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Were anyone else in the room, they might have been impressed by the sheer luxury of it. The lights, though dim, accented the black silk sheets and pillowcases of the king-sized bed. On the mahogany nightstand, a sweating bottle of champagne rested in an ice-filled pail. A warm, near-cinnamon smell emanated from an out-of-sight candle. Pieces of strange, yet beautiful modern art perched in various places around the room. Amidst this all, spread-eagle on the bed, lay Charlie.

 

He wore a look of sensual mastery, his green eyes trained on the woman standing at the foot of the bed, the corner of his mouth curled knowingly. Ever so slowly, his large, yet nimble fingers undid the buttons on his shirt with a dexterity that proved it was a practiced act. The crisp material fell open, revealing the white V-neck undershirt he wore beneath, the one that clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing his broad chest and washboard stomach.

 

“Like what you see?” he asked, sweeping a hand over his abs.

 

The woman stared at him hungrily, as if he were a piece of meat to be consumed. “I do,” she woman said. Satisfied with her response, Charlie moved his hands to his belt. “But I’m not a client.”

 

Charlie froze, one hand on his belt buckle, the other on his left nipple, mid-coax. He cocked an eyebrow and let both of his hands fall to his sides.

 

He heaved a sigh. “Tony.”

 

The woman smiled acidly. “Brett said you’d be eager to please.” Charlie sat up right, jerking his shirt closed again, and began buttoning it. His nipples, already hard, poked against the material. “Leave it,” she said. “You’ll be taking it off in a second anyway. There are a few things we need to discuss first. Necessary details. It won’t take long. How much has Brett told you?”

 

Charlie sighed heavily.

 

“The general framework,” he said, letting his shirt fall open once more. He sank into a relaxed pose. Though it wasn’t meant to be erotic, merely comfortable, his finely muscled body made the pose inescapably sensual. “You loaned him your best earner a few years ago and now he’s repaying you in kind. Should I continue undressing?”

 

“Just a second,” Tony said.

 

“You know, you really ought to spell your name with an I. It’ll cause less confusion.”

 

“Androgyny’s the new black, ” she said, turning her back on him. She wore black, snakeskin heels that sliced into the carpet as she turned and walked to the armchair on which she’d abandoned her purse. She began rifling through the designer bag, withdrew something, and turned back to him.

 

“There’s more to the story than Brett’s told you, but I’m in no position to give you all of the details either. Suffice to say, he hasn’t sold you out. On the contrary. He’s the one doing me a favor, actually. Or will be, if you agree. And you will.”

 

She crossed to the bed and stood, feet planted, in front of him like a sentinel. He couldn’t deny that she was one of the most imposing women he had ever seen, with her designer pantsuit and unsmiling expression. She had only the slightest hint of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, but her skin was notably taut in other places, a telltale sign of Botox, he thought. He scanned her as best as he could without outright scrutinizing her from top to bottom and suddenly noticed a small vial in one of her hands, no larger than her pinky.

 

He nodded at the vial. “Because of that,” he concluded.

 

“Because of this, yes,” she said, and held it up to the light. It was full of what looked like water, though he noticed it was slightly thicker and more viscous, like corn syrup. “You have no idea what this is, so I won’t bother taunting you with the question. This is called NPH-01. And it’s about to make the both of us a lot of money.”

 

He frowned. “So what is it? Liquid Viagra or something?”

 

“Nothing as instantaneous as that, no. Think of it as a long-term investment.”

 

She uncapped the small vial and waved it underneath her nose, her eyelashes fluttering sensually. She extended it toward him and he gently leaned forward to sniff it himself. It didn’t smell particularly sweet, more acrid than anything actually, but it did make his head swim.

 

“The deal Brett and I made was this. If you agree to come over to me, you’ll work for me just like you did for him. Same hours, ten percent increase in pay. All you’ll have to do is take one vial of this once a week and report back to me any…developments. And it’s as simple as that. Do we have a deal?”

 

He glanced at the vial again. It glistened lethally in her hand. He nodded.

