Where There's Will, There's a Way

Copyright © 2012-2015 Nicholas Hall

Chapter Six

It’s a business doing pleasure with you – (Best Little Whorehouse in Texas) 

Dr. Young’s eyes narrowed, his tongue nervously swiped his dry lips as I looked at him, slowly picking up my class materials from the little table near his lectern, and smiled my best, professional Lee Williams smile, that smile reserved for clients about to enjoy an evening with me as their escort, companion, paramour, and he blushed!  My God, he was embarrassed!  My fears were somewhat ameliorated, but not entirely.  After all, he and I had a full semester ahead for us to dance around what I knew, what he knew, and what he and I had done together. I’d used my best talents and skills with him, more for my benefit than his since I found him more than attractive, sensual, kind and gentle, and proved to be an excellent, ardent, albeit virgin, sexual partner and lover!

Smiling to myself, I returned to my seat, thankful for the excellent mentoring I’d received from the two lads who introduced me to and taught me the necessary arts of pleasuring another man. It seemed so long ago when I interviewed with Dr. Henderson in his office the day I went seeking work.


My face reddened with embarrassment and chagrin that he should know my secret, my inner self.  True, Momma knew and now Will was aware of my sexual orientation, but I’d made great efforts to remain closeted while growing up, fearful of those bullies and right-wingers who could make my life miserable as they had others who were gay.  I was careful not to allow my eyes to linger on bare crotches and butts in the physical education locker room or on other boys in class or the halls, averting my eyes just before any hint of suspicion could be realized by others.  It was just not worth taking the chance of getting the shit pounded out of me. 

Before I could openly respond to Dr. Henderson’s accusatory question, he continued,

“I must ask you to be completely honest with me, Jay, holding nothing back, and be prepared to do exactly as I request.  Do you agree?”

Nodding my agreement, I noticed him take a small mini-recorder from his pocket.

“I need to ask you a few questions, for the record. I’m going to tape your answers so I may review them later, if I need to.”

Holding the small recorder so the built-in microphone pointed at me, he began.

“Please state your full name and age.”

“Jason Le Roy Boulton, age 19,” I responded.

“Can you verify your age and through what means?”

“Yes, sir, with my driver’s license and birth certificate.”

“Are you willing to let us copy those documents and keep them on file?”

“Yes sir.”

“Jay,” Dr. Henderson asked gently, “are you entering into this conversation under your own free will, without duress or coercion?”

“Yes sir, I am.”

“Jay,” he continued, “think about this next question and answer it honestly.  Are you a homosexual, you know, gay?”

I swallowed hard, never admitting to anyone but Momma and Will what I was, but I took a deep breath, and answered, “Yes, sir, I am.”

“Have you ever had sexual relations with any other person during your lifetime?”

I laughed aloud, responding, “Other than my right hand, no I haven’t, Dr. Henderson. I’ve been too fearful of the consequences if should I be caught and outed!”

“Thank you for your answers,” he said and turned off the tape recorder.

“Jay, there is another portion of the ‘Companion’ Division quite covert, unspoken about, but very active in some quarters.  We provide escort services, male companion services, sexual partners or experiences, if that fits your definition better, to gentlemen of discretion with the financial resources to pay for them.  We don’t make these services available to everyone, screening our clients carefully, and don’t provide those services inexpensively.  Our employees who provide these services are paid a weekly salary from the Agency, to satisfy the IRS, are tipped highly by our clients, have their tuition and fees paid, health insurance is provided, and have an rigorous training regime before going out into the field. Additionally, each prospective employee is required to have a physical examination by our doctor, is checked once per month for disease prevention and treatment if needed, and are randomly screened for drug and alcohol abuse.  We don’t permit drug use or intoxication.  We do permit an occasional alcoholic drink while working, but no more than one or two; just enough to satisfy the client.”

