You Get What You Paid For Ch 02

Why can't I stop thinking about Adam? Why is it that whenever my focus strays, thoughts of him become magnetic? If I let myself drift, whole minutes pass by where I'm just envisioning the shape of his lips, or the glint in that thin, simple necklace of his. It's not even the memory of the sex we had that I keep coming back to. Although it was reinvigorating, and touching, and needed, the ease of his company had a much more profound effect on me. Rather than focusing on the details of his torso, or his jaw, or his cock, or his adorable little ass, I often find myself fixated on those feelings he brought out of me - feelings of comfort, understanding, kinship.

But I need to stop thinking about him. Because the more I think of him, the more my fondness for him grows. This a dangerous game to be playing. What was a real moment for me was an act for Adam. Just part of the job. I got what I paid for and he went on his way, as all good escorts do. But I desperately want him back.

I'm hesitant to reach out to him again. Does he have regulars? He must. I can't possibly be the first person to become enamored with him. I can imagine all the other lonely gays out there who Adam has graced with his company, who have let Adam into their beds, who have allowed themselves to believe that they're in Adam's heart, in whatever capacity that may be. That's what "the boyfriend experience" is all about, is it not? To live out that fantasy? And the question becomes: am I strong enough to remind myself that it isn't real? I debate for days, wondering whether or not I'd even want to become a regular. I even check my savings account numerous times, envisioning all the other things I could buy or do with the money that would inevitably go to Adam. Is it worth it?

A week and a half after our first meeting, while I'm borderline drunk with Maxi snoozing in my lap, I decide "Yes, it's worth it." I miss him. It's undeniable. And, since I've found myself unable to resist thinking of him, I might as well reach out. What do I have to lose?

I send him a text: "Hey Adam, hope all is well. Are you available?" Satisfied with my message, I wait. My initial thought was to send something along the lines of "How are you?" but that would risk sounding too friendly. He's a working man. He'll respond to an offer.

But a half an hour goes by and still, no response. I start to get nervous. What if he doesn't do regulars? What if he thinks I'm weird? God, he's bringing out all those corny, fretful feelings concerning boys that I haven't had since I was a teenager. But it feels like I'm stepping into new territory here.

Finally, though, he sends me something back, and it erases all my anxieties: "For you? Any time." I laugh. I know he's just being his friendly self, but I take that right to heart. He sends another message: "When and where?"

I consider saying "Now, right now, please come now," but it's too late in the evening. I'd want to shower and clean up if he were to come over. And I'd want to be somewhat sober. So I offer up a plan: "Tomorrow night? I had reservations to this tiny French restaurant in West Village, but my friend can't go." A lie, but Clark knows the owners of the restaurant and has never had an issue landing us a table there whenever we feel like treating ourselves to some high-end vegan dining. So if I ask him, he can get a table for me no problem.

"I'd love to," he sends back, and I smile. We discuss what time we should meet there, and he asks me how "fancy" the restaurant is. The food is pricey, but it's not exactly a suit-and-tie ordeal. However, it'd be interesting to see him a little more dressed up, so I tell him to find a balance between "nice" and "casual." And then he sends me a final text: "Great! Can't wait!!"

~ ~ ~

I wait outside the restaurant nervously. Where is he? He's only five minutes late, but still... I was anxious to begin with, and the fact that he didn't make it on time isn't helping. I probably look exactly how I feel: awkward and uncomfortable. I don't usually "dress up," if that's what I'm doing right now: the thinnest button-up I own, a bowtie, khakis, a navy blazer. It'd be pretty casual if it weren't for the bowtie. And the fucking shoes. Who let me come out in sneakers? I feel like I'm hovering in that awkward space between trying too hard and completely falling short. In a panic, I quickly remove the bowtie and stuff it into my pocket. I'd lose the shoes too if that were an option.

Just as I loosen the top few buttons on my shirt, I see Adam hurrying down the street. He waves a bit, and even from down the block I can see him smiling. He speed-walks, somewhat jogging until he gets close enough. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he says apologetically. "Missed my train."

"It's okay," I say, taking in the sight of him in his well-fitting black jeans, expensive-looking blazer, and clean-cut button-up with the top opened. Seems we had similar ideas when it came to loosening the neck of our dress shirts. I also notice that classic gold chain of his, looking somewhat elegant with this outfit. Before I can really soak him in though, he surprises me with a quick hug. For an instant, I'm taken back to last time I was with him, naked in bed, our bodies close until he pulls away. I feel stirrings in my crotch, so it's probably best that we don't hug for too long. "Wanna head in? Our table's ready."

