I arrived to Chicago at 9 P.M. Bastien’s chauffeur picked me up from O’Hare and drove me downtown to his club.
The entrance was protected by a doorman. I casually entered the lobby, still under maintenance, and was immediately greeted by Bastien’s personal assistant, a tall and slender asian woman who introduced herself as Norika, who escorted me to the lower level. Downstairs, the lighting was red and strong. We passed by a couple of workers and walked inside the main area where he was. He was giving his interior architect a hard time about the unfinished ceiling. We waited by the room’s entrance and Norika eventually left me and went back upstairs to take a phone call while I stood there and discreetly watched the two men argue until they were done. When the architect turned around to leave, Bastien saw me and a smile covered his entire face. He walked up to me and I met him halfway. He gave me a bear hug I didn’t see coming and apologized for the scene I had just witnessed.
Bastien Zieler is a dashing, multilingual European man from Poland who owns a local tailoring business and was about to open his own club named Black Cherry. He’s in his mid-forties and obviously only wears expensive, well-tailored custom suits. There’s a natural virility in the way he carries himself, yet he can be quite suave and honey-tongued when he wants to. If anyone was to say he was anything but gorgeous, they’d need to be admitted to a mental hospital. His skin is soft and evenly tanned, and his body large and moderately hairy. His brown hair had natural hints of gold. He was one of those rare people who get better looking as they age.
I got inside the limo and awkwardly sat there as the driver drove us to the casino. Bastien offered me champagne. He kept looking at me, sometimes making very direct, seductive eye contact. For some reason, I just couldn’t keep it. Things were already moving too fast, and his confidence didn’t fail to amaze me. The inside of the vehicle was slick and cozy, the foggy windows turning the outside into a dreamlike background enhanced by colorful lights coming from surrounding cars and bright building signs, and the sprinkling, soothing onomatopoeic pitter-patter sound of drizzle. Every once in a while, I trained my eyes on some spot in the distance and would be shaken out of my reverie by a sentimental touch complimented with a brief stolen glance. I reciprocated each time with a timid smile to avoid coming off as detached and uninterested. It wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying myself with him; I was genuinely taken by him, but we had just met, and I wasn’t sure whether forced intimacy was such a good idea at that point. We had plenty of time to let our connection grow naturally.
The car stopped in front of a glittering casino. When we went inside, he wasn’t shy to proudly introduce me to some of his business partners. Apparently, he always had a new boy by his side, and occasionally allowed himself to be seen in public with one as he was very secure and self-asserting when it came to that part of his life. He didn’t mind being seen as a “sugar daddy” although I thought he had such prestige that he deserved to be spared from such a derogatory title. I myself surely didn’t want to be called a “sugar baby”; I’m a very self-sufficient individual who considered escort just like any other paid job. I certainly wasn’t someone who lacked confidence or didn’t have a say in how things proceeded. Although I’ve compromised a lot for the job, I was far from allowing myself to be dictated or pushed around like a doormat.
After playing a few rounds of poker and winning a couple hundred dollars, we left and made our way to the Riverfront Hotel where he was staying, and went up to his bedroom. I got settled and he took a shower while I stripped down and got fully naked. I sat on the bed and waited for him to be done. When the bathroom door opened, I turned and found him gawking at me, his eyes glued to my bare body. I turned around and faced the window again and took my socks off, and I could feel him creep inch by inch closer to me as the white, silky comforter sank deeper into the bed. His hairy legs brushed against my sides as they made they’re way around me, and before I knew it, he was enfolding me with both arms wrapped tightly around my chest; they were warm, and the feeling they gave me was soothing and secure. He kissed the back of my neck as his right hand stroked my stiff penis, already wet with precum. His hand then reached to my breastbone and slowly pushed me backwards. The room was so quiet I could hear the clicking of our lips every time they locked. I felt myself letting go with every kiss he gave me, closing my eyes, resting the back of my neck on his shoulder, his steady breaths slowly blowing into my ear.
Felix Eberstark 