Date: Sat, 13 Mar 2004 00:54:58 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Heart of a Gigolo

			   THE HEART OF A GIGOLO
			   by Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     So this was the good life and these were the beautiful people. I was
standing in a tuxedo (rented) in the middle of a large room where
everything was golden, not just gold-colored, but golden and glistening and
glowing. Through this golden room the people moved, men in finely tailored
tuxes, the women in gowns like you only see at the Oscars, you watching
them only on television and then only quickly, while they stride down the
red carpet and out of your puny lives.
     Wafting over this scene was music, serene, classical, dignified. That
was the conversations I heard here and there, talk of stocks, of opera,
ballet, politics that were never heated. Nobody raised their voice, nobody
laughed too loud, nobody did anything other than what was proper and
decorous.
     What was I doing here? you may ask. A document that had to be changed
at the last moment, that had to be signed that very day in order to make an
early morning delivery, and the man to sign it at this party. And told as
long as I had to be there, I might as well stay, a condition I was happy to
accept I'm sure you'll agree. So a quick tux rental, a shower and shave at
the apartment, and then off to the party.
     The man I had to see wasn't here yet, he was expected to show up
before nine o'clock. So at eight-thirty, I was sipping champagne and
pretending that I belonged. Smiling inanely, lifting my glass, ignored by
everyone (they knew better than to be fooled by me), I was savoring the
unreal quality of it all. It was like a visit to Paradise; I didn't belong
here yet, but I would one day, I would!
     One of the beautiful people was looking at me. Tall, handsome as all
hell, dark-haired, that sultry look that could pierce your heart, where you
would know ahead of time that he was going to just use you and cast you
aside, but at least he would pay attention to you, so you'd throw yourself
willingly into the fire, he was looking at me, and I smiled at him,
expecting him to do as all the others did, smile back and turn away, me in
my rented tuxedo and my fatuous smile.
     And he turned and came toward me, his body gliding rather than walking
to me, it was like watching a majestic ship come into port, or watching a
bird alight on a tree branch, all beauty and symmetry of motion so that it
was like poetry.
     He walked up to me and said, "I had to come talk to you."
     "Yes?" I said inanely. "Why was that?" That slipped out, a desperate
plea, tell me what I did right so I can keep doing it!
     "Because you are the most attractive man I have seen this night, and
for many months, and I could never forgive myself if I didn't introduce
myself."
     If you think my heart ended up in puddles in my shoes at that, you're
right. And if you sneer at how quickly I fell into such a ploy, I can only
say that you didn't see him, he wasn't looking at you the way he was
looking at me!
     "Then I'm glad to meet you." I said and put out my hand.
     He took it and I damned near fainted at his touch. A part of my brain,
far back, buried under my self-aggrandizing grin that chewed up most of my
thoughts, was telling me that this was a mistake, a huge mistake. He
couldn't possibly be interested in me, not really me!
     But my forebrain was firmly in control and I yammered on, "My name is
Bill...William, that is. William Nyland."
     "William Nyland." he said. Have you ever heard your own name said so
that it sounds like music? Like the only way to write it is to decorate it
with flowers and decorative script and.... "I am so very glad to meet
you. My name is Paolo. Paolo Fabietta." He didn't have a trace of Italian
accent until he said his own name, and that only, and that only made it
more memorable.
     "I'm pleased to meet you, too, Paolo." I said.
     "What brings you to this magnificent party, if I may ask?"
     I smiled. "I'm not a guest, or not exactly. Mr. Mainer needs to sign
some papers I have with me and I am waiting for him. What about you?"
     "I am a guest of La Comtesse Lebonfeau." I think that was the name he
said. I didn't know who she was, but he indicated her and I saw her, a
travesty of purple and older-middle age, a woman who had been born rich,
stayed rich, and now was a mockery of the beautiful woman she had once
been. Just the sort to keep a handsome man by her...hire him.
     I looked back at Paolo and realized that he was a gigolo. I guess that
showed in my eyes, for he smiled and said, "She is a good friend of my
family. She needed a man to bring her tonight, to stand with her. I am not
making love to La Comtesse Lebonfeau."
