Money’s on the Dresser: Escorting, Porn and Promiscuity in Las Vegas by Christopher Daniels Page B

money to get started with some simple renovations and to purchase appliances. I couldn’t borrow the money from anyone I knew, so the answer seemed simple... become a male escort, a “Rentboy.”

    I was intrigued by the thought of what it would be like to have sex with people for money. I loved having sex so much in my personal life that some would consider me a borderline sex addict. I thought why not transform my dysfunction into cash? A part of me dreamed of a life of dinners with rich clients in nice restaurants, or flying around the world for fun getaways with billionaires. The life of an escort was glamorous, or at least the movie Pretty Woman made it seem that way.

    I had been offered money for sex a few times on online hook-up sites and actually done it once when Patrick and I moved to Las Vegas in 2006 and we needed cash. I had already spent all my savings moving and purchasing our apartment (next to the Hard Rock Casino) and its furniture. One night, a married man in his fifties contacted me through a popular hook-up site called Manhunt and we began chatting. I was bored and drunk on apple pucker martinis, so I was humoring him, flirting to pass the time until Patrick got home from work. Our messages went from playful to sexual, and he finally asked if I would come over and have sex with him for three hundred dollars. Three hundred bucks just to have sex with him? How can I say no? I was drunk, thinking only about the money and not my boyfriend or my safety, and I stumbled over to his hotel, just across the street. He met me outside and walked me to his room. He was playing porn and the lights were low. The guy wasn’t especially attractive, but he wasn’t ugly either. He was an overweight middle-aged man, but he took care of himself, smelled good, and was polite. Years later, when I began escorting full-time, I realized how little things like good hygiene and manners, so simple in my mind, were often rare. We walked into the room, and I didn’t feel nervous or scared. I knew what I had come there to do, so I undressed and got hard immediately. The thrill and excitement of this whole situation was enough to make my dick stand straight up and smack against my stomach. I felt like I was doing something bad and I loved it. It wasn’t as if I was really into the guy, but I definitely got off on the fact that this man got off on me. A trait of a typical narcissist. He sucked my dick for about five minutes, I sucked his dick for a few more, and then I jerked off until we came. I got dressed, he gave me my three hundred dollars, and I was on my way home. It was the easiest money I had ever made! I put it toward bills and phone cards to call my family over the next few days.

    The guilt eventually set in, however. A few months later, when I was really drunk, I broke down and told Patrick everything. He was furious and threatened to dump me that night, but we somehow worked through it and stayed together. Our dysfunctional codependent relationship lasted three more years.

    A few days after Patrick and I split for good, he told me he wanted to try to make our relationship work and he didn’t want to give up. I contemplated it for a while because we had built a life for ourselves, owned a nice new home, and had two dogs together. I did love him, but in my heart I knew it was time to move on, grow up, and be on my own. I needed to figure out how to be an adult and quit asking Patrick to take care of me. I knew I couldn’t begin to do this unless I was on my own, supporting myself financially and emotionally away from him.

    Now I had to embark on this journey as a single man in my late twenties without going into too much debt while still living the standard of living I was used to. The answer seemed simple: Become an escort. In the next few weeks, I put an ad on a popular male escort site called Rentboy and started taking calls. Within a month I had money for a down payment, closing costs, and some home