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the dark side III

So Miss Banana, Sambo and I all started hanging out, and they were sort of determined to give me this hustler education.

Except, I had a whole different vision of the whole thing. I had this idea of sort of being a "love professional". Honest work. A valuable service for money. Integrity. I was actually quite proud of both myself and the whole idea. It seemed like not a bad way to do the whole thing. I would be like this modern sex worker. I could never really do it in the way that Miss Banana and Sambo did, which was to try and get the most for the least. They were sure tricky devils.

They were actually good company when they weren't totally fucking crazy, except for Miss Banana's tendency to treat everyone in her environment like her sub ("Daniel, go to the store and get me some broccoli. Now."), and Sambo's tendency to have diarrhea of the mouth in public. ("That's a forehead? Looks like a FIVEhead!")

Finally though, it was actually arranged for me to meet this one guy John, Sambo's gravy client. Miss B tried to convince me to shave some of my body and I really thought that was a deal breaker, so I didn't. She did however have her way in one way:

I was sitting, quite innocently, in her apartment one day, on this flimsy mushroom stool that was low to the ground. Suddenly, without warning, Miss B abruptly sat on my lap, straddling me. I looked puzzled at her, but realized I was sort of trapped. I couldn't really get her off me without crashing to the ground. She pulled some tweezers from behind her back and I saw what her master plan was. I didn't struggle, and it didn't look too bad, if you like that tweezed pretty boy look. Needless to say, it never became a part of my beauty regimen.

Finally the time had come for me to go up to Capitol Hill to meet this guy for the first time and make some money. $100 for one hour (although Sambo implied that there were often signifigant gifts) and I was advised to leave promptly when the hour was over.

"Are you Daniel?" the voice at the other end of the intercom said. "Come on up."

it will be continued...

Comments

Jesus, there's the broccoli again! Is "broccoli" broccoli, or some code word for some street drug?

I'm waiting with baited breath for the next episode.

you know, you really should just bloody put more into one post :P

Agreed with the shaunameister!