by A. J. Blake
Putting that money in his savings along with the other earnings he’d collected, would leave him with roughly fifty-thousand and that still wasn’t enough to get out of here.
Lacing his boots after a thorough shower, London took a moment for himself and leaned back on his bed. This sort of business he was in, he wondered just how many other people worked like this willingly. Who woke up in the morning and decided selling their body was a beneficial “occupation”? London wondered how long he would do this until he figured his family was well off. One more year, two? Ten?
9:40pm
London grabbed his usual bag and started out, but when back to Henry’s room first. The boy was inside seated a desk beside his closet, a single lamp lighting the desk top as his J-Rock played out from his laptop. Wandering inside, without a word London also kissed the top of Henry’s black hair before going. “I’m coming back,” he declared. “Get some sleep when you’re done.”
Hotel Floral was one of the most expensive hotels in the entire city of Anavrin. It was built like a skyscraper and nearly wrapped in glass. It was a place celebrities booked when they were visiting, all in all a five-star joint. In the parking garage, London suddenly felt like he was a bit underdressed to be roaming through a place like this. The few men and women he passed on his way inside gave him strange looks. While they were all dressed in fancy suits and dresses with diamonds and pearls to show off, here he was in jeans, a red t-shirt and plain black shoes.
He approached the check-in desk and was greeted by a smiley Japanese woman, “Hello, are you checking in?” she asked, never letting her smile falter.
“Yes,” London answered, “Room 227.”
“Oh, you must be the guest Mister Matthews was talking about. He’s already arrived.” She handed him a cardkey. “Please, have a nice evening.”
“Thanks.”
London gave her a polite nod and went for the elevators. The interior of the hotel reminded him a lot of tea gardens, small potted trees sat across the lobby along with vibrant pink and light blue flowers, a built in fountain in the center, crystal chandelier overhead, and feudal music even played out from the hidden speakers.
Once he reached room 227, his curiosity about Marbell grew. This hotel was already three-hundred dollars a night, and including the payment of tonight with the cash from yesterday, he’d already spent so much just or the sexual favors of one person. Where was someone like a high school math teacher getting so much money, and why was he spending it on something as easily accessible as sex? There were a lot of places London new about that promised easy sex from both men and woman; it’s called a club. Those places were packed with desperation, but, no, this man would rather dish out thousands to an escort.
London used the cardkey to unlock the door to the room and went inside. The first thing he noticed immediately was Marbell sitting patiently at the edge of a red silk bed, and then his eyes were drawn to the interior of the room itself. There were no solid walls except for where he’d entered from the hall and the bathroom. The windows were the walls, expanding the entire room that looked out onto the city night. The view looked like a shot one would see in a Las Vegas calendar. Low lit shoji lamps sat on either side of the bed, and a wide, flat-screen television was hung on the wall beside the entry door, pictures of cherry blossoms and tigers hung on the wall, and tall empty wardrobes were off to his right.
“Wow,” London said.
Marbell stood from the bed and sauntered towards his guest. Tonight he was dressed in black slacks and a dark olive green button down, a grey vest over it. His top fringe was combed neatly forward, but a few strays fanned delicately in his face. “I take it you like the place?” he said. “I thought you might appreciate the view.”
“It’s – um – pretty amazing.”
Standing before London, Marbell gestured to a white and silver Louis Vuitton bag at the base of the entertainment center. “Your money is in there. You can count it if you don’t trust me.”
London dropped his own bag to his feet, “I trust you.”
“Good,” Marbell said, and without hesitation, he also lowered himself to London’s feet and began to unbutton the front of his jeans.
Feeling his stomach flip with arousal when Marbell stroked his cock, London stepped back to lean against the door. “You don’t like to waste time, do you?”
