Chapter Two

"Sam! Sammy!"

Jesse waited for nanosecond before running up the stairs and hammering on his brother's door. After a good hammer and some threatening rattling of the doorknob, he heard a disgruntled "I'm up already!" from the other side of the door. Jesse chuckled. His brother was not a morning person like him but he had to get up soon or be late for class. He opened the door and just as he expected, his younger brother was sitting up in bed, yawning.

"Wake up," Jesse said cheerily, going into the room and picking up random pieces of clothes from the floor. "Jesus, Sam, can't you pick up after yourself? This room is a mess." Sam's answer was a sleepy mumble that sounded suspiciously like "Stop touching my stuff, you dickhead."

Jesse took in the mess of books on Sam's table and bed knowingly. "Late night, huh?"

"Papers due," Sam yawned, stretching out his arms. He planted his feet on the floor and rubbed the sleep off his face. "Professor Winthorpe won't give me another extension. He's such an ass."

Jesse tossed the armful of clothes he just picked up from the floor into the laundry basket. "Perhaps you won't miss your deadlines if you quit your job at the store," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Sam groaned in response. This was a constant argument between them.

"Don't start. It's too early," Sam replied. "You know we need the money -"

"Don't worry about the money. That's my job," Jesse replied a little tersely. "Your job is to study hard and ace your exams." At the answering grunt from his brother, Jesse continued. "I'm serious, Sam. It's your final year. You should concentrate on school."

"You nag worse than mom!" Sam declared, gazing up at his brother. "I won't quit, okay? It's not fair on you to work two jobs to pay for everything."

Three.

He worked three jobs to pay for the mortgage on the childhood home they nearly lost, to clear their late father's outstanding debts, their mom's medical bills, their everyday stuff and Sam's school fees. it had been a hard few years to make ends meet but they did it. And Sam didn't need to know about his third job.

Jesse went over to his brother, taking an envelope out of his pocket. "Here," he said, shoving the envelope to Sam. "You said you had books to buy. I don't have all of it after paying the bills, but I should have more soon."

Sam saw the cash and grunted out in exasperation.

"Go get ready," Jesse ordered, ruffling his brother's hair affectionately. Sam ducked, muttering underneath his breath. Jesse just laughed. "There's pancakes for breakfast in the oven. Don't forget to pick up Mom's prescription. And clean up your room."

The last was Jesse's parting shot as he walked towards the door. He had a full day ahead and needed to keep to schedule if he wanted to be at the Treble House before 6.30 pm. Jesse was about to leave when he heard Sam calling out to him.

"Hey."

Jesse turned round, Sam was still sitting on his bed.

"Thanks for this, man," Sam said, feebly waving the cash at Jesse. "Umm...I still won't quit my job but I'll tell Mike at the store I need to cut my hours, ok?"

"Yeah, ok." Jesse smiled. He then continued with a mock scowl. "Now clean your room!"

Bumper Allen was not the type to be so easily fazed.

Did it faze him when his first business venture selling burritos failed spectacularly? No. Did it bothered him when his taco cart, the pride and joy of his second business venture, was torched overnight when he didn't cough up the protection money? No. How about that time when the first two escorts from his books went off to set up a rival agency? Was he annoyed? Not the slightest. Because Bumper Allen always took things in his stride. He knew there was always a solution to every problem if you look hard enough.

Yet this little conundrum presented by the two ladies yesterday was bothering him. He leaned back in his chair, thinking of the meeting.

Bumper knew the secret to the Trebles' success was his ability to suss his clients out. A few careful observations and Bumper would know what exactly made his client tick. It was some sort of sixth sense. So how was he supposed to pick a guy for a client he'd never met? He tried asking about the two ladies about this mysterious 'friend' of theirs. They had been extremely vague; just that she had recently got out of a long relationship, was practically like a hermit snowed under with work and deserved a bit of fun.

When probed about what type of guy the lady like, both of them had very different ideas of what they thought would be suitable. The tall brunette didn't care how the guy looked as long as he was well endowed. Blondie said it had to be someone ridiculously hot with a beach ready body. The two nearly came to blows. It was almost funny to watch

They may not agree on the type of guy but the ladies did agree on one thing. They both had kept schtum when asked for the real identity of this 'friend' in question.