     "Oh." I said, not very intelligently.
     Mr. Mainer walked in at that time. "Well, I see Mr. Mainer is here." I
said. "I'd better get him to sign the papers right now."
     "But of course." Paolo said. "I understand. I hope to see you again
very soon."
     "I doubt it." I said. "This group is too rich for my blood."
     "But I can see you again?" he pressed me.
     "Yeah, sure." I said. Mr. Mainer had seen me and was coming my way. I
had a job to do. And what Paolo was offering, I didn't want. Well, I
couldn't afford it, anyway. He was a thoroughbred horse, you could buy him
but the price was out of my range. Others would get to hold him, not me.
     "I look forward to it." he said to me and took my hand again. I was
startled by this, and I only watched while he lifted my hand to his lips,
kissed the palm of my hand, smiled gently.
     "Yeah." I said to him. Dumbfounded. Why me? I mean, he knew, he KNEW,
that I was just an office flunky, that I didn't have anything to offer
him. I couldn't take him to exotic places, I couldn't buy him fancy
clothes, I couldn't BUY him! Didn't he know that? He had to, this was a
rented tuxedo, a cheap rented tux, even, it stood out like a pimple among
all these silken things worn by everyone else.
     I got the packet of papers off the table nearby where I'd set it and
walked toward Mr. Mainer, who was gesturing to me.
     I looked back once.
     Paolo was still standing right there. Watching me. Smiling.
     I got the papers signed and got out of there, my heart pounding inside
my breast.
     I didn't sleep too well that night.
     * * * * *
     Coffee helped fight off the cobwebs the next day. By eleven-thirty, I
was working at my desk in my too-small office, the night before a memory
rapidly receding, vaporizing in the humdrum that was my regular
life. People came in and out of my office all the time, it wasn't
worthwhile to shut the door to my office without good reason.
     I smelled him before I heard him, the smell of expensive cologne,
deep, masculine, sensual. I'd smelled it the night before though I hadn't
remarked on it then. I looked up as he said, "Hello, William."
     "Oh...hello, Paolo." I said. "Uh...how are you? What are you doing
here?"
     "I had to come here." he said, smiled.
     "Why?" I was puzzled. We had nothing to offer Paolo, we dealt with
government contracts and large corporations, nothing a normal person would
have any reason to see us.
     "You did not give me your telephone number." he said. "I couldn't call
you. May I take you out to lunch?"
     "Lunch?" I said foolishly. "But my lunch isn't until one o'clock,
sorry."
     "That is all right." he said to me. "I will wait."
     "Wait?" I said. "But you can't do that!"
     "Why not?"
     "Well...you can sit in the reception area, I guess." I said.
     "So we can have lunch together?" he said.
     "Uh, yeah." Sure.
     "One o'clock, then." he said. "I shall call the restaurant and change
our reservation."
     "Uh, I only get one hour." I said. "Which restaurant?"
     "Marcon's." he said. "It is nearby, yes?"
     "Sure." I said. "But I've never been there. I can't afford it." I said
to him, a bit firmly.
     "I can." he said. "This is my gift to you."
     "Okay...thanks." I said.
     "I will let you return to your job." he said. "Until one
o'clock. Then...you are mine." he said.
     "All right." I said and the butterflies in my stomach were dancing
jigs in double-time.
     I finished my work though I'm not sure how. I made any number of
mistakes, most of which I caught, the rest my boss caught and I corrected,
but I got through the document right at one o'clock. As my boss signed it,
I said, "I have a lunch date. We're going to Marcon's, so I might be a
little late getting back."
     "Take your time, Bill." my boss said. "Have fun."
     "Thanks." I said. I picked up my jacket; Marcon's had a dress code,
I'd barely qualify.
     Paolo was sitting in the reception area, carrying on an animated
conversation with three of the secretaries. They were enthralled by him, of
course, who wouldn't be. But when he saw me, he said, "I must go now, thank
you all very much."
     I told the receptionist, who was eating up the sight along with the
secretaries. "I'm off to lunch."
     "I know." she said. Her eyes slid to Paolo, and she
semi-whispered. "At Marcon's. You lucky dog, you."
