For Hire: The Intimate Adventures of a Gigolo

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But as Gray had said, Cross that bridge when you come to it.

I let out a heavy sigh. ‘God, it was so much easier when Mark and co were still in London.’

Gray got my drift immediately. ‘You miss ’em?’

‘They were me mates, y’know? Mark, Simon, even Rob knew what I got up to. I didn’t have to pretend with them…’

For a moment, Gray looked affronted: ‘You don’t have to pretend with me, mate.’

I put my palms up to face him. ‘I know, I know,’ I smiled, to show I hadn’t meant to diss our friendship, ‘but you know what I mean. They were Aussies. They knew where I came from.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

I placed my hands flat down on the table again and thought back to almost two years ago when I’d just come to London and moved in with Mark. I’d got to know the others through him and they’d turned out to be such a major part of my life in the UK. For one thing, it was our mutual lack of funds that had got me started in this escorting game in the first place. And when I wasn’t working at that or, in the early days, any other job I could find, then we were generally in each other’s pockets.

They had helped keep me grounded through the perils and pitfalls of my hookering. The guys had helped to remind me of where I came from and stopped me getting up myself, or losing myself in the wealth of my clients. I’d seen it happen to many of the other escorts. They forgot that they were only short-term guests in the rich world. The only thing they had to show for it was the expensive designer gear they’d bought into.

It had been tempting to return to Australia when my friends had, but because I’d arrived in the UK after them, I still had some time to run on my visa. And I was making good money from the escort work.

But it wasn’t just that. They had been bolstering up their CVs in a way that my work just couldn’t. I had gaps where they had jobs. And their work experience actually counted for something. I could hardly boast of my escort skills as something that I could put to good use in any other field. All the more reason for me to make as much money as I possibly could while I was here, then. So, my friends had ended up less tied to the UK and more ready to return home. I simply couldn’t. Not yet, anyhow.

I gave Gray a rueful smile. He was right. I was lucky to have someone still here who understood me. But I couldn’t help reflecting that my mates’ absence really emphasized how much I had to make things work as an escort—whether or not I kept my lifestyle close to my chest.

Still, it didn’t mean that I couldn’t help wondering if I’d made the right choice. It was difficult to gauge whether the money was really worth remaining here for. I could have been on my way home to Australia right now with the rest of the gang, beginning the rest of my life, with a new job, which might pay less than I’d grown used to but that on paper would actually count for something.

But I hadn’t, had I? I was sitting here with Gray. The Last Mate Standing.

I got up. ‘You’d like another?’

Gray nodded up at me: ‘Same again, thanks.’

I ordered our pints, and as the barman poured them I observed Gray sitting alone. He looked as out on a limb as I was beginning to feel. But it meant I was damn glad we got on so well. I had a sneaking suspicion he got a lot out of our friendship too. As a website designer, a lot of the time he was chained to his laptop, so he liked me telling him about my experiences. It was a window into a pretty alternative world to his.

For me, it wasn’t just that Gray was doing a great job managing my site. Such a great job, in fact, that he was practically my PA these days. I knew that I’d be nowhere near as successful an escort if it hadn’t been for him helping to get my presence on the Net where it mattered. Whenever anyone Googled ‘London Male Escort’ I was there, at the top of the page.

He never seemed fazed either by tales of my exploits. Which proved a fucking good thing when I needed to offload stuff. I don’t know how long you could keep going at this game without sharing details with someone of what the job involved. Or, conversely, being able to have a friendly conversation without having to mention what I’d really been doing with my life.

When I was starting out, my client Jenny had been like that for me. We’d met up for a half-hour coffee break every Friday. That seemed such a long time ago. She’d been my very first client, but I had no idea where she was or what she was getting up to these days.

I paid for the drinks and picked them up and made my way to our table. I couldn’t help wondering if Gray even realized how much he was helping me out, on so many levels.

‘I tell you what,’ I remarked as I handed him his pint and sat down.

‘What?’ he replied, taking a deep gulp of the beer.

‘I’m not saying it’s likely to happen, but if ever I can’t make a session and my clients are fine about me sending them an alternative, you’ll be the first person I’ll call on.’

Gray sat there, mouth open, utterly amazed. It struck me that it had never crossed his mind. That he’d been happy enough beavering away on the sidelines, setting up my goals. That that was where his strengths lay, and he got kicks enough just from hearing about what I’d got up to.

‘You’d do that?’

He looked worried—a far cry from how cool he was when dealing with the concrete stuff of his web design. He reminded me of how nervous I’d been before I’d had my first call-out.

Wouldn’t most guys be? It was one thing to be an escort in your head. Quite another to go out for the first time not knowing who you were going to meet. And fearful that you might not be able to perform when the crunch came. How humiliating would that be? How much easier not to offer your services. Remain the backroom boy.

I back-pedalled to put him at his ease again. ‘I was only joking,’ I laughed.

He gave me a quizzical look, but his shoulders visibly relaxed. ‘Thought so!’ he lied. His paw was tight round his pint, like he was steadying himself.

‘But should a regular client ever be open to the idea of using a replacement, I’ll definitely mention your name,’ I winked.

He chuckled, now aware of my joshing. ‘Thanks for that, mate.’ We both sank our pints.

There. I’d set him thinking about being an escort. What was the betting that, down the line, he’d find himself thinking that actually he wouldn’t mind giving it a go after all? And that he’d be kicking himself too for having missed his chance. Which would mean I could do him that favour after all, should the opportunity arise. And that time, he’d be ready to accept.

I put down my empty glass and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.

Gray tapped his fingers on the table, relaxed now. ‘That reminds me. I got a call before I came out. Remember Pearl Agency?’

That put a smile on my face: ‘Oh yes, my friend!’

Didn’t I just? I’d been the only guy in their stable of hot babes, but they’d dropped my pic from their home page because it unnerved some of their male clients. The last thing they wanted to see was me among all those girls.

‘Seems you’re still in demand from those high rollers of theirs. There’s some big-shot guy who wants to hire you.’

‘You’re supposed to say that I don’t do gay stuff,’ I groaned.

Gray rolled his eyes but there was a glint there too. ‘He’s straight, stupid. Apparently there’ll be a couple of Pearl’s girls along for the ride too.’

‘What, we’re putting on a show for him? That sounds much better!’

Gray shook his head and chuckled: ‘God, Luke, you have one hell of a jammy life!’

I said nothing and simply gave him a salute, grinning.

‘Oh, and this shows how major this client is. Apparently you’ll know him the moment you walk through the door,’ reported Gray. ‘That’s what the Pearl girl said, anyhow. And you’re under strict instructions not to let on to anyone who he is either.’

It was my turn to look mock-affronted. ‘Of course.’ I’d learnt a thing or two about client confidentiality by now.

We sat in silence for a few seconds.

‘No, but who do you think he is?’ I quizzed.

Gray laughed. ‘I knew you were going to say that. I can’t help you, I’m afraid. I’m as in the dark as you are.’

I whistled through my teeth. ‘God, if he’s as famous as they’re making out, then that cuts down the list quite considerably.’

Gray drained the dregs of his beer. ‘You think so?’ he asked.

I nodded. ‘Must be. I mean, there are celebs and there are Celebs with a capital C. This guy could be a major footballer or pop star or something.’

Gray was looking directly and deadpan at me. ‘You make sure you get a signed photo for me then, eh?