This is the fictional memoir of a gay man, told in the first person. The memoir began with the series C'est La Vie!, which covers the years 1970-1997. This series covers the year the narrator turns 40, 1998, and launches an ambitious project to have sex with 1000 men that year. Some of the stories in this series are based on actual experiences, usually embellished a lot, as well as completely fictional ones. They depict sex between consenting adult males. If this offends you, do not read them. These are my stories. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy them, let me know at johntheartist@hotmail.com. Please Contribute to Nifty.org and keep this wonderful resource going!
In the last chapter I related how on Saturday I met with the curator of my museum show and after a great lunch and a relaxing afternoon headed to the Steamworks Baths in Berkeley for the evening, where I had encounters with 30 men; and how on Sunday evening I met a younger guy, Brad, at the gym. He went back to my apartment with me, and we talked for a long time, during which he revealed that he had worked for a very cool gay escort service. I asked a lot of questions and he thought that I should give it a try, given my project for the year. After that we made love left late.
One Thousand Men: 1998 MONDAY AND TUESDAY
After my new friend, Brad, left late Sunday night, I fell asleep, and dreamed about getting a call and being directed to a building where a man let me into his apartment and we made passionate love, and then I left and found a lot of money in my pocket. The idea of getting calls to visit anonymous guys, and have sex with them was really a hot one for me. As I said, the idea of the money didn't matter to me, it was the anonymity and the adventure that was a turn-on.
On Monday, I worked on my drawings some more, and took a long walk in Golden Gate Park. I went back to my apartment and stared at the contact information that Brad had given me.
"Why not?" I asked myself. "I'm hooking up with at least 1000 guys this year. Maybe this would be a good way to add some variety," and the idea of the money grew on me too. I picked up the phone and dialed the number.
"Hello, thank you for calling ----- Escorts," the man on the other end said. He sounded friendly and customer-service oriented.
I said, "Brad suggested that I call. He said you are always looking for guys," I said.
"Yeah, that's right. Let me give the owner, Henry, your number and he will call you right back, OK?" the man said.
I said, "Sure," and gave him the number.
A couple of minutes later the phone rang and when I answered it, he said "Henry here. You called about working for us?"
"Yeah," I said. "Brad said he had a great time with your service."
"Brad"s a great stud," he said. "Tell me a little about yourself.'
I told him my stats and that I would be in San Francisco for just a few weeks, so it would not be a permanent or long-term thing. He was OK with that, and said that he got a lot of guys who were passing through, in school or just wanted a short-term thing for a little extra money, as well as the fun that went along with it.
"Do you want to meet?" he said.
I said, "Sure. When?"
"Why don't you come by tomorrow morning?" he said. "Just so you know, we're going to have you strip and get a hard-on, not so that we can try out the merchandise, but so that we can write an accurate description. You'll tell us what you are willing and not willing to do, we set up a profile for our ads, get your name out there on our web site, and see what happens. If you are anything like you say you are, you're gonna get lots of appointments." He told me the address and gave me directions.
A little after ten on Tuesday morning, I was knocking on the door of a nicely-appointed townhouse on a side street not far from downtown San Francisco and Union Square. A good-looking young man answered it and showed me in.
"I'm here to see Henry," I said. "Can you tell him that John is here?"
"Sure thing," the young man replied, looking me up and down unabashedly. He led me down the hall to a room at the back, and opened the door. Sitting behind the desk was a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed gray goatee, a friendly face, and a few extra pounds on him.
He stood up and came forward with his hand out, "Henry," he said. "I guess you're John?"
"One among many," I quipped, and he chuckled a little, whether out of genuine amusement or politeness, I did not know.
"Sit down and tell me about yourself," he said. So I sat in a chair on the other side of the desk and told him where I lived, about being and artist, a capsule history of being gay, and about my current project. I also told him about my need for discretion: that I was out of the closet for many years, and that all my friends and most of the art world knew that I am gay, but that publicizing the kind of thing I was contemplating now might not be welcome by some otherwise liberal folk.
"I understand completely," he said. "We have a stellar reputation for discretion, and many of our clients are men who can't let the world know about their, uh, preferences. All the guys take pseudonyms while working for us, for their protection. We screen our clients, and keep records of contacts so we know not to book an appointment with someone who has not treated our guys with respect. We feel that our men are providing a valuable service to men who may not be able to be open, or who may simply prefer to avoid complications, and so discretion is really our second name. Since your name is John, how about we make you Ian, or Ivan?"
"Ivan has a certain ring to it," I said. "Very masculine sounding."
"OK, Ivan it is. So, Ivan, what do you like to do, sexually, that is?"
"Well, I'm OK with all things vanilla: kissing and affection, sucking, being sucked, fucking and being fucked, some mild role-playing and so on. I can last for a long time, and my energy is really good. It would not bother me to have five appointments in one day, if you don't make me cum for each one. I'm not really into hard-core domination scenes, BDSM kind of stuff, water sports or things that are too kinky. There's nothing wrong with them if no one gets hurt, but it just doesn't get my juices flowing. I'm fine with groups, either servicing more than one guy, or working with another escort to service a client."