"After you," he says, grabbing the door and gesturing for me to enter first.

I smile and head inside, waving to Trenton to get his attention. Once Adam and I take our seats, he bustles over and asks for our drink order. Adam glances at me, but I already know what I want. "A bottle of your sauvignon blanc, please," I tell Trenton.

Adam chuckles. "Fancy."

I just smile. "Do you want anything else?"

"Wine is fine with me," he says, glancing at the menu. As Trenton leaves to grab the bottle, he looks curiously at his options. "I've never been to a strictly vegan restaurant." Then he squints. "Escargot? Vegan escargot?"

"I think it's mushrooms," I say, opening my menu.

"This is so strange," he says, his eyes studying all the different ways they make imitation meat.

I laugh. "It's good, though, if you know what to get."

He looks up at me. "What are you getting, then?"

"Um..." I let my finger trail down the menu, looking for what I had last time. "The cassoulet toulousain. Or maybe the coq au vin."

"Nice accent," he says with a grin before reading the menu again. "I don't know, I'm kind of intrigued by this escargot thing."

"Get it," I say. "I haven't tried it yet but everything I've had so far has been good."

"Escargot it is, then," he says definitively. Soon Trenton comes over with the wine, pouring us each a glass and then taking our orders. I also request a cheese plate as an appetizer, since sometimes the food takes a little while. Trenton thanks us and then heads straight for the kitchen as Adam focuses in on me. "So, how was your day?" he asks me.

Today was actually an interesting day at work - interesting if you're someone who works in IT. Otherwise, it might sound like nerdy gibberish to an outsider. But Adam listens to me talk about the security breach with intrigue, asking appropriate, clarifying questions that proves he's actively listening and trying to understand what I'm saying. I start to feel that familiar comfort around him again. I was worried that he'd think strangely of me for paying him to eat an expensive meal with me, but he said it himself: his job is not always about sex. Plus, considering how much I shared with him concerning Miguel, I'm sure he just sees this as me working through my loneliness.

"How about yours?" I say, asking him about his day once we finish talking about mine. "Any clients today?"

"Not during the day," he says, "but I did have an overnight."

Just then, the cheese plate comes, and immediately we both dive in. "You do those?" I ask curiously, taking a bite and chewing slowly.

"On occasion," he says mid-chew before nodding. "Fuck, that's good." He laughs a bit, pointing at the cheese plate with a grin.

"I wouldn't steer you wrong," I say with a smile, going in for another bite. Then I ask another question. "Do you have a few regulars?"

"Absolutely," he says. "We call 'em 'frequent fliers' if we see them, let's say, at least once a week." Then he grins at me. "Why? Thinking of becoming a regular?"

I blush but try to be playful. "I don't know. Should I try someone else?"

He shrugs. "You could," he says, "but I'm the best guy for you." He smirks in a way that says that he's playing around too, but I think that's true. I doubt any other escort would make me feel the way he does. "But yeah, there are tons of handsome escorts out there that'll give you whatever you want, no questions asked."

"I don't really want much," I say.

He smiles. "Yeah, you are a man of simple pleasures, it seems like."

I laugh. "I guess so. I just like a relaxed time. And, as far as sex goes..." I add, lowering my voice. "I mean, I'm fascinated by a lot of... facets of sex, but most of it I wouldn't participate in."

"Gimme an example," he says, intrigued.

I gulp. "Well..." I think for a moment and then go for something more on the tame side. "The BDSM world. I find it interesting as hell. The dynamics of trust and power and pain. But I could never do something like that."

"Not even light bondage?"

"That's different," I say. "I'm thinking like, the art and roles of actual BDSM. Both in and out of the bedroom." I've always found sexual dynamics and kinks fascinating, but not in a curious way - curious to know, but not curious to participate. "Have you ever done something like that?"

"Just the light stuff, only in the bedroom," he says. "Spanking. Whips. That sort of thing."

"ON you, or...?"

"No no," he says with a laugh, taking a sip of his wine. "No, I'm the dominant one in that scenario. I don't trust anybody like that."

