My first escort job took place in Toronto; I was scheduled to meet with my client, Gideon Saltzman, at a local hotel in Scarborough. The building was plain and colorless from the outside; the inside however, was the extreme opposite. A variety of colors was spread all over the space, and pieces of tacky pop art covered the walls in their entirety. It’s like the hotel manager gathered wannabe artists’ junk thinking they would give the space a luxurious, art deco style; something beyond this world. The main corridor was mainly what my eyes couldn’t tolerate, but the remainder of the space had a nicer, more coherent feel to it. There was nobody at the reception, and I could only hear myself moving around along with the soothing, pop music echoing above me. I had texted Gideon walking in, and he said he was coming down to let me in since the hotel required a key to access its elevators. He showed up in jeans and a polo shirt; my attention was immediately set on the precious, silver ring necklace hanging around his neck. He was well groomed and all spruced up. I didn’t expect him to be shorter than me, though. He nodded and signaled me to get inside the elevator, and as soon as I did and the doors closed, he became very talkative. He courteously asked me about my day and his chill and relaxed personality lessened from my shyness as I answered his questions without giving too much information.
We got inside his hotel room and I took off my raincoat and turned to face him. He was standing rather distant from me, in a low-lit part of the room with his hands in his pockets, as if he was waiting for something. I smiled awkwardly and walked up to him. He looked at me speculatively before wandering in what I guessed was the bedroom. I watched the way the muscles in his back shifted when he turned away from me, and slowly took my shirt off as I followed him. We were supposed to have drinks, but it looked like he just wanted to jump right into it, and I didn’t care. Inside his bedroom, we quietly undressed. He was stocky, had a neat, little package and his white skin was covered in freckles. I grabbed his face and started kissing him, and he kissed back. We fell sideways on the bed and he pulled my head back and started kissing my neck aggressively, his breathing fastening; he lost total control right then and there and ravaged me like a beast. He was filled with sexual hunger, and obviously couldn’t wait to get his hands on someone who could satisfy his cravings. He lubed my cock before getting on top of it and sliding it inside of him. I fucked him slowly, hardly even moving. It felt good that I wanted it to last the whole night. We kept up a nice, slow fuck until I couldn’t hold off any longer and shot my cum right out and into his ass. I pulled out right after, and he got up to rinse off while I stayed in bed.
When I got out of the room, I saw him standing by the window, the beautiful evening sunset creating a glowing reflection of him on it; the front part of his body facing it in total light while the back created a heavy contrast as it merged with the darkness filling the rest of the room, a sharp, white light outlining the furniture and the small objects in it. I grabbed my phone and took a nicely framed photo. He didn’t notice me until I took a few steps in and got closer, his eyes slowly shifting to mine, and I could tell he was was in a reflective mood, and that he was soon going to share a story with me.
Gideon was a private pilot and former police officer. He quit police work after his partner got shot by a gang of drug dealers whose boss he arrested prior. The ring necklace was his wedding ring, and he held on to it like it meant the world to him. He showed me photos of his partner as well as the first headshot they took of him dressed in his police uniform; he was young with porcelain-looking skin that lacked any sign of growing facial hair. He looked cute, his eyes a bit too wide as if he was being traumatized as they took it. I asked him more about his life with his partner, and although talking about him was saddening, it felt therapeutical. As he recounted moments of their lives together, I found myself hitting the record button on my phone before discreetly flipping it to hide the screen as we sat down on the sofa. I knew I needed to get it as close to him as possible to get a clear recording, so I did, my phone covered under my thigh, leaving only the bottom part where the built-in microphone was located uncovered. In my head, I had this abrupt idea of keeping a souvenir from each escort encounter as I was sure I’d enjoy listening to them later. However, I quickly realized I’d soon be preoccupied with making sure he didn’t notice he was being recorded, and so I had to move carefully and not hold my phone in any awkward or obvious ways; I didn’t want my strange activity to be perceived negatively, and I certainly didn’t want to look like I was plotting something which could easily jeopardize my reputation and my future as an escort. He eventually stopped talking and his demeanor switched to depressive. He gave me my money and asked me to leave. I tried to make sure he was okay, but he was no longer responsive at that point. I think he regretted letting go and opening up to a stranger, allowing his wounds to be openly exposed, and so his abrupt behavioral change was probably due to that. He made it perfectly clear that he enjoyed my company and that asking me to leave was because he wanted to be alone.
My next encounter was with a guy named Kale Havenga. I met him at his apartment in Minneapolis. When I entered it, I wasn’t expecting to be walking into a sex shop; outfits, toys and accessories were thrown around and dozens of unopened and half-opened boxes were laying on every room’s floor. As I looked around, he revealed to me he ran an online sex shop; that was his primary source of income. In the living room, computers with webcams connected by endless amounts of wires were lined up on the floor, and porn was playing in a loop on the LCD TV hung on the wall. He didn’t hesitate to tell me more about what he did and offered me a box of lube bottles, but I only took one. The windows were all shut for privacy reasons although he lived in a high rise located far away from other buildings. As I explored the space more and more, I noticed surveillance cameras hanging in every corner. When I asked about them, he said he shared his apartment with rent boys he recently discovered were stealing from him. He didn’t kick any of them out because their presence took away from his loneliness and provided him with sex whenever he desired it.
