Friday, March 10, 2017
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.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
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