This story was based on the song "No Mediocre" by T.I.

Contains, sex, prostitution, emotional abuse, manipulation, infidelity and much more.

This is a sample and based on the performance I will complete it.

Chapter 1

It wasn't like Blaine did not like this. The dates, the sex, and the attention. It was that he often felt bored after a while.

Everyone was just so mediocre. The men he had dated previously, all of them wanted to please him, and no one was pushing him to be the best. They all eventually settled for mediocrity. "I am sorry I could not get the limited edition gold sports car you wanted. I know it's not the same but here-"

"Blaine you did your best" The main stood across him with a small smile as he took the car keys from Blaine's hands. "So what if you can't get the gold color" Blaine could. He had it waiting. He wanted someone to spoil — someone who settled for nothing but the best. Being number 199th is not the same as being number 1. He fought and clawed his way to the Forbes list and bearly broke 200. Since his father passed away in 2013, he had been stagnant. Making no major leaps or improvements. He needed the pushback. He needed it so badly. Blaine frowned at the happy smile on the man across him's face.

"You don't mind? This car is a cheaper brand. This car may not be what you wanted, but I would like to give you this car " Blaine said.

"Its fine Blaine, whatever you give me. It's the thought that counts. You are the perfect guy."

"Right" Blaine turned away from from the blonde man. Blaine was not perfect. He stared up at the moon for a moment "Smalls, you know what to do" Blaine's large bodyguard approached the blonde man. He grabbed the keys and gave it back to Blaine.

"What is the meaning of this?" The man asked angrily.

"You really should have asked for the gold" Blaine replied. He walked away. This 'Frank' was test number 21 and the man failed like the others. So compliant, it disgusted him. He dated only gold diggers — the more extravagant the life they wanted, the better to him. He wanted to feel inadequate; he needed to feel like he needed more.

XXX

Kurt frowned when he stared at the TV. They called him many names and the best was porcelain. He met rich men, married them and took a lot of their funds before disappearing. So far he had done three jobs. It had taken him five years, but he was happy. He lived a good life. His parents did too. However, having more was never a bad thing. On the screen was a man with curly dark hair wearing a suit. He had triangular brows, and Kurt had to admit looked pretty good.

"Mr. Anderson, sources tell us you dumped Mr. Jose yesterday and took back the brand new car you supposedly gave him" The presenter who wore a button up shirt said as he moved the mic to Mr. Anderson.

"Who?" Mr. Anderson was either a great actor, or he had forgotten his boyfriend of 7 months. He seemed very confused.

"The man you used to come to parties with." The presenter frowned.

"Must not have been very rememberable for me to forget him so easily?" The curly haired man said. "I need someone who can keep up with me."

Kurt smiled to himself. Well if he was free, he would be Kurt's next target. Porcelain Anderson did not sound too bad to him.

Kurt looked up from the TV wondering what his dad would do if he knew what Kurt did for a living. Burt had been unable to work since his heart attack. Kurt got by selling his body to pay for his dad's med bills he lied he had a real job. Like anyone in that cow town would hire him. He became an escort and now he was comfortable. So comfortable could decide not to work for 7 years and still be good.

Kurt looked back to the television. Sebastian Smythe was on the screen. The elusive bastard had been on Kurt's bucket list since day one. He wanted to take everything Smythe had. Blaine was no longer his target.

Still, he wanted more. He had not been caught yet. Why stop now? His eyes landed on the invitation on top of his table, Noah always had a cut on anything he made. He got Kurt into the exclusive parties and help him acquire dirt on his targets.

It was a black tie event and from what he knew. Smythe liked the bitchy type. The 50th richest man in the world would soon have to share all that cash with Kurt.

"Hey" a deep voice whispered close to Kurt's ear. He jumped and clutched at his chest in fear. Laughter followed after. A tan man stood before Kurt in ripped jeans.

"Fucking hell Puck! How did you even get in here?!"

"Who knows"

"Smythe right?" Puck had a brown folder in his hand and threw it on the table. "Remember 25 percent of the payout."

"Like I would forget."

"Your new name and ID card are in there. How does Kurt-"

"Why would you use my first name?"

"There are so many Kurts that they will never know. Kurt Smith." Puck smirked. He took a seat beside Kurt n the white leather couch. "What? No special thank you?"

"No." Kurt stood up taking the file with him as he walked to his bedroom to change into his pajamas. Kurt shut the white sliding doors and frowned. He was not doing that emotional roller coaster again. Every time he fucked Puck, he died inside. The asshole would be back fucking anything with legs by the next day.

"I don't need you fucking loose ass hole anyway" Puck growled. Kurt heard the door slam shut.