Money’s on the Dresser: Escorting, Porn and Promiscuity in Las Vegas (10 page)

I asked him if he could cum, but he said he didn’t know if it was going to happen anytime soon. I apologized and told him I had to get going to meet friends. He understood and apologized for everything. I told him there was nothing to apologize for, that I was just sorry the session turned out the way it had. I cleaned up and gathered my stuff. I genuinely felt bad that this experience probably wasn’t everything he had fantasized about, or hoped for, but duty called and I had to run. We made small-talk as I got dressed, and we agreed to keep in touch. He told me he would try his best to make another trip to Las Vegas in the next few months.

“Next time we meet,” I said, “we’ll do less talking and more fucking.” He laughed and I winked and smiled at him. He said there was an envelope in the dresser drawer with six hundred dollars in it. I took it out, put it in my pocket, and said my good-byes, giving him a hug and a kiss before I left.

I left Caesars Palace and was on my way to The M Resort on South Las Vegas Boulevard, the outskirts of the city. I knew I had to book it to make it on time. As I left the hotel, Rodney texted me to see if I was on my way. I responded that I was, and he asked if it was cool for another escort to join us. This could either be really good or really bad. I always want to know who the other guy was, because after a few years of working in this industry, you learn there are a lot of guys that also do this who you want to steer clear of. Some of the guys were known to be heavy drug users, some had set up fake profiles online, and some had reputations of being egotistical assholes you try to avoid at all costs. Rodney replied, “It’s another dude I hire out for massage.” Most of the escorts I knew of in the city were escorts only, so I assumed I didn’t know who the other guy was and just planned on being surprised. But the more I thought about it, the more paranoid I became. Sometimes it’s better to go into a meeting with a client knowing very little about the situation or the others involved.

I had met Rodney in January 2011 during CES, the huge electronics convention held annually in Las Vegas that draws over one hundred thousand visitors. My first meeting with him was a blur, because as I was parking the car at the hotel, I got a phone call from Rick Thomas, my boss and star of the show I was in at the time, who called to fire me. Apparently, one of his longtime dancers—and old friend—had moved back to Vegas and wanted his job back. He said he would keep me in his show as an understudy, or I could leave the show on my own accord, but the full-time position was going back to his previous employee because they had an “agreement.” Rick told me, “I’m really sorry about this Christopher, but this is how show business works.” I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but I was speechless. I had no contract with the production company who produced the show, and I had no legal grounds to stand on, so basically I was fucked and not in a good way. Rick asked me how I wanted to handle the situation. Furious and upset, I remained silent for a few seconds before finally telling him I couldn’t make a decision right then because I was in the middle of something. I hung up, and needless to say, my first meeting with Rodney was overshadowed by this drama. Surprisingly, we did have good sexual chemistry and I found him to be really sexy.

Rodney and I met several times over the next year, but we never had any anal penetration and only rarely had any oral sex. He really got into hand-jobs, light kissing, watching me touch his body in a full-length mirror, and pressing my naked body against his from behind. Over time, he began to share with me his sexual fantasies, and we began to experiment with various taboo scenarios he would fantasize about. Most involved him being sexually molested by an older male or molesting me. He opened up to me during our first visit and told me he had been sexually abused as a kid, but he loved it and still fantasized about it every day. This screamed dysfunctional to me, but who was I to judge? Besides, he was nice, good-looking, and funny. The sessions were quick, and I didn’t even have to douche to meet him! He was what I’d like to think of as an ideal client, minus the disturbing childhood molestation scenarios he would ask me to re-create with him.

I made my way to his room, knocked, and he answered from behind the door to let me in. Already naked, he smiled, put his finger to his mouth, and said, “Shhhhhhhhh.” He pointed to the other escort, sitting on the bed naked and talking on the phone to someone about driving to LA the next day and agreeing on a time to meet up.

I looked at Rodney and in a very serious tone whispered, “Don’t tell me what to fucking do.” He looked confused and I just smiled at him and said, “I’m just fucking with you,” before giving him a hug. We had known each other long enough now that we could joke around and tease each other and have a good time.

