Luke Bradbury - For Hire - The Intimate Adventures of a Gigolo

He set down his glass hard on the table, signalling that that was the end of it.

Gray wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t expected, or already thought about myself. But it helped to have him reflect it back to me. And to have someone listen to my worries.

Let’s face it, it wasn’t as if I could talk to my flatmates about my escort work. They were the very people I feared would find me out. It was just too early days for them to know my business and, anyhow, why should they need to? As long as I paid my bills on time and was friendly enough, surely that was all that mattered?

It was as if Gray was reading my thoughts. ‘Have the Girls seen this? They know about what you do, right?’

I nervously ran my fingernail against the table edge, filing a groove. Certainly it did concern me that the wider world might find me out. Because should I ever get mixed up in some scandal or other, there wouldn’t be too many steps between my identity being made known here in Britain and it being picked up by the expat Aussie press and beamed home for my friends and family to read. That’s not what I wanted at all.

But my more immediate worry was that Carrie and the others might find out. And where would that leave me?

‘They don’t know?’ gasped Gray, his pint held in mid-air on the way to his mouth. ‘What the fuck do they think you’re doing?’

‘Oh come on, Gray. Why the hell would I want to tell them about the escort work? I’m getting paid for sex, for God’s sake!’

He had a broad grin across his face. ‘Exactly! So what’s your problem?’

I laughed along with him. Both of us knew exactly what I was getting at. It might have been fine for us guys to make light of the way I made my living. After all, it was most blokes’ dream. But there were plenty of other people who just didn’t get it. God, in this country, most people still believed prostitution was illegal.

But it wasn’t just that. The idea of someone they knew being involved went way beyond most people’s imaginings, and I couldn’t be sure how my three female flatmates would respond to having a hooker in their midst. I didn’t want to risk things, especially so early in my tenancy. I’d only just got here. I’d hate to have all the hassle of moving out again any time too soon.

Gray was frowning, as if he’d just thought of something. ‘What do you tell them, then? Y’know, about the countless phone calls. And especially the overnighters?’

I gave him a massive grin in return. ‘I’m an Aussie guy in London, Gray. What else would I be doing?’ I raised my glass to him and we chinked like a high-five.

Not that I put it so bluntly to the Girls, of course. They raised an eyebrow at how often my BlackBerry went off, but I just shrugged it off by hinting at my amazing popularity with their compatriots out there. I’m not sure they completely believed me.

Or whether Gray was convinced, come to that.

‘And they’re OK with that?’

‘Seem to be,’ I shrugged.

He gave a low whistle through his teeth: ‘ And you’re shacked up with those three too. It’s women all the way with you, isn’t it? God, I wish I was in your shoes, Luke!’

I set my half-full pint down on the table: ‘I bet you do!’

It was funny how the guys I knew made such a big deal of me being the only bloke in my flat. I mean, it wasn’t as if I didn’t have sex on tap. What difference would three more babes make to me? When I’d just moved in, just before my Aussie mates had left for home, they’d been the same as Gray. Not believing my fucking luck. None of them seemed to get that I didn’t see Carrie, Kirstie or Laura like that. They were just mates . Good fun to have around, but anything beyond that wasn’t top of my agenda.

Not that I completely ruled out a drunken fumble some time with one or other of them—a wild night that we’d look embarrassed about in the cold, hungover light of the next morning. Never say never . It wasn’t that I was planning anything of the sort. It was just…Three of them, one of me; a statistical probability at some point in the future. Surely.

But I could see where Gray was coming from. The Girls’d be certain to get curious about what I got up to some day soon. And end up asking questions I needed to have answers to.

I’d been on good terms with enough women to find out that they were open about their own relationships and sex lives amongst themselves. If I wasn’t too careful I could see myself getting caught in the crossfire—being forced to open up about my own relationship status.

But as Gray had said, Cross that bridge when you come to it.

I let out a heavy sigh. ‘God, it was so much easier when Mark and co were still in London.’

Gray got my drift immediately. ‘You miss ’em?’

‘They were me mates, y’know? Mark, Simon, even Rob knew what I got up to. I didn’t have to pretend with them…’

For a moment, Gray looked affronted: ‘You don’t have to pretend with me, mate .’

I put my palms up to face him. ‘I know, I know,’ I smiled, to show I hadn’t meant to diss our friendship, ‘but you know what I mean. They were Aussies. They knew where I came from.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

I placed my hands flat down on the table again and thought back to almost two years ago when I’d just come to London and moved in with Mark. I’d got to know the others through him and they’d turned out to be such a major part of my life in the UK. For one thing, it was our mutual lack of funds that had got me started in this escorting game in the first place. And when I wasn’t working at that or, in the early days, any other job I could find, then we were generally in each other’s pockets.

They had helped keep me grounded through the perils and pitfalls of my hookering. The guys had helped to remind me of where I came from and stopped me getting up myself, or losing myself in the wealth of my clients. I’d seen it happen to many of the other escorts. They forgot that they were only short-term guests in the rich world. The only thing they had to show for it was the expensive designer gear they’d bought into.

It had been tempting to return to Australia when my friends had, but because I’d arrived in the UK after them, I still had some time to run on my visa. And I was making good money from the escort work.

But it wasn’t just that. They had been bolstering up their CVs in a way that my work just couldn’t. I had gaps where they had jobs. And their work experience actually counted for something. I could hardly boast of my escort skills as something that I could put to good use in any other field. All the more reason for me to make as much money as I possibly could while I was here, then. So, my friends had ended up less tied to the UK and more ready to return home. I simply couldn’t. Not yet, anyhow.

I gave Gray a rueful smile. He was right. I was lucky to have someone still here who understood me. But I couldn’t help reflecting that my mates’ absence really emphasized how much I had to make things work as an escort—whether or not I kept my lifestyle close to my chest.

Still, it didn’t mean that I couldn’t help wondering if I’d made the right choice. It was difficult to gauge whether the money was really worth remaining here for. I could have been on my way home to Australia right now with the rest of the gang, beginning the rest of my life, with a new job, which might pay less than I’d grown used to but that on paper would actually count for something.

But I hadn’t, had I? I was sitting here with Gray. The Last Mate Standing.

I got up. ‘You’d like another?’

Gray nodded up at me: ‘Same again, thanks.’