Heart of a Gigolo

THE HEART OF A GIGOLO

by Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

So this was the good life and these were the beautiful people. I was standing in a tuxedo (rented) in the middle of a large room where everything was golden, not just gold-colored, but golden and glistening and glowing. Through this golden room the people moved, men in finely tailored tuxes, the women in gowns like you only see at the Oscars, you watching them only on television and then only quickly, while they stride down the red carpet and out of your puny lives.

Wafting over this scene was music, serene, classical, dignified. That was the conversations I heard here and there, talk of stocks, of opera, ballet, politics that were never heated. Nobody raised their voice, nobody laughed too loud, nobody did anything other than what was proper and decorous.

What was I doing here? you may ask. A document that had to be changed at the last moment, that had to be signed that very day in order to make an early morning delivery, and the man to sign it at this party. And told as long as I had to be there, I might as well stay, a condition I was happy to accept I'm sure you'll agree. So a quick tux rental, a shower and shave at the apartment, and then off to the party.

The man I had to see wasn't here yet, he was expected to show up before nine o'clock. So at eight-thirty, I was sipping champagne and pretending that I belonged. Smiling inanely, lifting my glass, ignored by everyone (they knew better than to be fooled by me), I was savoring the unreal quality of it all. It was like a visit to Paradise; I didn't belong here yet, but I would one day, I would!

One of the beautiful people was looking at me. Tall, handsome as all hell, dark-haired, that sultry look that could pierce your heart, where you would know ahead of time that he was going to just use you and cast you aside, but at least he would pay attention to you, so you'd throw yourself willingly into the fire, he was looking at me, and I smiled at him, expecting him to do as all the others did, smile back and turn away, me in my rented tuxedo and my fatuous smile.

And he turned and came toward me, his body gliding rather than walking to me, it was like watching a majestic ship come into port, or watching a bird alight on a tree branch, all beauty and symmetry of motion so that it was like poetry.

He walked up to me and said, "I had to come talk to you."

"Yes?" I said inanely. "Why was that?" That slipped out, a desperate plea, tell me what I did right so I can keep doing it!

"Because you are the most attractive man I have seen this night, and for many months, and I could never forgive myself if I didn't introduce myself."

If you think my heart ended up in puddles in my shoes at that, you're right. And if you sneer at how quickly I fell into such a ploy, I can only say that you didn't see him, he wasn't looking at you the way he was looking at me!

"Then I'm glad to meet you." I said and put out my hand.

He took it and I damned near fainted at his touch. A part of my brain, far back, buried under my self-aggrandizing grin that chewed up most of my thoughts, was telling me that this was a mistake, a huge mistake. He couldn't possibly be interested in me, not really me!

But my forebrain was firmly in control and I yammered on, "My name is Bill...William, that is. William Nyland."

"William Nyland." he said. Have you ever heard your own name said so that it sounds like music? Like the only way to write it is to decorate it with flowers and decorative script and.... "I am so very glad to meet you. My name is Paolo. Paolo Fabietta." He didn't have a trace of Italian accent until he said his own name, and that only, and that only made it more memorable.

"I'm pleased to meet you, too, Paolo." I said.

"What brings you to this magnificent party, if I may ask?"

I smiled. "I'm not a guest, or not exactly. Mr. Mainer needs to sign some papers I have with me and I am waiting for him. What about you?"

"I am a guest of La Comtesse Lebonfeau." I think that was the name he said. I didn't know who she was, but he indicated her and I saw her, a travesty of purple and older-middle age, a woman who had been born rich, stayed rich, and now was a mockery of the beautiful woman she had once been. Just the sort to keep a handsome man by her...hire him.

I looked back at Paolo and realized that he was a gigolo. I guess that showed in my eyes, for he smiled and said, "She is a good friend of my family. She needed a man to bring her tonight, to stand with her. I am not making love to La Comtesse Lebonfeau."

"Oh." I said, not very intelligently.

