A Dog's Life by Alp Mortal
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Orion is an escort at the pinnacle of his career. He meets Stephen, who is also an escort, during a weekend in Nice. Both are accompanying clients who have serious business and pleasure on their minds. What should have been a pleasant weekend involving some shopping, undemanding sex and a timely kick-start to the tan, turns tail and bites them both; seeking to remind them that it never pays to get too friendly with the client.
Is it time for them to give up the dog’s life and re-discover the joys of sex without the pay-off? I am always very happy to receive your feedback. If you wish to contact me, please email me at: [email protected]. Categories: Contemporary Romance / LGBTQ / Gay Word Count: 10,293 Heat Rating: 3 Amazon Link -: relinks.me/B00DS8RYMI Copyright © 2020 The Alderbourne Press Ltd Written by Alp Mortal Edited by Morgan Starr Cover Design by Alp Mortal Thank you, Alp Mortal |
Chapter One – It’s a dog’s life
“Orion, hi ... it’s Martin; are you free this weekend?”
“Hello Martin. I’m pretty sure that I am ... yes; after twelve on Friday until ten on Monday ...”
“Okay; book me in would you? The usual arrangements; car will pick you up on Friday at one ... and then we’re off to Nice for the weekend ... so pack for the beach and the casino ...”
“Right you are; see you Friday. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“Me too! Bye ...”
“Bye.”
If only all my clients were like Martin; wealthy with impeccable taste; travelled and educated. He’s fit for his sixty years and quite dashing; very undemanding in bed; nothing kinky ... just plain, good old fashioned wham, bam and lights out; usually after a very pleasant dinner. Thank God for the likes of Martin!
If you haven’t already twigged, I’m an escort, a very good escort and like Martin I have impeccable taste. I’m well-travelled; usually at someone else’s expense; educated; at my own; fit and handsome, incredibly fit actually and more than averagely handsome. I charge a thousand a day plus expenses for trips like this where I expect to be fed and watered and treated like a prince, for which I will be witty and engaging, discreet, a sexual leviathan and I come in all flavours. I’m squeaky clean inside and out; drug and disease free. I speak five languages and have a wardrobe to die for. You could say I’m at the pinnacle of my career. I easily make twenty thousand a month but that’s before the expenses required in maintaining this body and face, the wardrobe and the flat but I guess I save ten thousand on average which goes straight into the pension plan because all this will come to an end very soon.
A weekend in Nice and an evening at the casino; yes, it’s a dog’s life!
It’s Tuesday so I have plenty of time to get organised ... but before Nice I have other clients. Today at four, it’s Jacob’s tantric massage and tomorrow I have William. Thursday is free and Friday is reserved for Henry if he’s in town; he pays a retainer and three weeks out of four he doesn’t show so I study instead and practise my yoga.
It wasn’t always like this, believe me. I have a sordid past; blow jobs and fucks in toilets; hanging about stations and alleyways; until Philip saw me and life changed. I stayed with him for three months and learned to be an escort rather than a whore. I progressed to advertising in GT and moved to a decent flat in Earl’s Court, charging a hundred an hour. Then I met Henry and learned to be a gentleman’s companion. I stayed with him for six months, progressing to a flat in Bayswater and charging two hundred and fifty an hour. Now I don’t need to advertise; it’s all regulars or referrals. It’s been ten years since the first paying customer; a blow job for ten quid in the toilets opposite Queensway on the Bayswater Road, kneeling on the stinking and fetid floor with a sweaty and rank cock in my mouth; don’t go there unless you have no choice.
I habitually ignore everyone I see whom I recognise from those days; none recognise me now. The camaraderie was essential then. Now I have an accountant and perfect teeth. I prefer few reminders of the past and dream of ... there is no dream; I’ve forgotten how to dream and I’ve certainly forgotten how to love ... for free. I can make a guy believe I love him; make him believe he is my entire Universe. There have been offers too of course but once someone has paid, it’s hard to see them as anything else.
It’s a dog’s life for sure; but dogs dream ... of chasing rabbits. The emptiness is all engulfing, the money my only blanket against the cold, black and empty night.
“Orion, hi ... it’s Martin; are you free this weekend?”
“Hello Martin. I’m pretty sure that I am ... yes; after twelve on Friday until ten on Monday ...”
“Okay; book me in would you? The usual arrangements; car will pick you up on Friday at one ... and then we’re off to Nice for the weekend ... so pack for the beach and the casino ...”
“Right you are; see you Friday. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“Me too! Bye ...”
“Bye.”
If only all my clients were like Martin; wealthy with impeccable taste; travelled and educated. He’s fit for his sixty years and quite dashing; very undemanding in bed; nothing kinky ... just plain, good old fashioned wham, bam and lights out; usually after a very pleasant dinner. Thank God for the likes of Martin!
If you haven’t already twigged, I’m an escort, a very good escort and like Martin I have impeccable taste. I’m well-travelled; usually at someone else’s expense; educated; at my own; fit and handsome, incredibly fit actually and more than averagely handsome. I charge a thousand a day plus expenses for trips like this where I expect to be fed and watered and treated like a prince, for which I will be witty and engaging, discreet, a sexual leviathan and I come in all flavours. I’m squeaky clean inside and out; drug and disease free. I speak five languages and have a wardrobe to die for. You could say I’m at the pinnacle of my career. I easily make twenty thousand a month but that’s before the expenses required in maintaining this body and face, the wardrobe and the flat but I guess I save ten thousand on average which goes straight into the pension plan because all this will come to an end very soon.
A weekend in Nice and an evening at the casino; yes, it’s a dog’s life!
It’s Tuesday so I have plenty of time to get organised ... but before Nice I have other clients. Today at four, it’s Jacob’s tantric massage and tomorrow I have William. Thursday is free and Friday is reserved for Henry if he’s in town; he pays a retainer and three weeks out of four he doesn’t show so I study instead and practise my yoga.
It wasn’t always like this, believe me. I have a sordid past; blow jobs and fucks in toilets; hanging about stations and alleyways; until Philip saw me and life changed. I stayed with him for three months and learned to be an escort rather than a whore. I progressed to advertising in GT and moved to a decent flat in Earl’s Court, charging a hundred an hour. Then I met Henry and learned to be a gentleman’s companion. I stayed with him for six months, progressing to a flat in Bayswater and charging two hundred and fifty an hour. Now I don’t need to advertise; it’s all regulars or referrals. It’s been ten years since the first paying customer; a blow job for ten quid in the toilets opposite Queensway on the Bayswater Road, kneeling on the stinking and fetid floor with a sweaty and rank cock in my mouth; don’t go there unless you have no choice.
I habitually ignore everyone I see whom I recognise from those days; none recognise me now. The camaraderie was essential then. Now I have an accountant and perfect teeth. I prefer few reminders of the past and dream of ... there is no dream; I’ve forgotten how to dream and I’ve certainly forgotten how to love ... for free. I can make a guy believe I love him; make him believe he is my entire Universe. There have been offers too of course but once someone has paid, it’s hard to see them as anything else.
It’s a dog’s life for sure; but dogs dream ... of chasing rabbits. The emptiness is all engulfing, the money my only blanket against the cold, black and empty night.
