"A Good Whore Doesn't Specialize," David repeated the credo. "I'll remember it, Val…"
"All right, then listen, darling: When you learn to fall in love with just being wanted (and I mean redly in love, David!) it won't make any difference who or what is doing the wanting, because, don't you see, baby, the desire will always be there, the most living contact of all, the spark of all creation, because desire is what you'll function on. To be hungered for, panted for, drooled over… Oh, it can be a very religious way to live, can make you most devout…"
God, she was persuasive, thought David; and somehow, the more he considered this rather unique philosophy, the more common sense it made. Just imagine, giving of oneself every waking hour, a whole life dedicated to pleasing others, no matter how unreasonable their demands might seem. Yes…! there was something terribly Christian about it… like living the life of a monk, in reverse, perhaps, but nonetheless dedicated. A sublime pattern, really, being constantly necessary to people while still remaining one's own master. And with the added comfort of cash to offset the usual post-orgasm depressions. "You know, it sounds like a guy would need a real strong personality to sustain such a flow of giving," he said. "And I guess he'd have to learn to like himself a lot, too… may even need a strong dash of narcissism in order to get as hot for himself as his clients are, just so they'll feel at home…"
"Yes, yes… that's wild, David… You're catching on! It stands to reason that if you teach yourself to love and idolize your body, you'll have something in common with everyone which touches it. That way none of them can repel you, because it's you whom they're finding so fantastically attractive and sensual; and since you couldn't agree with them more, you'll applaud their excellent taste and desperately want to share it with them. So you see how simple it can be, how wonderfully close to nature?"
David nodded fervently, increasingly excited by her words. She made it all sound so damned glowing. "Oh Christ, Valerie, this'll be a marriage made in heaven… I feel it!" He gathered her warm little body onto the stiff nakedness in his lap, happily cradling her as he incidentally impaled. "Oooh yeah!.. This is the kind of freedom I've always wanted…" swiveling her flared-out bottom until the fit was neat and steep… "not to be socially or domestically obligated to anyone, not to think or care about the future…"
"The future'll enter into it only while we're making out our deposit-slips at the bank… ooohhhh!.. David… Talk about your deposit-slips…!" And for awhile they said no more, the silence watching as they flexed new training muscles…
Later they dressed and had cocktails and some food. Then Valerie continued her crash-course, carefully familiarizing David with all the rudiments of bodily endeavor. She said in order to get him firmly launched, she planned to add his name to her present advertising layout. At this David looked dumbfounded. Hustling-by-computer had seemed crazy enough, but what kind of fantasy was this?
Remembering what a hot-house flower the boy had been until now, Valerie laughed and patiently tried to explain some new-wave business mechanics to him. She went to her bedroom and brought out a small, tabloid newspaper, handing it to him.
David gaped at the front-page-two full-bosomed young girls, totally naked. Then glared at the lurid black headlines which seemed to be announcing some sort of mass-rape picnic that was to take place on the following weekend. And good God, what a title for a newspaper!
"Oh honey, don't tell me you've never read The Gash Gazette" she said, watching as he glanced through it in awe. "Why, it's the biggest clearing-house for hot nuts this country has ever known. They print it across the Bay, a kind of Sexual Liberty Bible, and, like the computer-dating services, it's made street-walking practically a thing of the past. And darling, you won't believe what it's done for The Industry… it's been like a Goddamned renaissance these past few years…!"
David had just reached the classified want-ad section, and as he read, his face got very hot and red and he decided he'd better sit down. Numbly, he read aloud, unable to believe his eyes…" 'Male Model, groovy, blond and well-hung-will turn either you or your wife on and on and on for twenty-five dollars an hour. I'm an AC/DC swinger, both flexible and uninhibited. Out-calls day and nite. Just ask for Peter Prong, the Family Sword-Swallower… '" Then David went down the line, reading other ads that were even more salacious, both male and female models, blatantly offering their wares. Finally, he glared up at Valerie. "Oh wow, I didn't know such stuff could be printed in a public newspaper." He gazed down at the sheet again, reading more ads, boldly stated listings of dimensions and proclivities. "You know something, Valerie? I'll bet none of these characters are really models."
Valerie burst out laughing, rushing towards him for a quick and steamy embrace. "Oh baby, don't you ever lose that innocence. They'll pay plenty for it."
Valerie smiled at him, saying nothing for a second, as if debating a new and strategic move. "Well, David, I think I can trust you to take this next step in your training-course. Yes, I think you're ready for the Big Time." So saying, she took him by the hand and led him across the living-room. When they reached the far corner of her thickly draped walls. Valerie pulled a hidden cord and revealed her surprise to David-a concealed sliding-door which he never knew existed. Valerie knocked twice, then slid open the door. Inside David saw a small, windowless office, which was nicely air-conditioned, and also had to be soundproof, he decided, since the noise of ringing telephones was almost deafening, and yet, he'd never heard any evidence of all this activity until now. Two young girls sat at desks, and between them they handled five busy telephones. Valerie wanted to introduce David, but the girls were too occupied to look up.
"DIAL A BOY MODELLING AGENCY!" each girl would proclaim after lifting the receiver. "You tell us your dreams, and we'll send you ours! Goosy-juicy treasures for your wild-erotic pleasures, and each adonis is bonded…"
"Like good Kentucky Bourbon," Valerie laughed, giving David a meaningful knuckle-nudge to the groin, and then laughing more uproariously as she noted his shocked expression.
She led him through the narrow office and out another door, which was obviously the girls' own entrance. This brought them to the corridor outside of Valerie's apartment. Now David recalled that he'd seen this hall-door before, but had assumed it was a janitor's closet. Unlocking the door to her apartment, Valerie led him back inside, still chuckling at the charming bewilderment on his face. She drew the drapes again, and told him to sit down and relax.
"We only make the setups here," she said, joining him on the divan.
"Setups?"
"After first making sure we have just what the client's looking for-you know, measurements, performance-specialties and all that-we arrange the time, the boy and the place. With the exception of rare material like you, David…" Her fingers pressing at his crotch to illustrate her point… "The boys never turn their tricks here in my apartment. As a rule they work out of their own room. Twenty-five an hour, of which we get ten. That's twenty-five per John, so you see, group-therapy sessions can be quite remunerative. The boys receive expert management, periodic blood-tests, full medical care, and legal protection, so it's really worth it to them. Three of our hungriest clients are also members of the Vice Squad, which, of course, is absolutely delightful, security-wise. And none of our boys work the streets, nor do they drink to excess or take erection-bending drugs, although there are other kinds, but we'll get into that later. Let's see now…" she gave him a quick glance to check his expression. "Close your mouth, David, we'll find something to fill it soon enough. Now… where was I? Oh yes… we maintain what we call a floating personnel. Fifty or sixty models, who check in with us whenever they're available, and we keep them on their toes, or their knees or their backs, as the case may be. However, David, you must realize what an honor we're bestowing on you by letting you work at his job full-time, because none of the others are ever given that opportunity."