Castle Roland

In The Pool

by Jack Scribe, of Honored Memory


Chapter 11

Posted: N/A

My composure returned while moving forward to take the offered cup of coffee. "Don't ask, don't tell, worked very well last night, but it's now time to be honest with each other." After taking a sip, I continued, "When we're finished here, I'm driving back to Millington where I'll change into a uniform. At 0730, I begin another day as an enlisted man - E-5, to be specific. We're both in the Navy, Doug...or, should I say Lieutenant?"

Doug stopped - his cup suspended in mid-air - as he considered this new information with a slight arch of his eyebrow. "Well, well, I guess we're both full of surprises." A small chuckle came out as he nodded his head and drank a sip of coffee.

"Sir, I'm not sure how to react to this." I smiled as I thought about addressing him as 'Sir' after what had happened a few hours earlier.

"Sit down, swabby, and grab some cereal," he replied with a broad grin. "I'm not officially a lieutenant right now. I'm just Doug, who had an incredible time last night with an incredibly hot, nice guy who knows how to please a man."

"Thanks, Doug." I sat at the table and poured milk over my Raisin Bran. "I figure we've got about 15 minutes before we have to hit the road; not a lot of time to talk about this." I took a couple of bites of cereal and mulled over the situation. "I'm not going to get into trouble, am I?" I asked as I looked down at my cereal bowl.

Doug joined me and fixed his cereal. "Hell, no. This was a night between two consenting men who enjoy sex...with guys...and neither of us was wearing a uniform. Isn't this the way you see it?"

"Yeah, I agree. Just for the record though, I've been active with other guys since the summer after I graduated from high school. Pretty selectively, I should add."

"I'll be up front with you. I'm in the same boat, pun aside, and I have no emotional attachment from our evening. It was all about having great sex...that I enjoyed immensely. And now, with all that behind us, I hope we can become friends."

"I feel the same way. Last night was all about doing what like-minded guys do. But how can an officer and an enlisted man maintain a friendship?"

"On the base, nada. But I'd really like to get to know you. I keep this apartment for nights when I don't want to drive back to the base. However, my primary residence is the BOQ."

"Mine is barracks 3-D. Makes for a long drive to and from Memphis when I need a night out with the boys."

"Here's an idea, and my gut feeling is that I can trust you. If you want to use this apartment when you're in town, I'll get another key. There's an extra bedroom that's available and the only thing I ask is that you check with me before you plan to use it. I have other guests from time to time."

"Other guests?"

"Yes. Listen, we've got to shag ass to get back to base, and you've still got to get into uniform. What say we meet for a burger at the Navy Exchange in civvies around 6:30 p.m. I mean 1830," Doug said with a mocking tone. "I've got something I want to discuss with you. By the way, where do you work?"

"The Admiral's office. I'm the basic go-to guy for all the shit the Chief doesn't want to handle."

"Okay, sailor. Let's hit the road." With that he drew me into a short embrace and we traded kisses. The kisses were somewhere between that of two gay buddies and 'let's fuck again'.

We departed in our separate cars, taking the same route out to Millington. As we pulled through the main gate, Doug's car was smartly saluted. But when I drove up, the same Marine just waved me on - in a bored manner.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful. I was busy cranking out the copious amounts of Navy paperwork that flowed in and out of Admiral Clifton's office, and would occasionally think about the previous evening. At 1715, I split to return to the barracks and change into civvies for my meeting with Doug. 'What a weird fucking turn of events,' I thought, 'but a good weird.'

Arriving at the Exchange snack bar shortly before our meeting time, I found a table in the corner. Shortly before 1830, I saw the handsome Italian stallion approach me wearing a form-fitting polo shirt, khaki pants and Nikes. Yum. I stood and greeted him with an extended hand and a smile.

"Hey, Brent." He grabbed my hand and gripped it strongly. It was more of a warm press of the flesh than a shake. "Let's go over to the counter and get some food." We both ordered cheeseburgers and Diet Cokes.

Back at the table, he said, "I've had a chance to reflect on last night and I really enjoyed it. Meeting you...and everything else. How about you?"

"Do you even have to ask? You rang my chimes, big time."

"And do you remember me mentioning something about passing the test?"

"Yeah, but I thought that was just a little pillow talk. It was, wasn't it?"

"No. This is much more." Doug looked at me intently. "I know, for example, that you were in the top third in your high school class at Sacred Hearts in Queens, and scored 1505 on your combined SAT's." That got my attention. "I know that your mother was a TV actress on 'Guiding Light' and died when you were seven. You and your sister were raised by your dad, who played professional baseball for the Mets before early retirement due to a knee injury."

