B4Y Mag Issue #17 May 2019 May 2019 Issue #17 B4Y | Page 89

Weird sex stuff
Of course, I didn’t even know where to start looking. My boss’ friend told me
to look up a spot called Splash. He used to know the old manager there. I
called the number he gave me and the guy on the other end of the line was
like, “Oh, I’m sorry sweetie, I’m living in Miami now. I can’t help you. You
know what you could do? Call them up and leave a message.”
It felt kind of archaic. I mean, who uses voicemail anymore? But, whatever,
I figured it couldn’t hurt to give it a shot. I was afraid to leave my real name
so I made one up. “This is Jack Stark.” I don’t know why I came up with that
name. It sounded like a Tom Cruise porn parody. I figured I’d never hear
back from them, so I decided I’d scope out Craigslist in the meantime.
Craigslist has a lot of weird sex stuff, but I tried to steer clear of anything in-
volving prostitution. I’m not comfortable with the idea of selling my body, but
I have no problem with people looking at me. I found this one guy up near
Central Park. He had a really nice place, and he just wanted me to clean it
in my underwear while he watched. He paid me $200 bucks per session.
It usually took me about an hour, an hour-and-a-half to do the whole apart-
ment. One of the requisites was that I had to be barefoot; I couldn’t even
wear socks. He always had me drink a glass of ice water first, practically
insisted on it. It was always served in the same glass. He would literally just
sit there, on his computer, glancing up at me intermittently. There was even
one day where he didn’t look at me at all! It was weird. I think he just liked
having me around. I did that once a week for two months, so eight times in
total.
He never made a pass at me, he never jerked off in front of me. Right at the
beginning, he asked, “Are you gay?” When I told him I wasn’t, he was like,
“Okay, good.” I thought that was pretty odd. Sometimes, we made small talk
about my work and the weather. I had no idea what he did. He was always
on a fifteen-inch aluminum MacBook Pro. That detail stands out in my mind
because it was the same exact one my girlfriend had at the time.
He must’ve been around my age, maybe a little older. Late twenties, ear-
ly thirties. I couldn’t really gauge how old he was because he didn’t have
any wrinkles or gray hair or anything. Then one day he was like, “Stanley is
coming back so I can’t have you coming in anymore.”
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