Just a Gigolo

This story does contain some strong language and discussons of a sordid nature. Enjoy :-)

‘I've got a favour to ask you,’ Christie said ‘but you might not like it.'
Christie and I had a strange relationship, we'd been friends and lovers but never partners and now she was with Rendall I guessed we never would be.
‘I’m listening.’ I said wondering what she could want. I was guessing she might want a quicky while her new bloke was away on business, she did that sometimes.
‘Well, I’ve got this friend, Helen, and well…’ she was hesitant now not sure how to phrase it, I was wondering where on earth she was going with this.
‘She’s been single a while and well, we were talking about sex and the conversation got round to me and you and well she was wondering if maybe you’d…’
‘Yeees.’ I was beginning to get the picture but I was enjoy Christie’s pain as she struggled for the words.
‘The thing is she’s not looking for a relationship so she was wondering if you’d just you know…’
‘Fuck her?’ I said. Despite being on the phone I knew she was blushing. She made an affirmative noise down the line.
To be honest I was blushing too, it was a much more difficult question to answer than I thought it would be. Here was I being offered no strings sex but somehow it didn’t feel right. It felt, I dunno, like I was being passed round like a dog-eared copy of Penthouse in a boys’ boarding school? But if that didn’t feel right her next line felt even worse.
‘She’ll pay you.’
‘She’ll what now?’ What the fuck was going on here?
‘She’ll pay you, she knows it's a weird request so she’ll pay you.’
Well I didn’t know what to think, was I just a gigolo, did everyone know the part I was playing except me? I suppose on the one hand I was flattered -Christie had recommended me and obviously thought I was worth paying for. But on the other I felt cheap, grubby. Was I just a piece of meat to them, just asexual being, just a walking, talking, living blow up doll? Did they think I was that desperate, that shallow, that empty that I would sell my body for sex.
‘So?’ I was so lost in my thoughts I had forgotten Christie was on the end of the line waiting for a response. 
I’d made up my mind and with a deep breath I said …

I must admit I was pretty nervous, I suddenly noticed I was putting a little extra care into my preparations, after all I wasn't giving this away for free. That's right, I said yes, I wasn't going to at first, in fact my first answer had been no, but Christie was very persuasive, I said I'd say yes but didn't want the money but again Christie told me it was part of the deal. She told me Helen would see it as a business transaction, that money would make sure there was no emotional involvement - satisfaction guaranteed. Satisfaction guaranteed? Shit that put the pressure on, would she demand her money back if I failed to reach the expected standards? I suddenly felt the pressure.

When Christie told me Bryn had said yes I couldn't believe it. The bravado of the beer had worn off and now I wasn't so sure it was a good idea. I’d been complaining I hadn’t been getting  any lately and we could believe that it had been 13 months since my last shag, no wonder I was horny. We'd started talking about paying for sex, what a conversation, I wondered if anyone overheard us. I'd never considered it before but both Christie and Zoe had said they’d fantasied about it. We discussed what it would feel like handing over the money, would it feel seedy or dirty or just bloody exciting. We huddled into the corner of the pub so no one could see us and Googled male escorts on Christie’s iPad. The results were a mixed bag, some too good to be true; hunks with a six pack and a tight arse that looked like they were too in love with themselves to have any left over to share. Then there were shifty looking chancers, out to make a quick buck; thinking about the money not the woman. To be honest I was up for it, it might have been the wine talking or the girls egging me on but I wanted to play the game, have some fun. It'd been a while since I had a bloke and to be honest right now I couldn't be bothered with getting one, but I was horny, by Christ I was horny; there's only so much you can do yourself. Why not pay for it? Why not? Men did. I didn't want a husband, I wanted a shag, and I didn't want a drunk bloke from a bar who would care only about himself. But I also didn't want some plastic poser or some lustful loser, I wanted just an average joe, a good lover. That's when we started talking about Bryn.
Christie had always said Bryn was a good lover, someone who put her needs first. That's exactly what I wanted. Surely that is what a gigolo should do after all the customer should always come first but how would we know, I didn't want a sexy sculptured body I wanted satisfaction guaranteed.

We'd agreed I'd go to her place, she'd promised to buy the wine, I was glad of that, I needed to relax probably more than she did. I rang the doorbell, and waited. She looked good, actually prettier than the photos I’d seen of her. She was in a little black dress, it hung nicely on her body, accentuated her figure. I followed her into the lounge enjoying how the dress swished with each step.