Mr. Mainer walked in at that time. "Well, I see Mr. Mainer is here." I said. "I'd better get him to sign the papers right now."

"But of course." Paolo said. "I understand. I hope to see you again very soon."

"I doubt it." I said. "This group is too rich for my blood."

"But I can see you again?" he pressed me.

"Yeah, sure." I said. Mr. Mainer had seen me and was coming my way. I had a job to do. And what Paolo was offering, I didn't want. Well, I couldn't afford it, anyway. He was a thoroughbred horse, you could buy him but the price was out of my range. Others would get to hold him, not me.

"I look forward to it." he said to me and took my hand again. I was startled by this, and I only watched while he lifted my hand to his lips, kissed the palm of my hand, smiled gently.

"Yeah." I said to him. Dumbfounded. Why me? I mean, he knew, he KNEW, that I was just an office flunky, that I didn't have anything to offer him. I couldn't take him to exotic places, I couldn't buy him fancy clothes, I couldn't BUY him! Didn't he know that? He had to, this was a rented tuxedo, a cheap rented tux, even, it stood out like a pimple among all these silken things worn by everyone else.

I got the packet of papers off the table nearby where I'd set it and walked toward Mr. Mainer, who was gesturing to me.

I looked back once.

Paolo was still standing right there. Watching me. Smiling.

I got the papers signed and got out of there, my heart pounding inside my breast.

I didn't sleep too well that night.

Coffee helped fight off the cobwebs the next day. By eleven-thirty, I was working at my desk in my too-small office, the night before a memory rapidly receding, vaporizing in the humdrum that was my regular life. People came in and out of my office all the time, it wasn't worthwhile to shut the door to my office without good reason.

I smelled him before I heard him, the smell of expensive cologne, deep, masculine, sensual. I'd smelled it the night before though I hadn't remarked on it then. I looked up as he said, "Hello, William."

"Oh...hello, Paolo." I said. "Uh...how are you? What are you doing here?"

"I had to come here." he said, smiled.

"Why?" I was puzzled. We had nothing to offer Paolo, we dealt with government contracts and large corporations, nothing a normal person would have any reason to see us.

"You did not give me your telephone number." he said. "I couldn't call you. May I take you out to lunch?"

"Lunch?" I said foolishly. "But my lunch isn't until one o'clock, sorry."

"That is all right." he said to me. "I will wait."

"Wait?" I said. "But you can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Well...you can sit in the reception area, I guess." I said.

"So we can have lunch together?" he said.

"Uh, yeah." Sure.

"One o'clock, then." he said. "I shall call the restaurant and change our reservation."

"Uh, I only get one hour." I said. "Which restaurant?"

"Marcon's." he said. "It is nearby, yes?"

"Sure." I said. "But I've never been there. I can't afford it." I said to him, a bit firmly.

"I can." he said. "This is my gift to you."

"Okay...thanks." I said.

"I will let you return to your job." he said. "Until one o'clock. Then...you are mine." he said.

"All right." I said and the butterflies in my stomach were dancing jigs in double-time.

I finished my work though I'm not sure how. I made any number of mistakes, most of which I caught, the rest my boss caught and I corrected, but I got through the document right at one o'clock. As my boss signed it, I said, "I have a lunch date. We're going to Marcon's, so I might be a little late getting back."

"Take your time, Bill." my boss said. "Have fun."

"Thanks." I said. I picked up my jacket; Marcon's had a dress code, I'd barely qualify.

Paolo was sitting in the reception area, carrying on an animated conversation with three of the secretaries. They were enthralled by him, of course, who wouldn't be. But when he saw me, he said, "I must go now, thank you all very much."

I told the receptionist, who was eating up the sight along with the secretaries. "I'm off to lunch."

"I know." she said. Her eyes slid to Paolo, and she semi-whispered. "At Marcon's. You lucky dog, you."

"I might be back late." I said to her, teasing her.

