Short story #4

Back in my 20s, somewhere in the 2000s, the internet was a boom, but not a sophisticated boom as it is today. There was no grindr or tinder (or whatever you kids use nowadays to get some). Where I lived we used to go online to chat rooms to find a fuck. It was a weird drill, to be honest. The rooms were categorized by location, age and interest. Also people would use nicknames that would already give away all the break the ice part. You would see things like bigtopcut26south - this gentleman wanted everybody to know that he had a big circumcised penis, liked to penetrate and didn't like to be penetrated (although everybody is a top until you meet in person - it was like that back then and it is still like that now), he was also 26 years old and lived in the south part of town. It's was a very time is money kind of approach, if you think about it.

I was always fairly successful in those chat rooms and the night in question would not different. After some chats and maybe a couple of hours talk (yes, millenials, the world spun slower in the old days) I got myself a date. We managed to meet in one of those convenience stores by a gas station close to my place. The place might sound strange but I sweat it was where the cool kids used to hang out. GO figure. Anyway, after a couple of beers and chat, we got into the car and headed to my place.

I still lived in my parents house, but my parents were in the countryside and my siblings were somewhere else, which not only I don't remember where, but also makes no difference to the story. Point is, we got home and made love by the fireplace. Except that it was average sex and there was no fireplace. After the sex he asked if he could shower and I went to the kitchen to grab something to eat. He came behind me about ten minutes later and asked me to prepare him a sandwich as well. So far, nothing out of the ordinary.

Then he said something about spending the night. That sounded a bit odd, but not something out of this world odd. Maybe he enjoyed the sex more than I did and wanted to go further. I was not looking for anything serious, but the possibility of sex before sleep and then a cure for my morning boner lead my dick to make the decision on my behalf. In your 20s, the combination of quantity over quality and teenage hormones finding their ways in the body can influence the way our penises think. Be aware, kids.

Our hero then took a backpack he brought, and I noticed it was a bit larger than I would have expected for a one night stand. He asked me if he could do some laundry, with some excuse that he came straight from work and he was busy and would not have time the next day etc. Ok, this was getting actually strange now. But still plausible, said my cock. But on a closer look, I noticed that the backpack had more things. Like toiletries, some dry food (like cookies and ramen noodles), and other stuff you would expect to take on a trip. If I would have looked into his backpack without talking to him, I would have imagined he lived in another town and was here visiting. He also asked if he could grab some cookies and cereal bars from my kitchen cabinet, always using the excuse that he would go straight to work. It all looked very professional and well thought, like if this was not his first time.

But for my first time that night, I decided to investigate. I asked him about his work and he gave me vague answers, trying to evade the topic. Now, with my peeing instrument put to rest, I started to think that he was a runaway or maybe a serial killer on the go, and I came up with some lame excuse to ask him to leave. I just remembered I had a meeting early in the morning and needed to prepare things or whatever, this stuff happened like 10-12 years ago and this is not the important part... What I do remember clearly is that he went mental. Said it was too late, and his roommate could not open the doors for him anymore, and he did actually like me and he was not hiding anything. Then he started crying. Like a baby crying, with hiccups and everything. I could not decide if I was shocked, pitiful or angry.

I went decided not to fear for my life and go with angry, and I told him I would call the police and would have him removed from my house (imagine the headlines on the next day paper). He looked scared and I gave him one last chance to come clear with me. And what he said I would have never imagined in a thousand years. The answer tonight, at 11.

He asked for water and started explaining me that he was actually homeless. No, you did not read it wrong. He was living in the streets. He would go online on an internet cafe from a friend and hook up with guys, sleep at their place, get his laundry done, get some food and live to see another day. He said that the only thing he had was his looks and decided to use that in his favor to survive. The whole plot of pretty woman came to my mind and I told him I would save him, take him out of the streets, make him a millionaire and a Hollywood star.

He was firm but polite when he said he was not looking for that. In fact, I was not the first one to offer him a "better life" and would probably not the last one. He was happy with his life and I was not the one. You see, ladies and gentleman, not even offering house, food and the chance to become a movie star I was a good catch then. We did still have sex that evening, because dignity is something I came from the factory without. We also slept together and had sex and breakfast the next day. I also offered to buy him some groceries and gave him some money. He took it, although it felt like he was offended somehow. Apparently lying to get a free bed from a stranger is ok, but accepting money from said stranger is not. No clue where he drew the line, but he still managed to have more dignity than me. Win.

I did actually see him once again, a couple of years later. He pulled the same scheme with a guy I knew of mine. The scheme had evolved and it was more sofisticated, and he did look nicer. I remember he asked me to be cool about it, but I told him to come forward because the guy would be take it well. They ended up dating - let's not go into what the guy has that I don't, because reasons... I lost contact with them both after that.

