Author's note: Each story in this series is complete and separate, with no plot or characters in common with the others. Only one thin thread connects them.
Many thanks to bythewx for first editing and improving this story and to Alex R. for further editing to make it even better.
*
It was a big city, but successful people run in the same circles.
Sometimes Nick Long would bump into one of them at a party. Or he would face them across a conference table.
The assistants of the high-powered women executives were surprised at Nick's familiarity with their bosses, who were a generation older than the upstart young hustler.
Nick was known for being cool, smart, confident and focused. But the assistants observed that the older women could rattle him. When one of them leaned over and whispered something into his ear, his face would flush and beads of sweat would appear on his upper lip.
He stood out from the other good-looking, ambitious young guys on the make. To accomplish what he had at his age, Nick had an ego as big as any of them, but he hid it. What impressed everyone who met him was his self-deprecating sense of humor. When he made a mistake, he'd often point out his shortcomings in an ingratiating, funny way. Women loved that, and men enjoyed dealing with him because he was a straight shooter.
Once, a female colleague came up to him after a conference looking concerned.
"I overheard two of the women from the other side talking about you," she said. "One told the other you should give them a commission on everything you make because if it hadn't been for them, you would have been a small-time pretty-boy? What did she mean by that?"
"Those two just like to talk trash," Nick said. "Don't pay any attention to it."
******************
From an early age, Nick knew he looked different. The mothers of his playmates doted on him, and as he grew older, girls and boys both buzzed around him.
When he was a teenager, several of his parents' friends told him he looked just like James Dean, and when he found photos of the actor online, he began combing his hair the same way. Because of the attention, he developed a self-confidence and optimism that made him even more attractive to women.
He didn't abuse this power, but he did take advantage of it. When he needed money while attending college, he found the perfect job. He applied to a local escort service and was hired immediately. Soon he became the most expensive male escort on the staff.
At his hiring interview, his female boss told him to be careful with his clients.
"Many of them will want sex," she said, "and you might be offered large tips for extra services. We are not in the out-call industry. Our company is licensed and bonded and allows no infractions of federal, state or local laws. If we find out that you are using us as a front for being a gigolo, we will fire you immediately.
"Don't let your co-workers tell you different. We know some of them are crossing the line. We are not a detective agency, but if infractions come to our attention, the employee responsible is terminated at once."
"Don't worry," Nick assured her. "I'm in my senior year, and next year I'll be attending business school. I'm not going to jeopardize my career by getting into anything shady. You promised me that if I do well, you would raise my salary to where I could eventually get up to fifty per cent more. That's plenty for me. I'm going to refuse to take any tips so that there will be no misunderstandings."
"You're a smart young man," his boss said. "I have a feeling you'll be earning our top rate in no time."
She was right. He was there in six months.
He found out from the other escorts, both men and women, that his boss had recited her standard warning for newcomers mostly to cover her ass in case there was ever an arrest. They told him that she was telling the truth about her company being high class and mostly legit. Yet all of them got tips for sex on such a regular basis that she had to know.
They also warned him that if he didn't supply what the customers wanted, he might have trouble developing a regular clientele, which was where the real money was.
He ignored their advice. When his clients offered him large tips and asked him to join them for a nightcap, he turned down the tips and never took them farther than their front doors. When they kissed him goodnight, he was polite but unresponsive.
Angry, drunken women told him he was insulting, demeaning, unethical and a disgrace to the escort business. What surprised him was when many of the women who lashed out at him in colorful language hired him again. Some became regulars.
Why did they continue to hire him after their first encounter ended in a flaming meltdown?
"You're Mr. Reliable," one explained. "I know you're cocky and narcissistic, but at least you're smart, polite, polished and well mannered. You never embarrass me at a business function. And you pretend to care as I vent about the horrible men and dysfunctional relationships in my life. That's why I keep coming back to you, even though you think I'm a disgusting old woman. You probably have a beautiful girlfriend, don't you?"
He knew exactly what to say.
"I don't think you're disgusting or old. You're a beautiful, alluring, successful woman, and someday you're going to find a man who's worthy of you. I don't have a steady girlfriend. I'm too busy with school and this job for a committed relationship."
Sometimes, he gilded the lily.
"When I'm with you," he'd say, "I'm tempted to break the company rules, but I'm not only afraid of being caught. Both of us know that there's no such thing as 'no strings attached.' I don't want to become the sad story that you tell your next escort."