Jack Scribe
Warning: The following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, or if reading this sort of material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then read no further. This multipart story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons are completely coincidental.
Special acknowledgements to Brad from Denver for providing diligent proofing and editing of the story, and to Carey for being a patient teacher.
If you have any comments or suggestions for the author, feel free to write me at jack.scribe@gmail.com. I love feedback. Support Nifty!
Part 11, BRENT'S DECISION
From Part 10:
As he entered the kitchen, Brent stopped dead in his tracks at the dressed image in front of him. His mouth partially open and his eyes wide, he approached Doug in his white, short-sleeved Naval Officer's summer uniform.
Doug caught the reaction and smiled. "I operate under a 'Don't ask, don't tell' mode until I know the other person. I guess we can be honest with each other?"
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BRENT'S FLASHBACK CONTINUES
"Yes, very honest." My composure returned while advancing to take the offered cup of coffee. After taking a sip, I said, "I also subscribe to 'Don't ask, don't tell.' You see, when we are finished here, I'm driving back to Millington to begin another day as a Petty Officer in an office. We're both in the same Navy, Doug...or, should I say Ltjg?"
Doug stopped the cup to his lips mid-air. With a slight arch of his eyebrow in consideration of this new information, he said, "Well, I guess we're both full of surprises." A small chuckle came out has he nodded his head and drank from the cup.
"Sir, I'm not sure how to react to this."
"Sit down, Brent, and grab some cereal. I'm not a Ltjg right now. I'm just Doug, who had an incredible time last night with a real nice guy who knows how to please a man."
"Thanks, ah... Doug." I sat at the table and poured milk over the Raisin Bran.
"I figure we got about 15 minutes before we hit the road." I took a couple of bites and asked, "I'm not going to get into trouble, am I?" looking at the cereal.
Doug joined me and fixed his cereal. "Hell, no. This was a night between two consensual men who enjoy male sex. Is this the way you see it?"
"Yah, I've been active with other guys since the summer I graduated from high school. Pretty selectively, I might add."
"OK, then. I'll be up front. I have no emotional attachment from our meeting. Just great sex. I do hope that we'll become friends."
"I feel the same way. Last night was all about fucking fantastic sex. How do an officer and an enlisted man maintain a friendship?"
"On the base, nada. But I'd like to get to know you. I keep this apartment for nights when I don't want to drive back to base. My primary residence is the BOQ."
"Mine is barracks 3 - D."
"I have a gut feeling that I can trust you. So, if you want to use this apartment, I'll get a key for you. There is an extra bedroom that's available. The only thing I ask is that you check with me before you plan to use it. I have other guests from time to time.
"Other guests?"
"Yes. Listen, we've got to shag ass to get back to base. And, you've got to get into uniform." What say we meet for a burger at the Navy Exchange in civvies around 6:30 pm...I mean 1830," Doug said with a mocking tone. "I've got something I want to discuss with you. By the way, where do you work?"
"The Admiral's office. I'm the basic go-to guy for all the shit the Chief doesn't want to do."
"OK, sailor. Let's hit the road." With that he drew me into a short embrace and traded buddy kisses.
We departed in our separate cars, taking the same route out to Millington. As we pulled through the Main Gate, Doug's car was smartly saluted. When I went through, the Marine waved me on with a boring routine manner.
The rest of the day was rather uneventful. I was busy cranking out the copious amounts of Navy paperwork that flowed in and out of Admiral Clifton's office. At 1715, I split to return to the barracks and change into civvies for my meeting with Doug. 'What a weird fucking turn of events,' I thought. 'Good weird.'
Arriving at the Exchange Snack Bar shortly before our meeting time, I found a table in the corner. Shortly before 1830, I saw the handsome, medium-complexioned, Italian stallion approach me wearing a form-fitting polo shirt, khaki pants and Nikes. Standing, I greeted him with an extended hand.
