The Hired Man (12 page)

Finally, he leaned toward me, the back of one hand covering one corner of his mouth and said in a stage whisper, “Is that for real?”

Jared and I exchanged grins.

“Meat for the multitudes,” I said, and Jared, his crotch reacting to Tim's interest, had to shift his legs to try to relieve the growing pressure.

“Wow!” Tim said.

Finally, Jared had to stand up to try to rearrange the package.

“Want a look?” he asked, having to unbuckle his belt in any event in order make the move.

Tim, eyes still glued to the impressive display, nodded, and I glanced down to see that he, too, was having a little difficulty in the tight-pants department. It goes without saying I wasn't exactly Mr. Impartial Observer myself.

Jared pulled his pants and shorts down, and the monster, released, sprang out.

“Holy shit!” Tim said.

Jared, seeing both Tim and I in an equal stage of readiness, though still confined, said, “Why don't we all make ourselves a little more comfortable,” and kicked off his pants while doing a cross-arm grasp of the bottom of his shirt and pulling it off over his head.

I've had the pleasure of seeing Jared in his full glory quite a few times, but he never ceased to amaze me—tree trunk-sized biceps and calves, pecs that made the word perfect seem inadequate. Not for the first time, I thought of Michelangelo and how he would have given his right arm to have Jared as a model.

Tim and I peeled off our clothes in unison, both fixated on Jared's towering nakedness in front of us.

“You want a closer look?” Jared asked.

Tim and I scooted off the couch onto our knees and moved toward Jared, who stepped forward to greet us.

“Help yourself,” he said, and he said a mouthful.

Actually, he said two mouthfuls.

*

I'd been in a couple three-ways before and never really cared for them. It always seemed as though one of the participants got left out or shortchanged. Jared and Tim made me revise my opinion in a hurry.

If you imagined every possible position or activity two people can engage in, then doubled it because each guy's horizons are expanded by two, you've got a pretty good idea of what it was like. Both Jared and Tim were not only incredibly versatile and totally into the action but unbelievably talented, and I did my best to hold up my part of the triangle. And while we were all kept busy nearly every second, there was time for each of us to step back and engage in a little constructive voyeurism as well. The sight of Jared and Tim going at it would, I knew, provide fantasy fodder for a lot of cold winter nights.

I was glad Jared lived in a solid, older apartment building with thick walls, because I'd hate to consider what the neighbors might have thought in a less soundproof building.

*

Even though I was totally but happily exhausted Monday morning, I made it to the office on time and went through my little coffee-and-crossword puzzle ritual. Around 9:30, I decided to call the Glicks to check on their having fired one of their escorts. The phone was answered on the third ring by a woman's voice I knew wasn't Mrs. Glick so assumed had to be the maid.

“Glick residence.”

“Good morning,” I said, hoping I sounded cheery. “Is either Mr. or Mrs. Glick in, by any chance?”

“No, sir, they are both at the office.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I'll try to reach them there,” and I hung up after exchanging goodbyes.

I would have preferred not to bother them at ModelMen, since I knew they liked to keep the two aspects of the business completely separate, but I didn't really have anything else to go on at the moment without following up on my hunch. I had to look up the number and was somewhat surprised when Iris Glick answered.

“ModelMen Agency.”

“Mrs. Glick, good morning. It's Dick Hardesty, and I'm sorry to bother you at the office, but I have a question I really would appreciate your helping me with. Would it be possible for me to come by for a moment?”

There was a pause, and then: “Why, yes, of course. Would now be convenient?”

“I'll be right over,” I said then added, “Is Mr. Glick there, too? I'm sure either of you could answer the question, but I probably should discuss it with both of you.”

“Yes, we're signing with a new ad agency this afternoon, and my husband is going over the details of the contract.”

“Well, congratulations,” I said. “I won't take up much of your time, I promise.”

“We'll look forward to seeing you.”

*

The ModelMen offices were located on the second floor of a very nice new low-rise building close, but not too close, to the Central. The glass double door had a neatly but subtly scripted “ModelMen Agency” on it and opened into a small reception area tastefully but not ostentatiously furnished and decorated. Mrs. Glick was seated behind the reception desk, which was flanked by two highly polished wooden doors.

She'd been doing something with an open file folder in front of her when I entered, and she looked up and smiled as I approached. I went over to the desk to take her hand.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” I said as she got up and led me to the door to the right of the desk.

“Our receptionist is out ill today,” she explained, “so I'm filling in for her. I rather enjoy it, actually.”

She knocked lightly then opened it. Inside was an office about the same size as the reception area but considerably more elegantly furnished. On one wall was an array of probably twenty professional portrait photos of extremely handsome men ranging in age from late teens to probably early fifties—the main agency's stable of legitimate models, I gathered. It did not escape me that Phil, Billy, Gary, and Aaron were among them.

Mr. Glick was seated behind a polished mahogany desk. He rose as we entered and moved around to greet me. We shook hands, and he motioned me to a seat, returning to his own. His wife stayed by the open door so she could keep an eye on the reception area.

“What can we do for you?” Mr. Glick asked, leaning back in his chair.

I turned my own chair slightly so I could see both of them.

“Could you tell me if you have ever had occasion to fire any of your escorts?”

The Glicks' eyes immediately connected, and held until Mr. Glick broke off and returned his attention to me.

“Yes,” he said. “Once. Only once. May I ask why you want to know?”

