Money’s on the Dresser: Escorting, Porn and Promiscuity in Las Vegas (21 page)

Alex climbed into bed and we began making out. He was cute and had soft skin and I liked kissing him. It didn’t even matter that he wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous or didn’t have a huge dick. It was enough that I was not getting paid to have sex, and instead I was having sex with someone because I wanted to and not because they had purchased me for an hour. For some reason, having mediocre sex with average-looking guys was enough to hit the spot sometimes, and I was kind of happy to be there. Alex was a power bottom and climbed on top of my dick and slid it in. We started going at it and continued to get rougher and harder by the minute. We looked at each other as our sexual chemistry intensified and my rock-hard dick was throbbing inside his tight ass. I remembered the one thing he loved was when I fucked him really hard and he would just bounce around on my dick screaming. It was kind of entertaining to watch such a little guy flailing around on top of me, and it made my dick even harder. I reached up to grab his throat and choke him a little bit as I fucked him harder and harder. Cutting off some air drove him even wilder and he screamed even louder. I rammed my cock in, harder and harder, thrusting my hips deep in to his ass. I didn’t care about being physically exhausted anymore. I had gotten my second wind and I was having a blast.

Suddenly, he looked at me and my dick slipped out of his ass and flopped back and forth on my thighs. He looked at me horrified and at that second something wet and loose fell out of his ass and all over my legs. We just looked at each other and he said, “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry,” and jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom. “Stay there!” he yelled.

I was scared to look down. I knew exactly what happened, and I didn’t want to see what was on my legs. I stared up at the ceiling and said to myself,
This is God’s way of punishing you for being such a fucking whore.
I kept my hands away from my legs and refused to touch anything until I had a towel to wipe up the mess. I finally looked down and saw exactly what I had imagined... a chocolate mess from my waist to my knees.
Fuck my life
. In all my years and sexual experiences, I had never had anyone get so messy on me... a term some might call “Painted.”

Alex ran back in with a towel, and I used it to wipe everything off me, then went to the bathroom to get further cleaned up. He was mortified and I tried my best to brush it off as no big deal. The last thing I wanted to do was leave an emotional scar on this kid and keep him from bottoming again. He had a nice fat tight Latin ass he needed to share with the world, and I kind of felt embarrassed for him. Being a gay man that has sex for a living, I was used to “messy situations,” although this was the first time someone had completely relieved himself on me.

I turned on the shower, and he continued to apologize profusely. To change the subject, I asked him about his job and how his dogs were. As we were making small-talk and I was waiting for the water to warm up, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. I was standing there, naked, covered in shit, afraid to touch anything. I began to smile and then started to laugh at the humor in it all. This was definitely a turning point when I realized I needed to write a book because these odd situations were becoming too much to keep to myself. I cleaned up in the shower and gave myself another silk-wood scrub with almost the entire bottle of Axe body wash that was sitting on a shelf. The smell of feces was next to impossible to get out, and I was not going to go light on the soap. I was hoping he maybe even had some Windex or Clorox spray in the bathroom to use on my hands, because there was no way I wanted to smell that stench as I ate my rainbow roll later that night.

I finished cleaning up, got dressed, and we continued to make small-talk as I collected my belongings. When he asked if I still wanted to get off, I smiled and thought about it. My dick was still hard and it probably wouldn’t go down until I came, so I said sure. I lay back down on the bed where he had accidentally taken a shit on me ten minutes before and began stroking my cock. He stood on the floor and jerked off as I sucked his balls. Within a few minutes he came all over my face, which immediately prompted me to shoot my load all over my stomach. Not at all how I envisioned my night to be, but it was better than nothing, and I had finally shot the load that had been hoping to get out all night.

Once again, I got cleaned up in the bathroom, dressed, and collected my stuff to go. We hugged and I left to get my sushi. Within two minutes my phone was blowing up with apologetic, embarrassed texts from him. At that point, I knew I never wanted to see him again. Nice kid, cute ass, but what had just happened sealed the deal. I knew I would have to find a new fuck buddy on the side.