He told me how good I looked and how happy he was I was able to make it. I set my stuff down on the dresser, and Rodney started to undress me immediately, but I stopped him to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I took a piss and heard the two guys talking about something. I came out of the bathroom to see Rodney lying on the bed and the other guy standing above him naked. The other escort was tall, very white, soft around the middle, had an average body—at best—and looked uninteresting from head to toe. Perfect, he was definitely not my type in the least bit, and there was absolutely no competition between us who would be the hotter escort for the night. I won just by showing up.

“Should I even bother with introductions?” Rodney asked, and the other guy and I just looked at each other.

“Sure,” I said as I began to undress.

“This is Chad. He’s straight and gives me the best hand-jobs.”

Straight? Oh, that’s perfect,
I thought sarcastically. Working with straight guys—like in the porn industry—was a pet peeve of mine. They rarely kiss, rim, or suck dick; there’s no connection or chemistry; and they rarely—if ever—can get or maintain an erection. So basically, I was left doing all the work as they watched the clock with a slight uneasy look on their face. It almost looked as if they were thinking, “I can’t believe I’m letting some dude suck my cock for cash. Fuck my life.” I found that guys who were only gay-for-pay were in it for the quick and easy money, and sometimes they worked my last nerve. Chad wasn’t even all that cute, at least in my opinion, and he looked like he hadn’t stepped in a gym for a few years. I guess it didn’t matter what I thought, because Rodney seemed to really like him. I had no interest in getting to know him or playing with him, even if Rodney asked. I’m not sure what it is about straight escorts, but clients seem to love them. It’s almost as if because the clients have no chance of ever getting them—other than by paying them—so it was a huge turn-on for them. Talk about self-loathing homosexuals. The clients loved the challenge, and it was almost as if these guys not giving “it” up would just keep these men coming back for more. It was like the straight escorts were playing these men like I had seen women play the men who came into strip clubs. It was a game and they were winning. I, on other hand, give it all away and at times still felt like I was struggling just to keep the clients I had. Maybe I should work on being more butch or re-create myself as a gay-for-pay escort—but I’m not too sure many people would really buy that.

Rodney told Chad, “Christopher and I get into role playing and he’s the best at it.” That’s not something I would put under special skills on a résumé, but he was right. I was pretty good at it and could get into it depending on the scenario or the situation. I smiled and dropped all my clothes on the floor, but then pick them up and fold them to put on the dresser. Hotel rooms are filthy, and the last thing I want is my underwear and clean shirt lying on the floor that you know at least one tourist has either had sex on or threw up on.

Rodney asked me to lie next to him as Chad poured baby oil on his body and lathered him up. I wasn’t even sure what Chad was doing, or if it was enjoyable for Rodney. It just looked like he was squirting baby oil on his hands and rubbing it into Rodney’s body like you would see two “straight dudes” applying sunblock on each other at the beach. He looked uneasy and completely uncomfortable. I began to wonder if there would be a mortified look on this straight guy’s face when Rodney began acting like an eleven-year-old boy asking me to play with his “pee pee.”

“I want Chad to massage me, and I want you to lie next to me, Christopher, and talk dirty to me.” All of a sudden, I began to feel self-conscious about the stuff Rodney wanted me to say. I felt like I would be judged if I delved right into the same scenarios we usually got into. I felt like I’d start talking dirty and this straight guy would get freaked out more than he already was. I had no shame doing what I was doing, but I guess even I would think it was a little odd hearing it for the first time. I told myself to get over it and just start acting like the little boy Rodney wanted me to be, because that was the reason Rodney was paying me to be there.

Rodney liked to start with me being a little twelve-year-old boy climbing into bed with his Daddy, and he began to touching me. I’m not sure who had molested Rodney or if it had been incest, but he loved to pretend to be a father molesting his son. The scenarios were hard to get into at first, because it felt like I was taking part in something that was even pushing my sexual limits. Sex with minors was not something I fantasized about or had any desire to do, but I came to realize that many guys I met either had fantasies about molesting a little boy, or being the boy that was being taken advantage of. Right away, Rodney started treating me like a perverted preteen wanting his father to take advantage of him. I pretended to get into it and acted like I didn’t want it but secretly did. Obviously, I was playing the role of the little boy getting taken advantage of, and Rodney loved it. Chad continued to awkwardly touch Rodney’s body and occasionally stroke his cock.

