The rascal himself

If you emailed me and didn't hear back, read this

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Working as a Male Escort

Note that this page refers to the past and is here for historical reasons. Anyone looking for a current escort or links to them from me will be disappointed.

Now I have done some strange and unusual things in my time, but none of them have been as strange as my long-time and eccentric 'rough diamond' friend Mike. He has led a varied life since we met up together around thirty years ago at school. Everyone expected him to go far with an academic career but he chose to avoid University and the scholarly disciplines, seeming to prefer a heartier life. I'll draw a veil over exactly what he did, but for anyone with a modicum of insight it ought to be enough to say that he has spent time in Northern Ireland and Bosnia, is extraordinarly fit and speaks at least half a dozen obscure languages. Somehow he manages to make that a part-time job and he and I still meet regularly over a few pints in Shepherds Bush in West London whenever he's free. A few years back I asked him what he'd been doing and when he told me, I laughed so loud that I nearly sprayed the whole bar with beer.

He told me that he was doing occasional evenings and weekends as a male escort. Don't get me wrong, I love him dearly, but for anyone with a knowledge of British TV, well, the name of Sid James springs to mind. Charm, certainly, a ready wit - but in the looks department he's definitely not, shall we say, handsome. Sensing that I might be finding him hard to believe, he gave me more information. Apparently he had signed up with an agency that provided male company for women who were visiting town and needed a companion for the night. Naturally I assume that this was a thinly-veiled cover for something like male prostitution but I was wrong. "No" he said, "It's mostly above board".

My intrigue was fired so I investigated further. He was right; I rang the agency and they said that it was difficult to find intelligent men who had some a) some charm and conversational ability and b) their own dinner jacket and black tie. Reckoning that I possessed both in adequate degree, I signed up. A few weeks went by and nothing happened, so I assumed that it was more or less bullshit as expected. Then to my surprise the phone rang and they asked if I was free for an awards ceremony in two weeks' time; an American executive lady was arriving in London and wanted someone to join her. Full of curiosity I agreed. The agency asked me in for a briefing and said that my job was to stay sober, amuse her, open doors, hail taxis and then go home when she asked me to. They would deal with the billing and I'd get a useful hourly fee. I asked about sex. They told me that it's legally speaking a bad plan to ask for money for sex, so the fee is all about companionship. However, if anything else transpires "that's between you and the client". Suits me, I thought.

The evening came. I met the client at her hotel; she was in her thirties, well-dressed, and considering that she was VP of Marketing for her business, looking slightly nervous. That made two of us, but with a bit of smalltalk and fifteen minutes of getting to know one another, things lightened up. We went off to the awards ceremony where she was representing one of the sponsoring companies. I did my bit, chatted to everyone else at the table, pretended I'd known her for quite some time and passed the wine around when necessary. When everything was over I got us a cab, dropped her off at her hotel and said goodbye. The next day I went round to the agency and picked up a cheque! Easy, simple and pleasant. I was very surprised.

A few more bookings came in and I started to get some repeat customers. My first client asked for me again after a month or so when she was back in town and I let slip that that I had interests which included bondage and domination. She seemed rather excited at that thought and during the evening kept asking more about it. Again I left her at her hotel as before, but on her third visit she emailed me before she came, making it clear that she was hoping for something more than a peck on the cheek when the cab reached her hotel.

Getting to know the agency better, I found out that their straight male service was a tiny part of what they did, most of being gay escorts and providing female hookers for wealthy male visitors. The owner and I didn't get along too well and after a while we crossed swords in a fairly spectacular way and swore to have nothing to do with each other again. So I thought that would be the end of it, but my pal Mike was one step ahead of me. Apparently he'd been involved in a lengthy liaison with the receptionist who answers the phones at the agency and persuaded her to put my old clients in touch with me directly.

Over another of the many pints we shared, he and I concluded that we might just as well go freelance as work through the agency. There was enough word-of-mouth marketing going on (this isn't a full-time job for either of us, it's just a pleasant way of spending the occasional evening and getting paid) that we weren't just getting repeat visits, but some new contacts as well. To my amazement, five years later, that is still going on. Maybe once or twice a month a call or email comes and the shoes get polished, the tuxedo goes to the dry cleaner and I'm called upon to provide a smile and some conversation in the evening.

NB - the following paragraph is for historical interest only; I've changed the tense from present to past to make that clear, since I am both too busy to retain an interest in this line of work and, it has to be said, having had the fun in the past, rather tired of it:

"So what was the deal? My job was to be polished, affable, amusing and good company, to stay sober-ish (two glasses of wine maximum) and try to act like a gentleman. I was surprised how hard it is for women visitors to find someone suitable to do those things. I charged fifty pounds an hour for a minimum three-hour booking and usually needed a few days notice so that I could make my diary free. Longer bookings had a negotiable discount and I asked for my expenses to be paid. That apart, I've met a lot of very interesting people, very few nutcases and one or two very entertaining evenings have transpired. Anyone looking for Adonis with the muscles of Schwarzenegger will be disappointed, but only one client has failed to make a repeat booking, which must say something about my talents."
I'll re-emphasise that fact that this isn't a line of employment that I maintain.