Paolo took my arm. "Come, William." he said. "Let us go now."

And do we did. Paolo had called ahead and the table was waiting for us and the meal was already selected. Marcon's usually served people leisurely, a two-hour lunch was a minimum for them, but we were served promptly, each course arriving as soon as we finished the one before, the salad, the coffee, the salad, the entree, the desert, and demitasse. It left us free to talk, and Paolo and I did.

Talk? God, how he could talk! Of lands and places and people, and yet he never talked down to me, I felt at ease, understood, and my own talk of my family and my life, pitifully small by comparison, he treated as nuggets to be treasured on a par with his own.

I understood very well how the women would pay to be with Paolo. Whatever they paid him, he gave them value for their money.

I looked at my watch and saw my lunch hour was nearly over. "I have to get back to work." I said to him.

"But of course." he said. "But may I have your telephone number and address? I want to see you again."

"Sure." By now, I would have given him my credit card number if he'd asked. Not that he'd buy much with the $14.00 of credit left on it if he'd had it!

I gave him my information on a paper and he put it carefully in his pocket. "I am meeting someone here, but I will call on you tonight if I may? Eight o'clock?"

"Sure." I said again. "Thank you so much for lunch. This was great. Can I help with the tip?" I fumbled at my wallet.

"No, no!" he said. "This is my gift to you."

"Well...okay." I said. If I gave him the money in my pocket, I would have had to bring a bag lunch the rest of the week. "Thanks again."

As I had done before, I looked back on my way out. This time, he wasn't looking at me. He was greeting a woman, one much older than him. Smiling and kissing her. Stung, I turned and walked on out of Marcon's, and back to the real world once again.

I expected maybe Paolo would call me and I had decided to end it. After all, what could I be to him but some sort of diversion? Him the world traveler, and me one stop on his travels. He was tired of the old women getting into his bed and here was I, young and gullible and easily impressed by a beautiful face and an expensive suit. How better to wash the taste out of your mouth than to get it on with someone like me?

I looked in the mirror, to see what Paolo would see, what would bring such a man over to my side. There was still the same face I'd always had. I was struck once again by my resemblance to a horse whose picture I had seen, his muzzle aimed toward the camera, and there were the same eyes, the same cheekbones, as that horse. The face might have been handsome if it had been proportioned differently, maybe, if the cheeks weren't so long and the eyes a little too far apart and the nose broad and flat across my face. In my better moods I thought of myself as average looking, now, with Paolo to compare myself to, I felt once again the equine comradeship, seeing once again that long, rather sad-looking face, and I turned from the mirror in disgust.

No, there was nothing here for Paolo to want. His intent, whatever it was, was more mercenary than that. Maybe he thought I had money, or could introduce him to more rich old ladies.

He would call me and I would end it before it could begin, before I could lose any more of my heart to his cold clutches. All I had to do was wait by the phone and hit him with my decision before he could say anything, before his words could conjure up once again that too-beautiful man looking at me with every semblance of desire.

I didn't hear the knock on the door at first. Then it came again and I jumped up, went to the door. I was only wearing a old T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, and some socks because the apartment floor was cold. Not knowing who it was, I opened the door and said, "Oh! Hello."

It was Paolo. "It is eight o'clock." He said to me, seeing my state of dress. "I was hoping to take you out for drinks."

"I'm sorry." I said. "I thought you were going to call me."

"I said I would call on you." he said.

"Oh." I said. "Yeah. Well, uh, come on in. I wanted to talk to you anyhow."

"All right." he said and came in. If the appearance of my shabby bachelor apartment with dirty clothes strewn about bothered him, he didn't show it. I led him inside, throwing clothes aside as I went, a mockery of housecleaning.

He sat on the middle of the couch. Only problem with that was, the couch was all I had, if he sat there, I had to sit next to him. I perched on the arm of the couch instead and said, "Look, Paolo, I really enjoyed lunch today, but...."

