After a successful evening with Steven. I was open and excited to experiencing more of what the escorting industry had to offer. Although this wasn’t exactly the sort of business opportunity I had necessarily been looking for, there was no argument that there was little money that I needed to start up a business in this industry. My product is my time and I was learning that my time was worth more than I had known. What’s more, I enjoyed doing it! How could I complain about that? And so, I reached for my phone and I sent a text. After deleting the interrupted un-delivered cry for help I was ready to send before Stevens arrival last night, I typed:
Hi Alex, this is Alouicious. I wanted to thank you for last night’s opportunity. I’m definitely open to more.
I waited for a response; my breath baited with an air of uncertainty – what was I letting myself in for? Sure enough, within thirty minutes my phone sounded from across the room. I leapt across my bed, tackling with my duvet, wrestling against the shortness of my argumentative phone charger. (side note – Why do they make them so small? If Alex’s response was to be a negative one, I would go into making mile long phone chargers you can dance around your room with.)
I’m so glad you had a great time. I do have a job I need help with tomorrow.
As luck would have it, he had an opportunity the very next day. He said that he needed an extra person, to see a client with him. He said he needed a third, impartial party to play ‘good-cop’. I was uncertain of what that meant. I pictured myself clad in police style fancy dress outfit stood over a naked man repeating positive affirmations I had heard on a self-improvement podcast last week. I clearly had a lot to learn.
The next day I woke up to a text from Alex informing me of the address I needed to find. He was already there working with the client, so I made my way to the location. Unsure of what to expect, I took a deep breath before discreetly tapping three times on the front door to a large townhouse. The door cracked slightly to reveal a narrow view of Alex’s face, his cheeks were wild and blushed under a black latex police hat. He ushered me enthusiastically through the crack in the door.
“Take your shirt off and put this on.” He instructed as he handed me a blue, fancy dress police-style hat that looked like it had been purchased from ‘Luvubabes’ in Manchester Arndale. My predictions weren’t far from the truth at this point. I pulled my shirt over my head and put on the hat “That’s perfect”, he said. “Now follow my lead. When I nod, rub his back, just like I told you in the texts?”
I followed him through another door into a barely furnished room, my heart pounding through my chest and my hands sticky with nervous sweat. In the center of the room was a pull-out massage table upon which a man sprawled on his back, aggressively hyperventilating. As I got closer to the table – I noticed a small trickle of blood dribbling down the side of his body as his hands trembled centimeters above the table. Now was about the time that I began to question my decisions.
Is this how they get you? Entice you in with a gate-way Steven before plunging you into scenes reflective of government torture chambers. Only, there were no straps keeping this man to the bed, and as I got closer to the table, I saw a pleasure filled smile plastered from one of his ears to the other. He was enjoying this, and he was asking for more.
“The other one, please, the other one” he begged. Alex lifted his finger and placed it over the man’s lips to silence his requests. His other hand was holding a long, thin metal spike. What the fuck is that for? I watch the spike travel through the air and closer to this man’s waiting body. as my eyes followed it closer and closer to his chest area, I noticed the source of the original blood dribble. This nameless, trembling man had a spike, identical to the one that Alex was holding, pierced straight through his left nipple, and out of the other side, and he was asking for the other one?! I couldn’t help but consider the field day my therapist would have with this guy.
Alex caught my eye, he nodded in my direction, this was his signal. The stage was mine. As Alex pushed the other spike through the Right nipple of his client, I stepped closer, rested my hand supportively on his shoulder and muttered with as much conviction as I could muster –
“Are you okay?!”
As the words slipped clumsily from my mouth, it seemed like a redundant question – of course he’s not okay! He’s got a metal fucking spike piercing straight through the skin on his violently trembling body. However, his boner, as stubborn as it was undisguisable, suggested that he was in fact enjoying the experience thoroughly.
Aside from a fragment of mental scarring – this was the easiest £300 I’d ever made.