“In essence, Jay, our clients pay, and pay highly I might add, for companionship and sex with good-looking young men such as yourself.  It’s not just sex, but a sensual, erotic experience fulfilling their desire or lust, but having the experience performed with class, style, leaving them well-satisfied, but desiring to return for more.  We permit no bareback sex, BDSM, scat or piss, or pedophilia.  Once in a while we do provide a group of lads for a very discreet party, but not very often.”

“Our base salary is two hundred and fifty dollars a week whether you work or not, once you become part of our group.  Our clients are expected to tip you generously; for example an evening with one of our lads, along with dinner and a movie or concert, and fellatio, masturbation, and anal sex requires a five hundred dollar tip paid to the lad.  For an overnight experience with one of our lads, to include all of the above but perhaps more than once, the client is required to tip our lad one thousand dollars.  All tips are to be paid in one hundred dollar bills, no checks, no credit cards, and paid in advance.”

Dr. Henderson certainly had piqued my interest at this stage of the conversation.  The thought of making that kind of money was appealing and would more than meet my needs in taking care of Will and the house.  Besides, imagining what could happen was beginning to make me as hard as an oak tree. I shifted in my chair, trying to ease the strain on my boxer shorts, and slide my stiff dick down my leg, hoping my dribbling pre-cum didn’t soak through and betray my excitement.

“Our lads are expected to work at least two, hopefully three, engagements per week, but they do have the option to turn down a date for no reason what-so-ever.  They also may refuse any time before or during an engagement if they feel something is amiss of if they feel they are encountering an unsafe situation.  We provide them with a cell phone with pre-programmed emergency numbers, when punched, will summon help immediately.  A lap top is provided so they may receive their assignments and preview the profile of their future date.  Do you understand all of this?”

Nodding my understanding, he continued, “Are you still interested in employment with the Agency?”

Again, I nodded my willingness to engage in this sort of employment.  Hell, I thought it would be not only financially rewarding but sexually as well.

“O.K., Jay,” he announced, “here comes the most difficult and embarrassing part of the interview for you. I want you to stand and disrobe completely, including shoes and socks.”

This was totally unexpected, but I reasoned, “in for a penny, in for a pound” and sighed with resignation.  I’d never been naked before anyone except in a locker room at school or at the public pool. In those instances, I wasn’t attempting to display my cock and balls to the world, but now, in this office, in front of someone I’d only known as a faculty advisor, I was being asked to disrobe so he could assess my physical characteristics and attributes.  I hoped I could meet the standards of the Agency; I really needed this job.  I slowly stripped off my clothes until I was standing in front of Dr. Henderson in my starkers.

“Turn around, slowly,” he requested, assessing my body as I slowly revolved in front of him.

“Stop, please, face me, and get it hard.”

It only took a few strokes for me to pump myself to a full erection, throbbing, bouncing up and down as Dr. Henderson continued his questioning.


“Oh, between six and six and half inches, I think,” I responded.

“How tall are you, Jay, and how much do you weigh?”

“I’m five foot eight and half inches tall and weigh one hundred and twenty-six pounds.”

“What’s your waist size?”

“It’s twenty-six inches; I’m not very big around.”

Dr. Henderson paused, tilted his head askance at me, straightened it our again, nodded, and continued, “Well, you’re cut, that’s good, and with the small waist and your height, your cock looks bigger than it actually is, which is really nice for our clients. You’re light brown to olive in complexion, more Mediterranean than anything; very little body hair and a treasure trail that leads to a lightly haired pubic bush;  nicely proportioned overall and if I don’t say so myself, you’re one fucking good looking guy with a killer smile!”

Smiling at me, he remarked, “I predict you’ll be one of our most popular and requested dates.  You want to go to work?”

Hell, yes, for that kind of money and still be able to go to school, take care of Will, and pay the bills.  “Where do I sign?” I asked.

He laughed at my eagerness, but shook his head saying, “No contracts, but you’ll have W-4’s and other employment forms to fill out with the accounting office, just to keep the government happy and us out of some trouble, we hope.  Stop in next week and I’ll verify your social security number and photocopy your birth certificate.”