"May I have something to drink?" he asked.

"Oh! Sure!" I said. "I don't have much. Some diet cola, or some beer?"

"Just some cold water, please."

I went into my kitchenette to get him some water. Ice from the refrigerator, tap water over that. I took it out to the living area and there was Paolo still sitting on the couch. Only now he had removed his jacket and his shirt was open, showing that golden chest. I was reminded of that all-gold room of the night before, glowing, glistening, beautiful.

I looked, I gulped hard and I said, "Paolo...this is a mistake."

He didn't pretend not to understand. "How is this a mistake?" He asked me and stood up, came to me. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had taken me in his arms, but he only took the water glass from me and sipped it. It was like he was sipping champagne at that party. Thoroughly at ease and comfortable.

"I'm just a guy who works in an office." I said. "I don't have anything to offer you."

"You are wrong about that." he said. "Do you not feel it, the bond between us?" He set the water glass on the bar to the kitchenette.

Now I couldn't pretend to misunderstand. "Sure, Paolo, I want you. I'd be crazy not to want you. But...."

Now Paolo did take me in his arms and as his lips came in to meet mine, something inside me surrendered completely. I guess there's a part of us that doesn't listen to common sense, doesn't listen to reason, not when there's nothing else you have to do to get what you want, just accept it.

Knowing what Paolo was, what he would do to me in the end, I still quivered with excitement, my heart pounded heavily within my chest, threatening to burst out of my body, my lips met his and kissed him without reservation, without inhibition, giving my all in that kiss. The touch of his hands over my body was intoxicating, transporting me to a realm of fantasy made real, and I closed my eyes and said, "Let it be so. Oh, God, let it be so!"

His hands pulled my t-shirt up over my head and I let him, limply assisting him in that I raised my arms and let him pull it away. Then that hand touched my bare chest and I again nearly swooned, and he followed it with his lips, oh, God! His lips touched my nipple and its kiss was the benediction of heaven!

He lingered there, sending me on a magical journey of delight, this was what I'd yearned to feel with my other lovers, the missing part that had always made me part from them, it was here with Paolo, living inside his lips and his hands that now reached around to my back and down my body to cup my buttocks and pull me to him and I felt his body firmly against mine and he ground against me, as his eyes closed and he crooned in golden, melodic tones the sounds of joy.

Lowered his head again, opened his eyes and looked right into mine and said, "The bed now, please."

And his hands reached into my sweat pants and fondled my bare buttocks, and I could deny him nothing.

"Come on!" I panted and led him to my bed, a matter of a half-dozen steps and I scooped away the covers and their covering of dirty socks and stained underwear, and I laid bare the decently white sheet beneath, wrinkled and used, but at least serene and inviting in its clean white color, little marred by my slumber.

My hands tore off my sweat pants and I sat on the bed and pulled off my socks as I watched Paolo. He removed his shirt to reveal more of that golden skin, smooth and unmarked by blemish or scar, flawlessly perfect, flawlessly masculine. This was the body dreamed by Michelangelo as he sculpted his huge marble David, this perfect skin, this regular face, that smile which melted your heart from within.

I could only lay myself back, the way a willing human sacrifice might do upon the altar, knowing the knife was coming, loving it as it raised above them, but there was only Paolo lowering his pants, hinting at humanity (liar!) as he stumbled slightly in removing them. There were now only a pair of red briefs with a white trim and I saw how it stretched its central area outwards, only a mass of undefined flesh, and then he took the elastic band and pulled it away and the mass resolved itself into a cock, a divine cock, a lovely cock, a cock that you would whimper for and beg for the mercy of being allowed to suck on it.

I reached one timorous hand out to cup that manhood and he let me touch him, let me place that majestic dong on my wrist and those magnificent balls into my fingers, where they steamed gently, and I was so absorbed by this that Paolo's hand reaching and taking my own prick was startling, a revelation that I saw open-eyed, he was touching me, he was touching me!