     "I might be back late." I said to her, teasing her.
     Paolo took my arm. "Come, William." he said. "Let us go now."
     And do we did. Paolo had called ahead and the table was waiting for us
and the meal was already selected. Marcon's usually served people
leisurely, a two-hour lunch was a minimum for them, but we were served
promptly, each course arriving as soon as we finished the one before, the
salad, the coffee, the salad, the entree, the desert, and demitasse. It
left us free to talk, and Paolo and I did.
     Talk? God, how he could talk! Of lands and places and people, and yet
he never talked down to me, I felt at ease, understood, and my own talk of
my family and my life, pitifully small by comparison, he treated as nuggets
to be treasured on a par with his own.
     I understood very well how the women would pay to be with
Paolo. Whatever they paid him, he gave them value for their money.
     I looked at my watch and saw my lunch hour was nearly over. "I have to
get back to work." I said to him.
     "But of course." he said. "But may I have your telephone number and
address? I want to see you again."
     "Sure." By now, I would have given him my credit card number if he'd
asked. Not that he'd buy much with the $14.00 of credit left on it if he'd
had it!
     I gave him my information on a paper and he put it carefully in his
pocket. "I am meeting someone here, but I will call on you tonight if I
may? Eight o'clock?"
     "Sure." I said again. "Thank you so much for lunch. This was
great. Can I help with the tip?" I fumbled at my wallet.
     "No, no!" he said. "This is my gift to you."
     "Well...okay." I said. If I gave him the money in my pocket, I would
have had to bring a bag lunch the rest of the week. "Thanks again."
     As I had done before, I looked back on my way out. This time, he
wasn't looking at me. He was greeting a woman, one much older than
him. Smiling and kissing her. Stung, I turned and walked on out of
Marcon's, and back to the real world once again.
     * * * * *
     I expected maybe Paolo would call me and I had decided to end
it. After all, what could I be to him but some sort of diversion? Him the
world traveler, and me one stop on his travels. He was tired of the old
women getting into his bed and here was I, young and gullible and easily
impressed by a beautiful face and an expensive suit. How better to wash the
taste out of your mouth than to get it on with someone like me?
     I looked in the mirror, to see what Paolo would see, what would bring
such a man over to my side. There was still the same face I'd always had. I
was struck once again by my resemblance to a horse whose picture I had
seen, his muzzle aimed toward the camera, and there were the same eyes, the
same cheekbones, as that horse. The face might have been handsome if it had
been proportioned differently, maybe, if the cheeks weren't so long and the
eyes a little too far apart and the nose broad and flat across my face. In
my better moods I thought of myself as average looking, now, with Paolo to
compare myself to, I felt once again the equine comradeship, seeing once
again that long, rather sad-looking face, and I turned from the mirror in
disgust.
     No, there was nothing here for Paolo to want. His intent, whatever it
was, was more mercenary than that. Maybe he thought I had money, or could
introduce him to more rich old ladies.
     He would call me and I would end it before it could begin, before I
could lose any more of my heart to his cold clutches. All I had to do was
wait by the phone and hit him with my decision before he could say
anything, before his words could conjure up once again that too-beautiful
man looking at me with every semblance of desire.
     I didn't hear the knock on the door at first. Then it came again and I
jumped up, went to the door. I was only wearing a old T-shirt and a pair of
sweat pants, and some socks because the apartment floor was cold. Not
knowing who it was, I opened the door and said, "Oh! Hello."
     It was Paolo. "It is eight o'clock." He said to me, seeing my state of
dress. "I was hoping to take you out for drinks."
     "I'm sorry." I said. "I thought you were going to call me."
     "I said I would call on you." he said.
     "Oh." I said. "Yeah. Well, uh, come on in. I wanted to talk to you
anyhow."
     "All right." he said and came in. If the appearance of my shabby
bachelor apartment with dirty clothes strewn about bothered him, he didn't
show it. I led him inside, throwing clothes aside as I went, a mockery of
housecleaning.
     He sat on the middle of the couch. Only problem with that was, the
couch was all I had, if he sat there, I had to sit next to him. I perched
on the arm of the couch instead and said, "Look, Paolo, I really enjoyed
lunch today, but...."
