Boy Culture

This story, my story is a confession.

Lucky for you, they are the hottest of all stories.

Ask any priest.

He might tell you to watch and learn from my sins.

Or maybe you'd rather sit back and wait for the dirty parts.

Be my guest.

I am not catholic, but I have met enough priests

to know one thing about confessions:

They are always anonymous.

So in the spirit of anonymity, call me X.

All this drama started about a year ago.

I am on my way to work. Not looking for anything.

Honestly... you don't know me yet.

To the average transit rider

it appears, I am cruising a random hottie.

But this is no random hottie.

He was in my abnormal psych-class, back at U.W.

Thing is... I had not found him remotely arousing in school.

But now Blondie looked different.

Actually, he looked the same.

I just looked at him differently.

I was feeling something, I had not felt since seventh grade.

Forgive me Father, I felt lustful.

Don't worry. This doesn't end with me in his beefy arms.

Although I do spend a few choice moments in them.

This is not really about him at all.

It's about me.

And...

And I am late for work.

If you are smart, you have guessed I am a hustler.

If you have not, here are two clues:

I am gay and they made a movie about me.

Try to keep up.

I am not your typical picture-in-the-back-of-the fag-rag hustler.

I work by referral only.

And I charge a lot.

Supposedly I am worth it.

I keep my client list to a trim twelve regulars,

who have the resources to accommodate my lifestyle.

I think of them as my disciples.

There's 'The Judge',

Mr. Jowls.

Chaps.

Daddy's Boy.

Gin Martini.

The Accountant.

Father of Six.

The Mummy.

Screamer.

Bruce Lee.

Breath Mints.

And Barely Breathing.

Unfortunately for me...

Barely Breathing stopped breathing last week.

It was not even natural causes, like you had think.

So, lucky for Gregory, that leaves an opening.

He's supposed to be some old recluse.

A geezer.

That'll be his name.

Geezer.

The old gays depress me sometimes.

Not because I'm getting old myself.

But because of the shit they had to go through

to get where they are.

Which is often nowhere.

You must be X.

Of course at the time, he used my real name.

Well... my real hustler name.

Anyway... this is just for the movie.

To protect the innocent.

Thanks for saving me from an afternoon of 'Judge Judy'.

Great view.

When the University bought the building,

only a few of the original tenants stayed.

The smart ones.

The rich ones.

I think I like this one.

My sense of humor and kind a hot.

For seventy-nine.

I graduated from here.

Ah, I have often wondered what became of our illustrious alumni.

I am not sure I am typical.

I suspect not.

I was not sure what you would want.

Water is all I need.

Only accept drinks that are factory sealed.

Tell me about your life.

I want to know the course our romance will take.

Romance?

He objects to the term 'romance'.

Probably doesn't kiss.

Very Klute.

Surely a lad of your experience...

What are you... thirty?

Twenty-five.

Well... surely you realize.

No real sex is possible without some degree of romance.

We'll see.

A man who knows the price of everything,

and the value of nothing.

Thank you, Oscar Wilde.

Bet that surprised you too, cute and smart.

But he's a whore, there must be something wrong with him.

Eat me.

Do you enjoy chocolate?

These range from fifty to ninety percent purity.

The ninety is too intense for words.

You have never been in love?

Unless you count my cousin when I was twelve.

That counts.

I still remember when I first told a man I loved him.

I can imagine.

Look, it's cool chatting,

but it's in your best interest to let me know what you'd like to do.

A visit usually takes an hour.

An hour?

Hardly worth showering.

Patience, my boy.

Our time will come.

But not until you desire me as much as I desire you.

Never had a check bounce, never been stiffed.

Normally I don't take the let's just talk clients.

They are the ones who get clingy.

Who act like they own you and get all Jeffrey Dahmer.

I prefer to fuck their brains out,

take my money and split.

But there was something interesting about Gregory,

besides the size of his check.

As much cash as I bring in,

I still have two roommates because...

Who's that?

Joey?!

Andrew?

That was yours?!

Andrew.

That's who this is really about.

I am not normally into black guys,

but Andrew's hotter than the seventh plane of hell.

I could tell he wanted me a little.

But we'd lived together a year now.

And nothing more than an occasional flirt passed between us.

Okay... maybe he didn't want me but...

I am obsessed over my roommate.

But Andrew is like boyfriend material.

Not for me of course, but for somebody.

Who was he?

What's that?

It's Jill.

She is...

Jill was his evil ex-fiancee.

I only thought she was evil because she'd done him.

And I had not.

Was the bitch dead?

Is she dead?

Jesus! No!

She's getting married.

You should have seen your face.

I was just being aghast out of respect.

So what happened with the smoked ham back there?

Nothing.

Right.

Seriously... I got the letter and kind a got out in the mood.

You were in the mood?

We met on the bus, he offered.

He's totally hot. Why not?

In the year he lived here, Andrew only hooked up with one guy.

And they just jacked off, so it did not really count.

Because you are not a slut.

I thought that was one of Joey's.

Maybe I was horny.

Why should it matter to you?

I hate you.

I guess I gave you more credit than you deserved.

Oh that's priceless coming from you.

And therein lies my problem folks.

A hustler with morals.

A whore who is not a slut.

Outside of work, I have not had sex,

mutual masturbation or otherwise, since I was twelve.

And that was only once.

Sometimes I consider myself a virgin,

since I was a minor when it happened.

In school I knew three Mormon girls who swore

that any activity on the planet, that didn't involve breaking their hymens

left them virgins.

Why have not I had sex?

I am saving myself for someone I love.

Okay.

Let's play the 'X-is-a-prostitute game'.

Nothing I say means anything,

because I am just a prostitute.

I don't need a hooker calling me a slut.

If you guys don't fuck soon, I am going to slit my wrists!

And Joey makes the family complete.

We met a year ago when my accountant suggested

I get roommates to keep the IRS off my back.

Joey was the first to respond.

Seventeen, no job, homeless.

But he had a GED, so he was not a total loser.

He comes in and asks to live rent-free.