Marbell slipped London’s length into his mouth, all the way till it hit the back of his throat. Not having a gag reflex, he brought London in as far as he could go, working his hand humbly along his shaft. “Holy fuck,” London let out softly. His fingers melded into Marbell’s hair, pushing it back and the man took him with each pump of his mouth. “Am I supposed to call you ‘Daddy’? Like before?”
Marbell simply hummed a “yes” and the vibration of the humming at the back of his throat almost sent London reeling. Marbell pulled his jeans down until they were around his ankles, and then pulled at the hem of his shirt, indicating that he wanted it taken off. London abided and got rid of it, almost slamming his head back against the door because of how good Marbell sucked him off.
“Ah, fuck…” he breathed out, eyes rolling to the back of his head when Marbell’s tongue played at his tip. “It feels so good, Daddy.”
At that, Marbell stopped and wiped the corners of his mouth. London figured this was when he was supposed to get on the bed so they could really get started, but he was wrong. Calm as ever, Marbell grabbed an armchair from the corner of the room and sat it facing the massive silk bed. “Sit down,” he said.
London didn’t miss a beat and took his seat, prepared for what he thought would be a lap dance, or the continuation of his miraculous blowjob. Instead, however, Marbell kicked off his shoes and socks, ridding of his slacks as well.
And it was then when London felt his mouth begin to water for the man in front of him. Yet again, Marbell was wearing a g-string beneath his trousers, and when he cautiously met his date’s eyes, his gaze appeared a lot more insecure than the first time around. He turned to the side a little, his perky bottom shaped perfectly as London stared hungrily at him. “Do you like it?” he asked the younger man.
London raked a hand back through his hair, biting down on his lower lip when his cravings for the other man worsened. “It really suits you,” he said. “Is it okay if I ask you to turn around?”
Marbell felt the temperature in his body rise from the inquiry. Without delay, he turned around, touching his hands down to his slender waistline. He then bent over and placed his hands on the bed, allowing London to see however much of him that he wanted. “Fuck, you’re so sexy,” the tattooed man voiced.
Dropping completely onto the bed then, Marbell looked so much smaller than London already saw him as, and he scooted back until he was seated in the center of the large, red silk bed. “I want you to watch me,” he said, “Watch me until I say otherwise.”
Stiff as a rod, London pushed his fringe back, “I can do more than sit here. Why won’t you let me do what you’re paying me to?”
“For now, I’m paying you to sit there. You’ll get your turn soon.” With that, he brought himself back to the headboard and spread his legs, eyeing London as he removed the sexy thong and stroked himself. Letting his head lay in the pillows, he stuck two fingers in his mouth, making them slick with his saliva.
Doing as he’d been commanded, London lounged back and watched. Marbell’s body writhed in the center of the bed, his hands pleasuring his own being the way London wanted to.
With two slick fingers, Marbell slid them inside his entry, thrusting them as far as they’d go. He whined pumping his cock until a stream of pre-cum escaped him. London chewed at his inner cheek. It was like watching live porn that was being filmed right in front of him. Torture. He was so close to actually being able to touch this person, but wasn’t allowed to. Just yet, anyway.
Marbell’s moans were like a soft chime in London’s ear, the sight of the man’s pleading body alluring him. He was so aroused and desp
erate right now that he had to keep himself from diving onto the bed. His groin was on fire, needing to feel something, anything pleasurable around his stiffness, so he wrapped his own hand around his shaft and began to pump.
“Don’t you dare,” Marbell said, catching him in the act.
London cursed under his breath and folded his hands behind his head. It was all he could do to keep himself from jacking off.
Turning over onto his hands and knees, Marbell pushed his fingers into his body, arching his back downwards as he thrust his touch into himself, London doing all he could to control his inner desires, and it was this desire for Marbell that was bothering him a little. He’d never been so sexually attracted to a client before.
In a soft breathless tone, Marbell continued to essentially fuck himself, and said, “Do you want me?”
London didn’t play around it, “You don’t know how bad I want you right now, Daddy.”
