Money’s on the Dresser: Escorting, Porn and Promiscuity in Las Vegas (14 page)

I fully stepped out of my boots, jeans, and underwear and turned around to press my ass against his dick. He grinded his dick around my ass and I spread my cheeks apart farther to invite him to keep going and get ready to fuck me. He spit on his cock to lube it up to fuck me and kept getting the head closer into my hole. I wanted to tease him with my ass, so I let him keep going until he put the head of his dick in my hole. He let out a loud sigh and said, “That feels amazing”. I let him keep going for a few seconds until I pulled his dick out and turned around to kiss him. I went to go find my bag with all my supplies. He walked to the kitchen and snorted another few lines off the marble countertop. I returned to the window where we had been before and opened the condom. I handed it to him, poured some lube on my fingertips, and lathered up my hole for him to fuck me. I turned my back to him and placed my hands on the padded bench in front of the window that overlooked the city. I popped my ass out and bent my legs to make it easier for him to enter my hole, and he slid his dick in. His dick wasn’t huge but it felt good, and he seemed to like it. He started fucking me and it felt nice. Not only that but I had one of the best views in Manhattan overlooking the city. It had started to rain a little bit outside and I watched as it hit the window and listened as the wind started to blow. The city looked so nice in front of me I nearly forgot what was happening behind me.

We decided to move it into the bedroom and made our way down the hall. His place was huge, and the bedrooms were massive compared to others I’d seen in New York City. I didn’t even want to know how much he spent on this place because I’m sure it was much more than the cost of my house, yet my place was about three times the size. The master bedroom was beautifully decorated, and he had a large queen-sized bed covered in pillows. It looked like a showroom bed you’d see in a furniture store, and it matched everything else in the room.

We climbed on his bed and began making out like crazy and pressing ourselves into each other’s bodies harder and harder. He asked me to turn onto my stomach and strapped on another condom and began fucking me again for a few minutes until his phone rang. He pulled out, looked at the number, and said, “Shit... I have to take this one. I’m sorry,” and walked out of the room.

I lay on the bed and closed my eyes. He had the air going and it started to feel chilly in the room. I cuddled up in the fetal position thinking he was going to come back in, but he didn’t. I looked at the clock on the DVR and saw we had only twenty minutes until I had to get going. I rested my eyes and fell asleep for about another ten minutes until I jolted out of bed, worried I had overslept and was going to be late. I climbed out of the bed and walked down the hall and saw Joshua talking on the phone dealing with some kind of business.

“Is everything okay?” I asked softly, and he gave me a thumbs-up and smiled and continued talking to whomever was on the other end of the line.

He suddenly stopped the conversation and said, “Hey, can you hold on one second?” to the person on the other end of the phone and turned to me and said, “You know what... I’m going to be on the phone for a few minutes, so feel free to shower or whatever. I have to deal with some work stuff.” I nodded and smiled. “There’s a clean towel for you in the guest bathroom in the hall,” he said.

I told him, “Thanks,” and made my way down the hall to shower. We hadn’t really done much of anything, but I figured I might as well shower and smell fresh before I head to a club and get all sweaty again. When I came out from the bathroom he was off the phone and apologized for having to deal with other things. I said it was fine and he said he really wanted to see me again while I was in New York. I told him I was definitely interested and he should call or text me the following day to set something up. He handed me the money and gave me an extra hundred, which I thought was incredibly generous, considering we hardly did anything and the meeting felt better than most hook-ups I had had in the past few months. I bent over to hug the little guy and was on my way to the club to dance that night.

The week before I had come to NYC, Jimmy, my client who asked me to continuously change shirts, walk around the room, and massage his shoulders, got me connected with Javier, the guy that hosts special events in clubs in New York City with male dancers. Javier and I talked on the phone and he told me I could work for him and make some money dancing at a club event he was hosting while I was in town. Javier was a nice guy from the beginning, though I was a little apprehensive about working at the event—it did sound seedy. When we met, I was surprised to see that Javier was not only incredibly nice and a professional businessman, but also absolutely gorgeous.

