Pretty Boy
Arthur lay in his bed, watching the light move across his ceiling. He had a feeling that the day was going to be a little rough, but he couldn't put his finger on why. He finally rolled out of bed and made his way over to his wardrobe, knowing that Marcus would want him downstairs soon. Friday was the day that all the business men came in looking for Weekend Company.
As he looked through his clothes deciding on what would be the best thing to wear Arthur thought, as he often did when he had some downtime, about what he wanted out of life. Marcus was a great boss, and was far nicer to him then he needed to be. Unlike most of the other men in Marcus' stable Arthur actually belonged to him. He had been sold to Marcus years ago by Arthur's own mother trying to pay off her debts, drugs among other things.
Arthur had of course known what kind of work he was being sold into, but Marcus took care of his boys. He sat Arthur down when they had gotten home and explained to him that as long as he was a good boy he would have food and a place to stay. He gave Arthur his own room and was there whenever Arthur needed to talk. He also had a rule that no underage boys hooked on his watch, though Arthur did have to do his rounds in the bar to pay for his upkeep. Marcus took wonderful care of him, treating him almost like his very own son. He said he did this because of how beautiful and smart Arthur was. He said that he knew that Arthur would definitely be something big.
Once he could, he worked as hard as possible for Marcus, wanting to pay him back for everything he had done. Marcus had been right of course, people were willing to pay big money for the young, willing boy with his sharp features and piercing eyes. He could also, as many of Marcus' boys were trained to do, carry on intelligent conversation on a variety of topics. Their clients were of course, as Marcus said, paying for the experience, the company, not just the sex. Arthur though, unlike the others, was able to carry the conversations under his own steam and not just by spouting facts that he had been told. He spent his nights off reading books on all sorts of topics to make sure he was prepared for anything that came up.
Marcus immediately noticed the dedication of his favourite boy and moved him up to VIP rotation. It meant that Arthur got a better room, better food and didn't need to go out on call-ins. This was the biggest benefits as the call-ins were usually the ones that boys went to and never came back. They were usually killed and dumped, or else they were maimed so badly that Marcus could no longer use them and turned them out.
Arthur no longer had to be worried about being a love-it-and -leave-it but he did have to worry about the fact that his 25th birthday had just passed. Marcus had assured him that he would never turn him out, especially since Marcus himself had lately taken to what Arthur had to offer, but he had seen other washed up escorts that had come to Marcus begging for a cleaning job, or for bottom feeders and had heard what the boys said about them and had no desire to share their fate. He also wouldn't put it past the other boys to force him out, as many of them were resentful of the special treatment he received from Marcus.
Arthur started slightly at a knock on his door.
"You decent Sweetie?" Marcus cooed through the hardwood.
"No, but I'm dressed." Arthur smirked.
Marcus was the only person other than Arthur who had a key to his room and let himself in easily. He smiled when he saw Arthur and came over to give him a kiss and a little squeeze.
"You are looking extra fine today Love." Arthur grunted, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He tried to turn around and go back to looking through his clothes, but Marcus caught him about the waist and nuzzled at his neck, making Arthur laugh at the ticklish feeling. Giving up, Arthur turned back around to face him now pressed against his chest because of the placement of Marcus' arms.
"What do you really want?" Arthur asked tiredly, looking up at Marcus.
"A man can't compliment his best boy for no reason?" asked Marcus, trying to sound innocent. Arthur raised an eyebrow. Marcus laughed.
"Fine, fine I should know better than to try to pull the wool over the eyes of someone as sharp as you Love. I've got a good date for you, but it's an out date."
Arthur swallowed hard, resting his head against Marcus' shoulder. He had to do what Marcus said of course, but if he made a big enough fuss Marcus had been known to make other arrangements. He thought about the implications though. His last out date had almost killed him, trying to strangle him. Arthur had managed to hit him and get away, but he had been understandably traumatized. Out dates scared Arthur because there was no security, no Marcus, to make sure he was safe and to stop things if they got too rough.
However, if Marcus was willing to put him on another out date it meant this guy had paid a substantial amount of money to take Arthur out of the brothel.
"How much?" Arthur asked Marcus' shirt.
"Enough that I'm required to tell you to go along with whatever weird kink he might have." Marcus said into Arthur's hair, reaching down to give his ass another squeeze.
Arthur sighed. He had to do what Marcus said, he had no choice. He had a debt to pay.
"How long?" he asked quietly. He felt Marcus smile into his hair.
"That's my good boy. He's paid for two weeks, plus tips for you if you do a good job. And I'll give you a phone, so you can call me if he gives you any trouble ok?" He lifted Arthur's chin and gave him a deep kiss. "Any at all. I always take care of you don't I Honey?"
Arthur nodded. He was still scared of being with a stranger for two weeks, but he knew Marcus wouldn't let anything happen to him if he could help it.
"Good boy," Marcus repeated, kissing him again and heading for the door. "Be down in ten minutes ok? And wear your suit."
Arthur grinned. Another sore spot among the boys was the Armani original Marcus had bought him as a reward for a particularly well done job. It made Arthur feel sexy and untouchable. He slipped on, wondering what kind of guy wanted a hooker in a suit for the weekend.
Arthur made his way downstairs well before his ten minutes was up. Marcus was eating peanuts and waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. Arthur smiled at him.
"You know, the amount you pop those back you'll end up choking one of these times. It might just be safer for you to smoke."