 

“Terrific,” she said, and recapped the vial. She tossed it to him and he slipped it into his pocket. “Now that that’s out of the way, we can move on to the examination.”

 

“Examination?” he echoed.

 

“Physical examination, yes. You’re working for me now and I always get to know every inch of my earners before I send them out. So let’s see that birthday suit.”

 

The grin returned to the corner of his mouth. This was what he had come for. He lay back, spreading his legs wide once more, and gingerly began removing his shirt once more. The white undershirt clung to him like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination when it came to the finely carved muscles beneath. One his hands drifted to his belt buckle, undid it, and slipped into his pants. Within thirty seconds, the shirt was cast aside, and his pants were unzipped and unbuttoned, sliding down his shapely, muscular legs. He worked leisurely, leaving as much to the imagination as he could while he could. Once the curtain had been raised on the show, reality set it. As impressive as the show would be, reality could never hold a candle to the fantasies people built up in their heads.

 

Tony remained standing before him, one hand to her chin, eyebrow furrowed. She watched him like a fashion designer might a model, but instead of displaying his clothes, he continued peeling them off. An image of a vulture roosting on a dead branch flashed through his mind. She was dressed in a too-tight black dress, the string of white pearls around her neck hanging hideously between her breasts like a chain that might drag someone to the depths.

 

Charlie paused briefly—this wasn’t work, as Tony had pointed out, but the dramatic pause only came natural to him when he was undressing, if he was being paid or not—before pulling off the undershirt.

 

Her eyebrows rose.

 

His chest demanded attention first. His two broad, firm pecs practically leapt into view, commanding any and all eyes present. They looked as delicately and diligently carved as a Roman breastplate and just as durable. A smattering of dark, trimmed chest hair spread evenly over the thick slabs of muscle, the hair darkening and thickening as it disappeared into his deep cleavage. And although it wasn’t remotely cold in the room, his nipples stood proudly erect. He ran his hand over his pecs, coyly brushing one of his nipples in mock absentmindedness and coaxing it on further. And as his hand made its descent, so did the attention it drew, guiding all eyes to the rippling six-pack that waited below.

 

His abs, similarly sturdy-looking, were more deeply cut than his chest. Their deep, excessively pronounced shape and size was made even more apparent by the dark trail of hair that wound its way between them, a trail of hair that fanned outward as it neared his waistline…

 

Her mouth moved into what he supposed was meant to be a smirk. “Pants.”

 

Grinning wryly, he shimmied his pants off his ankles, hooked them with a toe and sent them sailing across the room to the bed, where they landed beside his shirt. So what if they got wrinkled? He was working now, damn it, and he would be damned if he was about to interrupt his performance. His thick, rolling thighs were lined with deep cuts of muscle. Without even waiting for Tony to prod him, he cupped his prominent package and gently squeezed it. It began to swell with the attention.

 

“Eight inches,” he reported smugly.

 

“I’ve been in the business easily over half of your life. They all say that. The truth lies in the tape,” she said, and opened her other hand. A length of tape unfurled and she tossed it to him.

 

“You don’t want the honors?” he asked. He was nearly hard already, easily at seven inches, and all the clients that he had fucked with that prodigious dick had been more than pleased with it. Who was this bitch to pretend she didn’t want some too?

 

“Oh, I’ve had my share, believe me.” She nodded at his crotch. “Continue.”

 

Her expression did not change as she crossed her arms and watched his cock get lured into full rigidity and length. It was only once she expected his cock to finish thickening and it did not that she raised an eyebrow. Already as thick as the average man’s, it was giving every indication of being anything but average. Fatter and fatter it grew, the veins plumping as well, until it finally could swell no more. Dramatically, Charlie unraveled the measuring tape and placed one end in the midst of his finely trimmed pubic hair, firmly against his pubic bone. He stretched the other end toward the fat, mushroom head eight inches away. Evidently impressed, Tony waved him on. Charlie grinned wider and proceeded to wrap the tape around the broad, rock-hard middle of his cock.

 

“Six inches thick,” he said. “You need a measurement on these too?”