I arrived at the club around 8:05 p.m. and it was dead. There were already ten to fifteen dancers and ten to fifteen bar patrons. I was confused... one man to one dancer... how was anyone going to make money dancing for tips? I put on my best pair of slutty stripper underwear and began to circulate the club. Although I met some nice guys, nobody was spending money. Time went on and the alcohol was flowing, and guys were slowly starting to tip and go into the backroom with their favorite dancers.

It had been two hours and I still hadn’t made any money. Instead, I felt like Julie from the
Loveboat
walking around asking:

“Are you having fun?”

“Where are you from?”

“Did you come here alone?”

“Oh, wow... it’s your birthday?”

“So your wife is out of town?”

“Oh, really? You’ve never done this before?”

And so on...

Finally, a man with a giant duffel bag walked up to me, set his stuff down at my feet, and asked for a drink at the bar. He looked at me and I smiled and jokingly asked, “Do you always carry luggage with you when you go to clubs?”

“I just got back from a trip and I came here.” He seemed drunk and was staggering a little bit as he stood at the bar to order a drink.

“I see. What’s in the bag?”

“The usual... clothes, shoes, condoms, leather hood, rope, poppers, handcuffs, harness, ball gag, and some other leather gear.” He smiled, although his eyes looked bloodshot and were half closed.

“Really? Wow. So you carry that stuff around with you all the time?”

“I’m just fucking with you,” he slurred and smiled. He seemed a little sloppy, even though it was only about 10 p.m. He looked at me and said, “Listen, I know what you’re selling, and I know I’m not going to get anything from you ‘cuz you’re straight, so fuck off.”

Should I have been offended he thought I was straight, or excited to know I could actually pull off butch as I stood there in my skimpiest underwear?

“Actually, I’m not straight. I’m gay.”

“Yeah, right. None of the dancers here are gay. Listen, I’ve done this before and I know exactly what’s going to go down so don’t bother, kid.” Apparently, most of the male dancers were straight at these events and I guess this man had not gotten what he wanted in the past.

I assured him I was very, very, very gay and asked him if we wanted to go to the backroom. He looked me up and down and asked what he would get. I explained how it all worked and I would do a lap dance for him for twenty dollars per song. He said it was fine, but he had a special request. When I asked what it was, he told me he wanted me to rape him. I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, but I was speechless.

“Sir... it’s not that kind of club,” I said when I finally found my voice. “And we’re not allowed to rape people here. Sorry.”

“Well, that’s what I want, so unless you’re going to rape me with no safe word, then I’m not interested.”

Holy shit
, I thought,
New Yorkers are full out with their sex.

“Sir, I can bring you back there, and I can get rough with you, but I can’t really rape you. Those are the rules.”

“Okay, fine, whatever. That works.”

I grabbed him by his collar and yanked him closer to me. I demanded he pick up his bag and come with me, which he seemed to be into, and then I dragged him to the backroom. I told him to set his stuff down and take off his suit jacket. He did as he was told, and I grabbed him by his shirt and hurled him across the room. The drunken bastard went flying into the wall and fell against a bench and onto the floor. The man looked dead and lifeless lying there.

Oh shit
, I thought.
Did I just kill him?

The man had wanted to get rough, but I think I went too far. I ran over to him and everyone in the backroom stopped to see what was going on. It was kind of a funny sight to see a dark room full of strippers stop giving their lap dances and turn around to see what happened. Everyone seemed concerned and started whispering and asking what the fuck had just happened. A barback came over and asked the man if he was okay, and he said yeah, and we helped him up. Once the barback had gone, the drunken man said to me, “I told you... no safe word.” It was clear this man knew exactly what he wanted and I guess I had to play the role of a rapist that night. I couldn’t help but think what the fuck was going on and how did this become my life, but I did as I was told.

I danced for six songs and basically spent the time roughing him up, choking him, smacking him around, and he seemed to like it. We didn’t do anything too crazy, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, even though he wasn’t getting completely physically abused like he had hoped. By the sixth song, the man looked like he was going to either pass out or throw up all over me, so I figured it was time for a break. I climbed off his lap and asked him if he was okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he shouted “Let’s get another drink.”