Marbell faced London on the bed, cheeks flushed as he worked himself. “I want you to do me until I beg for you to stop. Can you do that for me?”
“I’ll do anything you tell me to.”
With that said, Marbell leaned off the side of the bed and tossed London a condom, and London had never moved so fast in his life. The moment he had the rubber on, he pounced for Marbell, slowly driving into him at first to make sure there was no discomfort. When there were no complaints, he pulled out a bit before slamming into his night lover again, making the man’s breath catch each time with a yelp of inclination.
London’s hands were cemented into Marbell’s hips, holding on as if letting go wasn’t an option. At the edge of the bed, he pulled out to turn Marbell over when suddenly they slipped off the bed and went falling backwards. Unfazed by it, though, London hooked his arms under Marbell’s knees and lifted him with ease. He stumbled a little then, his back striking the door. He turned so that Marbell was pressed up against it and thrust up into him.
“You feel like heaven inside me,” Marbell groaned.
“Glad I could make Daddy feel good,” he said, kissing the man’s pink lips.
The two were all over the room; on the floor, in the chair, the bed, against the windows showcasing their intimacy to the world. It was a good thing their floor was too high for any other building to see.
Making it back to the bed, London had Marbell on his side, their legs intertwined as his hand stroked the man’s cock, ramming him harder and harder until it appeared Marbell was at his peak. His breathing was stammered, sweat dripping down his forehead. When London turned the man onto his back, his cock remained buried deep inside and they kissed sloppily. Their tongues twirled as one and the harder and faster the younger man pumped into Marbell, the more difficult it became to hold in his cum.
The moment he heard rapid breaths rise then, he knew the end was near, and he wrapped his hand around Marbell’s own cock, jerking it along with the slam of his hips. Suddenly, after a few seconds, the older man burst, his whole body tremoring uncontrollably as a pitched scream let out from his lungs.
“Stop!” he belted, “Oh, god, stop!”
London pulled out immediately, not having experienced his own orgasm yet, but he just watched as Marbell twisted in the bed beneath him, fists coiling into the red slippery sheets as the aftermath of his orgasm trembled through him.
Once Marbell lay there for several minutes, London figured his job was done. He sat up and was about to get ready to leave until Marbell’s soft voice stopped him. “You didn’t cum yet,” he almost stuttered over his words, working himself up weakly, and without hesitation, he sucked London’s cock after getting rid of the condom, sucking both tired and hungrily until the rain of London’s seed was released, and relief was theirs to relish in.
The two were quiet for a while as the steamy atmosphere died down, and when London found the strength to get out of the bed, Marbell asked, “You’re going home?”
“I wasn’t sure if you were done with me, or not?”
Turning over, Marbell sat up and tore the sullied top sheets off the bed and threw them on the floor. “Come lay with me for a while,” he said, “Surely you’re not needed back at home just yet.”
London didn’t see anything wrong with that and got back into the bed, Marbell quick to find comfort against his chest when he lied back down. Covered, the two lay there with their eyes closed, letting the faint sounds of the city’s Friday night be the only sound in the room. London brushed Marbell’s auburn hair out of his eyes and kissed his forehead. “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask away…” Marbell’s voice hummed.
“Why do you do this? Buy sex, I mean. I say this with the upmost respect, but you don’t seem like the kind of person to seek pleasure like this. Clearly you’re smart, you’re attractive. Why pay for it when you can walk into the nearest bar and walk out with someone? To be honest, if I’d met you anywhere, I wouldn’t have wasted a second to get to know you better.”
Marbell looked up at London, and without a single word, kissed the young man. He climbed on top of London, their naked groins striking a renewed arousal in each other. “I don’t know,” Marbell said, “Maybe it’s because I want sex with someone who’ll do what I say, or maybe it’s just because I can afford to pay for sex with someone who’ll do what I say.”