 

He cupped his balls. They, too, were proportionally larger than average balls, like grade-A eggs, but somehow less impressive beneath the stout cock they hung beneath.

She raised a hand. “No need. Can you work any magic with that thing or are you a one-trick pony?”

 

“Pony? Yes. One trick?” He hungrily grabbed his cock. “I don’t think so.”

 

“I think I’ve seen enough for tonight actually, thank you,” she said hurriedly, and collected her purse. She made for the door. “You start tomorrow. I’ll text you with the usual details. I’ll finalize the rest with Brett.”

 

“But…” he started to say. He gestured to his throbbing cock. The head was angrily red, demanding to service or be serviced. It would not be denied its due.

 

“Oh, right. That. The room’s paid for, so have at it,” she said. She gave him one last glance over, a quick scan from head to toe. “Oh, and one more thing,” she said as she opened the door wide. A middle-aged couple passing by turned toward the open door absentmindedly—and suddenly stood aghast at the sight of such an exceptional naked figure gazing back at them. Looks of mixed repulsion and admiration spread on their faces. “Welcome to my agency.”

 

She left the door open behind her.

 

The couple hurried down the hall, whispering feverishly beneath their breath. Charlie hurriedly swept off the bed and strode to the door, his rigid cock pointing at the ceiling and slapping his abs as he slammed the door shut.

 

He hated her. He hated her as much as he envied her. Hated the way she wielded her power over him, over a body as powerful as his. He raised an arm and flexed, grinding his teeth. His bicep pulled into a thick ball of muscle, the peak rising to a solid eighteen inches. He grinned darkly. He had more powered she in one arm that she did in her whole body, he was sure, yet she was the one who ordered him around. How fair was that?

 

He crossed back to the bed, sat down, and jerked his fat cock in a business-like fashion. Not only had she lorded over him like a slave master, she’d gotten him all hot and bothered and then left him there to finish it off. Bitch. He grunted as he neared a climax, clenching his jaw, and his grin grew darker. She didn’t know what she was missing out on. Half of this down her throat or up her snatch and she’d be singing a different tune.

 

When he was done, he showered and took the elevator to the first floor. Now that his erection had been satisfied, his anger had subsided. As he crossed the lobby, he caught sight of the middle-aged couple near the coffee machine and waved a hand in their direction affably. The wife raised a hand in return, but quickly pulled it back to her side as her husband glared. In the parking lot, he unlocked the trunk of his car and withdrew the duffle bag inside.

 

He headed back upstairs, changed into the cargo shorts and Indianapolis Colts tee-shirt the duffle bag had to offer, pulled on a baseball cap, and slipped into a pair of gym shoes. It felt much nicer, he thought, but somehow odd. He wondered only momentarily if it was the same feeling secret agents felt when they had to juggle between disguises. He decided that it probably wasn't so and began folding the dress clothes. He had just begun to pick up his pants when he remembered the vial tucked away in one of the pockets.

 

“The hell do you do?” he wondered aloud as he extracted the vial. He uncapped it and sniffed it again.

 

Without a second’s consideration, he tossed back the contents like a shot.

 

Twenty minutes later, across town, he pushed a shopping cart through the front door of Walmart. As bland an activity as shopping was, he privately enjoyed it more than he cared to admit. And because it was a secret pleasure, he appreciated it more. It was not the act of shopping itself that excited him, so much as it was the fact that he was the only human being in earshot that knew from where he had just been, what he had just done. To them, he appeared as nothing more than an exceptionally in-shape suburbanite. A father of four, maybe. A man who spent his days in the office, his evenings in the gym, and his weekends on the golf course. Who could guess he was a high dollar escort? Sure, his arms filled his sleeves generously. Yes, his shorts fit his ass like a glove. Neither, however, were an indication of the countless number of men and women had massaged, sucked, tickled, fucked, licked, and caressed over the past decade.

 

Or the countless many more that would follow.

 

At the checkout line, the cashier, a chubby young man who didn’t look a day over twenty-five, stopped in the middle of scanning the carton of eggs Charlie had dropped onto the conveyor belt and glanced at the rest of the contents of the grocery cart.

