Valerie. What is the mysterious question from your Publishers?” my interest had been peaked and I knew that the possibilities were almost endless.

  Valerie had little interest in her food; she was obviously as unimpressed by her food as I was.

  “My Publishers asks. How much violence is attached to the world of male prostitution? And have you ever been put in physical danger either by partners returning or people wishing to become your pimp?”

  The question was one I did not expect to be asked. “Interesting question, my profession does carry a few risks and many of them are not spoken of outside of professional circles.”

  “Both my audience and myself would be interested to hear of your experiences with the threat of violence” Valerie smelled blood and she would not be persuaded from following this subject.

  “Very well Valerie, I will answer those three questions as best as I am able!”

  Valerie smiled and readied her Dictaphone once more. “Thank you Vincent, we are all ears!”

  *

  It was most unlike my organization to put me in danger but every so often the screening process fails for some reason or another. I have known of one fellow male escort who had succumbed to a terrible end and it sent a shock wave through our community. The official statistics for injury due to profession do not include the oldest profession and if they did I reckon that it would make serious reading. From the information I have been given, if you are a female prostitute that deals in the low end of the ladder. Then you are around twenty five times more likely to be killed by a paying customer than the same women who service the elite end of the spectrum. If you recall me telling you about Trisha, then you will realise that figure is quite worrying.

  "What about the male's statistics?" Valerie was interested in the data I shared, she enjoyed having cold hard facts at her disposal and I suppose it would make her next feature appear different to her usual articles.

  "I know of one male escort who was killed by his client and he was killed by another man!" my story seemed to have a running theme, it was quite obvious that males and sex equaled violence. The evidence was there for all to see pick up a local newspaper and you can almost guarantee one story a day which centered on the carnal dynamic.

  "So your colleague worked the gay circuit?" Valerie’s question lacked emotion and for some unknown reason that worried me slightly.

  I tried to recall Fredric’s face but all I could remember was the front page of the local paper which showed quite graphically the blood spatter of his tragic end. Fredric worked in our sister agency across the pond and although I wouldn't say we had been good friends. Whenever our paths crossed we always enjoyed a laugh and a beer. Valerie expected an answer and her impatience prevented my reminiscing at length.

  "Yes, Fredric worked the Gay circuit on both sides of the pond. He was Portuguese and tended to entertain the midlevel market in America's heartland."

  Valerie fidgeted with her accompanying tools of her craft and offered. "I am sorry for the loss of your friend. What happened to him, surely deaths in the Gay circuit are quite rare?"

  "From what I understand in the Male and Male scene the chances of death in America are far greater than in the United Kingdom. The lowest in that the Gay market is between Females, but that rises when BDSM is involved. Perversely in the Male and Male market, the death rate is reduced if BDSM is involved." I watched Valerie scribble this information down even though she had it recorded on her Dictaphone.

  Valerie looked up from her work and questioned. "How did Frederic meet his end then?"

  "I am not too sure Valerie, they arrested the client and put him on trial but evidence was very weak. They arrested a deeply conservative minister from the south who had a regular arrangement with Frederic. But many of us believed that Frederic was murdered by a jealous lover, unfortunately it seemed that the courts were disinterested in prosecuting a murder of a gay gigolo." I reached for a drink and quenched my growing thirst. "In this instance I am sure justice was not down. The minister received a plea bargain deal which at least gave the prosecution a conviction. The minister wanted the episode over and took a year in jail somewhere in Arizona. I believe an innocent man was wrongly imprisoned and a hate filled murder got away scot free!"

  Valerie asked her original question again. "So, have you ever been put in mortal peril with your choice of vocation?"

  "On occasion yes, I have found myself in awkward situations." My reply was minimal and I knew that it would provoke deeper questioning from Valerie.

  Ms De Costa grinned and enquired. "Would you care to share the details of one of your near misses with my readers, Vincent?"

  "Very well Valerie, I shall dig up another of my assignments for you and your readers to appreciate!" I smiled and gave her a look of mock discomfort.

  "For the fee you receive from my publisher, I am sure you can suffer for my art!" Valerie smiled and blew me a playful kiss which seemed at odds with her previous feelings towards my presence around her.

  "Well Valerie, I don't spill the intimate details of my profession out of love!" my words were poorly chosen and Valerie's face changed back to her previous stern facade.

  "Love is a word that I am sure you band around far too loosely, Mr. Hancock!" her response was acidic and was intended to be so. I had erred and I disregarded her response even though it was unwarranted.

  "Shall I begin?"

  Valerie nodded and turned her notebook over on to a fresh page. "Please do, and please tell us the full details of the incident!"

  *

  I had travelled in a black-cab taxi to one of the many luxury spa's that littered the countryside as soon as you discovered anywhere with a few trees and a lack of traffic congestion. The rendezvous was to be at the Grand Manor Hotel, I found that its opulence was ruined by the inclusion of a needless golf club. The two main physical activities offered by the Hotel were golf and tennis, to my eternal disappointment. The Grand Manor Hotel had catered to the two non-sports that I despised. Given what the Hotel offered, I should have turned around and taken the taxi back to the nearest train station. A day spent at the seaside putting copper coins into rigged amusements would have been a better use of my time. Valerie saw my true displeasure at this assignment yet motioned for me to get to the "Good stuff!" I
grimaced yet did as she wished.

  When I arrived in the Hotel’s reception, I booked in under my professional moniker Dr. Fraser Moore. The receptionist smiled sweetly and informed me that Mrs. Moore had left for the Tennis court and had laid out my Tennis attire for me. I tried to hide my disappointment from the receptionist but it was obvious from my expression that I was not impressed with having to play Tennis as part of my assignment. I gave the Receptionist a wry smile and double checked the room number.

  “Room Ten in the Royal suite?” I awaited a reply from the Receptionist who seemed bored by her occupation.

  “That is correct Dr. Moore, we hope that you will enjoy your stay with us!” the Receptionist continued her menial data entry tasks and was probably quite happy to waste her time with the solitude that my exit would give her. I made my way to the well signposted room and found what I saw to my liking, the room was tastefully decorated and there was something quintessentially British about the room. As I opened the door I saw my Tennis attire laid out on the bed with a small envelope addressed to Dr. F. Moore. I was impressed with the room and decided to play along with Ellen’s little game. The envelope was quickly opened and I laughed as I read the instructions of my client.

  “Hey Sexy, put the full uniform on and come join me on the Tennis courts. I will be most upset if you don’t wear the full get-up. If you are game then you will be handsomely rewarded. Love Ellen xxx xxx”