"Hey, Brent" He grabbed my hand and gripped it strongly. It was more of a warm press of the flesh than a shake. "Let's go over to the counter and order some food." We both ordered cheeseburgers and Diet Cokes.
At the table, he said, "I had a chance to reflect on last night. I really enjoyed it. How about you?"
"Do you even have to ask? You rang my chimes, Sir."
"You remember about passing the test?"
"Yah, but I thought that was just 'after sex' pillow talk. Wasn't it?"
"No. This is much more." Doug looked at me intently. "I know, for example, that you were in the top third in your high school class at Sacred Hearts in Queens, and scored 1505 on your combined SAT's." That got my attention. "I know that your Mother was a TV actress on 'Guiding Light' and died when you were seven. You and your sister were raised by Dad, who played professional baseball for the Mets before retiring due to a knee injury."
"Holy fuck, Doug, what's this all about? What are you, the CIA?" I felt my stomach tightening.
"Hardly. I've got a business proposition for you. But, I had to check you out first."
"Did I check out?" I was starting to feel very uncomfortable.
"I know that you have a spotless police record and that you did some Ralph Lauren photo print ad layouts while you were in college two years ago. What I can't figure out is why you left school and joined the Navy?"
"OK, Dick Tracy, truth time. Let's just say that Dad picked the wrong day to come home early. He found me with my legs in the air taking my buddy's dick up the chute." I looked down at my partially eaten food. "He ordered me out of the house that night and cut me off from my college fund. I couldn't afford to continue school at Columbia University. I hadn't applied for a scholarship."
"Why not find a job?"
"I could have tried to get into modeling full time. But I really didn't want to get mixed up with that crowd. Too many drugs and shit." Looking at Doug with questioning determination, I continued, "My Dad became a cop after the baseball career went down the crapper. He always kept me clear about drugs. I don't touch them. The Navy was an easy way to find a home and security...fast. I still keep in touch with my sister."
"Well, Brent, let's put this behind you. If you can be a little creative, let me suggest a way for you to earn a lot of money on the side. This could give you a nest egg to let you do anything you want after you leave the Navy."
"This sounds like something I'm not going to like." I looked deeply into Doug's eyes.
"Oh, I think you'll like it." Doug studied Brent intently. "I'm going to pass on some very confidential information. If what I say doesn't appeal to you, promise me that nothing said will ever, I repeat, ever, be mentioned to anyone else." Under the table, he squeezed my leg.
"OK. Lay it out." I looked around and reached under the table to hold Doug's hand briefly.
"Your apprehension is justified. If I was thought what I'm proposing was tainted, I would not be here talking to you." Doug paused for reaction. "Basically, I'm inviting you to join me in a very exclusive male escort organization here in Memphis and elsewhere."
"Escort? Don't you mean...?"
Doug cut me off, "...Yah, I sell my services and talents for an outrageously large amount of money. There are never drugs involved. I choose what I do and always very safely, and my clients are pre-screened for me."
I was fascinated by this admission. "Hmmm, how is this set up, and what exactly do you do?" I knew that my role in this enterprise would be similar, if I chose to go forward. This officer was like the Pied Piper. I was not turned off.
"Well, there is a agent that sets me up with dates."
"Pimp?" I interjected.
"Let's not be crude. At our end of this business, agent is appropriate." Doug bit down on his now cold cheeseburger and had a drink of his Diet Coke. I did the same.
"As an example, pretend that I was your client. By the way, I'd have to first qualify on various levels to be a client. What you did to and for me last night would net you $1,000." Doug waited for a reaction.
My eyes widened as I looked in this angelic stud's dark eyes. "Net?"
"Net. The agent takes 1/3 of the gross as a commission. The 2/3 cut is deposited in your bank account after the engagement is successfully concluded." He continued, "Aside from no drugs allowed ever, there is a strict code concerning what we perform in the way of services. I'm not naïve, Brent. There are certain other associates, who I do not know, that can get pretty raunchy and submissive for certain clients. I was hired, not unlike the contact process you're going through, to handle a pretty vanilla society group of wealthy men who like to contract handsome, in-shape, intelligent males for their sexual satisfaction and are willing to pay a lot of money for these services."
