finally. i score a job. but not in-house. no. once a client sees my face they just fold their arms, turn away and shuffle me out of the introduction room as soon as possible. I've been told I'm a little intimidating. oh well... fuck 'em! or not. which seems to be the case
so all excited i wash my bits, jump on my bike and drive out to one of Melbourne's richer seaside suburbs for my first client through the Manor. i drive all the way ...to a house I've been to before. yes it's an upper middle class fellow I've fucked before when i worked privately. he doesn't remember me. no all that surprising because he's cracked out of his mind after a 3 day bender
i rough him up. i do the job. shove my cock in his arse and it's like fucking a half baked meringue. i slam away at his arse with all the finesse and sensuality of an old Indian woman slapping her washing on the rocks of the Ganges. i lose my stiffy. he's so cracked out this doesn't bother him, so i sit back and he watches me wank and share fuck stories
"what's it like working in a brothel? I'd imagine you guys are just sitting around kicking back watching porn. all lubed up. jacking your big cocks. sucking each other off while you're waiting for the next job. yeah?"
umm...
when i was younger, i probably would have told him the truth. in reality we are sitting around bored out of our fucking minds. a room of mostly broke and desperate fags and trannies fumbling with their iPhone on skanky second hand furniture while channel V booms the latest in bland-ass pop music. cigarette rolling. chain smoking. coffee drinking. waiting... waiting... waiting...
but I'm so well trained. i said nothing. i didn't even roll my eyes. let him have his fantasy and i'll be the zen master. a fucking zen master!
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