Bumper snorted in disgust. That had been terribly annoying.

He knew they wanted absolute discretion. That was not a problem. His boys were well trained. They had quite a few celebrities, foreign royalty and even a judge' set to be a senator as part of their clientele. What was one more famous person?

He had been tasked to choose suitable candidates for them to look through, ideally by five p.m today. Most of the high powered women using their services knew exactly what they want. And those who didn't, would promptly do once they looked through his boys' extensive profiles. Bumper never had to choose anyone blind like this. He could send a selection of his best but that was like shooting in the dark. It was not how he liked to work.

The jangle of the phone next to him was rather loud. Bumper frowned at the 'Anonymous' caller ID before picking up the receiver and answering in his usual clipped tone. "Bumper Allen."

"Mr. Allen?" A perky voice came through.

Bumper rolled his eyes. Didn't he just answered the call with his name just now?

"Yes," he answered impatiently.

"Hi, I'm Ashley from AP Management. I've been asked to give you a ring?"

Who is this cheerleader? - Bumper thought sourly. "What's this? Is this a sales call?" he barked grumpily.

"Umm….no," the perky voice answered. "Ms. Posen wanted to remind you about the deadline today."

Posen? Ah, yes. Aubrey Posen. The blondie.

"Deadline's at five," Bumper answered, glancing irritably at the clock on the wall opposite. "It's only twelve noon."

"Ms. Posen just asked me to remind you, Mr. Allen."

If it was even possible, that voice got ever perkier.

Bumper was really pissed off by now and he was about to yell at Ashley from AP Management to tell her boss, that uptight Ms. Posen to...Hang on, Did the girl said AP Management? Bumper quickly looked through the folder and found the name card the blonde handed over primly last night.

"Mr. Allen?"

"Yes, I'm still here," Bumper replied, hastily scribbling some notes. "Ashley, was it? You can tell Ms. Posen she'll have what she needs by four." He didn't bother to say goodbye, ending the call abruptly. Bumper dialled an internal number which was answered after two rings. "Donald?"

"Yeah?"

"I need your help. Get me all you can on AP Management talent agency."

"Sure. What do you need? Annual returns? Backers? That sort of thing?"

"No," Bumper replied, confident he was on something now. "List of female celebs they represent. And any other gossip you can dig up for the last six months."

"Hey! You're late!"

Jesse was about to lock the car when he heard that holler from the staff entrance of the Treble House. He jumped guiltily, nearly dropping the car keys. He was late? He thought he left on time and traffic wasn't so bad. Jesse quickly checked his watch. When he saw he was actually fifteen minutes early, Jesse turned towards the grinning Indian man, lounging by the doorway and roundly cussed him.

"Fuck, dude. What are you trying to do to me?" Jesse cursed, walking up to Donald.

Donald just grinned widelr, pushing his dark hipster specs up. "Just messing, man," he said. "Gimme the keys before you forget. Did you get it valet?"

"Yep. And I've filled the tank," Jesse confirmed, handing he keys over. The car was part of the company fleet and the Trebles could drive one, depending on the job they were going to. "Whose taking it out tonight?"

"Benji. Got a booking downtown."

"Benji?" Jesse asked, his grin matching Donald's. "Man, that's like the third time this week. He's getting really popular."

"I know," Donald said. "Chicks are really digging that nervous virgin vibe coming out of him. Every one of them had been asking for the male virgin experience. He's been a born again virgin at least six times this month."

"No one's going for his magician thing, huh?" Jesse laughed. "I told him they will freak about the pigeons."

Both of them were chortling as they walked into the house. The staff areas were not as swanky as the client's at the front of the house but it was pretty comfortable. There was a kitchen with plenty of food and drinks, showers, a lounge area with sofas and a pool table and a locker room. And just recently, Donald had a jacuzzi installed.

"You feel like working the floor tonight?" Donald asked once they reached the office. "Tom blew me off tonight. I need someone to cover section B."

