Taboo Sex

Hot Sex I Didn’t Have: $599 Male Prostitute

Hot sex I didn’t have. Hot sex I might have desperately wanted, but still didn’t have. My tales on this today fall into the category of things that sounded like a brilliant and hot idea at the time, but that my body and gut just could not go along with. 

There are certainly other things in this category of that I could and did go along with. Like making love in the ever-so-gross locale of an airplane bathroom. Or getting busy with a partner in a darkroom where there were certainly other men listening that I did not want listening. Or fucking a MAGA man.

However, there are a couple of clear standouts in this genre of hot sex I didn’t have, things I almost did, but did not do, that I think about frequently. Where I wonder if I made the right choice. 

I’ll preface this one by saying that I stand for the full human and labor rights of sex workers.

Hot Sex I Didn’t Have: $599 Male Prostitute

I’m in my basement apartment in Los Angeles in the late 1990’s. The phone rings, like, an actual landline. I know.

“Hi there. My name is Sean and I’m calling to let you know that someone has bought you a phone fantasy.”

I’m skeptical. He describes this in flowery terms. It sounds like he’ll read me a romance novel more than it’ll be phone sex, but I get that the idea is pleasure from his schpiel. 

He goes on to tell me that that person also purchased a “Beyond the Phone Fantasy” for me. Even more skeptical. I ask for all the proof and he gives me the name of the male escorting site. 

There on the very new world wide web it is. Sean’s face and description on the male escorting site. He looks fine. 

“I can’t give you much more of my time. The Phone Fantasy is $99, but the customer paid $599 for the Beyond the Phone Fantasy. They’re only charged if you accept it.”

“Come over.” I say, and confidently give him my address. I’m driven by curiosity. I have to know why this is happening. Is it real? If so, who the hell bought me a male prostitute for women?

I call my geek hacker friend and set him to work on the website and Sean. He emails me back one word: “Legit.”

I don’t quite know what to do while waiting for a male prostitute that I didn’t even order. I take a shower and put a chair out.

Male Prostitute for Women

Sean arrives. Dressed in all black, dark black jeans, and a black, cotton button-down shirt that has the top two buttons undone, showing pale skin and tufts of blonde chest hair. Sean is tall, has broad shoulders, and long blonde hair. 

It’s awkward and more personal than I’d thought. I don’t know where to stand and he doesn’t know where to sit. My apartment isn’t really furnished. I gesture to the dining table chair and he turns it backwards, spreading his legs across the back and leaning on it, facing me. I sit in another chair, near the dining table, about six feet away. As we all now know, that can be a thorny way to connect.

“So how can I please you?” he asks.

“You can tell me who the hell bought me a Beyond the Phone Fantasy, to start” I say, as though it’s obvious.

“I can’t do that.” he shakes his head.

“What do you mean?” My heart is in my throat. I wasn’t thinking about much but finding out who thought it would be a good idea to send this to me. Who has the money to buy a male prostitute for women for me? 

And that’s all he is to me, is a thing. An avenue for information. After all he’s getting paid to be a thing. However, that’s not how he sees himself. He is here for a different purpose.

He goes on to explain that if he doesn’t get me off, then he can’t tell me who it was. His bosses would break his knees. Whomever owns this racket wants me being complicit. Really that’s his main goal. He’s here to make me peak.

I pause at this. I thought it would be easy. I’d get him here, I’d charm him, maybe even offer him money, and he’d tell me who hired him. It’s not going to be that way.

I test him on the boundaries of the rules.

“So what exactly has to happen for you to tell me who bought this experience for me?”

“You have to climax.” he says, matter-of-factly. 

I look at him and think about it. I size him up. He smiles at me. Right now Sean is an empty vessel. I’m trying to think about my obese 13-year old self who was into long blonde hair and angrogyny and obsessed with Bowie, wouldn’t she like this? Wouldn’t that Zoe want to get busy with this guy?

I shake my head, because I wouldn’t have. It would have mattered to me who he was. It doesn’t always now, but it surely would have then.

“Maybe it’s just that I don’t know you well enough.” I say, hoping to build attraction. “Tell me something about yourself. Do you do anything other than work as a male escort?”

“Yes. I am a literature grad student at UCLA.” he says.

“And how long have you been doing this work?” I ask.

“Two years. At first I just did the phone fantasies, but I really liked it, and I really like giving pleasure. So I branched out. There are so many people in this world who are starving for pleasure” he says this staring at me. I resent the implications.

“What’s it like being a male prostitute?” I say, hoping to offend him with my wording.

“Fun.” He doesn’t take the bait.

“How do you deal with it if you aren’t attracted to the client?” I ask.

“I mean, there’s always something attractive about everyone. But you’re right. Usually the women are a lot older than you.” he says, trying to turn me on.

None of this information helps. I stare blankly at him. It turns out that choosing and being chosen are an integral part of attraction for me. 

I have learned this before, wandering through the Red Light District in Amsterdam, hoping to see something that would allow me to check off the box of having purchased services from a sex worker. At least there I had the opportunity to choose, not that I could bring myself to take it. I saw nothing I liked. Here it is the same, and unlike Amsterdam, here in my living room there is only one option.

I feel like frayed velcro. There’s nothing to catch. 

I explain this to him. Tell him it’s nothing personal. That he’s perfectly attractive, it’s just that the whole concept isn’t a turn-on to me. And I pester him more to tell me who could possibly have purchased him for me. It gets slightly heated as I make him say no a lot. 

“I can only tell you if you come.” he repeats.

We sit in our chairs opposite one another staring silently at each other for a while. Traffic rolls by outside. Eventually he gets frustrated and gives me a slight shrug and opens his arms.

“Well?” he says. It’s probably the least sexy thing I could imagine, body language and all.  “Guess it’s time for me to go.” I just sit there quietly, stunned that a male prostitute gigolo is in my living room. 

He gets up to let himself out. I follow him to the door and hold it. As he leaves he, he pauses and turns back and says “You know, you’re really passive aggressive.”

“At least I’m not a fucking whore.” I snap, and slam the door in his face.

It feels icky in the pit of my stomach and I run to my bed, sobbing. Who could possibly have sent me this? Who the fuck would think that I would want such a thing? At the time it doesn’t feel like hot sex I didn’t have. It feels like someone played an expensive joke on me.

I hang the receipt and photo and links up on my wall for every party I have for years, with offers of reward for information. 

I still don’t know.

If you like stories from this era please check out my book Down and Out in California.

Other hot sex I didn’t have.


2 replies on “Hot Sex I Didn’t Have: $599 Male Prostitute”

Did your friend ever say what made him believe the guy was legit? Doesn’t sound very legit to me. I’ve been a male escort for over 13 years and I’m a moderator on /r/SexWorkers. Whenever people on there ask how to find a legit male escort I advise them to search the web for the words “male escort” and the name of their location and scroll down past all the directories until you find a male escort you fancy who has his own website, regularly updated social media with a lot of followers, a history of good reviews and a friends page with duo partners who also list him on their friends pages. If he fits this description, he’s at least a professional. If you just go on a directory or agency site and choose a guy who’s entire Web presence as an escort is just that one ad, you have no reason to believe he’ll be any good at his job. If this Sean just gave you the site of an agency he might have never seen a paying client before. Did the number he called from even match the number on the site? He could have just been some random guy who fancied getting laid calling women at random from the phone book.

Not explicitly, but he did a thorough search on the guy and the company and found it an escort service. This was in the US and was so long ago it likely just worked more primitively. Thanks for the comment, this is great advice for people seeking services now!

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