Legal stuff: this story is completely fiction and there are noimplications about the sexuality or sexual preferences of the character on which the story is based. It is a work of pure fantasy, and has no connection to any existing or previously existing television shows whatsoever. This is more of a "What if" story.
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It's a great opening line at parties - not that I get to go to many parties anymore. Work ya know. Oh, the opening line "So, what do you do for a living." "I'm a matchmaker." "Ha ha. No, really, what do you do.' "I'm a matchmaker."
In fact, I'm a matchmaker for a very particular type of client. I match Doms, and subs. Seriously, I do. Yenta with a whip? Maybe. I DO have one, but I've rarely used it.
See, if you're a Dom, or a sub, you've probably found that , when you look for "that man" you want, you can't find him. You may come close, you may come VERY close, but you always feel like you're "settling," and not getting what you really want.
It's my job to see that you get who you want. That you're both compatible, and that you're happy. It's not always easy.
Sometimes, the requests are VERY specific: I remember the guy who wanted a sub, Latino, between 5'6" and 5'10", dark hair, green eyes, swimmer's build, no older than 35.
Found him. Yup. I did. They're living happily ever after (at least I think so), in Washington State.
Then there was the guy who wanted someone who reminded him of his college roommate: red hair, pale skin, also green eyes (what is it about green eyes?), "muscles like a marine" (his words), and good at oral sex. Found him too. He and Sean are living happily on Long Island.
Each of those guys paid big time for my work because, well, look at those particulars. How many people do YOU know who fit them? But if they're out there, I can find them. Most of the time.
How did I get into this business? Well, after I finished school (Phi Beta in economics, thank you very much), I really wasn't all that interested in a conventional job. I had been told I had "the look," but my height and weight were wrong for modeling. By the time I finished college, I was also too old.
At about the time that I was looking for work, the "circuit party" was reaching its peak. There was no way I had the capital to start a circuit party, but.... If you've ever thrown a party, you know how to throw a "social event." I DID know how to throw a party, and I tried it. Circuit parties were general: TOO general. But if you tried a party with a theme like "men who like hairy men," or "men who like smooth men," or even better "men who like tying men up and the men who like getting tied up," in a big city like NY, if you pick the right advertising, folks will come. And they did. It was fun.
Next, I started running an ongoing party. The idea of trying to match tops and bottoms was appealing. At the time, you just didn't have that. Yeah, you could go to a bar, but at my parties, we'd "color code." Tops wore a blue label, bottoms a green one. The parties were exlusive: anyone who wanted to attend could, as long as they paid the 100.00 admission fee. We had our regulars: the parties happened once a month, and I think there were guys who never missed a single one. Those parties were a blast. I'd rent some raw space, two or three big strong guys and I would set it up, we'd pour some cheap pinot and some cheaper chardonnay, put out snacks (you might be surprised how popular chex mix is at these things), and in they'd come. It was so successful, we started having competition. Big time. Folks with more capital, folks with bigger social "lists," folks with more 'connections,' etc. It became cut throat. I'm competitive, but not stupid.
So I moved on again. A good friend told me that maybe looking at Top and Bottom was not really the way to go. He explained to me that while it may be subtle to some people, there IS a difference between Top/bottom and Dom/sub.
Learn something new every day. So, I began focusing on Dom/sub, rather than Top/Bottom. Remember that ice cream place that had 64 flavors? Someday, go review the old bandana code. GEEZ. I felt like I was sitting for exams again as I learned this stuff: do we do a party for folks into bondage this week, one for folks into fisting the next week, one for folks into inter generational next week? I felt like a department store. To be fair, it was a very profitable department store, but I was putting in somewhere between 80 and 90 hours a week . And I was getting old
Then the breakthrough came. One of our regulars, a very rich executive, called me one day. "Hey, Seth. Sorry to bother you, but I wonder. Your parties are great, but I'm on the down low. I can't afford to have anyone know that I'm at the parties. So I was wondering: maybe you could hook me up, on the sly, with someone?" "Oh, like a yenta for your tastes Bob?" (I knew his name wasn't Bob, but the man was so paranoid, I agreed to use a different name on the phone - 'just in case' we were being tapped). "Yeah, that's it." "Ok, so tell me what your tastes are." He did. In some detail. I took notes. And as he sketched out his perfect man, I thought of one of the boys at the brothel. Yeah, he was older now, but it was a start. So I called him. "Tommy, Madame Seth here." "OH MY GOD. MOMMA. How are you?" (All my boys called me Momma, at some point or another). I told him why I was calling. He was hesitant. "Welll..... I kinda put that life behind me, but... you know, I AM still single, and you say this guy has got some money? Ok, how bad can one date be?" "Bob" and Tommy went out after they had met at my place for a drink. That was 5 years ago. They're still together. "Bob" called me after it looked like it was real, and asked me what my fee was. "My fee?" Mr Economics major had never thought about that. I threw out a number "How about 2000.?" Bob laughed. "I was ready to sign a five figure check. Well worth the time Seth. Thanks."
