Do you remember the first part of our real life based story About to Become a Male Prostitute? We are going to continue…
Narrator: Dean Buzansky
…Back in those days, I was badly short of money, and I had to do something as soon as possible. I had taken that guy’s phone number, I only needed to call him – I knew that within a day or two once I called him, I would be making hundreds of dollars. I had to break my own moral rules and etiquette. I finally decided to call Karatov – that was how people called him, I was not sure whether it was his real name or just a nickname.
My voice was somewhat unsurely shaking when I called him: “Hello, Mr. Karatov! I’ve thought over your offer and I think I’m more likely to accept it because I need it.” He wanted my address and only within 10 minutes he was already in front of my flat. He seemed to be very happy about my positive decision. Then he took me and drove directly toward a five-star restaurant where he wanted to discuss it completely. There was something very disturbing for me, as in our language we had genders, he was talking in female gender toward me since the moment I had told him that I wanted to work the job. Thanks to my politeness I managed to put up with that somehow. Once we reached the restaurant he quickly got the most luxurious table without any reservation and ordered some amazing yummies.
His first question destroyed me like a Vietnamese cabana, he asked: “How much are you willing to take for now?” I had no idea, I answered: “I don’t know, Mr. Karatov, can you suggest me something in the standard?” He was getting bossy: “Oh, that is silly and unacceptable, you should always know your price, you don’t want to get your butt penetrated for ridiculous cents, do you?” I didn’t of course, if I had another option, I wouldn’t even accept such a miserable thing actually. I answered soullessly: “I don’t, Mr. Karatov…” He said “Great!” with a repellent sneer on his face. He claimed that I looked very handsome and that this feature of me would make a great price, he went on, and offered 200 dollars per hour.
As a start, 200 dollars were lovely… though if I had the money, I wouldn’t do this job even for millions. I accepted the starter offer and he already had clients for me… I was extremely uneasy. Mr. Karatov said that I had only a day to prepare myself mentally and physically for the job. In the next evening, I was going to meet my first client – terrible, crappy, creepy, freaky! These were the first words in my head. I was very concerned… What if my family learnt about this? Or my fellows? That was a double-edged sword…
To be continued…