"Most of our clients want just what you like to do," Henry said, "and they will really be hot for your body, if it is as good as I can imagine sitting here. So, before we write your profile, I want you to strip, so I can see you, and then get hard, so we can take an accurate measurement. As I told you on the phone, this is for our profile. I don't help myself to the guys, unless they ask me. We're professionals here," he said with a smile.
I got undressed and he looked me up and down, asking me to turn around, flex my biceps, spread my cheeks, squat and so forth, so he could see my body in as many positions as possible.
"I need you to get hard," he said. "I have some magazines or videos if you need some help," he offered.
"Not a problem," I said, and simply pictured Brad naked in my mind and was soon sporting a hard-on. He handed me a cloth measuring tape and asked me to measure the underside of my cock and then wrap it around to get my thickness.
"Seven by five," he said. "Very respectable. You know, a lot of men think that they want really big cocks on their partners, but our experience is that our guys who are average or a little bigger get the most calls. It takes an experienced guy to be able to be fucked by a really big cock, or to give head to one, and the clients don't want to feel too inadequate."
"Let's write your profile," he said. "We'll start with your age. You say you are turning forty in a few days, but you look like you could be thirty. It won't hurt if we stretch the truth a little there, so I am going to put you down as 32. You are affectionate and versatile, so this is how I would like to list you," and he wrote:
IVAN, hot white 32-YO man, brown hair, blue eyes, 6'/170, smooth, defined body. Affectionate, versatile, creative, good conversationalist.
"I'll put this up on our website and post it for our phone guys right away. You might even get a call today, if that is OK."
"Sure, why not?" I said. "No time like the present to start."
He explained the financial part, and that I could walk out on any client who was too freaky or abusive--something he said happened only once in a blue moon--and likewise leave a client who was doing drugs. They would take my word for it and not charge me their commission if that happened.
When we were done and I was dressed again, he said "Let me introduce you to a few of the guys who are here, and show you around the house. We use this place for in-calls for clients who can't have the boys visiting them for one reason or another. Probably about a fifth of our business is in this house."
He took me into the front room and introduced me to the reservation agent, the guy I had spoken to on the phone who sets up the calls. He took my contact info, and when I was available over the next few days, and said that if he got a call from someone interested in an appointment with me, he would call and make sure that I could do it before setting it up. I told him that I preferred shorter appointments, but would do overnights if needed. Also, that I had a car and could travel, even out of the city.
I was then introduced to four of the other escorts who were waiting for their appointments to come in, or were about to go out to meet clients. They were all handsome, sexy guys. Two were in their early 20s and the other two were in their mid-30s, or looked like it. Of course, they may have been "age-adjusted" like me.
Henry shook my hand and said goodbye, and I left to go home and do a couple of errands.
At about three in the afternoon, I got a call from the service. They said that they had a client at a hotel in Union Square who would like to meet me around five. They said he was a regular, a man from Chicago who called when he was in town on business. He often asked his escort to dinner after their initial encounter, and often had him come back to the room afterward for more sex. I got the details, and said I would be at the hotel at five.
A little after four, I took a shower, cleaned out my ass in case I was asked to bottom, and put on a tight-fitting tee-shirt that showed off my body well, a pair of jeans and a windbreaker, so that I wouldn't look too obvious when I entered the hotel. I got a bus to the Union Square area, and a few minutes to five, entered the hotel.
I called the client from a house phone, and then went up to his room. I knocked discreetly on his door, and he opened it. He was standing there like he had just come from the shower, with a towel around his waist. He smiled and shook my hand and introduced himself as Phil. He seemed very friendly.
He was probably in his mid-forties, a nice solid athletic build, muscular but not defined, with a nice crop of hair on his chest, and just beginning to go bald. He wore a wedding ring.
"Oh, my, you are something," he said, scanning me up and down. "The service said they had a hot new guy, and they weren't kidding." I guess I blushed a little, because he said, "C'mon, no need to be embarrassed, but you really are hot."
He came over to me and pulled me to his chest and we started kissing. I felt his cock rising under the towel, and reached down to pull the towel off. He stood there with his hard cock standing up at a smart angle, about my size but a bit thinner, and a nice set of ample balls.
I stood away for a little, and did a slow strip-tease while he watched, flexing my chest and arms, running my hands up and down my body as I slowly undid my pants, kicked off my shoes and then stepped out of my jeans and slowly lowered my briefs over my hard cock and muscular thighs.
He pulled me into his arms again, and we fell back on the bed. For the next hour, we rolled around, kissed, caressed and massaged each other, and I sucked him and then rode his cock until he came in the condom inside of me.
We lay together kissing and talking for a few more minutes, and then he said, "Would you join me for dinner? I know a terrific place a short cab ride, and the concierge has made reservations for us for 6:45."
"Well, sure, I would enjoy that," I said, and so we got dressed and headed out to a spectacular and costly meal. Phil had an expense account, so the expense was not a problem, including a very good bottle of wine.
"Will you come back to my room for another hour?" he said after dinner.
"That would be great," I replied, and so I ended up in bed with him for another hour, this time he wanted to be fucked, and I was happy to comply. When we were done, he paid me for the four hours we had been together, and added a generous tip. We kissed, and he asked if I was available on Thursday, to which I had to regretfully say no, since that was the night of my opening. All-in-all, my first appointment had been a great success, and was not all that different from many of the hookups that I had anyway.