"What do you mean 'contact process'?"
When we met last night, I was really impressed at the bar. Not only are you incredibly good looking, you have poise, charm, a sense of humor and a well-honed vocabulary. And, after you so masterfully commanded my bed, I knew that you had terrific potential to be my backup and partner. I went through the same thing two years ago. My mentor, however, was a graduate student at the University."
"Why find someone else?"
"I am, without a better explanation, over-worked. I have a product that a lot of clients want. You, I have concluded, are a blond edition of my M.O. We would be very compatible." A warm smile crept over his face.
"What do you mean 'vanilla'? What would I be expected to do?"
"First, to command these fees, you must keep your body in top shape. You'll be working out at the base gym constantly. And, except for an occasional glass of wine with dinner or casual cocktail, you will be discouraged from drinking. We've already gone over the no drugs rule. And, there is a great hair stylist in Memphis you should use. Still have the military look with some style. And, no tattoos."
"Hell, a well-fashioned hair cut is no problem."
""You also will be required to see our physician every three months to assure that the property is 100% safe."
"Again, no problem. But, what do I have to do?" 'There it was,' I thought, 'right out on the table.' I was fascinated.
"The dates will fit within your Navy schedule. I was serious about you being able to use the apartment. It is basically a rest stop. Only on rare occasions do I entertain there. And only with trusted regulars."
"OK, I get that. But what do I have to give of my body?"
"Usually, the clients that I...make that we...get don't have a great imagination in sexual habits. We are their fantasy. This usually means them sucking you off, masturbating either mutually or them stroking you, or anal intercourse with you on top...always safely."
"No bottom business?"
"Only if you feel comfortable with the client in terms of safety and looking after your comfort. There is usually a 50% premium to bottom. I have only done this with repeat clients I trust."
"I guess the key word is fantasy?"
"Oh yeah. First we dress up in their requested look, be it western, college student, young lawyer, etc. Then, we usually strip for them. Sometimes that's all they want. Other times, the client only wants us for company at a great restaurant. That's where your conversational skills and social grace come into play. You're heads up in those areas. The big concern is to always be aware that you could be photographed. We never go to locations where video cameras may be positioned."
"You're out a lot?"
"Depending on my schedule, I can make a date a couple of times a week. If it is more involved, I only work on weekends at max rate. My profile and headless photos are on file for the potential clients to view. It's important to keep up your fitness."
"This all sounds too easy. What's the catch?"
"Brent, the catch is not to get greedy. And keep clean. If you are in demand, and believe me, with your looks you'll be a prime selection, you can earn a minimum $75,000 per year, un-taxable."
I considered that sum for a moment. "What you do isn't exactly legal. Aren't you concerned?"
"It's completely illegal. That's why the organization - Argosy Productions - is very cautious about who they do business with. There is no mob connection. I checked this out very carefully. By the way, this is a legitimate entertainment business front. 70% of their activity is in local and national TV commercials. Argosy is now moving into independent film production."
"Whew, seventy five grand is serious bread. Doug, if I go in, I'm going to completely trust you. Will you be my big brother?"
"Absolutely. And maybe a fuck buddy once in a while." Doug smiled. "I know that we have just met. But it's important we trust each other. That's why I checked you out first. This has been a very profitable and good experience for me. I will tell you right now, you can't imagine who will be contracting for your services. Some very big names in the social, business, entertainment, and political world in the South and across the country are clients. I occasionally get requests to fly to another city, all expenses paid, for a special client that is aware of my reputation. We have associates and agents in most major cities."
"I can tell you that I'm nervous and excited. I'm going to trust that you won't steer me into anything dangerous. I have no moral hang-ups about providing these services."