Proffering a business card, he instructed, “I’ll make an appointment at this clinic for your physical. Next week, after class, a couple of our more experienced lads will begin your training sessions and facilitate your inclusion into our little band of courtesans. You will work with them for about a month, depending how quickly you’re able to grasp the techniques and protocols we use in our profession.  The first client contact you have will be after that, under the tutelage of one of your mentors. The first pay check you’ll receive will be right after we verify your employment status and enter you into the computer.  So, that should be Friday of next week and every Friday thereafter.  Please get dressed; we can’t have you parading around campus like this.”

I was really excited and when asked if I had any questions, I could honestly respond “No” since I knew very well what I was going to be doing and figured the two lads assigned to me would fill in any gaps in my current, very limited knowledge of gay sex and especially gay sex for hire.

Gripping my hand securely as I prepared to leave, Dr. Henderson said very seriously, “We want you safe, so listen to your mentors, learn fast, and learn well.  It’s what you know and how you feel that will keep you from harm.”

I smiled, thanking him and assuring him I’d do my very best.  Reaching the door, he added, “Jay, one last thing; they, our clients, desire young, fresh lads, ordinarily by age twenty-four to twenty-five the lads become less and less requested.  As young as you look, if you keep in shape, you may be able to last to age twenty-six or so, but don’t count on it; yours is a short career, so make it while you can.”

The two mentors Dr. Henderson arranged to guide me through the learning process were very handsome, lithe, svelte, young men; one Caucasian and one African-American, I thought, but black at any rate.  The young black man wasn’t really black, but more of a mocha color, the color of lightly creamed coffee, and just as delicious, I thought.  Just shaking their hands at our first meeting caused my cock to rise, twitch in my pants, and would’ve erupted in my boxers if I hadn’t directed my attention to a less appealing subject, such as Mrs. Brown, my third grade teacher dancing around the room in her bloomers. Of course, she never did, but the thoughts kept me from unloading in my britches!

Johnny, the white lad, upon introducing himself and as I started to respond, held up his hand in a cautionary gesture.  “We don’t want to know your real name and no one else, other than the Agency, should either.  Do you have a name you’re going to use while you work?”

I didn’t, but after thinking a moment, I nodded my head, proffered my hand to him, and introduced myself, “I’m Lee Williams and I’m brand new at this game.”

It made sense to me to use my part of my middle name and Will’s first name for a stage name.  I’d be less likely to forget it and it would come easily to my tongue in a conversation.

The black lad laughed, thrust forward his hand, saying, “I’m Conrad, but folks call me Connie and I’m not new at this game, in fact, I’m nearing the end of my career and this ought to be fun for all three of us.”

My education and career in the fine arts of pleasuring another man’s flesh, stroking his ego, and fulfilling his needs began that day and I was a willing and eager participant.  The three of us were soon naked and I soon learned getting hard and staying hard was par for the course since my mentors suffered from the same affliction.  Johnny was cut, like me, and about the same size only with a bit more girth.  Connie was substantially larger and seemed to personify all I’d heard about African-American men’s cock size.  Subsequent sessions and education quickly shattered my preconceived and ill-educated notions concerning race and penis size, although, according to Connie and John and the materials they gave me to study, there was some average difference, but not enough to be statistically important. Black men did tend slightly larger than white men and Asian men somewhat smaller, but not by much, on the average depending on what study one looked at.  I decided to let people be their own judge of what they saw and concentrated on my own physical attributes.

The basic topic of this first session was how to clean one’s self, outside and inside, the appropriate colognes to wear, how to dress and in what for what occasion, and one’s demeanor with the client while in the public and in private.  I’d receive, along with my weekly salary, a clothing and dry-cleaning allowance to provide the necessary and essential clothing and cleaning needed for my occupation.

