Smut and fluff

Can't afford to care

By vondrostes

Part 1 of Texas fic

Texas chose his name his first semester of college, after he'd first been introduced to the scene by his first real sugar mama. She was the third he'd tried it with, but the first to get more than one date. He was from Tennessee, not Texas, but when Gloria had told him in bed one morning that he reminded her of a sweet down-home Texas boy, it had stuck.

A lot of things Gloria had given him had stuck.

Texas was Texas to pretty much everyone now, with the exception of his family back home, who he really didn't see all-too often after the truth had gotten out about his profession. He didn't let people take videos anymore after that, even though it was too-little too-late.

He'd gotten into professional domming about a month after moving to Berlin, shortly after he'd graduated from NYU with a worthless degree and an even more worthless bank account. He'd found someone to sponsor him easily enough using the connections he'd built back in the States and transitioning to the scene in Berlin had been practically seamless.

Texas enjoyed his job more than most people, he wagered. He got paid to get people off, and he usually got off himself in the process. Win-win.

But sometimes it wasn't always a walk in the park. He was well-known enough that he got his fair share of sketchier clients, and he knew by now how to recognize the red flags.

The email sitting in his inbox set off every single one. Texas opened it anyway.

The curiosity was too strong to resist. Texas was a bit of a risk-taker, which wasn't the best personality trait for someone in his line of work, but he'd survived okay so far on gut-instinct.

The first major problem was the lack of any kind of identifying information in the email. Second was the omission of secondary contact details. Third was the absolutely ludicrous pay-offer for an overnight stay, something Texas usually only agreed to for established clients.

But if the offer was real, it was a lot of money. And Texas liked money.

He emailed back immediately. And that's when things really started to get weird.

After confirming he was serious, Texas was given a phone number. When he called, a woman answered, identifying herself as a representative for his prospective client. She was coolly impersonal, which only made him more nervous about this whole deal, but once she confirmed that Texas would receive an advance on the agreed-upon payment as soon as he as he underwent STI testing and submitted a clean bill of health, he was pretty much sold.

That was too much temptation for Texas to withstand.

There was a pre-determined date given to him by the woman on the phone: a Friday night two weeks from then. Texas was not to learn his client's identity until they met in person at their hotel.

He was curious though, and determined, so as soon as the phone call ended, he was on his computer, furiously Googling every celebrity, business mogul, and politician who was expected to make an appearance in Berlin in the near future. It was unsurprisingly a big list and Texas came away disappointed and antsier than ever to find out the mystery client's identity.

He was desperately hoping it was that up and coming actress whose film was premiering that weekend. It'd be a nice break from the old men who wanted Texas to piss on them and give them footjobs. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it got old pretty fast.

The first thing on Texas's list was submitting his STI results to his mystery client's representative. He was half-expecting her to reveal the person's identity after that, but it was radio silence apart from the wire transfer that hit his bank a few days later. She hadn't lied about the money, at least.