I took his Black American Express card and went to the bar and ordered us both a drink. It was time to wrap this deal up and get paid for my six songs. He signed out the check, and I told him I had to excuse myself and needed the money for the dances.

“I’m not paying you until you rape me,” he said.

“I told you, I can’t do that. This isn’t that kind of club.”

“Well, then, you’re not getting your fucking money.”

I was in disbelief. “You have to. Its twenty bucks a song, and I gave you six dances.” I started to feel like a whiny little kid who was just robbed at his lemonade stand by the neighborhood bully. What did he mean he wasn’t going to pay me? I just gave him six lap dances and I figured it was an unwritten rule for strippers that you had to pay them for their services.

“I’m not paying you,” he said, throwing his hands up. Then he pushed past me and walked off.

I went to find Javier and explained the situation, and he was even more surprised than I was.

“What the fuck? Are you serious? This has never happened before. Where is he?” asked Javier.

“I don’t know... I think he’s up front,” and Javier was off to look for him.

I had a feeling this guy probably wasn’t going to pay me a dime, so I went to the backroom and saw he left his jacket and bag. I picked the bag up, took it downstairs, and hid it. I came back upstairs and asked Javier what was going on, and he said the man wasn’t going to pay me. I told Javier if the man didn’t pay I was not going to give him his shit back. Javier was doing his best to resolve the situation, and he went to speak to the man again, but he figured this man wasn’t going to give in.

I went back downstairs to go through his bag and see if I could at least find a wallet or driver’s license to see who this asshole was. I opened the bag to find an iPad, a leather hood, a rope, a harness, two boxes of condoms, handcuffs, gym shoes and shorts, a ballgag, three bottles of poppers, toiletries, and leather gloves.
What the fuck?
This man wasn’t lying. He seriously wanted someone to rape him, or at least torture him a bit. I decided the iPad was the only thing of value, so I put it in my bag and went up to see if they got my money from him.

I eventually found Javier, and he told me the man refused to give me any money. “Listen, the guy wants his shit back and he’s gonna call the cops if you don’t give him his stuff. We seriously can’t have the cops here because they’ll shut this party down, so I’ll give you eighty bucks of my own money if you please just give him back his stuff.”

Javier was being so nice and was the perfect mediator. Who would have thought the organizer of male strip events was such a peacemaker? I wanted to hug him. It was nice to see that not everyone in this shady industry was a slime ball. I went to get his bag but kept the iPad, mainly because this guy was an asshole and I kind of wanted to fuck with him. I’ve never stolen before, and it is definitely not in my character to do so, but I felt a little wrapped up in this stripper drama, and perhaps stealing was the next step in my downward spiral of creating the future Lifetime movie of my life.

I handed the bag over to Javier, and he took it to the entrance of the bar and threw it on the road, and the asshole went scrambling to pick the stuff off the street and collect his shit.

Business picked up that night and I made good money. I ended up meeting a really nice man named Benjamin, who I talked to for about thirty minutes. He wanted to spend some private time with me, but he really wanted to also buy me a lap dance from another dancer. He told me it made him feel really good to see good-looking guys happy, and it would please him if I chose one of the dancers I liked and got a lap dance. I asked if he was serious, and he told me he was. He had been coming to these events since they started and had spent years going to the infamous Gaiety Theatre in Times Square as well as other male strip joints throughout the years. He knew all of the dancers and had been with all of them at one time or another. He asked me who I liked, and immediately I told him I was into the hot, hairy, muscled guy standing across the room. Benjamin told me his name was Teddy, and he was a great guy. He had seen him a few times in the club and a few times outside the club as well. Benjamin asked if he was sure that was the guy I wanted and I said yes.

Suddenly I got really nervous thinking about getting a lap dance from this hot guy standing across from me, and I began to start feeling like a client. Benjamin brought him over to me and my mouth became dry and I was having a hard time getting out the right words. We made small-talk, and Teddy was very nice and extremely sweet. The whole thing began to get weird when I thought how I already had almost $1,200 in my underwear, shoes, and socks from giving guys dances that night, yet here was a dancer in front me who someone else was going to buy for me to spend a few songs with.