My rates went up after that. I spent some time going to the parties that had sprung up, taking brothel owners to lunch or dinner, checking personal ads and "dating services," and soon, I had an album of well over 350 "faces." It wasn't enough, but it was a start. I gave Bob a call, and asked if he were willing to recommend me to his friends.
I owe Bob. He did. And the requests started coming in. Guys who wanted particular physical types were, and are, the majority of my business, but then there are guys who want particular professons. "A good looking lawyer." "A hung chef" (almost redundant, in my opinion), " An accountant who likes getting tied up. " Before you knew it, I was back to working 90 hour weeks. But you know what? Working one on one, was so much more satisfying than the other jobs.
At first, just like that show, I would introduce my client to anywhere from 3-5 guys who I thought met their requirements, and let the chemistry happen. (I almost became a chemist, and I was pretty good at figuring out when the reaction would produce heat - as we said in the lab "an exothermic reaction"). But after a while, I began thinking it was just too much trouble. I mean, I would set up these small meetings, and before they'd start, I'd tell my long suffering assistant Adrienne (God bless that woman), "he's gonna pick number 3," or "he'll linger over number 2, but he'll take number 5 home." I was almost always right.
So, I asked myself, why don't you just make the direct match, and see what happens.
And that's how I got to where I am today. Most of my clients are Doms, but not all: many subs are extremely wealthy, and have trouble finding a Dom - there's a prejudice that the Dom should have the money. I charge a flat rate of 20000. Half of it is due up front, but I return it if I can't find someone who meets the criteria in 3 months. And if the guys are still together three months after the first date, I charge the other half. I've never had a problem getting paid. Adrienne has an apartment with a river view and four bedrooms. Me? I live and work out of a townhouse that was once owned by one of NYC's leading "companions," as she used to call herself.
One of the most common requests I'd get, was for a law enforcement officer. Now, again , finding some twink, or some hunk, and putting a uniform on him, is child's play. Just look at how many bad dancers go to how many bad bachelorette parties, tearing open a cheap cop uniform, and dancing like an idiot? (Adrienne and I wondered once whether there were more cops, or more supermen at stripper parties? Never figured that out). But I digress. Finding a REAL cop, or a REAL detective, is not so easy. And if you're looking for one who admits to being a sub, well, the hunt is on.
That's why I was so stunned when "Adam" walked into the parlor once. "Adam" had called me before coming over. He was honest about Adam not being his real name. He was honest about his age (43), and he told me that, until he was 40, he had only dated women. He had stopped because, well..., again he was honest. He had a crush on another officer. And one night, while he was pounding his date, he yelled out "I LOVE YOU RON". Told me it took four months for the scratches on his cock to heal. He had a prominent position in the NYPD, so he had to skulk around to find what he wanted. And what he wanted, was to serve.
He told me he had trouble finding the right man. I understood why. "Adam" is about 5'9", and as they say "built like a brick shithouse." He has short black hair, just beginning to go gray at the temples. Light blue eyes, and a good, not a great body. Maybe his most striking feature, is his smile. He's got a GREAT smile. He's smart. He loves being tied up, and he's got hot spots all over the body, that turn him into mush. Over the years, he's become a better cocksucker, and he's gotten much better at taking cock up his ass. He's great at roleplay, especially scenarios involving police based scenes. He's also a fairly good cook.
Have you figured out yet, reader, that "Adam" is now my sub? Figured you would. Took a while for that to happen, but it did. Read along. I'll tell you all about how I hooked my man