"Holy fuck, Doug, what's this all about? What are you, the CIA?" I frowned and felt my stomach tightening. 'What the hell is this all about?'

"Hardly. I've got a business proposition for you, but I had to check you out first."

"Did I check out?" I was feeling very uncomfortable.

"I know that you have a spotless police record and that you did some Ralph Lauren print ad layouts as a model while you were in college two years ago. What I can't figure out is why you left school and joined the Navy."

"Okay, Dick Tracy, I'll tell you as long as it stays between the two of us."

"I told you this morning that I trust you. Nothing's changed and I want to assure you that you can feel the same way."

"Let's just say that dad picked the wrong day to come home early. He found me with my legs in the air taking my buddy's dick up my chute." I looked down at my partially eaten food. "He ordered me out of the house that night and cut me off from my college fund. I couldn't afford to continue school at Columbia University and I hadn't applied for a scholarship."

"Why not find a job?"

"I could have tried to get into modeling full time, but I really didn't want to get mixed up with that crowd. Too many drugs and shit." I looked at Doug with determination and continued, "My dad became a cop after his baseball career went down the crapper and he always kept me clear about the dangers of drugs. I don't touch them. The Navy was an easy way to find a home and I still keep in touch with my sister."

"Let's see if we can put this behind you and move forward. If you can be a little creative, I can suggest a way for you to earn a lot of money on the side. This could give you a nest egg to let you do anything you want after you leave the Navy."

"This sounds like something I'm not going to like." I looked deeply into Doug's eyes. "I told you that I'm not into drugs. That's not negotiable."

"It's nothing like that." Doug studied Brent intently. "I'm going to pass on some very confidential information to you. If what I say isn't appealing, promise me that nothing said at this table will ever be repeated. Nothing is to be mentioned to anyone." Under the table, he squeezed my leg while he raised his eyebrow.

"Okay, lay it out." I looked around and reached under the table to hold Doug's hand briefly. "I promise that what you say will go no further."

"Your apprehension is justified. If I thought what I'm proposing was tainted, I would not be here talking to you." Doug paused for my reaction. "Basically, I'm inviting you to join me to be part of a very exclusive male escort organization here in Memphis and elsewhere."

"Escort? Don't you mean...?"

Doug cut me off, "Yeah, I sell my services and talents for an outrageously large amount of money. There are never drugs involved and I choose what I do. The clients are pre-screened for me and the meetings are always very every way."

I was fascinated by this admission. "Hmmm, how is this set up, and what exactly do you do?" I knew that my role in this enterprise would be similar, if I chose to go forward. This officer was like the Pied Piper and I was not tuning out. "By the way, I'm not a big bible-thumper and don't judge people."

"Neither am I." Doug smiled and continued, "For starters, there's an agent who sets me up with dates."

"A pimp?" I interjected.

"That's a crude way - however accurate - to put it. At our end of this business, 'agent' is appropriate. There's no 'Super Fly' black dude running around in a purple Caddie with lots of bling and gold chains." Doug bit down on his nearly cold cheeseburger and had a drink of his Diet Coke. "I might as well get all the other street jargon out in the open while we're at it. 'Male prostitute' is the official term for my job description, but I prefer 'escort'. The 'tricks' or 'johns' are 'clients'. I'm not excusing or hiding what I do...just being realistic. However, the services I provide are to a very exclusive group of clients who are willing to pay dearly. And there's no whorehouse...just an organization we call 'the firm'.

"Pay dearly?" I asked as I considered his 'spin' on his off-the-base activities.

"As an example, pretend that I was your client last night. By the way, clients need to qualify on various levels before being accepted. What you did with me would have netted you $1,000 as an escort." Again, Doug waited for my reaction.

My eyes widened as I looked in the angelic-appearing stud's dark eyes. "Net?"

"Net. The agent takes 1/3 of the gross as a commission. The 2/3 cut is deposited in an off-shore bank account after the engagement is successfully concluded." He continued, "Aside from no drugs allowed, ever, there is a strict code concerning what we perform in the way of services. I'm not nave, Brent. There are certain other associates, who I do not know, that can get pretty raunchy and submissive for special clients. I was hired, not unlike the contact process you're going through, to handle a pretty vanilla society group of wealthy men who like to contract handsome, in-shape, intelligent males for their sexual fantasies and are willing to pay a lot of money for their services."

"You mentioned an off-shore bank account. What's that all about?"

