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 previous chapter I related how I had called Brad's reference at the escort service and set up an interview for Tuesday, and how they hired me to work whenever I wanted, and how I took my first appointment at a hotel later that afternoon with a visiting businessman who fucked me, then took me to dinner, then asked me to fuck him before I headed home: a good start to a "career" as a male escort!
One Thousand Men: 1998 MY EXHIBITION OPENING
I really didn't have anything to do before my exhibition opened, since all the details were taken care of. Somehow, I didn't feel much like working on my drawings, what with all the art stuff I would be doing Thursday night.
I had arranged to meet woman a friend in Marin County the next day, and had told the escort service that I should be back by about nine that night if they had any late appointments they wanted me to do.
Early in the morning, I drove north across Golden Gate Park to the Golden Gate Bridge and on to Larkspur. I picked up Sir Francis Drake Boulevard to Fairfax, and around eight picked up my friend, who had gone to college with me, and headed west past San Geronimo to a small restaurant that had a great breakfast. We had not seen each other in a couple of years, and so we had a lot of catching up to do.
After breakfast, we headed out to Pt. Reyes, and hiked down Drake's Beach and back through a defile where a creek emptied into the Pacific. The landscape was beautiful, and since it was spring, everything was spectacular hues of green in the clear spring light. I decided then that during my visit to the area I would come out and paint the bright green, soft hills and yellow cliffs. After our hike, we drove north to Pt. Reyes Station and had a nice lunch at an outdoor cafŽ, before heading inland to visit the French Marin Cheese Company, where we stocked up on some wonderful locally produced French-style cheeses.
We had planned to have dinner together, but she said she had a lot of work to do, that had come across her desk on Tuesday, and so we would have to do it later in my visit. There was so much to say and catch up on, and it was sad to cut it short. Another time.
After dropping her off, I called the service and said that I would probably be home between 6:30 and 7 pm, and that they could leave a message if they wanted me to do any appointments.
"I'm sure you're going to get some calls for tonight, John," the reservationist said. "I could have booked three for you this afternoon."
Sure enough, when I got back there was a message on the machine that they wanted me to confirm that I could do an appointment around 7:30. It was 6:45, so it was not a problem. They gave me an address in the south-of-Market area where a lot of lofts and internet businesses were.
When I got to the address, the door was opened by a tall, slim, handsome guy in his 20s with tousled hair. He was, indeed, one of those 80-hour-a-week dot-commers looking for some relief and not having the time to do the bars or other places where he could hook up. We were quickly in his bed, and not much later, I was pounding his ass, with him on his back, moaning loudly, gasping for breath, and furiously jerking his own cock as I fucked him mercilessly. Thirty-five minutes after I arrived, we were dressed again, he was thanking me and paying me with a nice tip added. We both went downstairs to get cabs, me to go home, and he to head back to work for the night.
When I got home, there were two more messages, asking me to do appointments at nine and eleven. "What the hell?" I asked myself, "this is kinda fun, and I don't have anything else planned. I called to say that I would do them. The nine o'clock was at an in-call at the escort service, a chubby man in his 50s, apparently married, rather nervous, and immensely appreciative of the attention I gave to him and his throbbing cock.
The eleven o'clock was another hotel call, also near Union Square, this time with a fairly hot gay man on a business trip from Oklahoma. He had boundless energy, and kept me in his room for nearly two hours, during which time he fucked me three times, and came twice. He said he came to San Francisco frequently on business and wanted to see me again next time. I told him that I was sorry that I was only in town for a few weeks.
"Just my luck," he said. I think that where he was from it was difficult to satisfy his needs for other men.
Thursday was the day of my exhibition opening. All I had to do was to show up about a half-hour before it started at six, and then go to dinner with my Chicago dealer, the museum people and some trustees and collectors. I hoped that the show and dinner would turn into some nice sales of my current or future work, and so did my dealer.
I got up around nine and had some coffee and juice. I went to the gym for a workout, showered, and came back home to call the escort service. I told them I could take an early afternoon appointment if they had one. Also, that I would be available on Friday in the evening. I planned to spend the day on Friday going back out to Pt. Reyes to do a couple of oil sketches.