"Ahhhhh!" A shuddering sigh from my lips. "God, yeahhhh!" I simpered, and I could only lay back, overcome by the feelings racing through my body, I was being touched by a god! A god!

And not just a touch now, now he held me firmly in his hand and now his head bent low and now. "Oh, Jesus!" I gasped. And Paolo's mouth held my cock in his lips and it was divine, it was ecstatic.

I could only loose little whimpers of sound from my lips as he nursed my cock, and there weren't words powerful enough to tell you how it felt, it was like all my prior lovemaking was put into one side of a set of balancing scales, and this one moment into the other, and the scales fell heavily down on the side of this moment, and all my other memories of sex were sent hurtling into the cosmos, catapulted into oblivion.

This is why the women do it, I knew now, why they would make him expensive gifts, why the money flew out of their hands and into his, not caring what he'd do with it, not caring that he would walk away and forget them, this moment was worth it, worth every cent they had, there was no regret at losing the money, for the memories he instilled were worth it, worth all of it and more!

"Here, now you." he said invitingly, and moved his body around to present his lower body to me. I was already driven to the very edge of ecstasy just from his lips on my cock, now I wrapped my own lips around his dong and that was just that much better, now I had my own sighs of pleasure echoed by his melodic tones as he sighed with my every movement upon his prong.

I was loving him, I had this man, this beautiful man, in my bed and I was loving him and he was loving me! Can you blame me for losing control in only a moment or so?

"Oh, oh, God, I'm coming, I'm coming!" I gasped out as my climax seized me. I expected him to pull off and away as I took his cock back into my mouth, and I was trampled by my orgasm, my self crushed utterly flat under the intensity of it all and my seed burst out of me...and into his mouth, for he was still holding onto me, still sucking me and he didn't let go, even though I pumped out a load like none I'd had before, and he coughed from the volume of it, and I looked at him, dazed to see a driblet of my jism slip out of that unflawed nose. I was ashamed of myself and I sucked him in despair, only to feel his body tense and his cock heat up in my mouth.

A surge of determination hit me, I renewed my working of his prick with single-minded vigor, I gave him the best damned blow-job I had ever managed before, heedless of myself, not caring if I could breathe, if my body ached from the motion, if my lips were numbed from the exertion, it only mattered that I gave him more, and more, and more!

"Oh, oh, oh, Will-ll-ll-ll-ll-i-i-i-i-i-am-m-m-m-m!" he sighed as he climaxed, and I drank his sperm happily, it couldn't come out fast and hard enough to suit me, I was too dazzled by that to care, that when he'd reached his peak, the word that had come out of him was my name! My name!

We lay there like that, panting, for a time, our heads pillowed on each other's thigh, and then he crawled around to face me and I kissed that wonderful face, dappled with love-sweat, hair tousled by our embraces and exertions, and it all just made him more beautiful than before! I couldn't hold him enough, kiss him enough, love him enough, and after a time, when I felt his cock re-invigorated, I opened my legs to him gratefully, and he pierced me with his golden shaft and he loved me like that, on and on, for the longest time, never tiring, never complaining, never giving in, until at last, after I had twice jizzed onto my own body and his, he sighed and once again poured his seed into my body and fell into my arms. Then, and only then, did I sleepily pull the covers back over the two of us, and we slept like that, together.

He was still there the next day, though he had to dress and leave, and I kissed him and said, "When can I see you again?"

"In two or three days." he promised me. "As soon as I can."

And I believed him.

Right up until that second day when I was running an errand in another building and I looked to see him getting into a limousine. Inside was a woman of dignified mien and grace and he smiled and I just saw before the chauffeur closed the door that he kissed her passionately.

My heart broke in two, and I cursed myself as a fool. Paolo hadn't lied to me, I had lied to myself! I had known what he was, what he would do, how he lived. I was a wreck the rest of that day and I went home and cried throughout the night.