 

“You a bodybuilder or something?” he said, impressed.

 

Charlie looked down at the items: two cartons of liquid egg whites, four containers of baby spinach, a jumbo-sized package of frozen chicken breasts, two grapefruits, and a dozen other equally healthy and organic food stuffs stared back. He flashed that grin he knew to be overwhelmingly charming and said,

 

“Not me, no,” he chuckled. “This is for a friend.”

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Ohh interesting, hes an scort and he has a new job now, he will sample the thing the woman gave him but he doesnt know what it ddoes. I like how this goes-

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  • 2 weeks later...

Charlie woke me promptly at 4:00am the next morning. The moment I lifted my head from my pillow and attempted to stir, I was alerted to the fact that I was sore in parts of my body that I never even knew existed. I stumbled into the kitchen groaning. The same spread Charlie had prepared twenty-four hours before greeted me once again. He wore the same outfit, an impossibly tight t-shirt and ass-hugging basketball shorts, that he had worn the day before. Were it not that he seemed to eat even more this time around, I would have sworn I was pulling a Groundhog Day. Oh, and if it weren’t for that my legs were killing me. The ache radiating in my demolished quads, calves, and hamstrings assured me that I had indeed truly worked out for the first time in my life the day before. I gritted my teeth as I sank gingerly into my chair, my ass cheeks were so tender. Breakfast was also accompanied by quasi-scientific explanation of the importance of nutrition from my new trainer/roommate.

 

“Like, these pancakes aren’t just regular pancakes. They’re protein packed,” he said, as he shoved a forkful of the syrup-soaked flapjacks into his face. Meanwhile, I spooned my oatmeal reluctantly past my lips. If anything, I felt as if I was still somewhat full from the day before. Afterward, Charlie drove us back to Platinum Fitness Warehouse, once again excitedly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. This time, he announced, we would be hitting chest and shoulders.

 

And thus proceeded the first week. Each day we worked on a different body part and each day I stared amazed as Charlie not only vastly surpassed me in his athleticism and strength, but surprised himself as well. More than a few times a day he remarked that he couldn’t believe the strides in strength and endurance he was making. These remarks were usually accompanied by baritone grunts and growls, adamant shouts, and not-so surreptitious flexes in the full body mirrors at the gym.

 

“Must be something in the air,” I said to him one day.

 

“Air? Psh. Right,” he mumbled back. He was once again in the free weights section while I plowed away on an elliptical. Today was cardio for me, but once again he was furiously busting out concentration curls. As if those biceps aren’t big enough already—wait, what’re you saying? You’d love it if his arms were bigger. Stop complaining. It nevertheless struck me as odd that I had yet to see him perform any type of cardio, not even so much as a jog. How’s he keep his body fat so low? I guess when you look like that you can skip a day or two on the treadmill though. Or seven.

 

After working out, Charlie and I drove back to my house to shower and get ready for the day. Because I had to report to work before him, I usually showered first. On this day, as the water warmed, I peeled off my sweat-drenched clothes and tossed them in the hamper. When I turned back to the mirror, I gave my body a quick glance. Although I had only been working out for a week, each and every workout had been rigorous, and the results were beginning to show. Nothing outlandish, but noticeable. My pecs were beginning to look more defined and while my abs weren’t visible, there seemed to be a little less flab around my waist. Still, I thought, you’re nowhere close to Charlie. Which wasn’t exactly fair, seeing as Charlie had a good ten years worth of workouts under his belt. Just imagine what you could have looked like if you hadn’t spent so much time with your nose buried in a book. Fishing the bathroom scale from the back of the towel closet, I stepped on and hesitantly watched the needle climb. 174 lbs.

 

I heaved a huge breath and met my gaze determinedly in the mirror.

 

“That’s all about to change.”

