Memoirs of a Gigolo Volume One by Ellis Livia

Author:Ellis, Livia [Ellis, Livia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-09-30T22:00:00+00:00

Memoirs of a Gigolo: Volume 1

4 The Interview

I'm returned to The Matchmaker in the back of her smoke gray and black Rolls Royce driven by a man that cannot possibly really be named Bruno. It's just not possible. She scans the papers The Doctor handed over to Bruno. With a nod, she tosses them aside. Have I come to a decision?

I'm in.

Excellent! Welcome! We shake hands. Down to business. I have an enormous cock. Could be a problem.

How?

She looks up at me with a raised eyebrow. Do I want a nine-inch cock in my ass?

Good point. I wince a little at the thought. Three cheers for the less endowed man.

But... She raises a finger... for every key there is a lock for every pot there is a lid. In fact, when she gets the word out about what I'm carrying between my legs, it will generate business. There are probably more than a few women in her address book that would give me a tumble just to have a really big cock. In fact she's quite certain she'll have me booked solid in less than a day. I can see in her eyes as she looks at me the potential for me to get out and shake my money maker for her.

With a nod she tells me that tomorrow, I'd best be ready to meet a lovely lady of her acquaintance. A woman known to be unable to keep her mouth shut that will pay a premium for a good fuck. She's turned my positive into a negative and back into a positive. This is the miracle that is The Matchmaker.

She continues to read the report. I'm clean. Did he want to blow me?

Yes.

Of course he did. How much?

£100

She holds out her hand. Pass over £25.

I stare at her. I'm confused.

She gets twenty-five percent. No negotiation. I should have told him £200. The Doctor knows perfectly well what she charges for an hour.

I pull out my wallet and hand her a fifty. She gives me change. I still have seventy-five which is more than I started the day with. Still a win.

She stands from her desk and beckons me to follow. We leave through a different door than the one I was brought in through. We enter her private residence. I don't really have an eye or an appreciation for décor, but I know that she has excellent taste. Up two flights of stairs, she brings me to a bedroom. The walls are a pale yellow, the furniture is heavy dark wood, the curtains and duvet are pristine white linen.

On the bed is a woman. Kneeling on the back of her calves with a cellphone pressed to her ear. Black hair pulled high hangs like a horse’s tail down her bare back. Her skin is as white and clean as milk. Clearly not a fan of the spray tan. Good choice.

She looks at The Matchmaker and me as we enter the room. The Matchmaker takes a seat in a chair as she starts fiddling with her phone.

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