"Very simple. Each escort in the firm has a personal account in the Caymans. We're talking about large sums of money that need to be invisible."

"That makes sense. What did you mean by the 'contact process'?" I was getting the picture a bit more, and got the impression that this was not a small operation.

"When we met last night, I was really impressed at the bar. Not only are you incredibly good looking, you have poise, charm, a sense of humor and a well-honed vocabulary. And, after you so masterfully commanded my bed, I knew that you had terrific potential to be my backup and partner. I went through the same thing two years ago. My mentor, however, was a graduate student at the University."

"Why find someone else?"

"I am, without a better explanation, over-worked. I have a product that a lot of clients want. You, I have concluded, could be a blond version of my M.O. We would be very compatible." A warm smile crept over his face. "Hope this doesn't sound conceited; it's just the facts as I see them."

"Understand," I replied. From what I could tell, he seemed to be very honest and upfront. "What do you mean by 'vanilla'? What would I be expected to do?" I was aware of the expression but wanted to confirm we were thinking along the same lines.

"First, to command these fees, you must keep your body in top shape. You'll be working out at the base gym constantly. And, except for an occasional glass of wine with dinner or casual cocktail, you will be discouraged from drinking. We've already gone over the no drugs rule. And, there is a great hair stylist in Memphis you should use. You'll still have the military look but with some style. And, no tattoos."

"Hell, a well-styled haircut is no problem." I now kept it trim by going to the base barbershop. This would be much better.

"This stylist is also going to trim you below your belt," he said with a chuckle. "That area's just as important in your over-all grooming."

I smiled a bit nervously when I envisioned some stranger trimming my pubes and shaving my balls. "The same stylist who takes care of you?"

"I go in for a touch-up every so often." He shrugged with a 'just one of those things' look. "But, I usually take care of those areas myself. You'll also be required to see our physician every three months to ensure that you're 100% healthy."

"Again, no problem. But what do I have to do?" 'There it was,' I thought, 'right out on the table.' I was fascinated.

"The dates will fit within your Navy schedule. I was serious about you being able to use the apartment. It's basically a rest stop and only on rare occasions do I entertain there... and only with trusted regulars."

"Okay, I get that. But what do I have to give of my body? I don't want to wear anything out." I smiled and shrugged.

"Usually, the clients that I...we...get don't have a great imagination in sexual habits. We are their fantasy. This usually means them sucking you off or sometimes the other way around. Masturbating, either mutually or them stroking you, is pretty standard. There might be anal intercourse with you on top...always safely."

"No bottom business? I usually reserve that area for hot studs like you," I replied with raised eyebrows and a friendly smirk.

"Only if you feel comfortable with the client and they consider your comfort. There is, however, usually a 50% premium to have you bottom. I only do that with repeat clients I trust. I repeat, safe sex is a must. If a client insists otherwise, he is banned from using the firm."

"I guess the key word is fantasy?"

"Oh yeah. First we dress up in their requested look, be it western, college student, young lawyer, etc. Then, we usually strip for them. Sometimes that's all they require. Other times, the client only wants us for company at a great restaurant. That's where your conversational skills and social grace come into play. You're heads up in those areas. The big concern is to always be aware that you could be photographed. We never go to locations where video cameras may be positioned."

"You're out a lot?"

"Depending on my schedule, I can make a date a couple of times a week. If the request is more involved, I'll work on weekends at a premium rate. My profile and headless photos are on file for the potential clients to view. It's important to keep up your fitness."

"This all sounds too easy. What's the catch?"

"Brent, the catch is not to get greedy. And keep clean. If you are in demand, and believe me, with your looks you'll be a prime selection, you can earn a minimum $75,000 per year, un-taxed."

I considered that sum for a moment. "What you do isn't exactly legal. Aren't you concerned?"

"It's completely illegal. That's why the firm - officially called Argosy Productions - is very cautious about who they do business with. There is no mob connection...I checked this out very carefully. By the way, this is a legitimate entertainment business front. 70% of their activity is in local and national TV commercials and Argosy is planning to move into independent film production."

"Whew, seventy-five grand is serious bread. If I go in, I need to completely trust you. Will you be kind of a big brother?"

"Absolutely. And maybe a fuck buddy once in a while," Doug said with a grin, "I know that we have just met but it's important that we trust each other. That's why I checked you out first. This has been a very profitable and good experience for me. I'll tell you right now, you just can't imagine who will be contracting for your services. Some very big names in the social, business, entertainment, and political world in the South, and across the country, are clients. I occasionally get requests to fly to another city, all expenses paid, for a special client who is aware of my reputation. We have associates and agents in most major cities."

