Money’s on the Dresser: Escorting, Porn and Promiscuity in Las Vegas by Christopher Daniels

show on my own accord, but the full-time position was going back to his previous employee because they had an “agreement.” Rick told me, “I’m really sorry about this Christopher, but this is how show business works.” I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but I was speechless. I had no contract with the production company who produced the show, and I had no legal grounds to stand on, so basically I was fucked and not in a good way. Rick asked me how I wanted to handle the situation. Furious and upset, I remained silent for a few seconds before finally telling him I couldn’t make a decision right then because I was in the middle of something. I hung up, and needless to say, my first meeting with Rodney was overshadowed by this drama. Surprisingly, we did have good sexual chemistry and I found him to be really sexy.

    Rodney and I met several times over the next year, but we never had any anal penetration and only rarely had any oral sex. He really got into hand-jobs, light kissing, watching me touch his body in a full-length mirror, and pressing my naked body against his from behind. Over time, he began to share with me his sexual fantasies, and we began to experiment with various taboo scenarios he would fantasize about. Most involved him being sexually molested by an older male or molesting me. He opened up to me during our first visit and told me he had been sexually abused as a kid, but he loved it and still fantasized about it every day. This screamed dysfunctional to me, but who was I to judge? Besides, he was nice, good-looking, and funny. The sessions were quick, and I didn’t even have to douche to meet him! He was what I’d like to think of as an ideal client, minus the disturbing childhood molestation scenarios he would ask me to re-create with him.

    I made my way to his room, knocked, and he answered from behind the door to let me in. Already naked, he smiled, put his finger to his mouth, and said, “Shhhhhhhhh.” He pointed to the other escort, sitting on the bed naked and talking on the phone to someone about driving to LA the next day and agreeing on a time to meet up.

    I looked at Rodney and in a very serious tone whispered, “Don’t tell me what to fucking do.” He looked confused and I just smiled at him and said, “I’m just fucking with you,” before giving him a hug. We had known each other long enough now that we could joke around and tease each other and have a good time.

    He told me how good I looked and how happy he was I was able to make it. I set my stuff down on the dresser, and Rodney started to undress me immediately, but I stopped him to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I took a piss and heard the two guys talking about something. I came out of the bathroom to see Rodney lying on the bed and the other guy standing above him naked. The other escort was tall, very white, soft around the middle, had an average body—at best—and looked uninteresting from head to toe. Perfect, he was definitely not my type in the least bit, and there was absolutely no competition between us who would be the hotter escort for the night. I won just by showing up.

    “Should I even bother with introductions?” Rodney asked, and the other guy and I just looked at each other.

    “Sure,” I said as I began to undress.

    “This is Chad. He’s straight and gives me the best hand-jobs.”

    Straight? Oh, that’s perfect, I thought sarcastically. Working with straight guys—like in the porn industry—was a pet peeve of mine. They rarely kiss, rim, or suck dick; there’s no connection or chemistry; and they rarely—if ever—can get or maintain an erection. So basically, I was left doing all the work as they watched the clock with a slight uneasy look on their face. It almost looked as if they were thinking, “I can’t believe I’m letting some dude suck my cock for cash. Fuck my life.” I found that guys who were only gay-for-pay were in it for the quick and easy money, and