About a half-hour later, I got a call back from them that they had an appointment for me at two, if I could take it. I said, "OK, but I can't make in more than an hour and a half."
"We'll check with the client, and let you know," they said. About fifteen minutes they called back and said "It's just an hour," then gave me the man's name and an address in North Beach. I fixed a sandwich and read until about one-fifteen, then went out and caught a cab to the appointment.
The cab pulled up in front of a well-appointed apartment building. I went in and rang the client and he buzzed me in. When he opened the door, I was facing a nice-looking man in his mid-30s, a couple of inches taller than me, and with a body that looked to be in pretty good shape. He was masculine, but had some slightly effeminate mannerisms like a certain gay men do. He offered me a glass of wine, and but I told him I would like some water. We sat down on the sofa and started making out, getting mostly undressed, then moving to the bedroom. He basically wanted to worship my body, suck my cock and then have me fuck him.
When we were done and talking, he told me that his long-time partner had recently died, a man almost 30 years older than him, and he really missed the physical contact as well as the companionship and sharing. He had forgotten how to do the bars and gay pickup scene, and was really hungry for the feel of another man in his arms and a hard cock up his ass. I gave him a few pointers, and suggested a few places I knew that he might have some luck. I also told him that he was a lot hotter than he thought he was, and that I thought he shouldn't have any problem finding men.
"Why don't you call the escort service and leave me a message and let me know how you do?" I suggested.
He seemed comforted, smiled and said, "Yeah, I'll do that. I would like to see you again, and maybe in the meantime I'll have some luck." I left him with a smile on his face and went home to get ready for the opening.
I got dressed in a classy black silk suit, and a soft violet-gray silk shirt, then caught a cab to the museum. I was looking forward to the event with both anticipation and dread. I find it hard to be totally "on" during one of these events, and you get pulled one way and then another, and have to endure silly comments and worse, fawning praise. I knew that I would see some friends though, and I always liked the company of my dealer from Chicago, one of those rare gallery people who is honest and fun as well as good at what they do. My friend from Fairfax showed up, though I had told her that I would probably not have time for more than just a few words.
I met some museum people from other regional institutions, and several collectors who had bought my work from past exhibits. At the end of the reception, at 8:30 we went to dinner at Moose's in North Beach, a table of twelve. I was between two trustees of the museum, flanked by my dealer and the exhibition curator, and we had lively conversation about my work, the current state of the art world (confused!) and how they were building their collection. After dinner my dealer told me they were planning to buy a couple of large pieces for the museum. She was beaming. We arranged to have breakfast on Saturday before she headed back to Chicago.
When I got back to my apartment, there was a message on the answering machine from the escort service. "Hey Ivan--they used the fake names even when talking to their guysÑif you can do it, we have an appointment for nine on Friday. It's a regular who hires two guys and likes to watch them perform for him. He asked for you and Angel. Angel's OK and is looking forward to meeting with you. Let us know if you can do it, Bye."
I called them back and said I was OK with the appointment, the name and address, and they gave me Angel's number so we could arrange to get there together if we wished. I called Angel, but he was out, so I left a message for him to call when he got in. I let him know that I would be out from early in the morning, so to call whenever he got in.
By 12:30 he had not called, so I went to bed. The phone rang at 1:30, waking me out of a deep sleep. "Hello," I managed to mumble, half asleep.
"Hey Ivan, this is Angel," the phone said. "Sorry to get you up."
"No problem," I said, "I asked you to call me tonight. Anyway, I always fall asleep easily."
"Can you pick me up on the way to the appointment tomorrow?" he asked.
"Glad to," I answered. "Tell me where." He gave me the address and then I said, "I'm really looking forward to working with you. I think this is going to be hot."
"Yeah," he said, his voice oozing sex, "see ya tomorrow. Ciao."
"'Night," I said. I rolled over to go to sleep, but I was getting an erection thinking about working with him. Angel's description from the service said: ANGEL Sexy Latino boy, 23, 5'10"/165, black hair and eyes, smooth ripped tan body, affectionate, versatile, endowed XXX!!!
Having sex with him and getting paid for it seemed almost a crime! I eventually fell asleep trying to picture him naked and waiting for me.