I drove to Kaizen sushi only to learn they had closed early that night. I nearly burst into tears. All I wanted was sushi and edamame, and I felt defeated and like the world was against me. I drove to the grocery store and picked up some odd-looking sushi and seaweed salad from the deli. I had my mind set on sushi, and I figured it was either that or a frozen burrito.

I went home, cracked open the bottle of Merlot, and began eating the seaweed salad. It was absolutely disgusting and I spit it into a napkin. I tried some of the rainbow roll and California roll, but they were equally bad. I finished about three pieces of sushi and the entire bottle of wine and climbed into bed.

The next morning, I woke up with the worst stomachache ever, and I literally went to the bathroom seventeen times that day. I had liquids coming out of both ends of my body, and I had to crawl from my bed to the toilet all day. I had never felt so awful before and had no idea what made me so sick. It could have been all the traveling, the drinking two nights before, or one of my clients might have been ill, or it could have been the horrendous sushi I ate before bed, or the $1.99 bottle of emergency Merlot I downed before I passed out. After being in bed for nearly eighteen hours, I asked my ex-boyfriend Patrick to come over that night. He made me tea and watched a movie with me. I didn’t feel better for almost seven days, and I ended up losing ten pounds that week. I went to the doctor, and the only thing he saw when he did some tests were that my white blood cells were low. Everything else was normal, and I just needed time to recover. I didn’t escort, have sex, or drink for eight days. I missed out on making a lot of money that week and a few good parties, but I didn’t care. My body needed a break and I welcomed the time off.

Chapter Eleven

Dating an Escort

People often ask me if I have a boyfriend. The answer to that is simple... no. Dating as an escort or porn star can be complicated, and while some are able to do it without any problems—apparently these guys exist, like unicorns—at this point in my life it’s not what I could handle.

I think I spent a majority of my life wanting a partner, husband, caregiver, and best friend who would be there for me at all times. Even when I was going through ex-gay therapy, I would dream of being married to a woman and having daily companionship with someone. I imagined being in a committed partnership, and it excited me. Of course, when I was fantasizing about this woman—like any other repressed narcissistic homosexual—I would be thinking about how beautiful our wedding would be, her Vera Wang gown, and how handsome I would look in my fitted tuxedo.

I had these delusional visions throughout my twenties, and I would say, even while I loved and still love Patrick, our relationship was not at all stable, committed, or healthy. After we broke up, I spent a few months on my own, and I was so preoccupied with buying the house and starting this new business of escorting that I didn’t have time to consider a relationship.

Eventually I started dating a guy I met through mutual friends named Spencer Williams. Spencer was nice, and I think he was just what I needed at the time. He helped me with the transition of getting over the relationship I had been in and into a new life as a gay man in my late twenties. After ten months of dating on and off, I realized it was time to move on. I had been dating him for the wrong reasons. Again, I wanted to be with someone who would fulfill needs that were not being met within myself and I was looking toward him to do that. He always did the best he could, and we enjoyed our time together, but the entire relationship felt forced on my part and not quite what I was looking for or needed. While I cared for him and enjoyed our time together, we were on two separate pages.

Shortly after we broke up, Spencer met someone new and began dating him. I, on the other hand, felt like it was time to be single and was still dealing with my breakup with Patrick and, now, with Spencer. In my mind, I knew it was time to get used to being on my own, although there was still a huge part of me that craved to be in a relationship.

I first noticed Jason Michaels on rentboy.com. We had ads running at the same time, and they were next to each other on the website. Instantly, I was drawn to his ad and looked at his pictures almost every week I visited the site. He was so beautiful, he took my breath away. I had been escorting for a while and had been hired out with other guys from the website on several different occasions. I kept hoping Jason and I would be hired out together so I could at least meet him and maybe even have sex with him. Surprisingly, the time came, but during the meeting with the client, Jason and I had little to no interaction with each other, and I left feeling a little disappointed and sexually frustrated.