     "May I have something to drink?" he asked.
     "Oh! Sure!" I said. "I don't have much. Some diet cola, or some beer?"
     "Just some cold water, please."
     I went into my kitchenette to get him some water. Ice from the
refrigerator, tap water over that. I took it out to the living area and
there was Paolo still sitting on the couch. Only now he had removed his
jacket and his shirt was open, showing that golden chest. I was reminded of
that all-gold room of the night before, glowing, glistening, beautiful.
     I looked, I gulped hard and I said, "Paolo...this is a mistake."
     He didn't pretend not to understand. "How is this a mistake?" He asked
me and stood up, came to me. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had taken
me in his arms, but he only took the water glass from me and sipped it. It
was like he was sipping champagne at that party. Thoroughly at ease and
comfortable.
     "I'm just a guy who works in an office." I said. "I don't have
anything to offer you."
     "You are wrong about that." he said. "Do you not feel it, the bond
between us?" He set the water glass on the bar to the kitchenette.
     Now I couldn't pretend to misunderstand. "Sure, Paolo, I want you. I'd
be crazy not to want you. But...."
     Now Paolo did take me in his arms and as his lips came in to meet
mine, something inside me surrendered completely. I guess there's a part of
us that doesn't listen to common sense, doesn't listen to reason, not when
there's nothing else you have to do to get what you want, just accept it.
     Knowing what Paolo was, what he would do to me in the end, I still
quivered with excitement, my heart pounded heavily within my chest,
threatening to burst out of my body, my lips met his and kissed him without
reservation, without inhibition, giving my all in that kiss. The touch of
his hands over my body was intoxicating, transporting me to a realm of
fantasy made real, and I closed my eyes and said, "Let it be so. Oh, God,
let it be so!"
     His hands pulled my t-shirt up over my head and I let him, limply
assisting him in that I raised my arms and let him pull it away. Then that
hand touched my bare chest and I again nearly swooned, and he followed it
with his lips, oh, God! His lips touched my nipple and its kiss was the
benediction of heaven!
     He lingered there, sending me on a magical journey of delight, this
was what I'd yearned to feel with my other lovers, the missing part that
had always made me part from them, it was here with Paolo, living inside
his lips and his hands that now reached around to my back and down my body
to cup my buttocks and pull me to him and I felt his body firmly against
mine and he ground against me, as his eyes closed and he crooned in golden,
melodic tones the sounds of joy.
     Lowered his head again, opened his eyes and looked right into mine and
said, "The bed now, please."
     And his hands reached into my sweat pants and fondled my bare
buttocks, and I could deny him nothing.
     "Come on!" I panted and led him to my bed, a matter of a half-dozen
steps and I scooped away the covers and their covering of dirty socks and
stained underwear, and I laid bare the decently white sheet beneath,
wrinkled and used, but at least serene and inviting in its clean white
color, little marred by my slumber.
     My hands tore off my sweat pants and I sat on the bed and pulled off
my socks as I watched Paolo. He removed his shirt to reveal more of that
golden skin, smooth and unmarked by blemish or scar, flawlessly perfect,
flawlessly masculine. This was the body dreamed by Michelangelo as he
sculpted his huge marble David, this perfect skin, this regular face, that
smile which melted your heart from within.
     I could only lay myself back, the way a willing human sacrifice might
do upon the altar, knowing the knife was coming, loving it as it raised
above them, but there was only Paolo lowering his pants, hinting at
humanity (liar!) as he stumbled slightly in removing them. There were now
only a pair of red briefs with a white trim and I saw how it stretched its
central area outwards, only a mass of undefined flesh, and then he took the
elastic band and pulled it away and the mass resolved itself into a cock, a
divine cock, a lovely cock, a cock that you would whimper for and beg for
the mercy of being allowed to suck on it.
     I reached one timorous hand out to cup that manhood and he let me
touch him, let me place that majestic dong on my wrist and those
magnificent balls into my fingers, where they steamed gently, and I was so
absorbed by this that Paolo's hand reaching and taking my own prick was
startling, a revelation that I saw open-eyed, he was touching me, he was
touching me!
