The name is Jamal Joseph Williamson. I'm a six-foot-two, lean, broad-shouldered and athletic man with caramel-colored skin and sharp, handsome features. I've always been good-looking and the way I see it, it's a kind of power. Ever see someone beautiful walking down the street? People can't help but look at them. That is power, my friend. It's a power that works on both men and women. Have you seen any movies lately? The best-looking guys and girls around Hollywood star in them.
I strongly believe that to get by in this world, you should use what comes natural. What comes natural for me is to look good. I come from good genes. My father, Louis Williamson was a white man and my mother, Anne Marie Joseph was a Black woman from Haiti. I am a biracial Haitian-American male living in Los Angeles. It's tough living out here, in a city full of beautiful people. By day, I'm a student at UCLA, studying Business Administration. I'm on my third year of college and I intend to get that degree real soon. Contrarily to what they say about most models, I am no slouch in the brains department. I maintain a grade point average of three every semester. Nobody can survive on their looks alone, know what I mean? If my career in modeling and acting doesn't work, I plan on going corporate.
Now, I've got a story to share with you. I am not exactly a rich man. Back in high school, I worked very hard to win an academic scholarship to college. The scholarship covers room and board as well as tuition at UCLA as long as I maintain a certain GPA. I need money and just like everybody else I know, I needed to get myself a job. From time to time, I get called in for a photo shoot or a commercial, but it doesn't happen often enough. The biggest thing to happen to me this year was to get paid ten thousand dollars to shoot a commercial for a men's underwear ad. I was loaded for a while. I was doing good. Unfortunately, it all went away real quick. I had to get myself a job.
I'm not the kind of guy who wants to work in a restaurant or as a security guard, not that there's anything wrong with that. I wanted a job where I could make easy money and get back on my feet. A friend of mine told me about this escort agency. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. A handsome Black man like myself going into the world's oldest profession. Well, I was hesitant about it for some time but I really needed the money. I'm all the way in Los Angeles by myself. My parents live in Boston. My dad owns a car rental agency and my mom is a professor at the University of Massachusetts. Neither of them were rich. So, financially, I didn't want to lean on them. I had too much pride for that. So, I started working for the escort agency.
My first assignment was to meet this unknown person in Beverly Hills. Yes, you heard right. I was picked up by a limo and taken into the place where the fabulously wealthy lived. I had been around Beverly Hills before, on a tour bus. That was years ago, when I was new to the city. Now, I was a hardened member of the city's lower middle class. I would do anything for a buck. I made sure that I was dressed nicely. Before going on the job, I had a haircut, showered, shaved and put on a red silk shirt and black leather pants. I checked myself in the mirror several times. Of course, I looked good. On a scale of one to ten, I was a twenty, if I dare say so. No, I'm not cocky, just real honest.
So, I showed up in front of this big mansion and was greeted by a tall, gaunt man in a suit. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him. Now, don't get me wrong. I have nothing against doing it with the dudes. I am bisexual, after all. What else would you call someone who felt attracted to members of both sexes? Still, this dude who greeted me was not only old but seriously ugly. I prayed to my lucky stars that he wasn't the client. Thankfully, he wasn't. He was only the butler. He led me inside. I went into the mansion. The place was huge. Ever watch MTV's Cribs? Yeah, it was that kind of place. Movie stars and tycoons lived in places like these. Damn. Sometimes, I hate rich people.
The butler told me to make myself comfortable. I sat down on a couch. I had no idea who I would be meeting. It could be anyone, a man or a woman. Whoever it was, he or she was seriously loaded. I was getting paid twelve hundred dollars to be here. A few minutes later, I was greeted by someone other than the butler. The person who greeted me was a tall, slightly plump but attractive woman with long red hair and pale white skin. She reminded me of the actress Julianne Moore. The lady smiled at me and we shook hands. She told me her name was Marcia Smith, and she was the person I would be entertaining tonight. I was surprised. I looked at Marcia Smith. She was around five-eleven, curvy, and very pretty. If I had to guess her age, I'd say that she was in her early forties. She had some surplus flesh but I liked that in a woman. I have a thing for big beautiful women. We'll get to that later. Still, why did a woman who looked like that have to pay for sex? Oh, well. I would find out soon enough.
Marcia Smith sat next to me on the couch and started asking me questions. She asked me what I did. I told her I was here to please her. She smiled at that. I smiled back. I really didn't need any of my clients to know too much about me. I was here to do whatever they wanted, for a few hours. At the end of the night, I'd get paid and leave. That was supposed to be the deal. We talked for a few minutes, and I learned that she was the Junior Vice President of a Software Company. She appeared to be doing quite well for herself. I guess wealthy businesswomen are a lot more like their male counterparts than they care to admit. A girl who works as an escort at the agency told me about the many businessmen she slept with. Yes, rich and powerful people could do whatever they wanted. Still, I can't say that Marcia Smith was unpleasant company. She seemed smart. Of course, we had to get down to business. She sat on the couch, relaxed and told me to strip. I smiled. I was ready.
I stood up and undressed, making a big show of my natural assets. I'm a tall, broad-shouldered and muscular young man. I work out at the gym five times a week. I lift weights and I also run in the morning. I can do close to a thousand stomach crunches in one sitting. I take care of myself. I also follow a strict diet. Yes, I looked good. When it came time to remove my underwear, I grinned and showed Marcia Smith who she was dealing with. I took off my underwear, and my dick sprang out. Yes, my long and thick dick. A slightly bent, ten-inch, uncircumcised cock. I've got it and I know how to work it. I've used it to bring great pleasure to many women and men in my day.
When Marcia saw my tool, she gasped. Yeah, I could tell that she was surprised. What can I say, baby? I'm part Black and part white. I've got the best of both worlds. Marcia looked at me with lust in her eyes. I smiled. She gestured for me to come to her. I grinned and shook my head. No, she would come to me. And so she did. She stood up and started touching me. I felt her hands on my face, my shoulders and my chest. Naturally, they Wandered you-know-where. I felt her hands on my member. I knew what she wanted. It was what they all wanted from me, sooner or later. Since she was paying for it, I was perfectly willing to give it to her. Marcia kissed me full and deep. I felt some passion in that kiss. I knew what she was instantly.
As she kissed me and we began to move about in the living room, I knew what was up with her. Like many American women, she lived in a politically correct business world. No compliments were made to a woman by a man, since the guy thought she would probably scream sexual harassment. Also, she probably got very little sex, since only workaholics made it to the top of the business world. She looked at me, and there was a hunger in her eyes that I hadn't noticed before. She was so cool and in control most of the time. Now, her true colors were showing. She wanted me. I smiled. I was used to having both men and women wanting me in their beds and inside them. This was too easy.