About six months later, he showed up at my gym. I belonged to a privately owned Crossfit gym, and the only time non-members were allowed to come in and do the workouts was once a month during a three-day open-gym period. During this time, family and friends of members could try out the workouts and see if Crossfit Training was something they wanted to do.

I came into the gym one day in July when it was at least 110 degrees outside and the gym looked packed. Class sizes were generally kept small with no more than twenty people, but there were at least thirty there that day. I spotted Jason immediately. Suddenly I became shy and acted as if I didn’t know him. I wanted to smile and say hi, but the only thing I could think of to say was, “Hi, remember me? The last time I saw you was when we were doing awkward things with a client together in a hotel room.” Instead, I just started warming up and talking to a few friends I had in the class.

I left the gym that day and didn’t see Jason until one evening the following September, when we were both on a popular hookup site. It was the first time I ever saw him on there and was unsure if I should say anything. The options of men on the site were slim to none, and I generally spent my time trolling around just looking at other guys’ pictures to pass the time. I figured I might as well say hi and get it over with. It was easier to do it online than in person, so I typed him a message that simply read, “Hi.” He responded and we ended up spending the next few hours chatting back and forth. Eventually we met up for dinner later that week and started dating soon after.

My relationship with Jason brought up a lot of anger, frustration, depression, and sadness in me. For some unknown reason, I was in love with the guy from the moment I saw his pictures online. I guess it was love at first sight, but that doesn’t mean it was a healthy or a sustaining love.

There was something about him—his tanned skin, his muscular, hairy body—that made me melt. It was almost as if looking at him made me feel like he was everything I wasn’t or would never be. I felt gangly and tall, skinny, pale, and average. Jason was beautiful and exotic, and something inside me wanted him more than I could even handle.

As we started seeing each other, I began to fall more and more in love with him. Deep down inside, I knew I wasn’t just “falling” in love with him because I was actually in love with him. I desperately wanted to be loved by him, but I had absolutely no self-confidence in myself. In him, I saw everything I was not. I felt unattractive, inadequate, and passed by, whereas—to me—he stood out and people always noticed him when he stepped in the room. I felt he had the pure physical beauty I desired to have.

As the months went on and we continued dating, I came to realize there was little to nothing to sustain the relationship, but I refused to give up on it and wouldn’t call it quits without putting up a fight. I was determined to make it work because he fulfilled everything I was looking for in a partner physically, we had a good time together, and I was scared of being alone. Weren’t those reasons—plus a little hard work—enough to sustain a relationship? Obviously the answer is no, but I was stubborn, and I refused to let go. Also, as an escort and porn star, finding someone who is accepting of what you do can be incredibly difficult, and sometimes it was easier to date someone else in the industry who did the same thing as you, even if it created feelings of jealousy, resentment, and tension.

We tried to have balance and continue escorting and doing porn, but our relationship was basically doomed before it even began. In my mind, I thought,
If only we could balance escorting and doing porn, and focus on being there for each other, then we could have a healthy and a happy relationship
.

I was ready to fight tooth and nail for it because being happy with someone else meant that I could truly be happy within myself. I wanted love, acceptance, and great sex from him, adoration from clients and fans, but it never seemed to click. We continued dating for a few months until I somehow slipped into a deep depression that I couldn’t shake. I didn’t want to keep going with the relationship, and I was exhausted trying to make something work that was clearly not going to. I had tried sharing myself and sharing him by doing porn and escorting, but I knew it couldn’t last and I was not happy doing it.

Patrick used to tell me I always wanted to have my cake and eat it too, and I never argued with him when he said it. I would act offended and pout about it, but we both knew it was true and there was no point in fighting the truth.

I did want to be in a relationship with Jason, but I also wanted to continue escorting for the money and do porn for the fame. I wanted him there for the daily approval I desperately needed from someone.