     "Ahhhhh!" A shuddering sigh from my lips. "God, yeahhhh!" I simpered,
and I could only lay back, overcome by the feelings racing through my body,
I was being touched by a god! A god!
     And not just a touch now, now he held me firmly in his hand and now
his head bent low and now. "Oh, Jesus!" I gasped. And Paolo's mouth held my
cock in his lips and it was divine, it was ecstatic.
     I could only loose little whimpers of sound from my lips as he nursed
my cock, and there weren't words powerful enough to tell you how it felt,
it was like all my prior lovemaking was put into one side of a set of
balancing scales, and this one moment into the other, and the scales fell
heavily down on the side of this moment, and all my other memories of sex
were sent hurtling into the cosmos, catapulted into oblivion.
     This is why the women do it, I knew now, why they would make him
expensive gifts, why the money flew out of their hands and into his, not
caring what he'd do with it, not caring that he would walk away and forget
them, this moment was worth it, worth every cent they had, there was no
regret at losing the money, for the memories he instilled were worth it,
worth all of it and more!
     "Here, now you." he said invitingly, and moved his body around to
present his lower body to me. I was already driven to the very edge of
ecstasy just from his lips on my cock, now I wrapped my own lips around his
dong and that was just that much better, now I had my own sighs of pleasure
echoed by his melodic tones as he sighed with my every movement upon his
prong.
     I was loving him, I had this man, this beautiful man, in my bed and I
was loving him and he was loving me! Can you blame me for losing control in
only a moment or so?
     "Oh, oh, God, I'm coming, I'm coming!" I gasped out as my climax
seized me. I expected him to pull off and away as I took his cock back into
my mouth, and I was trampled by my orgasm, my self crushed utterly flat
under the intensity of it all and my seed burst out of me...and into his
mouth, for he was still holding onto me, still sucking me and he didn't let
go, even though I pumped out a load like none I'd had before, and he
coughed from the volume of it, and I looked at him, dazed to see a driblet
of my jism slip out of that unflawed nose. I was ashamed of myself and I
sucked him in despair, only to feel his body tense and his cock heat up in
my mouth.
     A surge of determination hit me, I renewed my working of his prick
with single-minded vigor, I gave him the best damned blow-job I had ever
managed before, heedless of myself, not caring if I could breathe, if my
body ached from the motion, if my lips were numbed from the exertion, it
only mattered that I gave him more, and more, and more!
     "Oh, oh, oh, Will-ll-ll-ll-ll-i-i-i-i-i-am-m-m-m-m!" he sighed as he
climaxed, and I drank his sperm happily, it couldn't come out fast and hard
enough to suit me, I was too dazzled by that to care, that when he'd
reached his peak, the word that had come out of him was my name! My name!
     We lay there like that, panting, for a time, our heads pillowed on
each other's thigh, and then he crawled around to face me and I kissed that
wonderful face, dappled with love-sweat, hair tousled by our embraces and
exertions, and it all just made him more beautiful than before! I couldn't
hold him enough, kiss him enough, love him enough, and after a time, when I
felt his cock re-invigorated, I opened my legs to him gratefully, and he
pierced me with his golden shaft and he loved me like that, on and on, for
the longest time, never tiring, never complaining, never giving in, until
at last, after I had twice jizzed onto my own body and his, he sighed and
once again poured his seed into my body and fell into my arms. Then, and
only then, did I sleepily pull the covers back over the two of us, and we
slept like that, together.
     He was still there the next day, though he had to dress and leave, and
I kissed him and said, "When can I see you again?"
     "In two or three days." he promised me. "As soon as I can."
     And I believed him.
     Right up until that second day when I was running an errand in another
building and I looked to see him getting into a limousine. Inside was a
woman of dignified mien and grace and he smiled and I just saw before the
chauffeur closed the door that he kissed her passionately.
     My heart broke in two, and I cursed myself as a fool. Paolo hadn't
lied to me, I had lied to myself! I had known what he was, what he would
do, how he lived. I was a wreck the rest of that day and I went home and
cried throughout the night.