“The more I know about ModelMen and how it operates, the better I'll be able to protect your interests. If there's a possibility of a disgruntled former employee…”

Mr. Glick shook his head strongly. “Oh, no, no! That's inconceivable. Are you suggesting…?”

It was my turn to shake my head.

“I'm not suggesting anything,” I said. “But I don't want to overlook anything that could possibly link ModelMen with Stuart Anderson's death.'

Mr. Glick continued shaking his head. “Out of the question,” he said. “Out of the question!”

“You're undoubtedly right,” I said. “But could you tell me his name and the circumstances?”

It was obvious they were not about to volunteer any more information than I pushed for.

“Matt,” Mrs. Glick said. “Matthew Rushmore. We had to…let him go…because of his violation of the rules all our escorts are contractually obligated to follow.”

Again a pause, and again I found it necessary to step in.

“Any specific rule?” I asked.

Mr. Glick sighed. “Our escorts are extremely well paid,” he said, “and because of that we insist they have no contact with our clients except through us. Matt, we discovered, approached a client we'd originally referred to him offering his services on a freelance basis. This is completely unacceptable.”

I had a suspicion there was a little more to it.

“You don't give a warning or a probationary period for transgressions of the rules?” I asked.

“No,” Mrs. Glick said. “Each of our escorts is carefully trained and fully understands our rules and why we have them before they are hired. A violation is grounds for immediate dismissal.”

“May I ask how you found out about it?”

Again the Glicks looked at one another but said nothing.

I knew something was being left out.

“Please excuse me,” I said, “but this is one of those instances I told you about when we first met, wherein I would not ask unless I really thought I had to know.”

Mrs. Glick nodded almost imperceptibly to her husband, who gave another deep sigh before speaking.

“Among the criteria we use in selecting our escorts is that they have certain areas of…well, specialization. Matt's was, shall we say, catering to clients who enjoy a moderate degree of…discipline.”

“S and M, you mean?” I asked.

“Oh, no, no, nothing quite like that. Nothing…serious,” Mr. Glick hastened to add. “Never beyond what the client requests. However…”

I resisted the temptation to say anything and instead just kept my eyes locked on Mr. Glick's until he looked mildly uncomfortable and glanced at his wife, as if for guidance.

“However,” Mrs. Glick picked up her husband's faltering explanation, “Matt crossed that line, too. We would never have known about it had not the client contacted us and explained the situation.” She paused, looked into the reception area and moved to stand beside her husband. “I should add that we, of course, also removed the man from our client list—our clients, too, are expected to observe the rules as stringently as our escorts.”

She laid a hand lightly on her husband's shoulder.

“This particular client claimed Matt had arranged a freelance meeting with him, and then went considerably beyond the bounds of what he had expected or wanted. He had, as a matter of fact, had to go to the emergency room for treatment of his injuries. He had the good sense to tell the hospital and the police he had been mugged by an unknown assailant.”

And, I was sure, the fact he was probably married and wouldn't care to have his family know he was into rough-trade hustlers, however discreet, might have played a part.

“How long ago was this?” I asked.

“About three months,” Mr. Glick said.

“So, you once had seven escorts?”

Mr. Glick shook his head. “No, we've always had only six. After Matt left, we were lucky enough to find Aaron, who was a friend of Gary's.”

Aaron had told me, I remember, that his specialty was “down and dirty,” which I suspected might include a bit of innocent B&D if not downright S&M.

“And how did Matt react to his…termination?” I asked.

Mrs. Glick gave a small smile. “Quite well, I think,” she said. “You must remember that our escorts are also selected for and trained in being civil and adult. Matt had most of these qualities, but unfortunately, neither he nor we foresaw this happening. We lost one or two of Matt's regular clients when he left, so we assume he is still seeing them.”

“And where is Matt now?”

Mrs. Glick removed her hand from her husband's shoulder and walked again to the door.

“Part of our regret over this entire incident,” she said, talking over her shoulder as she looked out through the glass doors into the hallway, “was that each of our escorts becomes almost like family. Even given the severity of Matt's transgressions, we couldn't just throw him out into the street. Plus, we did not want to put him in the position of feeling animosity toward us.

“He is a very accomplished model—one of our most popular. But under the circumstances we thought it best to sever all ties with him. We arranged with another model agency to take him on. I understand he is doing quite well.”

“Which agency is he with now?” I asked.

“Charter,” Mr. Glick said.

I glanced at my watch and saw I'd been there far longer than I'd intended. I got up from my chair.

“I very much appreciate your time and candor,” I said. “And I have only one more question.”

Apparently relieved the interrogation was about over, Mrs. Glick said, “Of course.”

From everything I knew of Stuart Anderson, his being involved in anything even hinting of other-than-pretty-vanilla sex was remote in the extreme. Still, I had to ask. “Did Matt ever meet Stuart Anderson?”

“No,” Mrs. Glick said, but Mr. Glick raised his hand.

“Yes, he did, as a matter of fact,” he said. “We had Stuart to one of our dinners the night he became a client, so that he could meet our escorts. Everyone was there except Phil and Billy, who were on an assignment. That was the very night before we…had to let Matt go.

“But it was only in a setting with the other models. When Stuart next returned to town, Matt was no longer working for us, and as I think we told you, the first escort he spent time with was Aaron.”

“Ah,” I said. “Well, thank you again for your time. I'll be in touch.”