LITMIR.BIZ

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months in a market that clearly nobody was sure was even out there, wasn’t the worst that could happen.

      Or maybe Rich was right and I wouldn’t be able to survive. There simply wasn’t the business out there. The girls weren’t biting because for some reason it simply wasn’t their bag. Jenny and Clare were the exception to the rule.

      I pinched the bridge of my nose to sharpen my thoughts. I knew what I had to do. I was in one of the biggest cities in the world, and there were definitely plenty of women out there who had money to spend and were sexually up for it. You could see that on a Saturday night at any club you found yourself in. Most, if not all of them, used the internet. Which meant that the key was for me to somehow get their web attention.

      I rose to my feet, took a deep breath to clear my head, and padded through to the lounge. I sat and faced the computer screen, my hands hovering above the keyboard as I wondered what to type. My fingers slid over the keys, not entirely sure what my next move should be.

      Almost without thought I logged into the Male Escorts Esquire site and scrolled down the pictures of me and the guys. I shook my head and winced at how amateur and half-hearted they looked. What had we been thinking? Frankly, we’d been lucky to have even had two clients. Our gormless pics and a couple of tiny ads in the London freesheets were never going to be enough. If I was going to be serious about this then I had to up my game. And I’d have to be damn serious, since running your own successful business as an escort counted for nothing in the job market. While my friends were building up their work experience, I would be effectively opting out. Any people skills I picked up in this game would count for absolutely nothing. Which gave me all the more reason to promote myself damn hard and squirrel away as much cash as I could, so I had something to show for myself when I eventually returned home.

      I had to cast my net wider.

      I recalled something I’d said to Mark back when we were just thinking about advertising our wares. That the girls weren’t looking because they weren’t aware there was a service for them. And that’s where we’d been going wrong.

      My fingers set to work. I googled London Escort Agencies. The first page that came up was enough evidence that there was plenty of work out there. For the women and the gay guys, anyhow. As far as I could see, the straight male escort line was all but untried. From my next Google nationwide search, there seemed to be a grand total of three other gigolos working across the whole of Britain.

      Not that any of them really used the term ‘gigolo’ these days. ‘Escort’ was the catch-all phrase, but the trouble was that if a guy called himself an escort then it was invariably assumed that he was gay. Or at least up for it. If you were only catering for girls then you had to stress your hetero-ness. And from what I could see, that alone made you stand out in the crowd.

      I accessed a guy called Greg Allen’s site. He was based in Birmingham. Miles away. He looked serious about his escort work. Professional. I couldn’t tell how successful his business was, but one thing I had over him was that I wasn’t living any place due north.

      I logged into Male Escorts Esquire again and homed in on my own photo.

       Could do better.

      But with the right photo I knew I had as much to offer as the other hetero male escorts out there. I already had a pretty successful hit rate at most bars I went to. I’d never quite stuck around for my dates to develop into girlfriends, but that didn’t really bother me. I wasn’t the settling-down kind, for now at any rate. The sex was fun, and the girls had been up for it. I could see no reason why it shouldn’t be the same for me in this game.

      I entered a few escort sites to see if I might learn something from their approach. There were hordes of stunning girls available. And they clearly knew how to sell themselves. They spent decent money on their pictures, you could tell, but what’s more they had a whole range of them done to give potential clients a good idea of what they’d be getting. Portraits, full-length shots, semi-naked. And in-your-face ones. And crucially these escorts got signed up with internet agencies so that they didn’t have to do all the spade work. I’d presumably have to pay them something, but at least they’d get me started.

      One or two of the girls, I noted, had their own websites. Like Greg Allen. That was something to think about further down the line. But for now it was enough to get my name around.

      I homed in on a couple of the girls’ introductory shots, the ones that were on the agency’s main page. The taster pics. They were mostly full-length portraits that hinted at what was to come. All I needed for starters would be some decent photos taken of me that I could circulate with a potted biog to as many of these agencies as possible. And once I started making money I’d be able to afford to get more pictures done. All being well, the pics would end up paying for themselves. If I was one of only a handful of guys on the site advertising my wares, then so much the better.

      I reached for a biro and a scrap of paper and began to list what I had to do. Pictures. A basic outline of who I was and what I had to offer. Plus, find the names and contact details of as many agencies as possible.

      I logged into Gumtree, which had served me so well when I was looking for a room. A photography student was offering free portraits so he could build up his portfolio. That was exactly the deal I was after to help get me launched. I emailed him immediately.

      Buoyed up, I grinned to myself. The guys would be made to eat their words! I knew exactly what I had to do to make a success of this thing. They might not have faith, but I’d always had some level of hope that there was the work out there.

      Lots of sex, and money to be made. What guy wouldn’t kill for a job like that?

       Louise

       Late September

      Louise was lying on her bed looking up at me, as pleased as punch with herself. I, on the other hand, was straddled over her having just deflowered her.

      ‘My boyfriend’s going to thank you for this, Luke. Not that I’m ever going to tell him, of course,’ Louise grinned.

      ‘No, you wouldn’t want to do that.’ I shook my head and dismounted so I was now lying beside her. ‘I don’t mind helping a couple out. But I’ll have you know it’s not my brief to cause any break-ups.’ I winked.

      Louise was proof that it had been worthwhile sending my details to the agencies. I’d quickly had to get used to them not quite understanding where I was coming from or who I was offering my services to. It seemed to me that the managers were as unconvinced as my mates that there was a female market out there. They hadn’t found one to date, they told me, yet they were at least still open to giving me a space to see if there might be. Just in case. If they already carried a male escort section on their site, it invariably gave off a strong gay aura. The offer of sex was explicit, the photos left little to the imagination. My picture, on the other hand, looked as if it had been taken by some respectable high-street photographer. I was fully dressed for one thing, and standing looking friendly at the camera.

      Louise explained how she’d trawled the escort sites looking for help. She’d seen my picture on the Dream Lovers website and liked what she saw of me.

      ‘Some of those other men scare me a bit,’ she’d told me when she’d called.

      I knew exactly what she meant. They scared me too.

      ‘Well, Louise, you’re talking to the right person. I can assure you that I’m not in the business of terrifying anyone.’

      There’d been a marked silence at the end of the line. When she’d next spoken her voice was quieter.

      ‘It’s just that I’ve never done it before,’ she’d stammered. ‘I don’t mean calling an escort. Sex, like. Never.’

      ‘I’ve got a boyfriend!’ Louise blurted out, like

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