Jesse grimaced. "Nah, man. I need to be home early. I've been working too many nights and need to keep an eye on Sam. Besides, I am not over the last time I covered Secrion B. That woman pulled me by my junk, dude, and tried to stuff money down my crotch."

Donald remembered that incident too well. Clients were not supposed to touch the staff on the main floors but that woman had been pretty drunk.

"Hazards of the job, my boy. Hazards of the job," Donald replied sagely, patting Jesse on his shoulder. Donald's cellphone buzzed and he read the message. "Ok, I gotta go. Bumper wants me. Show the newbie the ropes and tell me what you think of him. That"s all you need to do tonight."

The newbie was pretty easy to spot. He was the one sitting slightly stiffly at Reception, not exactly sure what to do. Jesse had been there before. He knew how nerve-wrecking it could be no matter how confident you were. Jesse gave the once over. Not too bad looking and Jesus Christ, he looked young. Almost Sam's age? They were just getting younger everyday.

"Hey man, you the new guy?" Jesse called out, coming nearer.

The guy looked up nervously. "Uhh..yeah?"

"Hi, I'm Jesse," he replied, sticking out his hand for a shake. "And this is the Treble House. I'v ebeen told to show you round." The guy stood up and shook Jesse's hand and dutifully followed Jesse after picking up his backpack next to his feet.

"What's your name?" Jesse prompted, looking over his shoulder.

"Umm...Eddie."

He must be nervous - Jesse thought. "Ok, Eddie, let's start with a quick tour of the place. Then I show you the staff room, make sure you get a locker and then we talk. You are on floorwork today with Smith. He'll take you under his wing after this. Leave questions to the end, OK?"

Eddie nodded and Jesse started the tour, pointing out all parts of the Treble House; what he could and could not do the which areas, his duties when doing floorwork (be polite, take drinks and snack orders correctly, light flirting ok but nothing beyond and the 'no touching' rule). They ended up at the staff room at the back. The other guys were prepping for the evening, getting changed into their uniforms. They were a racous lot and Eddie looked even more nervous now. Jesse took a beer out of the fridge, handing it over to Eddie.

"I can drink during work hours?" Eddie asked, looking at the bottle in his hand.

"No," Jesse said. "Only after work. But it's your first day here so we are all giving you a toast." He turned round and hollered to the group of Trebles, fighting for some mirror space. "Guys! GUYS! This is Eddie. It's his first day."

"Hi Eddie!" "Dude, good luck!" "Woooo, fresh meat!"

Eddie seemed stunned at the wall of noise. Taking pity on him, Jesse spoke up, "Let's get a seat somewhere and talk." They moseyed to a quiet corner and sat down. Eddie still looked slight petrified and Jesse reassured him, "I know it's a lot to take in but you'll be ok after a few shifts. Don't worry too much about it."

"Ok." Eddie mumbled. "Umm..just curious. How long you've been here?"

"About three...four years. Off and on." Has it been that long? - Jesse frowned. "I knew Donald and Bumper back in college and helped out in the beginning. The money's good, you know."

Eddie nodded enthusiastically.

"Any tips?" he asked. "I've not exactly done anything like this."

"You'll be fine," Jesse said with a smile. "Otherwise, Bumper won't hire you. He's pretty picky. Word of advice though. It's not about you, it's about the client. Make her happy and you are home free."

Eddie was mouthing the words silently, like he was committing whatever Jesse said to memory. Jesse took a swig of cola and spoke up,"So, dude, tell me your name."

Eddie looked a little lost now. "Umm...it's Eddie?"

Jesse laughed at this. "No, man. Your handle. Your alter ego."

When that was met by a confused stare, Jesse explained. "Get a work name, OK?" He waved towards the boys. "See that fella with the fedora? His real name is Harry but he goes by Koolio. And that guy there is Jonathan but he goes by Uni. I'm Jesse but when at work, I'm Clark."

"Sounds confusing."

"Trust me, it helps," Jesse said. "It's good to separate work and home. Which reminds me, try and get a separate work phone. Just in case you don't want anyone to know about this."

"Ok. Jacob. I go with Jacob."

Jesse raised his eyebrows. That was not too bad considering Eddie bore a passing resemblance to Taylor Lautner.

