Page 29 of Steam

“Eric Barr,” Wyatt said. “You won’t find him in the phone book or anything. His operation isn’t the type you’d find on a flyer. You should have lunch with the two of us sometime.”

“You have lunch with a pimp?”

“He’s more den mother than pimp, Logan,” Wyatt said, laughing. “And they’re called managers, not pimps. Eric’s more of a friend, honestly. You’ll really just have to meet him. His guys are the best.”

“Christ, this is a lot to wrap my mind around, Wyatt,” Logan said. Wyatt just shrugged, and although Logan knew he should change the subject, his curiosity immediately overcame his vague disgust. “So... do you get the same person every time?”

“Yeah, hang on,” Wyatt said, grabbing for his phone. He had flipped it open and scrolled through the photos, bringing up finally a selfie of Wyatt and a younger man at what looked like a decent restaurant.

It looked like the type of photo you’d take with your boyfriend—not a call boy.

The man was younger than Wyatt by a long shot, his features soft and bright.

“I’ve been seeing Max for about three years,” Wyatt said.

Was Wyatt… blushing?

“Seeing him? You mean hiring him?”

“Yeah, I pay the guy,” Wyatt had said. “It’s the least I can do.”

The guy—Max—didn’t look like a sex worker. Brown skin, rich brown eyes, a hipster haircut. He had a baby face but his eyes gave away a maturity Logan hadn’t noticed at first. He was dressed up nicely in the photo, his body close to Wyatt, his smile genuine. No part of it screamed abuse. Nothing about the man screamed sex worker.

“Max’s the greatest,” Wyatt beamed. “He gets me through the bullshit, and at the end of the day I help pay his bills. All in all it’s a pretty good situation.”

Logan asked about Max occasionally after that, the same way you’d ask a close friend about someone they were seeing. Wyatt had what seemed like a warm friendship with the younger man and was happy to share with Logan the different things he knew about Max, his background, his hopes.

Eventually, it seemed less weird to talk to Wyatt about his escort.

Eventually, Logan was even a little jealous.

“This is Eric.”

The voice on the other end of Logan’s cell phone sounds mellow and friendly with an upward lilt. It does nothing to ease the small rock of anxiety in the pit of Logan’s stomach.

“Hi Eric—my name is Logan,” he starts out. “My friend Wyatt referred me to you—”

“Hello Mr. Miller,” Eric says, sounding bright. “I’m glad you called.”

“Jesus, Wyatt’s talked a lot about me?”

“Not at all,” Eric says smoothly. “He’s mentioned that you may be calling, and said he was willing to vouch for you if you did. And I have a good memory for new clients.”

“Ah,” Logan says, not feeling soothed at the explanation. “Well.”

“Would you like to get started or do you just have some questions for now?”

“I guess… Maybe you can explain how all this works?”

“Certainly,” Eric says. “Your first encounter will be $500, non-negotiable, non-refundable, paid in cash to me at least one hour before your first appointment. After that, if you choose to work with the same consort, you will negotiate directly with him and pay him directly. You may choose the location and time for your first appointment, but know that I will be accompanying your consort and will be close by for the duration of your appointment. How does that sound?”

“That’s… that’s fine,” Logan says.

He hadn’t expected it to be so formal.

“Things are a bit less rigid after your first appointment,” Eric says. “But overall I have to keep the safety of my clients in mind. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” Logan says.

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