Prologue
My name is Logan Steele. I’m devilishly handsome, seriously
ripped, well hung, charismatic and highly sexed. Women just can’t resist me. So
when I lost my job in the construction industry and was struggling for cash, I
decided to put my assets to good use.
By day I’m a private personal fitness trainer. By night I’m
a high class gigolo.
I don’t advertise my sexual services anymore, I have a long
client list that come to me through word of mouth. I’m that good, I’m booked
months in advance. Scores of women pay me extortionately high fees to fulfil
their fantasies. And for the most part I do. I have a strict set of rules that
I abide by, which are provided in the full contract that you’ll receive along
with the booking form, if accepted. I’ve bullet pointed an abridged version
below, just so you’re clear before you send me an email request:
Rules my clients must comply with are:
I must see a picture in advance.
I can decline the booking request without explanation.
I can only be booked for the night.
All sexual acts must be consensual.
I will provide you with a report to complete, then I will
choose the setting for our meeting based on your scenario.
I am flown first class or by private jet if I am required to
work abroad.
In the event of the above, I will provide my dietary requirements
in advance.
I will perform a full background check.
I base my variable charge on the scenario being requested.
“No” rules that I stipulate are:
No bareback.
No minors.
No physical violence.
Nothing illegal.
No form of emotional attachment during or after the event. I
am merely performing a sexual or companion service.
No contact after the event, unless it is for a new booking.
And my absolute number one rule, without exception is:
Full payment up front which, is non- refundable.
There is no requirement for a refund clause, I never fail to
perform.
So, now you are aware of my rules for the night and are
about to contact me, all that remains to be asked is “Who do you want me to
be?”
Logan Steele
I checked my appearance in the mirror for about the
twentieth time. So not good. “Never develop any emotional attachment to
a client” had been my mantra, until I’d received the photograph of Summer
Beresford, requesting an appointment with me. What was worse, if anything could
be worse in my line of work, was that I hadn’t even met her yet. I was acting
like an excited teenager going on a first date. I’d been doing my job, if you
could call it that, because most of the time it didn’t feel like hard work, for
four years now. In all that time I hadn’t had a personal relationship, and I
kind of missed that. Having regular sex and being paid handsomely for it, as
well as receiving expensive gifts like my Piaget Polo FortyFive black watch
worth over $21,000, was great. But I was constantly playing the attentive
companion, always taking on the role of whatever persona they were paying me
for. Sometimes I just longed to kick back on the sofa with a bottle of beer as
I watched a game, with my arm around a girlfriend who was with me because she
loved the real me, so I could be myself. Not the sexual side, that was all me. I
loved sex, I loved pleasuring a woman for hours, I especially loved fucking
hard and a woman that was somewhat submissive in the bedroom.
I ran my hand through my dark
hair and checked my face was smooth by running my long index finger along my
square jawline. I was always well groomed, I had to be. Regular waxing,
including my eyebrows, always closely shaved, unless of course the client
requested stubble. Vigorous oral sex with a five o’clock shadow didn’t tend to
go down too well with women a few hours later when the stubble rash started to
burn, particularly when they were married and trying to be discreet. My grey
eyes seemed to have more life in them tonight as well. I undid an additional
button on my white shirt,
My name is Logan Steele. I’m devilishly handsome, seriously
ripped, well hung, charismatic and highly sexed. Women just can’t resist me. So
when I lost my job in the construction industry and was struggling for cash, I
decided to put my assets to good use.
By day I’m a private personal fitness trainer. By night I’m
a high class gigolo.
I don’t advertise my sexual services anymore, I have a long
client list that come to me through word of mouth. I’m that good, I’m booked
months in advance. Scores of women pay me extortionately high fees to fulfil
their fantasies. And for the most part I do. I have a strict set of rules that
I abide by, which are provided in the full contract that you’ll receive along
with the booking form, if accepted. I’ve bullet pointed an abridged version
below, just so you’re clear before you send me an email request:
Rules my clients must comply with are:
I must see a picture in advance.
I can decline the booking request without explanation.
I can only be booked for the night.
All sexual acts must be consensual.
I will provide you with a report to complete, then I will
choose the setting for our meeting based on your scenario.
I am flown first class or by private jet if I am required to
work abroad.
In the event of the above, I will provide my dietary requirements
in advance.
I will perform a full background check.
I base my variable charge on the scenario being requested.
“No” rules that I stipulate are:
No bareback.
No minors.
No physical violence.
Nothing illegal.
No form of emotional attachment during or after the event. I
am merely performing a sexual or companion service.
No contact after the event, unless it is for a new booking.
And my absolute number one rule, without exception is:
Full payment up front which, is non- refundable.
There is no requirement for a refund clause, I never fail to
perform.
So, now you are aware of my rules for the night and are
about to contact me, all that remains to be asked is “Who do you want me to
be?”
Logan Steele
I checked my appearance in the mirror for about the
twentieth time. So not good. “Never develop any emotional attachment to
a client” had been my mantra, until I’d received the photograph of Summer
Beresford, requesting an appointment with me. What was worse, if anything could
be worse in my line of work, was that I hadn’t even met her yet. I was acting
like an excited teenager going on a first date. I’d been doing my job, if you
could call it that, because most of the time it didn’t feel like hard work, for
four years now. In all that time I hadn’t had a personal relationship, and I
kind of missed that. Having regular sex and being paid handsomely for it, as
well as receiving expensive gifts like my Piaget Polo FortyFive black watch
worth over $21,000, was great. But I was constantly playing the attentive
companion, always taking on the role of whatever persona they were paying me
for. Sometimes I just longed to kick back on the sofa with a bottle of beer as
I watched a game, with my arm around a girlfriend who was with me because she
loved the real me, so I could be myself. Not the sexual side, that was all me. I
loved sex, I loved pleasuring a woman for hours, I especially loved fucking
hard and a woman that was somewhat submissive in the bedroom.
I ran my hand through my dark
hair and checked my face was smooth by running my long index finger along my
square jawline. I was always well groomed, I had to be. Regular waxing,
including my eyebrows, always closely shaved, unless of course the client
requested stubble. Vigorous oral sex with a five o’clock shadow didn’t tend to
go down too well with women a few hours later when the stubble rash started to
burn, particularly when they were married and trying to be discreet. My grey
eyes seemed to have more life in them tonight as well. I undid an additional
button on my white shirt,
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