More Than Make-Believe

All he’d asked for was rent money. A lousy four hundred a month. Everything else he paid for himself—his car, cell, food, and other expenses—while his scholarship paid for classes and books. His car was a crap beater he barely kept running, but he needed it for work. He’d paid every cent of the purchase price, insurance, and repairs himself. He had never asked for any money for his expenses other than help with rent.

It’s not like he’d come to college and partied. In fact, he barely ever went out with his friends. He was usually working or studying.

Collapsing in his chair, he stared at the ceiling and tried to think. He had another four months until his paid student internship started and he could drop one of his part-time jobs. Then he’d still have an extra three hundred a month in pay while he worked on earning early post-grad credits toward his advanced engineering degree.

Unfortunately, his car insurance was due in two weeks. Four hundred extra dollars he didn’t have, now that Josie cut the purse strings.

Dave, his roommate, walked in. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Travis pointed at the balled-up letter. “Josie finally dropped the axe. She finally talked my father into cutting me off for good.”

“Ah.” He dumped his books on the scruffy, battered table, which was kept level by a small chunk of plywood under one leg. “Well, she warned you two years ago when you called her out for cheating on your old man that she’d make your life hell.”

“Fucking bitch.” Only six years older than him, when Travis had discovered her e-mails to her lover and threatened to out her to his father, she told him if he did that she’d get even.

Looks like she dropped the bomb first. “I should have outed her.”

“Your old man wouldn’t have believed you anyway. She would have said you made it up to make her look bad. Your dad knows you hate her. You were screwed from the day he said ‘I do.’”

“What the hell am I going to do?”

“Good question.” Dave headed to the fridge. “You could find yourself a rich, horny cougar and become a kept boy.” He laughed. “I’d love that gig myself.”

* * * *

Travis managed to pull his focus back to his morning classes despite his seething anger at his stepmother. Later, he kept his mind busy during his job waiting tables and working the counter at a coffee shop a few blocks from the USF Tampa campus. He liked this job better than the other one, which was working four nights a week with a janitorial company that cleaned offices in downtown Tampa, but it didn’t pay as well.

Toward the end of his shift, he bussed a vacated table since they were shorthanded. The previous occupants had left a local weekly indie entertainment rag lying on the table, turned to the classified ads section.

He started to dump it in the tub with the rest of the trash and scraps when one ad caught his eye.

Looking for hot male models 18 and older. Fast and easy pay. (813)555-2424.

No indication what kind of modeling was required.

He quickly glanced around before folding the paper and jamming it in the back pocket of his jeans.

During his next break, he stepped out back and called the number. A voice mail message simply said, “Interested male models leave name and callback number. Must be able to prove you’re eighteen or older.” Beep.

He almost hung up, but then he nervously left his name and cell number.

An hour before the end of his shift, he felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. Ducking into the men’s room, he locked himself in and answered.

“Is this Travis Collins?” the caller asked.

His throat dried. “Yes.”

“You interested in making some quick money?”

“Yeah. Is it legal?”

The hoarse male voice laughed. “As long as you’re at least eighteen.”

“I’m twenty-one.”

“You gay, straight, or bi?”

That was a weird tangent. “What?”

“Come on, sweet cheeks, answer the question. Or are you deaf? Are you gay, straight, or bi?”

“Um, straight.” He had a feeling where the quick money might be coming from, but he wasn’t exactly a virgin. There were worse things than posing naked.

“Perfect. Where you at? I’ll come meet you and we’ll talk.”

“I’m at work right now. I get off in an hour.”

The guy laughed again, but Travis wasn’t sure why. “Sure you will. Gimme an address.” A minute later after getting off the phone, Travis splashed water on his face and wondered what the hell he was getting into.

All he knew was the guy, Alex Terran, said that depending on what he was willing to do, he had the potential to make anywhere from a couple hundred bucks all the way up to ten grand. He’d give Travis the details upon meeting him.

* * * *

Travis nervously waited in the back lot behind the strip mall where the coffee-shop employees had to park. At ten past four, Alex Terran drove up in a brand-new black Porsche Cayenne. He pulled into the empty spot next to Travis’ beater Chevy and the passenger window rolled down.

“Travis?”

He nodded and heard the door locks click.

“Get in,” Alex said. “Let’s talk.”

Travis climbed in and the window rolled back up. Alex put the SUV into park and kept it running with the AC on. Good thing, too, because it was damn hot outside.

Alex handed him a sheaf of papers. “You do look pretty hot. With that shaggy blond hair, you sort of look like a beach boy.” He leaned in and peered closer at him. “Big brown eyes. What are you, six one?” Travis nodded. “You’d look good on camera. That’s a start. Any tats or piercings?”

He shook his head as he glanced through the papers. They were employment forms, model releases, a privacy agreement, rules of conduct on the set, a pay scale listing, and tax forms.

Alex turned in his seat to look at him. “You ever do anything like this before?”

Travis shook his head again.

“Let’s cut through the bullshit. We have several related subscription websites. You’ve probably never heard of them. College Boy Cash, Horny and Broke Boys, Cash-Strapped Frats, and a few others. You sensing the theme?”

Travis’ face reddened. “Yeah.”

“Good. Let’s see your cock.”

“What?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Your cock. Let’s see it. If you can’t whip it out and show me now, we might as well not talk any further, because you’ll be whipping it out—and off—for the camera.”

After checking to make sure they were alone in the parking lot, Travis put the papers on the dash and fumbled at his khakis for a minute, unable to look at Alex. He undid his belt and finally got his cock pulled out.

“Not bad. Get it hard.”

“What?”

Alex reached behind the seat and handed him a bottle of lube and a roll of paper towels. “Get it hard. I need to see it hard before I can offer you a job.”