We did some shopping that day for underwear, string bikinis and thongs; shirts, polo, dress white, casual; pants, dress, jeans, casual cotton, shorts, all trim and well-fitted to emphasize my buttocks and crotch, giving added enticement and incentive to the client; and dress jackets and pants.  All clothing, except the underwear, was subdued in color, nothing flashy that would draw undue attention to me or to the client.  It would give the appearance of a nicely dressed young man, a bit conservative, but nicely dressed.  As far as anyone else might observe, I could be on my way to visit grandma or a prayer meeting.  I was to spend a great deal of time on my knees in my job, but not in prayer!

As equally important as dressing was undressing according to John. It should be done in such a manner to tease, to stimulate, to titillate the client in becoming more anxious and interested in interacting with you, and to make you seem more desirable.  I discovered, although the naked  male body is a beauty to behold, the process of getting to the nakedness, unveiling those alluring, hidden treasures, can be just as erotic as the sight of the once covered and mysterious bare flesh.  Have you ever thought how sexy it is to smile shyly at someone while fixing your thumbs in the waistband of your string bikinis and slowly sliding the skimpy garment down over your bush and most delicate appendage without taking your yearning eyes off of your admirer? 

At the end of the first session with John and Connie, my head reeled with information they insisted I process, regurgitate to them, and then go home to think some more about it.  They were more than thorough.  Once we dressed (I soon learned all of our sessions were to be held in the nude acclimating me to being nude in front of others and reducing my hesitations and embarrassment), I headed home, giddy with excitement and extremely tired.  My tiredness would have to wait, Will would be waiting for me and the two of us would have homework to do together.

Will was waiting by the door when he heard the car drive up, excited to greet me and tell me of his day at school.  Mrs. Fuller announced supper would be ready in about twenty minutes, if Will and I wanted to visit, and then she’d be going home.

After I sat on the couch, kicked back my feet, and hoped to relax just a bit, Will bounded across the room, settled himself next to me, and, as he does when he really wants your attention, put a hand on each side of my face, and turned my head toward him so we could look into each other’s eyes.  I’m certain this comes from my doing the same to him when he was younger, garnering his attention and keeping it focused on what I was trying to tell him.

“Guess what?” he giggled.

“There are fifteen elephants hiding in the garage,” I responded with a straight face.

“No, you silly goose,” he snickered, “elephants are in zoos and that’s where my class is going to go.  Can I go, please? I’ll bet there are a jillion animals there.”

The look on his face was so pleading, yet fearful I’d say no because of the cost and, under any other circumstances, I would’ve hesitated because of the lack of financial resources.

Instead, I asked, “When is this great safari to the zoo and do you have a note from the teacher concerning it?”

Will bounded off of the couch, grabbed his backpack from near the door, rummaged around it for a bit, and produced the requested note from the teacher.  Reading it, I could see the trip was the next Friday to the Milwaukee Zoo and the cost was fifty dollars.  Included in the cost were the bus trip, lunch, a Safari Train, and a carousel ride.  Chaperones would be teachers and teacher aides, with two students assigned to each adult.  Parents were invited to accompany them if they paid a fee of seventy-five dollars.  Next Friday would be my first payday and I could short myself the money until then.  It was nice to have a job and be able to allow Will to go along with his classmates, so I said simply, “Yes, Honey, you can go and I’ll send a check in the morning.”

He was ecstatic, telling me there’re thousands of wild animals and birds and snakes and all sorts of “real live things” for him to see. Will kissed me, thanked me, and barely could curb his enthusiasm as he raced to the kitchen to tell Mrs. Fuller he was going to the zoo!

We set the table and before we ate, Mrs. Fuller said her goodbyes, but as she did she looked at me strangely and asked, “What type of work are you doing in this new job, Jay?”

“Customer relations,” I replied.


To be continued.

Thank you for reading “Where there’s Will, There’s a Way” Chapter Six - “It’s a business doing pleasure with you” – (Best Little Whorehouse in Texas)

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental or used in a fictional content.

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Nick Hall

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