Sebastian: The Complete Series (2 page)

I'd just finished pissing and was primping my clothes when I saw the time. The last bus was due. By the time I made it out of the toilet to the floor length wall of glass that ran down the escalators, I could see my bus pulling away from the curb filled with all the drunken rabble. Well, wasn’t that the ending to the night I needed?

I was swearing quietly and still staring blankly out of the window when I caught a whiff of expensive cologne near me. Being a whore for a good smell, I turned around and saw a drop dead gorgeous thing looking back at me. He was definitely playing the George Clooney card, with his salt and pepper hair and smart suit. I was hooked and he was most definitely interested.

I decided to order a drink at the bar, sitting a few seats down from him and grimacing at the price of a glass of wine. George Clooney followed me and paid for it before I got a chance to hand over my tenner.
Fucking thieves, charging seven quid for a glass of wine.
I bit my cheek when I caught myself thinking you could get two bottles for that at Yate’s.

George sat next to me, and I got to look over him closely while he handed over his card to the bartender. He was obviously older than me, around mid-thirties I guessed, but his body… I sucked on my fingertip while I checked him out. He was definitely the hottest thing I'd ever seen. He pushed all the right buttons for me and I could already feel my cock waking up and shouting at me to do something about all the dirty thoughts running around my brain. When he turned to me, I smiled sexily and he blushed a little.

“I’m Robert.” He held out his hand which I took and held for a little too long as I got lost in his big, brown, friendly eyes.

“Hi, Robert. Thanks for the drink.” I took a good slurp of it, watching him checking me out like I’d done to him earlier.

Robert was coming on to me discreetly while I played it cool, texting Tony, letting him know where I was, that I'd jacked my job in and I was stranded in the city, but I had some gorgeous hunk to occupy me so not to panic.

Robert took a sip of his wine as he caught my gaze. “Are you staying here, or just visiting someone?”

“Just visiting.” I grinned at him. He smiled coyly at me and became a little braver in how close he was sitting. “What about you? Do you have a room?” I wanted him to say yes.

“Yes.” He played with the stem of his glass.

I leaned my head on my hand and let our thighs touch. “Do you have a good view?”

“Probably. I haven't really taken much time to look.” Hmm, but he was taking a lot of time out to look at little me sitting beside him.

“You should. Leeds is nice by night.”

It wasn’t until the bartender disappeared Robert’s hand started travelling up my thigh and that was just too much too soon. Drunk, yeah, okay, I'd probably be a slut and let him touch me up, but I was sober, so no way. I was going to make him wait at least another ten minutes until he could do that.

I was just about to give his hand a slap when he said those fateful words.

“How much do you charge?”

“What for?”

“I was thinking how good those lips would look around my cock.”

That's right, folks, he thought I was a whore.

Me! I'm not a whore. I'm a slut, yeah, but not a whore. I was about to get all uppity with him when he shut me up big style with his next comment.

“What about fifty pounds?”

“For a blow job?” Fifty pounds for a blow job and I'd been giving them away for free all those years? What a dip shit I was. “Yeah, okay.”

The words were out of my mouth before I knew it, and then we were off up to his room so I could earn my cash.

N
ow, my experience with prostitution begins and ends with the movie
Pretty Woman
, and despite the fact this guy could have pulled off the part Richard Gere played—my guy was hotter though—I knew this wasn’t going to end up with me involved in some sort of relationship with him. This was quick sex and I was fully educated in that by my grand old age of nineteen.

Luckily, I’m a bit of a player and I can talk the hind legs off a donkey, or so my Gran tells me, so I had no trouble acting comfortable with this Robert guy. He seemed nice enough, but I could hear my mum’s voice whispering in my ear as we travelled up in the lift, telling me this guy was probably a serial killer and I would never be seen again. Stupid woman, getting me all worked up when I just wanted to be cool and calm.

Robert was good-looking in that old school movie star way. He was a mixture between George Clooney and Robert Downey Jr, both who I had huge crushes on. He was obviously in Leeds on business because he spoke with a London accent. Anyway, the way he wore his suit made my cock jump to attention and forget about this being for money. I’d have gone to bed with him for free, but… Well, he offered to pay, so who was I to argue with him?

As we reached his room, he seemed to have a little moment where his conscience woke up, or he sobered up a bit, because I could tell he’d drunk more than the one we had together. I’m pretty fucking hot at telling the stages of drunkenness as I’ve already explained.

“How old are you?” He asked quietly as he paused with his hand on the door.

