As Tommy delved deeper into the world of sex work, he becsme increasingly more familiar with the ins and outs of being a gigolo. He learned that being a gigolo was much more than just having sex with clients.
Tommy sat at the bar, nursing a drink and chatting with his coworker, Max. Max had been in the business for years, and Tommy had quickly learned that he was a valuable source of information."So, Max, what's the deal with being a gigolo?" Tommy asked. Max raised an eyebrow. "Ask fucking Google?" Tommy rolled his eyes. "I know what it means to have sex for money, Max. I'm talking about the other stuff. How do you keep your clients wet?" Max took a sip of his drink before responding.Tommy and Max ordered another round of drinks and continued to chat.
Tommy found himself feeling more and more comfortable with the idea of the job, despite the initial shock of his first encounter with a client. As the night wore on, Tommy's mind started to wander. He couldn't help but wonder what his mother would think if she knew what he was doing for a living. She had always taught him to work hard and be honest, but here he was, making a living by selling his body.
Max must have noticed the change in Tommy's demeanor because he asked, "Hey, you fucking alright?" Tommy shrugged. "Yeah, I'm feling this Schnapps, is this cinnamon?" Max nodded, "Yeah man. Anyway. The job. Not the best, and not the worst, either. It's not exactly the most traditional career path. Think about tact. Finesse the trick, bro." Tommy took a deep breath, "I just wish there was another way, you know? I mean, less, I dunno. I don't want to disappoint her. My mom. Sometimes, I look at the big picture. Is this something that she'd respect?" Max placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder, "Look, Tommy. You're a grown man, and you're making a good living doing what you do. Your mom may not understand it, but as long as you're happy and safe, that's all that matters. The money is nice, too!"
Tommy smiled, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. "Thanks, Max. I appreciate that." Max grinned, "Anytime, man. Now, let's finish these drinks and hit the town. We've got clients to please, am I right, or fucking what?" Tommy laughed, feeling more confident and at ease than he had in weeks. "Maybe being a gigolo wasn't so bad after all. It's all about being a good listener. Some of these women just want someone to talk to, you know? They're lonely, and they want someone to listen to them. They get wet." Tommy nodded, taking another sip of his drink, moving on in thought. "Yeah, I get that. But what if they're boring? What if I fall asleep during their monologue?"
Max chuckled, "Well, then you better hope you're getting paid by the hour, my friend. But seriously, you just gotta find something interesting about them. Ask them about their hobbies, their passions, their favorite movies. You might be surprised at what you have in common." Tommy raised an eyebrow. "What if they're into some weird stuff?" Max grinned, "Oh, you mean like feet?" Tommy recoiled, "No, not like that. I mean, what if they want to do some crazy role-playing or something?" Max shrugged, "Hey, as long as it's legal and consensual; it's fair game. Just remember to always establish boundaries and communicate with your clients. And if all else fails, just fake it 'til you make it."
Tommy laughed, feeling a little more at ease. "Thanks, Max. You always know how to put things in perspective." Max clapped him on the back. "That's what I'm here for, man. Now, let's get another round and toast to the crazy, wild world of gigolos."
Tommy found his way home. He did look it up online. Hmmm, "The term gigolo usually implies a man who adopts a lifestyle consisting of a number of such relationships, serially, rather than having other means of support."
Tommy likes to remember that, bro-serious bar talk, as the night when he was inspired toward the business side of the gigolo world.
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