"Good idea. Just make sure you tell Donald," Jesse said. "Did Donald or Bumper tell you the rules?"

"I read through all the paperwork," Eddie answered haplessly.

"Fine. I'll go through them with you," Jesse replied. His light banter turned serious. "Hard rule number one: No drugs when working. They don't care what shit you take off hours but when you are with a client, you stay off the drugs and you stay clean, ok? It's for your own safety."

"Ok."

"Rule number two," Jesse continued. "Bumper would have agreed your escort fee before the booking. The client would've paid before you even get there. That means you don't have to talk about money during the job. But if you hit it off with the client and she wants any extras, negotiate the fee upfront."

Noticing Eddie's eyes widening, Jesse nodded. "Yes. Especially for sex. Just agree what service is required and what's the fee. It avoids a lot of aggro, believe me."

"I..I'm not sure I know.." Eddie stammered. "I mean...how much should I charge for going...you know...downtown?"

"Technically..." Jesse drawled out. "...the Treble House does not offer those kind of services, so there's no set price list. But you may want to have a quiet word with Donald for advice. Of course, that's if you wanna go that route. A lot of us here just happy being escorts, you know. Without the sex thing."

Eddie seemed to visibly relaxed. "Ok. Stay off drugs. Agree extras upfront, what's next?"

Jesse finished his drink before leaning forward, his brown eyes serious.

"Rule number three is the most important," he said. "Do not fall in a love in a client. Do not make a client fall in love with you."

When met with another confused state, Jesse sighed, scratching his chin. How can he make this clearer?

"Ok, imagine you're having a good time with a client," Jesse explained. "Dinner, drinks, she's all dressed up and pretty. You both laughing and talking, sharing your innermost thoughts. She likes you, she flirts with you, you flirt back. It's all good. You may or may not have amazing sex afterwards. Sounds great, right?"

"Yeah.." Eddie grinned nervously.

" Wrong!" Jesse replied, slamming his hand on the table and making Eddie jumped. " Your time is paid for. You're paid to do those things. You're paid to say those things. That is all the client wants from you. Not a relationship, not some long term thing. It i's a business transaction."

Eddie visibly gulped and nodded quickly.

"It's a job, not a date," Jesse said. "It's not real. What she said, what YOU say is not real. It's just a job. Remember that."

"Yo, Jess!" They both heard Donald shouting and turned towards him. "You done scaring the newbie yet?" He was smirking a little as he came over. "Eddie, go and get changed into your uniform. Smithy's waiting at the front. You'll do a few hours at reception tonight."

Once Eddie was out of earshot, Donald spoke up.

"So..what do you think?"

"Yeah, the cougars will eat him alive," Jesse decided after some deliberation. "His handle is Jacob. You might get some Twilight mileage out of that."

Donald made a mental note and then, said pointedly. "Dude, what did you say to him? He looked like he was about to piss himself."

"Nothing, man. Just the rules." Jesse replied. "You know me. I'm all about the rules."

"Yeah. Yeah. No drugs, get the money, don't fall in love. We all know that." Donald answered back mockingly. He glanced fondly at his old friend. Jesse was loveable, an upbeat, positive, warm character who always looked out for others. It was just sad that the last few years had been hard on him.

"One day, Jesse, just you watch, it's gonna happen to you," Donald smirked.

"What?" Jesse said, standing up next to Donald. Both of them made their way towards the staff exit.

"Those rules. You are SO going to break them. Big time," Donald chuckled. "And I'll be here saying I told you so."

"Not gonna happen, man," Jesse laughed, slapping his friend on his shoulder. Donald can be so funny sometimes. Jesse didn't do drugs. He was always careful with money. And that last thing? he didn't have time for all that. He was far too busy and which girl would understand what he needed to do for a living? Jesse shook his head, still laughing. "It's never going to happen, Don."

Two weeks later

Jesse studied the text on his phone.

He was in a cafe right across the address he was supposed to be at. A few taps on his phone and the notes about the latest job flashed up. He read through them again, mulling them over.