I couldn't help it, I grinned. “I so want to say how old do you want me to be, but I won't.” I laughed as I leaned against the wall, looking him up and down once more. “I’m nineteen, so legal. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Robert groaned, rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms. “Yeah… so… Okay.”

His little sweetie pie moment was quite cute and it made me like him more. Maybe he wasn’t a total dirty old man after all and he wasn’t used to picking up younger men in hotel bars for a few hours’ worth of hot sex.

I moved closer to him, brushing up against his pristine suit and taking a deep breath of his aftershave. I needed to find out what it was because it was driving me mad for him.

He obviously liked me being closer to him because his breathing picked up and he tensed against me, but he didn’t touch me which confused me a bit. Surely he should be all over me and demanding stuff, but he wasn’t. He was acting like I was some school kid coming on to their teacher or something.

He fumbled with the card, sliding it through the slot, and then pressed his hand against my chest, stopping me from getting too close.

“Are you married?” I glanced down at his ring finger but saw it was clean with no ring marks to be seen.

He locked the door behind us and stood staring at me. “What? Why?” This guy was so nervous it made me laugh again.

“Well, you're not out then?”

Robert loosened his tie and gave me little frown, like he wanted to have a go at me, but like he also wanted to be polite about it. “Do you always ask all of your clients such personal questions before you get in bed with them, or am I a special case?”

“Well, you
are
special.” I took off my coat, and adjusted my tight shirt around my lean body, noticing how his eyes were all over me like a kid in a candy shop. I meant the special part too. He was, because he was the first guy I’d done it for money with.

“Yeah, I bet you use that line on all the men who pick you up.”

That pissed me off because I'm an honest person and I don’t fuck around and lie. If I want you, then I tell you. If you like me, great, then we can sort it out. If you don’t, then that's fine too. I know not to waste my time with you.

I decided not to tell him though. I didn’t think he needed to know too much about me, or me him for that matter. “Look, it’s fine. I just asked because of how nervous you were—”

“I'm not nervous.” His sexy, come-to-bed eyes were lying, I could tell.

“Okay, Robbie. I'm not arguing with you.” I held my hands up in surrender and gave him my most heart-stopping smile, the one which always got me out of trouble, or
in
trouble depending on how you looked at it.

“Robert.” He was sliding out of his jacket and draping it over one of the chairs. “I hate Robbie.”

“Robert.” I rolled the r and the t off my tongue and he looked over his shoulder, lifting his eyebrow a little. “Sorry.” I had to bite my bottom lip to stop myself laughing. He looked even hotter with that frown.

He leaned back against the desk and looked me up and down slowly, which would make most people nervous, but not me, it just made me smile. The desire to show off my body took over and I turned slowly for him, making sure he got a good view of my arse encased in my tight jeans. By the time I turned around, he was smiling at me and his cock was semi hard.

“You’re a good-looking guy…” He looked embarrassed as he drifted off, and I could guess why.

He didn’t know my name. I never gave it to him.

“Sebastian.”

“Right. Nice name.”

“Thanks.” I’d grown bored of being so far away from him and moved right next to him, running my hands down his chest and enjoying how good he felt. His body was hard, like he worked out, not a lot, but enough to make sure he was lean and cut. I was too involved in thinking about how he would look naked to catch what he said. “What?”

He shook his head, taking hold of my hands in his. “I said, is that your real name?”

“Yeah, of course. You think I’d make up a shitty name like that? No, I’d choose something cool and modern.”

“Isn't it dangerous to give out your real name?” He was turning us around, so I was the one pressed up against the desk.

“Probably.” Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have said that to him. “I never give out my surname though.”

He was the one running his hands all over my body, and I was enjoying it too much.

Were escorts supposed to enjoy what they did? I had no idea at the time, but I wasn’t going to complain about it. This was going to be my one and only experience with it, so I was going to enjoy it.

“So, Sebastian.” He cleared his throat a little. “As you pointed out, I’m kind of new to this, hence the hesitation earlier. What do you usually do? Get the money up front. That seems like good business.”

That made me pause and I ran through my limited knowledge, mainly made up of random TV shows I’d seen and
Pretty Woman
of course, and came up with a few rules. “Okay, yeah, money first, but then you have to tell me what you want so we can agree about it.”

He was staring at my lips as I spoke and I knew his mind was in the gutter imagining my mouth around his cock. He wasn’t the only one to be distracted by my lips, I’ve always been told I have cock-sucking lips, and I put them to good use too. Damn good use.

Despite him enjoying that fantasy, he was running his hands over my back, slowly working his way to my arse. He wanted more than my mouth, I could tell, but I wasn’t too sure I wanted to go that far.

