Jamie is an escort who will bring our gang-bang number to six. I message-chat with him on Manhunt, recalling that today is ‘End Violence Against s*x Workers Day.’ I don’t bring that up.
His many profile pictures are calendar-like: tall, oiled and sculpted body, square jaw, Midwest handsome wearing a wrestling singlet, then a fireman’s hat, then a thong and finally sheer white bike shorts. Despite his raging beauty, he sounds lost. Over the phone, he say’s he’s bored, has no clients, and is eating a second tub of Ben & Jerry’s ‘Chunky Monkey’ ice cream. He has a tiny lisp. I’m certain he’s dumb, jaded and has always felt useless. He probably ran away at sixteen and has been abused for years. I fantasize about all the men that have treated him very, very badly and it’s a serious turn on. I