The next day, I was beginning to heal, a little. It's like a wound that has a long way to go to heal, but it has scabbed over and at least you aren't bleeding away your soul any longer. You'd lost all there was to lose, and it would take a long time and you'd never be fully whole again, but at least you'd lost all there was to lose.

I'd said before it was worth it when I gave myself to him. And it was. But it didn't hurt any the less for being gone.

That was me, watching the television numbly, not really seeing the pictures but not wanting to get into that bed again, the bed that still smelled faintly of Paolo. I had to preserve that somehow. It was all I had of him, that sweat from his body on my sheet, and the memories.

A knock at the door. I got up as I had the time before, not looking to see who it was, for only a few friends ever knocked at my door.

I opened and there was an explosion of roses there. Above them, the biggest rose of all, was Paolo's face, grinning widely.

"Paolo?" I said.

"Hello, William." he said to me. "I have six days I can spend with you now. What would you like to do...second?"

I turned away, but I didn't shut the door, my heart betrayed me that much. Paolo's voice followed me as I sat back down.

"William? William, please, what is the matter?"

"The matter?" I said. "I saw you yesterday, getting into the limousine. I saw you kiss that woman."

"Yes, of course." he said to me.

"God, Paolo, how could you?" I demanded.

He looked at me as if I were the one who was being unreasonable. "I do not understand."

"The women, God, you date them, don't you? You go out with them and you tell them they're beautiful and you kiss them. Do you have sex with them, too?"

"Yes, of course." he said.

"That's what's wrong!" I said. "Paolo, God, why are you even here?"

"I am here because I want to be with you." he said. "I am here because my every thought is of you, your face, your eyes, your hands, your body. I want you and I need you. That is why I am here."

"Is that what you tell the women?" I said.

"Sometimes." He said. "But there is one difference."

"What's that?"

"When I say it to them, I don't mean it." he said. "With you, I do."

"How can you do that?" I said. "How can you just give yourself to those women for money like that?"

"It is what I do." he said. "It is what they want. You spend your hours at an office, do you want to do what they tell you to do, say what they want you to say?"

"That's different!" I said.

"Not so different." he said. "You sell your services, and so do I. It is how you make your living, and so do I."

I looked at him and he came to me and took me in his arms and again I didn't resist. I didn't respond, but I didn't resist.

He didn't press himself any further. "But there is that which I hold back from them, there is that which I do not sell to them, ever. That is what I give to you, William." he said. "For them, it is all for the money, it is all for what they give me. Each kiss costs them something, each time we make love, they must pay me. But for you, I only ask for the right to make love to you. I ask nothing from you, William, nothing but your heart. Give me your heart, William, and I will give you mine. Please."

I looked at him and remembered that indeed, he hadn't ever taken a single thing from me. He had paid for Marcon's, he had come to me each time. He had spent his money...on me! And when we made love, he had given himself to me completely. As I had given myself to him...completely.

And I relaxed and he kissed me and we made love once again and it was as spectacular as before. When we were done, though, he got up and said, "La Comtesse has left for Nice. Before she left, she gave me a beautiful cigarette case." He showed it to me, and it was gold with rubies set in it.

"I want to celebrate tonight. Come with me and we will sell this cigarette case, and then we will have a wonderful time with the money, just you and me."

I looked at that case, the proceeds of his last three days' work. And he wanted to spend it on me.

So I got up, dressed, and went with him to the pawn shop, smiling all the way.

We had a marvelous six days of glory, eating in expensive restaurants, staying at a four-star hotel, living the good life. Then it was over. Paolo is now with another of his women, and I am waiting for him to call. But now I wait for him to return to me, without pain, even though right now, Paolo is probably making love to someone else. Because he is loving her without that part of him that belongs to me.

Even the heart of a gigolo is his to bestow as he chooses. And I hold Paolo's heart now, as untouched, pure and virginal as the most chaste could ever hope to give.

THE END

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