I laugh. "Me too. Plus I don't think I'd like it even if I DID trust them."

He chuckles, nodding. "Fair. You need a natural curiosity to get into it."

"Which you have, I'm sure," I say with a smile, remembering how insistently "open" he was.

"Of course. I'll try almost anything once."

Sometimes I wish I had that sort of mentality. But at the same time, maybe it's a testament to how self-aware I am to know what I'd like and not like without even trying something. Who knows. "Have you always been super sexual?"

He nods as he chews another bite of cheese. "Oh yeah. Since I was young. Learned it all from my brother." At that comment, I make a face that causes Adam to burst out laughing and almost choke on his bite. "I don't mean I had sex with him," he says. "He just showed me how to like, masturbate, let me ask questions, all that."

The way I picture it unfolding is a young Adam walking in on his big brother pleasuring himself. I know I've read plenty of erotica like that. After all, that's how I discovered that masturbation was a thing. I walked in on my dad by accident, but he never noticed me looking. And when I tried his movements in my own bedroom... A whole new world opened up. "Is he cute?" I ask Adam.

"My brother?" he asks, amused. "Sure."

"Gay?"

Now he laughs. "Trying to get me to set you up?"

"Maybe," I say with a playful grin. "If he's anything like you."

"He's nothing like me," he says.

I shrug. "Well, then, never mind." He smiles at me in a soft way, and I realize that what I said came off a little too flirty, so I add something else. "I'm just really comfortable with you."

"I'm glad, Teddy," he says, reaching over to give the back of my hand a light stroke with his thumb. "How have you been coping lately?" he asks, taking on a more serious tone.

"Um..." I almost laugh. "Is it bad to say better?"

"Hell no!" he says, smiling wider. "I mean, I've only met you once, but you do seem a lot brighter tonight."

I smile shyly. "Sometimes it just feels like I'm betraying him by moving on."

He nods patiently. "I get that," he says. "But he's not here. YOU are."

It's lovely to dine and chat with Adam and get to know him on a more personal level. I feel like, in this environment, I'm figuring out things about him that most of his clients wouldn't: he plays sax and bass, is a lover of jazz and plays in a band often, is patient at work but impatient in his normal life, is deathly afraid of heights... It's because this feels like a date. The rational part of me knows that this is just pretend on some level, but I can't help but enjoy the romanticism of getting to know someone new. Someone I'm attracted to. Very much so, in fact. The more he speaks, the more desirable he is.

When I ask if he wants more wine, he declines, saying that he doesn't drink more than one glass of wine, or one beer, and never has hard liquor. Addiction runs in his family, apparently. That's when I tell him my secret: that I was a heroin addict. I guess I am still, technically, since every day is a battle against temptation, but I become stronger each day that goes by. He looks at me with surprise, saying he would never have guessed, and asks me ("if you don't mind saying") how it all started. It was after I was kicked out of my house, when I came out to my parents. I was bouncing around from friend to friend, bumming a couch or sometimes living on the streets. There, I discovered drugs. I experimented with all sorts of drugs, but heroin was my go-to, my saving grace. My downfall. Even when Clark took me in. Weaning myself off of that drug was no easy task. It would have been impossible if I had done it by myself, so I needed Clark to be that person who told me "You have a problem, and we're going to fix it." There are no words to properly describe how thankful I am for that man. I'll never be able to repay him for saving my life.

Adam thankfully withholds any judgement. If anything, he's supportive, telling me that he's proud of me for being clean for so many years, and that he can't imagine the hurt I've been feeling or the struggles I've gone through. I don't need praise and consolation, but it's still incredibly touching to hear the soft sincerity in Adam's voice. It's the same voice he used when I first told him about Miguel.

While answering Adam's questions about Clark, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it the first time, but then, four seconds after the call ends, it starts ringing again. I sigh. Must be important. "Sorry," I say, pulling my phone out of my phone pocket and see that Dave is calling me. "Might be work related," I say, looking at Adam. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," he says.

So I answer the call. "Hey."

"Come out with us," Dave's voice says before I even ask him what's up.

I blink. "Out?"

"To Mimi's."

I roll my eyes. Are they serious? "You guys are there again?" I ask. It hasn't even been a full week since they last went to that strip club.

"Wednesdays are group nights and we need one more guy to get a discount."

"So you picked... me..."

