A whore's life

20 minutes later, I buzzed back to the downstairs door. Soon, there was a knock on my front door. I opened it. 25-year-old Alex was a stunning vision of hipster star quality. Tall and thin he was dressed all in black. Jeans, boots, T-shirt and a leather biker jacket. He had handsome chiseled features, pouty full lips, black curly hair and arresting green eyes. He handed me $40.

I led him to the living room. He sat down on the throne, spread his legs and lit up a Marlboro Red. A lot of my clients were smokers, and so on the adjacent small round table was the large heavy luminous orange crystal ash tray I bought because it looked like one I saw on Bewitched.

I was on my knees on the red velvet pillow. I reached up and undid his belt, unzipped his jeans lowered them and tugged his white briefs down. His dick was long and thin, like a beautiful wand, surrounded by a black bush. His appealing balls were proportionate.

Like the pro I was, I commenced giving him the superior blow job he desired and had paid for. He was such a commanding figure who inspired my best efforts. With passionate precision I used my mouth, lips and tongue on his striking manhood.

He sat, sensually smoking and staring up at the ceiling while moaning lowly. “Your praise is justified” he said, now looking down at me and into my eyes. “I want to fuck” he said in a deep monotone, reaching into the pocket of his leather biker jacket and throwing four $20 bills on the table near the ashtray.

I took my mouth off of his cock and led him to the bedroom, we undressed. I got onto the bed on all fours. In darkness, he went for the Vaseline, lubed us up and mounted me. He was a distant though proficient lover. He said nothing and breathed heavy. He penetrated my ass with firm bluntness. I loved getting fucked, but his long thin dick kind of hurt at first as it poked around in me, but it was the good kind of pain, I got used to him. His technique was a straightforward thrusting that was solely intended for his pleasure but still satisfied me to the point of giving me a shattering a hands-free orgasm. He too soon came, in me.

We lay in bed side by side, in silence and darkness. “Want a drink?” I asked. “Vodka rocks.” As we drank, and he smoked. I learned the story of this sensual complex genius.

Alex was born in Jersey City, N.J., and was raised and spoiled by his widowed grandmother from the age of four, after his unwed mother married a new man and moved away. His grandmother was a big movie fan and so they went all the time and it rubbed off on him. When he was seven, she bought him an 8mm camera and his short silent films exhibited great talent. NYU undergraduate film school offered him a full scholarship, room and board and a stipend. After graduation, a screenplay he wrote was optioned and so he went to Paris with the money and spent a year seeing Europe. Columbia University poached him for graduate film school with all expenses paid plus a big grant. He was indulged by everyone as he was thought to be going places.

“The faculty screening reception of my latest brilliant short film tonight was exhilarating. I needed release after and was in the mood for a boy. I’m bisexual. My Japanese girlfriend lives with me. I’ve been with a number of gay Columbia students, which is usually disappointing. You’d be surprised at how many of them can’t give a good blowjob and won’t take it up the ass, and if they do, get clingy and want me to be their boyfriend. Chrissake, I just want to get off. I heard about you at the after-party tonight from Rob, my sound technician. So, I thought I’d go to a pro.” I remembered Rob and  his nice dick and was happy he had talked me up.

Alex would call me once in a while, always late at night for a paid session. The sexual routine was always the same, detached. We never kissed. One night after we fucked, as we lay in bed having drinks he said, “I want you to be in my next film.” “I’m not an actor!” “I know, that why I want you. It’s a quite small part. Just be yourself.” A week later, I was on the set for a few hours.

Scratch was an intense battle-of-wills 20-minute David Mamet-style scenario Alex wrote, taking place in a hotel room as two middle-aged businessmen and their younger subordinates all play poker. I saw it a few weeks later and it was brilliant. It led to Alex’s acclaimed career, where he began creating music videos for Downtown bands and then writing and directing indie and later studio movies. In a few years, I could honestly be able to boast of having been fucked by an Oscar-winner.

Halfway through Scratch, there was a knock on the door. From behind it I yelled, “Room service!” One of the younger guys opened the door. I had sucked off this good looking hung actor the night before! There was a subtle charged dynamic between us that came across for a few seconds on film. “Is there a secret between these two? Do they know each other?” The audience might have thought. This was another example of Alex’s artistic brilliance. “Of course, that’s why I gave him money and sent him to you for servicing and didn’t tell either of you that you’d be acting together. The element of surprise!” He later confessed to me. Alex was a combination of Elia Kazan and Stanley Kubrick, his two favorite directors.  

Wearing a hotel uniform of snug black trousers, a white shirt, black bowtie and black vest, I wheeled in a food cart with sandwiches and bottles of beer. One of the older guys at the table gestured to me and I walked over and took his $20 tip from his hand and said, “Thank you, sir!” Then I walked out.

I appeared for a minute, but Alex edited this bit with focus on me. He’d given me no direction and I just said the lines like normal. Medium shots and long shots showcased my 18-year-old body. When I said, “Thank you sir!” it was a tight close up on my beaming face, with the lighting I looked so adorable. My voice was pretty good too. Up on the screen, I saw why men desired me.