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.