     The next day, I was beginning to heal, a little. It's like a wound
that has a long way to go to heal, but it has scabbed over and at least you
aren't bleeding away your soul any longer. You'd lost all there was to
lose, and it would take a long time and you'd never be fully whole again,
but at least you'd lost all there was to lose.
     I'd said before it was worth it when I gave myself to him. And it
was. But it didn't hurt any the less for being gone.
     That was me, watching the television numbly, not really seeing the
pictures but not wanting to get into that bed again, the bed that still
smelled faintly of Paolo. I had to preserve that somehow. It was all I had
of him, that sweat from his body on my sheet, and the memories.
     A knock at the door. I got up as I had the time before, not looking to
see who it was, for only a few friends ever knocked at my door.
     I opened and there was an explosion of roses there. Above them, the
biggest rose of all, was Paolo's face, grinning widely.
     "Paolo?" I said.
     "Hello, William." he said to me. "I have six days I can spend with you
now. What would you like to do...second?"
     I turned away, but I didn't shut the door, my heart betrayed me that
much. Paolo's voice followed me as I sat back down.
     "William? William, please, what is the matter?"
     "The matter?" I said. "I saw you yesterday, getting into the
limousine. I saw you kiss that woman."
     "Yes, of course." he said to me.
     "God, Paolo, how could you?" I demanded.
     He looked at me as if I were the one who was being unreasonable. "I do
not understand."
     "The women, God, you date them, don't you? You go out with them and
you tell them they're beautiful and you kiss them. Do you have sex with
them, too?"
     "Yes, of course." he said.
     "That's what's wrong!" I said. "Paolo, God, why are you even here?"
     "I am here because I want to be with you." he said. "I am here because
my every thought is of you, your face, your eyes, your hands, your body. I
want you and I need you. That is why I am here."
     "Is that what you tell the women?" I said.
     "Sometimes." He said. "But there is one difference."
     "What's that?"
     "When I say it to them, I don't mean it." he said. "With you, I do."
     "How can you do that?" I said. "How can you just give yourself to
those women for money like that?"
     "It is what I do." he said. "It is what they want. You spend your
hours at an office, do you want to do what they tell you to do, say what
they want you to say?"
     "That's different!" I said.
     "Not so different." he said. "You sell your services, and so do I. It
is how you make your living, and so do I."
     I looked at him and he came to me and took me in his arms and again I
didn't resist. I didn't respond, but I didn't resist.
     He didn't press himself any further. "But there is that which I hold
back from them, there is that which I do not sell to them, ever. That is
what I give to you, William." he said. "For them, it is all for the money,
it is all for what they give me. Each kiss costs them something, each time
we make love, they must pay me. But for you, I only ask for the right to
make love to you. I ask nothing from you, William, nothing but your
heart. Give me your heart, William, and I will give you mine. Please."
     I looked at him and remembered that indeed, he hadn't ever taken a
single thing from me. He had paid for Marcon's, he had come to me each
time. He had spent his money...on me! And when we made love, he had given
himself to me completely. As I had given myself to him...completely.
     And I relaxed and he kissed me and we made love once again and it was
as spectacular as before. When we were done, though, he got up and said,
"La Comtesse has left for Nice. Before she left, she gave me a beautiful
cigarette case." He showed it to me, and it was gold with rubies set in it.
     "I want to celebrate tonight. Come with me and we will sell this
cigarette case, and then we will have a wonderful time with the money, just
you and me."
     I looked at that case, the proceeds of his last three days' work. And
he wanted to spend it on me.
     So I got up, dressed, and went with him to the pawn shop, smiling all
the way.
     We had a marvelous six days of glory, eating in expensive restaurants,
staying at a four-star hotel, living the good life. Then it was over. Paolo
is now with another of his women, and I am waiting for him to call. But now
I wait for him to return to me, without pain, even though right now, Paolo
is probably making love to someone else. Because he is loving her without
that part of him that belongs to me.
     Even the heart of a gigolo is his to bestow as he chooses. And I hold
Paolo's heart now, as untouched, pure and virginal as the most chaste could
ever hope to give.

				  THE END
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