"So your answer is yes?" he asked with a intense look into my eyes.
"Yes," I returned with a confident grin. With that, we shook hands. Doug made arrangements for me to do a nude photographic shoot in Memphis that weekend. All shots would be headless. Every other part of my body, in various states of arousal and close-ups, would be shot with the client's review in mind. Because of Argosy's reputation, the client trusted that the face would match the body.
It was agreed that I would "tag along" for Doug's engagements where there was only a sexual encounter requested. Some of the clients, reluctant at first, really got into the two of us servicing them.
My first solo date was with a regular that Doug convinced to try me out. I was to meet the man in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel. I was very nervous watching those fucking ducks come out of the elevator, strut around, and go back. This had been going on for years and was considered a real Memphis tradition. 'Cute, but kinda silly,' I thought.
Tonight, in a blue blazer with ensemble to match, I looked like a junior at Yale. I had been given an $8000 allowance to buy a basic wardrobe to match the various requests of my dates. Each month, $500 would be deducted from my earnings until the debt was settled.
Promptly at 7:00 pm, a distinguished executive arrived and sat down beside me. He was an older man in his early-50's of medium height and graying hair. Dressed impeccably in a dark gray, double-breasted suit, he did everything to put me at ease. In no time, we were joking with each other and talking about Washington politics. I was really enjoying the experience.
We went up to his suite and had a glass of champagne. Lustfully, he started to undress me. I asked him to allow me to undress him. When we were both nude, we went to the bedroom. He was somewhat over-weight but had velvet fingers. As he massaged my cock and balls, I became hard as a rock. Thank god for young, raging, testosterone. He slowly got to his knees and kissed every part of my lower area, starting with my feet and toes.
He worked his way up my legs, calves, and thighs. As I started leaking pre-cum, he gently lapped my dick head. Looking at the clock, I knew that we had another 22 minutes. I instructed him to lick my balls. He did and then proceeded to kiss everywhere on my now manicured pubic region. He inhaled deeply. Doug had done expert barbering.
As he came under me, I spread my legs and kneeled. He immediately engaged my pucker with his tongue. 12 minutes left. With my nether region explored, I brought his face and nose back to my mid-section. He breathed deeply while I stroked his hair. Lapping my belly button and fucking the "innie" with his tongue, I let him go to work on my still-hard dick. Five minutes to go.
I suggested that he start jacking himself off as he sucked me. I wetted my hand and reached down to offer him some lubrication. My client started aggressively sucking me, and he brought his hand back and forth on his cock. With 30 seconds to go, I told him that I was ready to cum. He said something, muffled because his mouth was covering my hard dick. I did see his cock shoot out on the carpeting as I shot in his mouth.
Mission accomplished. After dressing, I thanked him and planted a kiss on his forehead before departing. Word got back to me that the client was impressed and offered an additional $100 tip for me.
And so, my second life began. Doug and I became good friends and business associates. Like Doug, my services were sought out at the highest price. But confidentiality was foremost in our minds.
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BRENT PRESENT DAY
I thought about this past year as I drove back to Millington. I hadn't mentioned to Doug that my roommate had observed us at dinner. Hell, I hadn't even had a chance to tell him about Dave being my new roommate. If everything went well tonight, I would respect the confidentiality of the officer in his life, including not telling my business partner about either of them.
As the familiar milestones sped past, I tentatively felt good about resolving this situation. Dave and I were clearly playing on the same team. 'It was hot that Dave and Ensign Cole were together with an obvious affection for each other,' I thought. 'What spurred that on?'
I approached the base in my Mercury Cougar at 2245. After being waved on, I brought the car to the enlisted lot and entered the barracks. After saying "hi" to the Security Watch, I walked down to the room. Opening the door, I found Dave, dressed only in a robe, reading a book and waiting for me.
"Hey roomie. Ready to talk?" I said.