 

My determination to transform my body was not the only thing growing within me. The affections that I harbored for the man who had decided to make me his personal project grew with each passing day. I stole furtive glances at Charlie whenever I thought I could get away with it: in the mornings over breakfast, whenever he turned his back to me at the stove or refrigerator, or in the evenings, as we sat in the living room watching television. The latter had become a frequent pastime of ours and though I was by no means a fan of ESPN, I gladly agreed to watch it to satisfy Charlie’s desire to stay glued to the channel. If it meant his eyes were on the screen while mine were on him, then I had no problem with it at all. He often propped one foot up on the coffee table, so that the leg of his shorts slid down his thick thighs, giving me quite a show out of the corner of my eye.

 

But there were eyes on me as well, I soon discovered.

 

“Have you lost some weight Mr. D?” Luke Freeman, a senior on the varsity basketball team, asked me one day as he turned in his test. “You look like you’ve been working out.”

 

I glanced up at him, surprised. Luke was decidedly not one of my favorite students. He rarely ever turned anything in and when he did it was severely late. When I confronted him about his assignments, he usually dropped his head and scuffed his foot distractedly on the ground, shamed like a puppy. It was a sight to see. He was scarecrow thin and, at 6’5”, he towered over me like a man on stilts. 

 

“Uh, somewhat, yeah. Just a little,” I said, unsure how to answer. No-one had ever paid me the compliment before, let alone a student. “T-Thanks. Thank you for asking.”

 

And an A+ for Mr. Freeman, I thought cheerfully as he sauntered back to his seat. Needless to say, as I strolled into the teacher’s room come lunchtime, I walked with a little more spring in my step and practically floated to my usual table in the corner. Even my typically bland bowl of brown rice and baked chicken that Charlie had prepared for me didn’t seem as unappetizing as usual.

 

“Tell a girl how to join you up there on cloud nine or come back down to Earth.”

 

I hadn’t even noticed as Lynn Richter, a junior biochemistry teacher and my usual lunch companion, approached. She settled into a seat across from me without invitation and began unpacking her salad and fruit, all the while cocking that curious eyebrow of hers. Her white blouse was, per usual, filled with her bountiful breasts, and even for a gay man, it was hard not to take a good long stare. “Spill.”

 

“I was just paid a compliment earlier. That’s all.”

 

“For an English teacher, you sure are lax on details.”

 

I grinned. “Do you know Luke Freeman? Plays forward guard on the varsity team?” I started to say, before suddenly biting my lip. Now that I was actually about to verbalize it, it seemed odd to be so proud of the compliments of a seventeen year old high school student. Almost creepy. “He, uh…just said he can tell that my workouts have been paying off.”

 

“Please. Don’t be so bashful,” she said, waving her fork flippantly. “At least your students actually tell you that you look good instead of drooling over you while you’re trying to teach them what an alkylate is. I mean it’s flattering in a way, to know that they’re probably making me a deposit in their spank banks, but it really impacts my professionalism sometimes. Besides, for a D-average student, he’s right. You do look good. What’ve you been doing?”

 

“You…you noticed too?” I stammered, choking on a piece of chicken.

 

“What girl wouldn’t notice when her favorite piece of unavailable ass improves?”

 

Someone could just have easily lit my ears on fire, they felt so warm, but I nonetheless began to recount to her the routine the Charlie had put me on, the one that despite my initial misgivings, I had stuck to and which was now evidently paying off.

 

“It’s brutal at times, but Charlie’s always going on about—”

 

She raised her fork. “I’m going to stop you right there. You’ve mentioned this Charlie guy like four times in the past five minutes. Is he, like, your personal trainer or something?”

I hadn’t even realized that I had dropped his name and quickly bit my lip.

 

“He’s, uh, a private trainer, yeah. Anyway, he’s always telling me—”

 

“But he’s also your roommate?” she interrupted again.

 

I mentally kicked myself. How much have you blabbed, you idiot? Have you no filter? I started to open my mouth to spit out a convenient lie, but decided against. Of the few people who wouldn’t pass along sensitive information, I knew Lynn to be one of them, despite her playful attitudes. Heaving a sigh, I told her the Readers Digest version of how Charlie had so unexpectedly reentered my life…making sure to leave out the more lurid details.

 

“Two questions,” she said, when I had finally finished. “Is he straight and is he available?”

 

I couldn’t help but laugh.

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