Fading Shades of Loneliness

Chapter 1

Desmond

(Two Days Later)

Damn, I thought I was never going to get away from Melanie. Once the two days were up, I made her a farewell feast that consisted of bacon, cheese grits, buttered eggs, banana walnut pancakes, and a pot of coffee. I did not bother to eat. I made an excuse because she wanted ass to stay until the night. I am good at that shit. She was getting attached, and I can't have that. Being a male escort, fucking feeling cannot exist. My deal was to get paid, go on a date, tap that ass, and go home. Melanie never understood that. When her husband leaves town for those two-week-long conferences, she calls me. Melanie has been a client of mine for two years. I guess her husband was not giving her the attention she needed. Melanie always complained he never had time for her, and due to him traveling all the time, their sex life went into the toilet.

I quickly hopped in my BMW and headed to I-94 West towards Detroit Metro Airport. When I arrived, I pulled into the car rental services and turned in the BMW. I know what you are thinking. I am a fucking fake as fuck renting a car to take a woman out on a date. In my opinion, I am smart because taking women for a ride in bed or an expensive car is part of my job. Let me explain something to you. The women I take out are wealthy as fuck. Take Melanie, for instance. Melanie and her husband own a fortune five hundred company that earns five figures a month. Melanie is accustomed to a high standard of appearance, which I must maintain. So BMW is a necessary rental for my business. However, I buy all my clothes. I own at least twelve suits and shoes that cost $10,000 altogether. That is all I bought since I started this male fucking for money six years ago, explaining why I penny-pinch later.

After returning the car and retrieving my Honda Accord from vehicle storage, I jumped back onto the free for a 45-minute drive to St. Clair Shores. Once I was done fighting through traffic, I was home sweet home. I pulled into an apartment complex and stopped by the mailbox for my mail. After that, I took my ass to my rented abode. I walked through the house that still smelled like the cologne I used for the weekend. I went to the bedroom, kicked my shoes off, and changed to something more suitable. I am not a shirt and tie person, but the job demands it.

I went to the living room and turned on Netflix on my 20-inch flat-screen HD television. I missed a few episodes of Power and wanted to catch up. Now that I was situated, I looked through the mail. Most were junk mail and bills. I have seen two pieces of mail I have been waiting for.

Remember I said I was saving money? Well, I guess I got the stripper's excuse. I am trying to go to school to get my shit together. You see, I have done some time for drug possession. I had enough weed on me that got me ten years in prison. However, I only served four years of good behavior. While locked up, all I did was read and get my GED in prison, then my bachelor's online. I was released two years ago.

Now I am trying to get my Master, and the past year has not been easy—one from Michigan State University and the other from Wayne State. I quickly open both. I did not finish reading either one of them. I can tell a rejection letter when I see one. I don't read any sentences that start with, " I am sorry to regret."

I applied to many colleges in the state, only to be turned down. I feel like I am being spat in my face. I guess that is what happens after having a drug conviction. Anyway, I can't let that shit stop me. Every semester I have been taking classes towards my interest in my degree program. In the meanwhile, I will continue to fuck older women for money.

You may think I am ain't shit taking advantage of old ladies for money. Well, I am no different than a woman that gold digs, except I am not deceitful, pretending to love someone just for a payoff. I am straightforward.

How did I get into this shit? I tell you, that is a long story. Mine is very short. I was looking for a job when I got turned down with every application. I worked at a construction site for two months, but they tried to overwork me below minimum wage requirements. I was not having that. When I took class, I met a woman named Angel; she told me I could get a bodyguard job. That's when I met Carmen Knight. She ran this escort service. Of course, I did not get a job, but she offered me another position. Carmen told me she would start a male escort service and needed some willing men. I thought the bitch was fucking with me until she thought $10,000 was on the table for a signing bonus. However, she told me to use half to get expensive clothes, and the other half was mine to keep. The idea of getting paid to fuck, I was not turning that shit down.

Jumping to the opportunity to be a male gigolo, Carmen had some rules. For one, never fall in love with women I fuck. Shit sounds like a cardinal rule to me. Two, always dress for the occasion, and three, never cheat her out her cut. Of course, I had to pay her 45% of all I made. And she was pimping my ass. But it did seem that bad when I make close to ten grand a week. After Carmen laid down some ground rules, I had some of my own. Younger bitches pay more. The reason is that they are immature as fuck and can get annoying.

Even though older bitches are more demanding, at least they know what they want. I remember this old well-off broad name, Audrey Rose. She was in her seventies, widower, and had no children. Audrey paid me well. $15,000 a month to live with her and knock the dust off that old pussy. Did I give the dick to her, of course? She pursued the shit out of me. I lived with her for three months until she died from natural causes. She was a sweet old broad. I miss her.

Second, I don't fuck men. Not my stride and never will be. Last her same rule, never cheat me or raise the percentage. She agreed, and we have been good ever since.

I immediately chucked the rejection letter into the garbage and opened my Cash app. I had made at least $7000 this week. After I paid Carmen off her cut, I had more than enough to pay bills and live comfortably. Whatever I did not spend, I saved for a rainy day except for buying a few luxuries from time to time.

Just as I was about to start watching my show, I received a text from Carmen. She was pleased with the pay and said she had another job for me. She sent me a profile in my email. Let's take a look. I opened my email and saw a woman in her mid 40's. Darlene Sailes is her name. Let's read her bio.

I am a single divorced woman looking for a man to give me some action in the bedroom and in public.

I am looking for a stallion in the bedroom that can make me feel like I have just lost my virginity. He has to be charming, well-spoken in public, and anticipate my needs. I love classical music, opera, golden oldies, and country music. I like to be wined and dined. He must be willing to give oral because I love to receive it.

She has a nice-ass body, a small shape, and knows how to dress. She looks like a younger version of Sally Fields in her prime. I am cool with that; I loved the Forrest Gump movie.