"C'mon, Ted, you can suffer an hour."

I know damn well it won't be an hour, and I'm vehemently against the idea of going. Until I glance at Adam. He's picking at his food slowly, inspecting it as if amazed that it's not actual meat. "Can I bring someone?" I ask.

"Wait, really?" he asks, surprised. "You'll come?"

"If I can bring someone."

"Who?"

"A friend."

"A guy friend?"

"Yes."

"Hell yeah," Dave says. "The more the merrier!"

I have to remind Dave that it'll still take me at least a half an hour to get there, and he says he'll try to keep the Boys patient. I sigh when I hang up, realizing I should have asked Adam before I agreed to tag along. "Wanna come to a strip club?" I ask, pocketing my phone. Please say yes.

He looks up at me. "A gay one?"

"A straight one."

He grins. "You want to go to a straight strip club?"

"No," I clarify, "but my friends want to, and I'd rather go with someone who won't embarrass me. Or, at least someone I pay to not embarrass me."

He bursts into laughter, hard enough to make the adjacent table glare at us. He brings his napkin to his lips as he composes himself. "So, what, you just want me to tag along and check out strippers?"

I shrug. "Pretty much."

He smiles. "I like you, Teddy," he says. "You're easy." I laugh a little, looking away from him. "Tell you what," he adds. "You don't have to pay me for the strip club."

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"I know it's not your thing, and I don't have any clients for the rest of the night. And I haven't been to a strip joint in a long while."

I was hoping he wouldn't be the type of guy interested in strip clubs, but hey, everyone has their faults. "But if I pay you, you're contractually obliged to not embarrass me."

He chuckles softly. "I'll behave. I promise."

~ ~ ~

Mimi's is as dingy and as stuffy as I remember it being. Low lighting, tired-looking girls, the faint scent of body odor mixed with perfume... Not my favorite place to be, but the Boys rush in as if they're teenagers eager to see a woman up close for the first time. Even though I (obviously) don't care for the strippers, with Adam there, I partake in the cheering and the tossing of small bills. I even let Ling pay a stripper to give me a lap dance, to which all my friends laugh and yell in excitement, egging the girl on. It's silly, but somehow the energy is infectious this time around - especially the energy emanating from Adam. He hit it off with the Boys as soon as we arrived, easily inserting himself into their dynamics and proving that he's able to keep up with jokes, playful banter, and stripper talk. But (and I think it's out of respect for me) he keeps the latter to a minimum, not being so objectifying and gross that I start to resent him. He's fun without being over the top like Ling. And he's the type of guy to personally make sure everyone's having a good time. Often he turns to me to make sure that I have at least a smile on my face.

After a little over an hour, though, we thankfully call it quits. Ling is "stripped out," and the rest of us just follow his lead. Once we leave the joint and embrace the fresh air (as fresh as air could get in a city), we say our goodbyes, all of us giving each other hugs. The guys each say a particularly kind farewell to Adam, all saying that it was great meeting him, and even though I'm sure Adam is used to that sort of treatment, it still makes me smile to see how boyishly happy he looks.

"Your friends are a funny bunch," he says with a chuckle once they all walk in the opposite direction. "I like that Ling guy."

"He can be a lot," I say.

"Yeah, but it's all in good fun, right?"

"Sure," I say, smiling a bit at him.

"YOU seemed to have fun, at least," he says, poking my chest.

I shrug. "Only 'cause you were there."

He grins. "Well, still."

Then, suddenly, the question is spilling from my lips. "Would you wanna see me again?" I ask. He arches his eyebrow, and I have to clear my throat before I explain further. "Outside of the whole... escorting thing, that is."

He considers what I'm saying. "You understand how this works, right?"

Why did I say anything? Of course I know how this works. "Right, right," I say, shaking my head, my face feeling warm. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay."

"I just-"

"I get it."

"I had a good time and all-"

"So did I."

"Even though you were off-hours?"

He stares at me for a bit, clearly contemplating something as he lightly nibbles on his bottom lip. I feel embarrassed, being the homo vying for a straight hooker's attention. In a weird way, I feel like this is a low point for me. I should stop making him feel uncomfortable - if that's even how he feels. But then he suggest something that resurges the hope in me. "Well, yeah," he says before rubbing his neck. "This isn't super professional of me, but I think we could have been good friends."