“Still just want my mouth?” I pushed my arse into his hands.

He looked a little ashamed I'd guessed what was on his mind so easily. “What if I said I wanted to see how we got along first before I knew what I wanted?”

That worked great for me, because it was how I felt too. So I played it cool and nodded, like I’d done this a hundred times before. “Sure. I'm fine with that.”

His body was against mine and both of us were hard. His cock felt good against my own and my dick twitched as it prepared for some fun. I was just getting ready for more when he pulled away, reaching for his jacket and pulling out his wallet. He handed me a fifty pound note and I felt suddenly crappy. I was willing to do this for free, but I was only here because he wanted a professional for a few hours of fun. I tucked it into my back pocket then got nervous. Before this, it felt like some first fuck with a guy I'd picked up, but now I was being paid for a service.

I decided to be blunt. “Tell me what you want. How you want it.” I was up against him again, feeling his chest, wanting his shirt off so I could see what he'd been teasing me with.

“I want those lips around my cock.”

“I know that, Robert.” I rolled his name off my tongue again and he smirked. “I wanted to know
how
you'd like me to do it. Naked and kneeling at your feet, or fully dressed with your cock out of your pants. That sort of thing.”

Robert flinched a little at my forwardness, but he chewed his lip, and then nodded. “I want you naked—both of us naked.” He thought again, then pulled me close to him, pressing his hard cock against mine and giving me those sexy brown eyes of his in full force. “And on your knees sounds good.”

“Yes, it does. All of it sounds good. Especially you being naked.” I was already undressing him, making quick work of his buttons before pushing his shirt open and seeing his chest for the first time. “You're hot, Robert. You work out a lot?”

“Thanks, but not really.”

I raised one of my eyebrows, calling him out on the lie, and he laughed.

“I don’t, honestly. I swim a lot, but I don’t lift weights or anything. These muscles kind of come with the job.”

He did have a nice cut figure; he had a nice bit of meat on him without him looking overweight. His arms were nice and big and his shoulders were thick set and well defined. He was fucking gorgeous.

“What job would cause you to have these muscles and wear a nice suit, I wonder?”

He smirked a little, and then chewed his lip again, obviously thinking about if he should tell me. “I'm a surgeon.”

I paused, running my fingers through the soft dark hair on his chest and looked into his eyes. He was lying because surgeons didn’t look like him. They were all skinny, petite, sickly, pale-looking things. Well, in my vast experience, of course that's what I thought.

“You don’t look like any surgeon I've seen before.”

“Seen many, have you?” He was smiling and two dimples appeared on his cheeks which just about made my knees buckle.

“Not really. Not since I broke my arm when I was seven anyway.”

I still fucking remember it. It was such a bad break I had to have pins put permanently in my bones to keep them from growing wonky. I was only out in the back garden, did a cartwheel and my arm went in a hole and got twisted. It still makes me feel sick remembering how bent it looked when I pulled it out to show my mum.

“You okay?” Robert was all concerned.

I shook the memory from my head and smiled. “I’m fine. So, you're lying about the surgeon thingy.”

“Nope. That's what I do.”

“Okay.” I refocused on getting him out of his clothes, looking at his body again as I ran my fingers through his chest hair.

It was darker than the hair on his head, and it spread out from his chest, running into the sexiest happy trail on a man in the entire world. And I've seen A LOT of pictures, so I know what I'm talking about. I love hairy chests because I like to feel I'm with a man and not some smooth, clean cut twink, no, because I guess I am the twink.

I laughed to myself and he gave me a quizzical look. “I love hair. I was just thinking how I prefer it to some clean cut twink, then I realised that was me.” I grinned at him, but he shook his head, stripping off my shirt as he spoke.

“I hate labels like that. I never use them. You're young and sexy. That works for me.”

“You like them young?” I was against him now, letting his shirt slip off his arms and kissing his neck as I rubbed our cocks together.

“Not all the time. I don’t have a—” He gasped as I tweaked his nipple a bit. “—preference. I don’t go out of my way to look for younger men. I just—” He moaned as I sucked his earlobe. “—saw you and wanted you.”

“How’d you know I was an escort?” I really did want to know that. I mean, did I have some sort of whoreish look I needed to know about?

“I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have asked you to come up here if I hadn’t drunk so much. You could have slapped me and told me to fuck off for all I knew.” He had me in his arms, kissing my neck with his hot mouth and my zipper in his fingers. “I just wanted you.”

“I wanted you too.”