Chad’s uncut dick was completely flaccid. He just knelt next to Rodney, looking very uneasy as he tried his best not to make eye contact with either one of us.

“You like climbing into bed with your Daddy and stroking his big, fat cock?” Rodney asked me.

“Yes, Daddy, you know I do. It feels so good.”

“I want you to do this every night. Okay, Christopher?”

“But what if we get caught?” I asked.

“We won’t, because we’ll be very quiet and not tell anyone. Will you tell anyone?”

“No, Daddy, I won’t, but what if someone hears us?”

“Shhh... nobody will hear us if you’re quiet. Don’t say anything and keep touching Daddy’s big cock, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy, but why is it so big?” I asked. I knew he loved to hear any reference to his “big dick.” It drove him absolutely crazy and made him even harder. His eyes got so big they looked like they were going to pop out of his head.

“It’s big because you turn me on so much, boy. You like turning Daddy on, Christopher?”

“Yes, Daddy, I do. I like to make Daddy feel good.”

“Fuck yeah, that’s fucking hot,” he whispered in my ear. He then told us to switch positions, and Chad and I traded spots. I went on the other side and rubbed Rodney’s body with baby oil, and Rodney put Chad’s flaccid, uncut, pierced dick in his mouth and forced himself to gag on it.

Sometimes, when I am working with another escort, I like to make eye contact with him so we can look at each other, smile, and roll our eyes as if to say, “Can you believe we’re doing this?” With Chad, I had no connection and would have preferred he wasn’t even in the room. He was doing a fraction of what I was doing, his body looked like shit, and he was probably getting paid the same. Why do I even bother working so hard in this industry? I look at guys like Chad and I’m annoyed with myself for taking my work so seriously. Obviously guys like Chad don’t, and he probably was doing pretty well for himself.

We went on like this for about twenty minutes, switching back and forth. Finally, Rodney stood up and said, “Okay, let’s go stand in front of the mirror like we usually do, Christopher. You know I like that.” He stopped and looked at Chad and said, “Dude, you’re not even hard!”

Chad laughed nervously and replied, “Uh, I know. I think it’s because of stage fright.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped. I was not there to make friends and this kid annoyed me. I tried my best to make sure Chad felt uncomfortable at this point so Rodney would let him leave and we could wrap this session up. I knew what worked for him, and this other escort was really cramping my style and getting in the way of what we usually do. I stood behind Rodney, pressed my body against him, and embraced him. Chad just stood there and kind of rubbed Rodney’s stomach and stroked his dick.

“Christopher, stroke Chad’s cock and let me watch in the mirror.” I began to stroke Chad, and I had to admit his dick felt pretty good. I wished this kid was more into this, because he had a nice uncut dick, and I could probably give him better head than his girlfriend. Surprisingly, Chad began to get hard, and maybe I was on to something and he wasn’t so straight after all.

Rodney interrupted us and said, “Okay, guys, let’s go back to the bed. Chad, dude, you’re hard now!”

He laughed nervously and said, “Yeah, I know.”

“Is this your first three-way, Chad?” Rodney wondered out loud.

“With two guys, yeah.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said to Rodney.

“Really?” Rodney asked.

“Yeah, my first three-way this week.” I smiled and winked at Rodney, who laughed hard.

We climbed back into bed and Rodney instructed me to lay down next to him and Chad to keep stroking his dick. He asked me to put a finger in his ass and talk dirty to him. Going for the baby oil, I noticed the greasy handprints on the headboard and bedspread. I always felt bad for the cleaning ladies who worked in these hotels because I envision them trying to scrub out oil stains and silicone lube out of the bedspreads, pillows, walls, and headboards that my clients and I have ruined over the years. I put some oil on my index finger to lube it up and slowly started rubbing Rodney’s taint, moving in closer toward his hole.

“Fuck yeah, Christopher. You like Daddy’s hole?”