"Smartass." mumbled Marcus through a mouthful of peanuts. He gave Arthur a smack on the ass as pointed towards the VIP lounge. "Now get in there and be charming."
"Yes sir."
Arthur let himself in through the back entrance of the lounge. There was only one man in there, so Arthur figured that must be his date. The man was looking away from him, watching the dancer who was on the pole in the bar, a flute of complementary champagne dangling from his fingers. Arthur took advantage of his momentary secrecy to observe the man he would be the companion of for the next fourteen days. The man was bigger than Arthur and probably taller, with sandy hair and tan skin. He was well built, muscled but not bulging and, from what Arthur could see of his face in the dim light and bad angle, was quite good looking. The shirt he was wearing however, made Arthur briefly wrinkle his nose before he remembered the "service with a smile" policy.
The man had paired a bright salmon pink shirt, covered with what looked like a pale paisley pattern, with a beige suit jacket, brown pants and navy blue shoes.
Well, Arthur thought to himself. The rich can't always have good fashion sense.
He stepped towards the man, while checking the card Marcus passed him as he came down the stairs. "Mr…..Eames?"
The man on the chaise turned towards him, smiling. "It's pronounced Eames Darling, like seams."
"Oh," said Arthur blushing. He was usually very good about that sort of thing. "Sorry about that."
"No problem Darling, it happens all the time." He patted the seat next to him on the low sofa. "Rest a minute Love; I want to finish watching this talented young man before we go."
Arthur perched on the corner closest to the man and looked down over the railing into the bar. Tawny was on the pole and Arthur had to agree with the man, he was talented. Tawny had brought his outside talent with him to the brothel, having been a dancer before he realized that a few bit parts in the back of music videos weren't going to pay his bills. He, like many of the men who found their way to Marcus' brothel, really had no other marketable skills. Marcus however didn't look a gift horse in the mouth and had immediately put Tawny on the pole, a decision which had paid off for both of them.
He's British then thought Arthur. That was one point in his favour at least, since in his experience the British were usually the least kinky, just wanting a break from the crappy weather and whiny wives that spent all their money on Burberry.
He felt a crawly feeling up his spine and turned to find the man—Mr. Eames—wasn't watching Tawny any more, but Arthur. Arthur hid his surprise as quickly as he could and plastered on his most sensuous smile. He supressed a small shiver as Mr. Eames continued to scrutinize him.
"Can you drink?" he asked suddenly. Arthur nodded and he poured him a flute from the bottle chilling in the ice bucket next to the chaise. Their fingers brushed together as he handed it to Arthur and Arthur started slightly. The other man quirked an eyebrow and leaned back against the chaise, throwing his arm over the back and crossing one leg over the other. Arthur took the hint and leaned back too, while simultaneously moving closer to his client.
"What's your name?" Mr. Eames asked. Arthur could feel the heat of his gaze through the suit, taking in his face and his body.
What was his name? Arthur quickly ran through his collection of aliases in his head. He had a different name, a different person for every outfit. He had a different him for every client. Stephan he said to himself. You're Stephan when you're wearing the suit. He lifted his head to tell Mr. Eames and was startled again. Mr. Eames had beautiful eyes, perfectly set and sea green.
"Um…Arthur…" What? No!
"Noble, stone or bear."
"Sorry?" asked Arthur, feeling increasingly stupid and not in the least charming.
"Your name Love." Mr. Eames was smiling at him, but in a friendly way not a condescending way. "Mine means wealthy or prosperous protector."
"Oh." Arthur blushed again—he seemed to be doing more and more of that as the minutes went on—and took a sip of champagne in an effort to regain his composure. Mr. Eames smiled at him again and shifted so he was closer to Arthur.
"So, you're going to be staying with me for the fortnight. I've paid your…boss…for your company, but I will also be giving you a flat fee for both weeks plus a tip when you complete a task for me. I'm leaving it up to you to decide what you think is a fair tip for each individual task. At the end, if I'm satisfied with your services, you will also receive a bonus. Is there anything you want to ask me before we go? There's still time to back out." Arthur shook his head. "Is there anything you need from your room?" Arthur shook his head again. "Ok, you ready to go then Darling?"
Mr. Eames stood and offered his hand to Arthur to help him stand up. Arthur put his flute on the low table beside him and, after wiping suddenly sweaty palms on his slacks, took his hand and stood. They walked out through the client entrance to the lounge, Arthur's eyes dropping down to where Mr. Eames was holding his hand. They navigated the tables in the bar and Arthur could feel the other boys watching them, no doubt having heard how much he was going for that weekend. They were probably going to kill him as soon as he got back in.
If he got back in.
Arthur swallowed hard and tried not to think about that. Mr. Eames led him out of the brothel, a place where Arthur hadn't been in over two years, and into the cool evening air. Arthur shivered slightly and Mr. Eames, catching it, took off his own suit jacket and draped it about Arthur's shoulders. Arthur let a smile creep onto his face as they pulled Mr. Eames' car around.
Mr. Eames opened the door on the passenger side and helped Arthur in. Arthur took one last look at the brothel and a deep breath as Mr. Eames walked around to his side of the car. The car lurched slightly as he got in, jostling Arthur out of his thoughts.
"Buckle up Darling; I'm not what they'd call a safe driver."
Arthur did up his seatbelt as he was instructed and took one last look at the brothel as they pulled away.