The job seemed straightforward, at first. The client requested for a meet up at a hotel. There was some complicated procedure he needed to do before the client will contact him directly with the room number. He was told to dress smart casual and not to look too out of place.

Then the details started getting sketchy.

He had to sign off a bunch of contracts, including an NDA and permission for a background check. That was fine. The client was careful. What Jesse could not make out was what was he supposed to do. Usually, Bumper or Donald would tell him; whether it was just a straight dinner and drinks that the client requested, or the 'boyfriend' experience or some sort other of role play. He had to pretend to be a tv repair man once and spent a good hour fake repairing the tv while the client talked and flirted.

Yeah, he had his fair share of unusual jobs.

Some were good; like being arm candy at a swanky party or accompanying a client shopping. He only had to make appreciative compliments as the client showed him one change of clothes after another and hold the client's shopping bags while she bought nearly the entire boutique. That was easy. He had done jobs which were totally fun; like bringing client to a sports game. Yeah, he had enjoyed that job. Jesse could not believe he was being paid to watch a major baseball game and what the client wanted was for him to explain the rules. That had been good.

Not all jobs had been fun.

Jesse remembered the jobs where he had to play therapist. The times when the client was freshly divorced or a wife who had just found out her husband was cheating. Those always ended up with the clients talking and talking and talking throughout the entire booking, trying to unburden themselves. And his job was to listen and made them feel beautiful and make them feel good about themselves.

No, he didn't mind those jobs so much.

The ones he minded were the ones that strayed from the brief. Like the times when he turned up for a lunch date; only to find the client sitting on the sofa in revealing lingerie, expecting him to strip and service her. He had made his excuses and left. Or the times when he had spent the requisite two hours being the perfect gent throughout dinner and then the client started to grope and kiss him, forcing a kiss, wanting more. Which was fine. He had his price after all. But when he started slowing it down to get the client to talk figures, they had been insulted. Like they expected a freebie after paying for his dinner and drinks.

Jesse shook his head. Those had been the worse.

His phone buzzed and Jesse read the new text.

The Leighton Suite. Twelfth floor.

Jesse tucked his phone back into his pocket and checked he had all his things. He left the cafe and casually walked across the street to the rather grand entrance, complete with doorman. Jesse didn't break his stride, confidently walking through. The doorman had opened the door deferentially tipping his head and Jesse gave a small nod in response. Once in the lobby, he looked for the Gents and after carefully combing his hair and washing his hands, he popped a mint into his mouth.

He was ready. It was showtime.

The ride up the lift was not that long and soon he was on the twelfth floor. Only four suites for the entire floor. Plush carpets, fresh flowers on gracefully carved sideboards on the corridors, soft lighting. Hmm, very nice. He stopped in front of the Leighton Suite and before he knocked, Jesee pondered what sort of client this would be. Suites in The George Hotel did not come cheap. Nor did the Treble services.

Jesse buzzed the bell and waited.

Maybe the client was some high powered business woman, late forties, chain smoker with a stressful job. Total ball buster and would want a sub? Or a much older lady in her seventies, a dragon with a stern face and wrinkles, wanting to drink up his blood to keep herself young. Jesse was about to laugh off that ridiculous idea. He had watched far too many horror movies. He heard the door handle being turned and Jesse straightened up, mouth already stretching into his trademark smile. If it was really a dominatrix or vampire queen dragon, he'll make a run for it.

The door swung open.

A tiny brunette was standing on the other side, five feet nothing in bare feet, skinny jeans and a strappy burgundy top. Her wealth of hair was loose behind her except for some sort of complicated braids at her temples to keep flyaway strands out of her face. Her eyes were the clearest blue.

He knew he was staring.

The brunette arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Can I help you?" she said; except there was nothing helpful in her tone or on the rather moody expression on her face.

Jesse felt he should say something. Surely she was expecting him? After all, the booking had been made and he got the right address. She didn't say anything else, pointedly gazing at him. Was she really not expecting him? He should say something and not just stand here, staring like a weird sex pest. But his throat was so dry and he found it difficult to say anything.

And to make matters worse, Jesse Swanson knew her.

He totally knew her.

AN : Umm... There will not be that much smut in this story. ;)