London’s hands slithered up Marbell’s waist, slipping under his button down when the man sat up. For a slit second his fingertips touched a patch of skin that felt different from the normal smoothness, and in that second, Marbell snatched London’s hands away. “Don’t do that,” he demanded, eyes wide and nervous.
“I’m sorry,” London apologized, caught off guard by the reaction.
Getting off of London, Marbell turned his back on the young man, and said, “You should probably go, now.”
London sat up, confused as ever, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Please, just go…”
Unsure of what to do, London just gathered his things, the money, and did as told.
IV – Wonderland
It’d been about two weeks or so since the last time London heard from Marbell, and that wouldn’t have bothered him so much if their sessions hadn’t gone so well before his mistake. Should he refer to it as a mistake? Having touched a little too far into the man’s shirt the last time they’d had sex? London was used to not seeing certain clients for weeks at a time, but something about Marbell told London he was a “frequent shopper”.
Tonight, however, he was meeting up with a regular of his named Charles Wayfarer. They always met at a local gay and lesbian club called Wonderland. The guy was in his late forties, and got off on having a couple drinks before getting banged in one of the private rooms the club provides for wealthy patrons. On the nights with him, London was usually able to pocket around one to two and a half thousand from the guy.
Drying his hair after a shower, London heard a knock at the front door. Given it was a Saturday and Henry had asked to get together with friends, London needed to call a babysitter for Joyce. And what better person to ask than Mrs. Campbell? She was a sweet African-American woman who lived across the street from them for years now. She was familiar with the troubles of the Dawncraft family, and was always happy to help when London asked something of her, which he rarely ever did anyway. “Thanks for doing this for me,” London said upon opening the door.
Mrs. Campbell was in her fifties but didn’t look a day over forty. She had a dark cotton ball ponytail and flawless, clear chocolate skin, and could sometimes have an attitude like no other. London would never forget the day she’d given his Old Man piece of her mind when he was younger. TJ had locked him and Henry outside all day and refused to let them in.
It’d been a glorious day.
“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” she said, making her way inside.
London walked with her to the den down the back hall where Joyce was. The little girl was on the floor eating blueberry crisps out of a princess bowl, and was w
atching one of her favorite cartoon movies for the hundredth time this week. London kissed the top of her hair, and said, “I’ll be back, okay? You be good for Mrs. Campbell.”
Joyce paid him no mind as a song began to play from the television. “I got this,” Mrs. Campbell said, “Now, you go on and have your fun. I’ll have her asleep by the time Henry gets back.”
“Have my fun?” London gave her a questionable stare, “I told you I was going to the warehouse.”
“Mhmm,” Mrs. Campbell hummed, “You forget, I was young once, too. Once you have responsibilities, it’s hard to have a good time every now and again, ain’t it?”
London just laughed and grabbed his keys from the hook by the doorframe. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Campbell. I’ll see you later.”
“Be safe, baby!”
Wonderland was like a mixture of both a nightclub and a strip club. It was dark inside, flickering strobe lights shined their blues, pinks, and greens, and the most annoying House music the DJ could find was playing out from the loud speakers hooked up to the ceiling. The place was jam packed, but that was normal for a Saturday. There were small circular stages here and there with topless woman, and g-string wearing men who were dancing on poles. In simple terms, this place was wild. And London hated it. He wasn’t the dancing type, he hated house music with a passion, and the people inside were far too desperate and usually pretty shitty. No matter how many times he’s had to come back to this place for Charles Wayfarer’s sake, his feelings for it never changed. Not one bit.
London didn’t understand why a forty-seven-year old man wanted to party like this, anyway.
Following a drink waitress through the commotion, London found an open stool at the bar and took it. After a few minutes he was able to wave down the busy bartender, “Just a Corona, please,” he said loud enough to be heard, and then slid over some cash. He swallowed back his beer then, grimacing a little at the taste. He didn’t know why he drank the stuff sometimes when he already thought it tasted like shit.
