Pass the Torch

I think I've found the young man to take my place.

Matthew, as I'll refer to him, hit it off with my agent this afternoon. I set up the lunch date between the two of them, even though my agent said she wasn't interested screening for new candidates as of yet. I pressed her until she agreed to meet him.

Judging from the phone call I got later, I'd say the meeting was a success.

So, how did Matthew and I meet? Dare I say, he's a reader of this blog, and a sex worker who recently arrived in Miami from another city. Only after a series of emails, IM chats and a phone call did I agree to meet him in person. I wasn't disappointed with what I saw, either.

I might be straight, but I'm not narrow. If I was gay or a woman, I'd totally fuck him.

He has the face, the body, the personality. Add a college degree to the mix and previous experience in sex work, he's the perfect package. I could easily see my clients getting it on with him, both sexually and socially. True, his look is a bit different than mine, but diversity is the spice of life, is it not?

Matthew's due for a little photo session this week, featuring the same kind of photos my agent used to promote me. I found that three shots work best: formal in a suit, casual in jeans, and finally a shot at the beach in a bathing suit -- preferably one that's a snug fit.

(Women like ogling men from the privacy of their home computers, though they're not that inclined to admit it.)

All this is quite wonderful, actually. Matthew is a great guy, and my agent will have someone to keep her female clients happy. Good times all around. And yet, I have a few pangs of sadness lingering in my stomach. Am I sad about leaving Miami? Certainly. Sad about leaving my clients? A few.

Sad about leaving my friends? Absolutely.

And no matter how much people may detest me for it, I am going to miss being a escort. A gigolo. A prostitute. Call me whatever you want, but this job was damn fun. Not exactly the most traditional of callings, but a good way to bide my time until something came along and piqued my interest.

There's a saying out there: "Once's a sex worker, always a sex worker." This summer, I suppose I'll see if it rings true.