They are probably on facebook, everybody is on facebook these days. Even my parents. Might look them up at some point. Maybe I'll rub on his face that I am married now. Right, I think I just figured out why he did not pick me. 

Short story #3

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Short story #2

My history with prostitution is very brief: I paid for sex twice and was paid once. This is the story of the one time I was paid. As you can see, I already gave away the grand finale, so I kindly ask you to please feign surprise when you read it. Thanks!

Back in the 2000’s there was no Tinder, Grindr or apps to meet people. But people still met for casual sex, that is just as much part of the human experience as eating or pooping. I met people using internet chat rooms (I promise to write about it at some point) or going out to bars or clubs. On this specific night; I did go out with my friends to a bar. We had a good time, met interesting people, kissed some mouths (yes, with an S), but nothing good came out of it. So I decided to go to the streets and offer myself for money. And that is how I got paid for sex. The end. No, just kidding. That is NOT what happened.

What actually happened is that we went to another bar, way lower in quality than the first one. But we did not care, as long as the beer would be cheaper and the music would be louder. When you’re in your 20s, quantity is way more important than quality. And there we were, a group of about 12 friends, drinking and having fun.

At some point in the night, a group of older guys arrived at the bar. Note that when I say older, I mean probably in their mid-late 30s - Oh, the irony! Fact is, those guys were well dressed, wearing suits and polo shirts, looked nice and well groomed, and obviously did not belong there. We didn't really belong there either, so who was I to judge. In addition, they also looked very heterosexual, and I don’t mean this ironically. Now I am judging. And because we were gays and girls, the suits came to talk to the girls. And when I say talk, I hope you’re reading “make inappropriate comments thinking they are saying the best lines in the world”. Straight people, you know.

Suddenly I realized that my ride home was leaving with one of the suits. And we are talking about a time way before Uber or smartphones, so I would have to find a way (and by way I mean bus or taxi) to get home. One of the guys, the hottest of all in my humble opinion, was also the biggest loser of them. After all, with all the hotness and money, he did not need to be interesting. Or so he thought. Consequently, he was not scoring with anybody, and I'm not even sure if he was trying. He said it was getting late and he was going home, maybe he could drop me off somewhere. And I swear that in that moment I did not understand what was about to happen.

What was about to happen became crystal clear to me about 5 minutes later, as soon as we entered his car, when he expressed how sad and frustrated he was to be going home without a fuck that night. By putting my hand over his trousers. Typical “straight guy” move: look how hard my dick is because of all your female friends, now I have to go home alone… I put on my puppy eyes and casually said something like “I suppose I could help you somehow”. All very porn movie style, like when the girl says she doesn’t have money to pay her rent. He started with the classic “are you crazy, I am not into guys, I just wanted to show you my frustration bro, etc etc” – it’s all a game with straight people wannabes. Just get out of the closet and make everybody’s life simpler, for fucks sake!

But back then, in my 20s, where quantity is a bigger deal, I played the game and we ended up playing other naked games in his bed. Needless to say, that guy was like a pancake: very easy to be turned over. And I am not speaking metaphorically. But this is not porn and I won’t share the dirty details. You will find those details in my other book called “The memoirs of a Gaysha”. We had fun, it was better than I expected, to be honest. But right after we finished, he started not being into guys again, got up to have a shower and told me: I will call you a cab to take you home.

Then it happened: he opened his wallet, took some money – I don’t know when or where you are reading this, what is your currency is and how much it is worth, but let’s say it was something like a third of the price of the best iPhone today. It was a considerable sum. He put it on the table and said: thank you, leave your number and I might call you again some time. And I trust you keep your client’s identities as a secret… Straight to business, baby.

I would love to say that in this moment I got up, made a big speech about the right of the homosexuals and women and the world peace, or I threw the money on his face, or I looked at him deep into his eyes and took my wallet made of gold and diamonds to show him I am rich and did not need his money. But I did not do any of those things. I just smiled a professional smile, said “of course, discretion is key in this business”, thanked him and took the money.

I mean, we never said anything about payment or costs, because let’s face it: I am not a male prostitute. But there I was, after a fun night with my friends, a hot (although loser) dude wanted to fuck and would end up with some money in my pocket, I don’t see why I would say no. He was willing to pay and I was willing to accept it. And if you’ve been reading these stories, you already noticed that my gravestone it will not say “here lies someone who had some dignity…”

But in my defense, I got that money and created a fund to help straight wannabe guys to come out of the closet, and today I run a multinational foundation called theironcloset.org. And if you don’t believe me, congratulations. Because it is a lie. I got the money and spent it with my friends the next night. And I obviously told everybody about it.

To conclude, the moral of this story is “together we stand, divided we fall”. If you don’t get it, you probably missed the whole point. Read again and you will see.

Short story #1

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