It was a little awkward, we sat and chatted for a little while the shadow of the real reason we were there hung over us like a rain cloud.  She was nice but I couldn’t relax.
‘Shall we sort out the money then, get it out the way?’ The words sounded contrived, like she’d rehearsed it several times. It was then that I realised this was a game to her, she was playing out a fantasy but hadn’t quite had the bottle to go to a real whore. The realisation relaxed me.
She handed over the money. I stood up and reached in my pocket, took out a roll of notes and added the crisp bank machine fresh ones she had given me to it. I usually carry a wallet but I thought it would look a little middle class; a roll of notes would suit a gigolo. I kept eye-contact with her as she handed me the money and after putting the cash away I ran the back of my finger down her cheek, hardly touching her skin, she smiled, I knew I had her.

I have to admit I was disappointed at first, I know I said I wanted normal but this guy was ordinary, he was nothing to write home about, not even something to mention in passing in a text. He lacked confidence, his body language was poor, his chit-chat was boring; Christ he was more nervous than me. Was I really going to pay good money for this? What did Christie see in this guy? But I couldn’t back out now.  Let’s get this over with I thought to myself. ‘Shall we sort out the money then.’ I said to him.
They were like the magic words, his body language changed in an instant, he took the cash and took control. He put the money away and then touched my face. Bang, I already knew what Christie meant, his eyes burning into me, the gentlest of touches - this was going to be good.

This is the 3rd Part of the 'Just a Gigolo' story.  

Helen lay in bed alone, naked, satisfied. She heard the front door close gently and smiled a little, wicked grin to herself. She couldn’t believe she had just paid for sex, it was naughty, sleazy, dirty, but she’d loved it! It was exactly what she wanted, no strings, no emotional attachments, just a business transaction. Small beads of perspiration glistened on her forehead as she lay there contentedly, her body still slightly quivering. He’d touched her so gently, so tenderly and had patiently explored her body looking for and finding for the magic spots. She closed her eyes and shivered as she remembered the way he’d used his fingers on her neck like a concert pianist expertly caressing his keys. Her whole body had been his concerto and he’d mastered it with skill. Starting slowly and gently before building up to a crashing crescendo sending seismic waves throughout her body.

It had been good, very good, but if she was honest there was something missing, yes concert pianist was a good analogy, confined by the notes of another, a skill learned and delivered not instinctively played. She knew it was a bit churlish to complain, the performance had been professional and near faultless but there had been no soul, no passion. Next time she’d look for a jazz musician, someone that will be willing to go with the flow, improvise - take a few risks.

Dinner with Christie and Zoe was fun, they were all ears; desperate to know what it was like, how she’d felt. She enjoyed the attention, hammed it up a little, glossed over the awkward start and the clinicalness of it. Instead she loitered on the fine detail, the things that have made her smile since.
‘So will you see him again?’ Christie asked.
‘No, no, he did the job, I have no need for him.’ Her tone was cool, flippant even.
‘But surely there was some kind of emotional involvement?’ Zoe took over the interrogation.
‘You know, I’ve been thinking about this. There wasn’t and I think the reason why was that there was none of the small talk after, no spooning, no cuddles, no promises. Almost as soon as it was over I kicked him out of the house.’
‘Really?’ Zoe she couldn’t believe it,
‘Yep, you don’t linger in a shop after you’ve bought the goods do you?’ Helen smiled.  
As they left her phone alerted Helen to the fact that she had missed calls, there’d been no signal in the pizza place and now it was frantically trying to catch up. She dug around in her bag for her phone and looked at the screen; three missed calls, all from Bryn. That was one other thing she hadn’t told the girls, Bryn had been calling and texting her, asking for a date. She slipped the phone back into her bag. It wasn’t her who had got trapped in a web of emotional involvement, it was him.


  1. You don’t linger in a shop after you’ve bought the goods do you? - as simple as that for some people

  2. Just read something that reminded me of this trilogy. Worth reading as what's written there is often true: http://everydayfeminism.com/2015/12/focusing-on-her-pleasure/

    1. Man is selfish in bed - sexist, man is giving in bed - sexist, man doesn't give a damn - sexist, man does give a damn -sexist.

    2. Haha:-) true true society is sexist against men in many ways.... But mind you, this is only only about these men who treat giving pleasure to women as a show of their masculinity without taking care of her feelings

  3. i just saw this article and thought about this conversation. I think women very osten complain about being discriminated (and in many ways they are) but in many cases wemen are "allowed more" and more is tolerated sometimes when it is done by a woman... i think the two guys managed to show this idea in a way: http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/beauty/bondi-hipsters-bare-all-in-miranda-kerr-gq-parody-20140407-369qg.html