We started kissing, stopping every few seconds, and I could tell he was totally stoned, but I pretended not to notice. We undressed and fooled around, but wasn’t able to go through with sex, so we stopped. We laid in bed and he asked me if I ever thought of doing porn. I said I didn’t, and he suggested some good companies to submit to in case I changed my mind. When he got out of bed, I noticed a small tattoo on his right ass cheek as he walked to his desk and took out a bunch of dollar bills from the drawer. It was red, but I couldn’t clearly see it until he stood close to the window. It said: 100% Pure Boy and was inked in as a stamp. I was intrigued by what it meant and when I asked him, he told me the cute, unique story of how he peed on the obstetrician when his mother gave birth to him. The doctor spanked him and said only boys did that sort of thing. We shared a laugh and he handed me the money; I counted it and noticed it was short ten dollars, but I didn’t make a big deal out of it and thanked him. He said he rarely carried cash, and that I’d be easier for me to get paid through my bank’s online quick pay option, but I said I preferred cash. On my way out, he gave me a bunch of his business cards to give away as well my bottle of lube on the way out.
Most recently, I was hired by a couple, Vitaliy and Monika Orlov who flew me to Provincetown for the weekend. They had me stay at a small, cheap motel half an hour away from their apartment. I woke up late the morning of our meeting, and rushed to get ready. My hair was wet from the shower when I got into my cab and drove to the restaurant where they were. I got there earlier than they did and waited in the vestibule until they arrived. The place was relatively empty, and I felt awkward standing across from the hostess although I was in a very typical situation. I guess the reason I was there, and the idea of meeting a married couple I would soon be having sex with made things awkward from my perspective. I was lucky to get a glimpse of my prospective clients upon their arrival as they got out of their car and walked to the door. It’s always helpful for me to see how my clients looked, acted and interacted than to abruptly face them without getting a sense of who they were.
At the restaurant, Monika remained silent during dinner, letting her chatty husband talk about his fascination with voyeurism and his craft as a videographer. It was clear that they were rich aristocrats, living a lavish life of extreme consumption. Vitaliy came off as an intellectual, tortured artist and patron of the arts while Monika seemed clueless as to what art was. She struck me as a passive, severely objectified woman very aware of her place in their relationship – even society. Although it was clear that Vitaliy loved her, she was mainly there as his trophy, and although he had his own charm, he didn’t exactly fit into her league when it came down to physical beauty; he had a beer gut, obvious wrinkles around his eyes and was balding. That said, he was clean, dressed sharply and smelled like a million bucks which provided him with enough physical attraction.
On the way to their apartment, he talked about how he mainly wanted to spice up his sex life by watching his wife get fucked by a total stranger. He also wanted to film our session, something I solidly refused, but he promised to keep my face out of the shot and offered me extra money to let him do it, so I agreed. Inside their bedroom, Monika had a black lingerie outfit set on their ultra silky duvet; she grabbed it and walked to the bathroom to freshen up while Vitaliy set up his tripod. When she got out, we were ready to start. First, it was just her. Vitaliy filmed her and instructed her on what to do. He asked her to roll on to her stomach, revealing her muscle tone; her ass and thighs were firm and showed no excessive skin. Her feet were small, her toes neatly pedicured. Her freshly dyed hair looked so soft as it brushed against the sheets. She was then asked to turn around, lay on her back and touch herself. She sensually touched her neck and ran her fingers through her hair before slowly moving down to her nipples and masturbating; her back arched and her moans gradually became louder. When she spread her legs wider, he signaled me to join her. I went down on her and licked her pussy, teasing her clitoris with my tongue, then cupped my hand over her vulva and massaged it. When she got overly excited and fully engaged, I put my condom on and entered her. As I got closer and closer to my ejaculation, Vitaliy ordered me to pull and shoot my load all over her breasts, and I did. That was the end of it.
Last night, Lee had her latest art piece featured in an art exhibit, and I attended the event along with Ryan. Tye stopped by after he was done with his shift at the store.
I could go on with my life, lying to the whole entire world about who I truly am and what I truly do, but covering up my tracks won’t be as easy. I could only keep my other life a secret to a certain extent. That’s why I decided to take the risk of telling Ryan. After all, he’s done it himself; I knew my secret would be safe with him, and that he wouldn’t judge my decision to carry on with this lifestyle, even after what happened in Aurora. Things are different now; I’m more wary and in charge of the situation.
– “Just remember that you got by that crazy man who almost beat you to death mostly on nerve. In other words: You got lucky. And I’m not sure that would happen again”, Ryan said with all seriousness.
– “Don’t worry”, I answered. “I got it all under control.”