Chapter 51

I had some serious thinking to do regarding my fees. I had another look at some of the other adverts in the contact magazine that I used. Sure enough, I had been selling myself short, literally. How could I have missed how much the other “escorts” charged? I can only assume that it was me being modest and unassuming at the time, but that doesn’t sound like me, does it?

The next time I renew the advert, there would be new pricing, no more Mr. Cheap Guy. Three hundred quid an hour, that sounded about right.

But as an example that I am not totally money motivated, I do have a client for whom there is no charge. One of my first contacts, one that I have not mentioned before is a man I shall call John, not his real name, just for confidential reasons.

John is disabled and in a wheelchair. He contacted me via my advert and after a successful first meeting, he has become a regular. After our first encounter, he insisted on paying me the full rate of eighty pounds. I tried to refuse, but I immediately saw it as a bit of an insult to make him feel like a charity case. I felt guilty taking his money, but I also felt bad about trying to refuse it. It was a no-win situation. But even so, there was no way John could easily afford my weekly, Tuesday visits. I was sure that he was living on a paltry disability allowance and so eighty quid was a hell of a dent in his income.

By the way, he chose Tuesday for his weekly visit, as, in his own words, there was nothing on TV, on Tuesdays, so he might as well have someone suck his cock. That someone was me.

On the second visit to him I took an empty envelope with me, and when I left, I posted the money back through his letter box. I heard a brief shout of protest from behind the door, but after that evening, John paid nothing.

And so you see, I do have a heart!

But, getting back to business, there was an arranged liaison with Ciaran and Arthur to fulfil. I had already received confirmation from Ciaran that he would be able to make it that evening, and would be wearing his school uniform under his coat and waiting at the designated bus stop.

It was now just a matter of waiting for Thursday. I must admit to being a little apprehensive. If Ciaran reacted badly towards Arthur, my relationship with a regular and very lucrative client, could be ruined. Safe to say that Arthur is not the Adonis that Ciaran is, and if my young protégé rejects Arthur because he finds him, let’s say, unattractive, then my arrangement with Arthur could be over. I didn’t have any photographs of Arthur, he’s not the posing model type, so I couldn’t prepare Ciaran for what awaited him. All I could do was to let Ciaran know that Arthur was a very special client and that he had to be treated like royalty, in spite of his appearance. I received an assurance from Ciaran that he would comply, or at least do his best.

Before Thursday arrived, Ciaran contacted me and told me that he’d already had a “meeting” with Edward the agent. That was quick, I thought, he didn’t hang about. He told me in graphic detail what had happened when he got to his office yesterday evening. According to Ciaran, and I had no reason to doubt the veracity of his account, it all went very well. The interview started off in a very formal and professional way with Edward explaining what a modelling career entailed and the need for a contract, where Edward would receive ten percent of all Ciaran’s earnings. Ciaran told me that it was all pretty straight forward until Edward showed him some photographs from a previous male model that Edward had handled in the past. They were basically porn pictures. Ciaran had protested at this point saying that he was not interested in that sort of thing. It had to be something his mum could see. Edward had apparently misjudged Ciaran’s motives and intentions, I certainly hadn’t thought of a porn career for Ciaran, but obviously, Edward had.

But, the photographs had served another purpose. Ciaran had developed a noticeable hard on, which Edward immediately commented on. He didn’t just comment either, he grabbed Ciaran’s crotch and squeezed his erection through his trousers. Things escalated quickly from that point, and according to Ciaran, moments later, he was on his knees, sucking Edward’s irresistible cock. Before Ciaran left the office, he’d allowed, even encouraged, Edward to pull his trousers and pants down, bend him over the desk and fuck him bareback. Lucky old Edward. Ciaran had then dressed, and posed for a few modest and respectable photographs as a “taster” for possible clients. Edward had promised to arrange a formal, professional photo session in the near future.

Ciaran had then made his way home with a three-month trial contract for a modelling career, (non-porn) in his pocket, with an option to extend, and Edward’s spunk oozing out of his arse. All in all, a pretty successful evening.

Eventually, Thursday evening came around. There was a flurry of texts between me and Ciaran, clarifying and confirming the arrangements. He seemed in a positive frame of mind and appeared fully up for it. I wasn’t sure if it was the prospect of the sex or the lure of the money that was making him so keen. Probably a combination of the two.