"I can tell you that I'm nervous - and excited. I'm going to trust that you won't steer me into anything dangerous. I have no moral hang-ups about providing these services as long as I don't have to do any rough, kinky stuff."

"So, your answer is 'yes'?" he asked, with an intense look into my eyes.

"Yes," I returned with a confident grin. With that, we shook hands.

Doug made arrangements for me to do a nude photographic shoot in Memphis that weekend. All shots would be from the neck down. Every other part of my body, in various states of arousal and close-ups, would be shot so that the client could review the escorts 'talents'. Because of Argosy's reputation, the client trusted that the face matched the body.

It was agreed that I would 'tag along' for Doug's engagements where there was strictly a sexual encounter requested at a safe location. Some of the clients, reluctant at first, really got into the two of us servicing them and I got a kick out of my on-the-job training.

My first solo date was with a regular whom Doug had convinced to try me. I was to meet the man in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel. I was very nervous watching those live ducks strutting around and swimming in the large fountain. This had been going on for years and was considered a real Memphis tradition. 'Cute, but kinda silly,' I thought as I glanced at my watch.

Tonight, wearing a blue blazer with ensemble to match, I looked like a junior at Yale. 'But I'm no Whiffenpoof,' I thought with a smile. I had been given an $8000 allowance to buy a basic wardrobe to match the various requests of my dates. Each month, $500 would be deducted from my earnings until the debt was settled.

Promptly at 7:00 p.m., a distinguished executive arrived, sat down beside me and introduced himself as 'Jack'. He was an older man in his early-50's of medium height and graying hair, dressed impeccably in a dark gray, double-breasted suit. He did everything to put me at ease, and in no time, we were joking with each other and talking about Washington politics. I was really enjoying this initial experience.

We went up to his suite and had a glass of champagne. Lustfully, he started to undress me and I suggested that he allow me to undress him at the same time. We alternated removing the equivalent piece of clothing and when we were both nude, Jack led me to the bedroom. He was somewhat over-weight but had velvet fingers. As he massaged my cock and balls, I became hard as a rock. 'Thank God,' I thought, 'for raging hormones.' He slowly got to his knees and kissed every part of my lower area, starting with my feet and toes.

He worked his way up my legs, calves, and thighs. As I started leaking pre-cum, he gently lapped my glans. Looking at the clock, I knew that we had another 22 minutes. I instructed him to lick my balls. He did and then proceeded to kiss everywhere on my now manicured pubic region, where the stylist had done expert barbering. He inhaled deeply.

He positioned himself under me, and I spread my legs. He immediately engaged my pucker with his wet, darting tongue. 12 minutes left. After my nether region had been thoroughly explored, I directed his face back to my mid-section. He breathed deeply while I stroked his hair. Jack lapped my belly button and fucked my "innie" with his tongue until I suggested he go to work on my still-hard dick. Five minutes to go.

I told him to start jacking himself off as he sucked me. I wetted my hand and reached down to offer him some lubrication. My client started aggressively sucking me, as he brought his hand back and forth on his cock. With 30 seconds to go, I told him that I was ready to cum. He said something, muffled because his mouth was covering my hard dick. I did see his cock shoot out on the carpeting as I shot in his mouth.

Mission accomplished. After dressing, I thanked him and planted a kiss on his forehead before departing. Word got back to me that the client was impressed and tendered an additional $100 tip for me.

My secret 'other life' began, and Doug became a great friend, as well as a business associate. Like Doug, my services were sought out at the highest price. But confidentiality was always foremost in our minds.

I thought about this past year as I drove back to Millington. I hadn't mentioned to Doug that my roommate had observed us at dinner. Hell, I hadn't even had a chance to tell him about Dave being my new roommate. If everything went well tonight, I would be able to respect the confidentiality of the officer in his life, and would not need to tell Doug about either of my interactions with Dave - his observations in the restaurant or our late night conversation.

As the familiar milestones sped past, I felt good about tentatively resolving this situation on my own. Dave and I were clearly playing on the same team. 'It's hot that Dave and Ensign Cole are together.' I thought, 'and have an obvious affection for each other. Wonder what spurred that on?'

I approached the base in my Mercury Cougar at 2245. After being waved on, I brought the car to the enlisted lot and entered the barracks. I said "hi" to the security watch and walked down to my room. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Dave, dressed only in a robe, was reading. He looked up at me and closed the book.

"Hey roomie. Ready to talk?"

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