“How much money are we talking again?”

Alex grinned. “Ah, not so shy you can’t think about the dough, huh? With your looks, I can get you into a circle jerk shoot, one afternoon, three hundred. Or, if you want to make more, you have to put out more.”

“Three hundred?”

“Or more.”

Travis fumbled for the seat lever and reclined it. “Tell me if anyone gets close.”

“I’ll keep an eye out. Don’t worry about it.”

Travis closed his eyes and squirted a little lube in his palm. He thought of any and everything he could to get hard. In a few minutes and after a lot of stroking, he was.

Alex didn’t say anything until his cell phone rang and he answered it.

“Yeah… I’m talking to a potential model… Yeah. Call you back later.”

Travis lay there, unsure what do to. Now that he was hard, and had gotten over his initial discomfort, he didn’t know if he was supposed to finish or what.

“Sorry about that, kid. Go ahead and let me see your pop shot.”

Travis turned his face away and used both hands to stroke his cock. It didn’t take him long to shoot his load, considering he hadn’t been laid in a while and was usually too tired to masturbate at night. As he lay there catching his breath, he heard the sound of paper towel ripping.

“Here, kid.” Alex offered him a wad of paper towels.

“Thanks,” Travis muttered as he took it and cleaned himself up. Alex handed him a small trash bag and a box of baby wipes.

After Travis had put himself back together, Alex continued. “We’re doing a shoot this weekend. I’ll be honest, if you wanted to do more you could make a lot more money. I had one model back out, family function or something. I was set to pay him five grand for three days.”

Travis swallowed hard. “Five grand? What’s the catch?”

“You ever been with a guy before?”

He shook his head.

“Never sucked a cock? Never had a guy give you head? Never fucked or been fucked by a guy?”

Travis felt his face heat even more as he shook his head again.

Alex grinned. “Well then. One of our stars, Marston Cougar, his specialty is fucking straight guys with virgin asses. Guy makes a fortune. Started out as a bottom, and he’s just got the look and a way about him the subscribers love. He works one weekend a month for us. This is that weekend. If I can’t find a replacement, I’m screwed. Pun intended.”

“You can’t find anyone to work with him?”

“Not a virgin. Not on short notice.”

“I’m not a virgin.”

“I meant an ass virgin. A cock virgin.”

Travis blushed again.

Alex reached behind the seats and produced a leather portfolio. He unzipped it and showed Travis several still photos of a guy, maybe in his thirties, nice body and thick cock. Short dark hair, hazel eyes, and an intense expression.

“He’s ten inches, cut,” Alex confirmed. “We pride ourselves, as stupid as this might sound, on truthful advertising. When we say he’s taking a straight virgin ass who’s never sucked a cock or taken a dick in the ass before, we mean it. I can have him film with another model, but it means we won’t have a new virgin release for him on the schedule like we should. You game?”

Travis didn’t have a girlfriend. Five grand would give him a comfortable cushion in his savings account. It would allow him breathing room until his internship started. He would only have to do it the one time.

No one would ever have to know.

“Can I use a fake name for the shoot?” Travis asked.

“Absolutely,” Alex assured him. “Everyone does.” He stashed the photos. “Want to make an extra two grand on top of that?”

Travis wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this, but an extra two grand would look good on the balance sheet. “What would I have to do?”

“When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Six months ago.”

“You use rubbers?”

He’d never blushed this long and hard before. “Yeah, always.”

“Perfect.” He handed him another sheet of paper. “You go straight to this clinic after we get done talking. They’re only a half mile from here. We use them all the time. You can follow me there, I’ll pay for it, and you get fully tested. They’ll be able to have me results by late Thursday. Meanwhile, you don’t stick your dick in a girl, or guy, obviously, or let anyone else stick their dick in you, before this weekend when it’s in front of a rolling camera.”

Travis looked at the sheet. He read listings for diseases like HIV, hepatitis, and other things. “What does this have to do with making extra money?”

“You test totally clean, you go bareback with Marston and we’ll pay you an extra two gees.”

“Bareback?”

“Yeah, that means—”

“I know what it means.” Why was he even considering this? “How do I know he’s clean?”

“We’ll provide you with recent test results from this week. He only goes bareback with tested virgins. Before a shoot, he goes monk from when he’s tested until the shoot. He’s a pro. He doesn’t want to catch anything any more than you do. He’s exclusive, doesn’t film for anyone but us. It’s not like he’s sleeping around everywhere on or off camera.” Alex sat back. “Well?”

In for a penny… “You mentioned ten grand on the phone. What would I have to do to make the full ten grand?”

Alex laughed. “Man, you’re a ballsy kid. Desperate for cash, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“You’re not into drugs or anything, are you?”

“No. I don’t even smoke.”

“Good. You get that testing done right now, and then show up with all that other paperwork filled out at this address.” He handed him a business card with a Brooksville address written on the back. “Nine o’clock Friday morning. Plan to spend the whole weekend. We wrap late Sunday evening. Bring your toothbrush and your razor.” He laughed again. “You won’t need much in the way of clothes. Swim trunks, some shorts. You test clean, I’ll guarantee you the seven grand if you put out all the way and go bareback. You want the extra three, you need to meet Marston face-to-face and talk with him first. Then we’ll see if you still want that extra three gees.” He considered him. “Depending on how that goes, if you want to discuss it later, we’ve been developing a project. You hit it off with Marston, we’ll talk some more.” He eyed him. “I’m talking a chance to clear another ten gees.”

Fuuuck. Twenty grand. He barely made that now in a year with two jobs. He could buy a better car and save himself money on repairs and gas and still be able to make ends meet.

It’s not like he had a girlfriend.

Travis stared at the paperwork for a long time. “Okay,” he softly said. “I’ll do it.”