Miss Debbie's Escort Service

Chapter 1

Author's Note:  Here's a little background info.  Debbie runs an escort service which Justin calls to get an escort to his sister's wedding. The escort is Brian who calls himself Brian Novotny when he does a favor for Deb and acts as an escort. Justin had been in a serious relationship but his partner was killed. Brian is about 34 and Justin 22.


"Miss Debbie's Fine Escorts, Miss Debbie speaking, how may I help you?"

"Um … yes … um … I'm looking for an … um … escort."

"Then you've called the right place, honey. What kind do you want?"


"We have gay, straight and lesbian escorts, but our specialty is gay. I'm assuming you don't want lesbian."

"Ew, no thanks."

Debbie laughed. "So will it be gay or straight."

"Gay, please, they dress much better."

"You got that right. Now what kind of gay escort do you want?"


"Well, usually our clients have preferences about the type of escort they want. You know, tall, short, old, young, well endowed."

"Oh, I see. I need someone between … um … twenty-five and thirty-five."

"Okaaaaaay. Any other clues would be appreciated?"

"I … um … What exactly do you mean?"

"This is obviously your first time?"

"Um … yes."

"Okay, I need to know if you have preference as to race, religion, hair color. You name it."

"Oh, I see. No, I don't really care, just someone presentable."

"Presentable? Now, I'm confused."

"Why are you confused?"

"Most people ask for hot, not presentable."

"Well, I want presentable."

"What exactly do you want your escort to do?"

"I need him to escort me to a wedding."

"Your own?"

"Fuck, no. My sister's."

"And that's all; just escort you to a wedding?"

"Well, he should be nice to me and treat me like his boyfriend."

Debbie laughed. "Honey, we're not a dating service."

"I know that. I'm prepared to pay."

"So, let me get this straight. You want a gay escort between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five to take you to your sister's wedding. He should look presentable, be nice to you and treat you like a boyfriend?"

"That's right. Oh, and he should wear a nice suit."

"Of course," Debbie said with a smirk. She had a real live one here. She decided she better ask the big question. "Do you want to have sex with him?"

"Sex? Is that an option?"

"We are an escort service." 'Earth to client,' Debbie was thinking to herself. "Many, and I do mean many, of the people who call here are looking for a good fuck."


"So, are you?"

"How … how much does that cost?"

"Three hundred."

"Wow, that's a lot."

"We have only the best, and you pay for the best."

"Yeah, I guess."

"So what about the sex part?"

"How … how much will it be for just the wedding?"

"How long would you need the escort for?"

"Ceremony's at three and then dinner and the reception, probably going on till midnight."

"Hm, that's nine hours. Most of our boys are only out for an hour or two."


"I guess I could have somebody escort you for that long for, say, seven fifty."

"That's seven hundred and fifty dollars? Wow, that's a lot!"

"Usually I would charge at least a hundred an hour, so you're actually getting a bargain. You caught me at a weak moment," Debbie laughed.

"Lucky me."

"So what's it going to be?"

"Does the seven fifty include the sex part?"

"Nope, that would be another three hundred on top of the seven fifty."


Debbie laughed again. "How many times have you said 'wow' since we started talking?"

"Um … I don't know."

Debbie shook her head in amusement as she asked, "So, do you wish to book our services?"


"Name, please."

"Justin Taylor."

"T-a-y-l-o-r," she spelled back at him.


"Credit card?"

Justin gave her the information wondering if he was doing the right thing, but he didn't really have any other option. He told her his address.

"Now, what date is this for?" Debbie asked.

"This weekend, Saturday."

"Fuck! Excuse my French. This weekend is Valentine's weekend."

"I know. That's why the wedding is this Saturday. My sister has been planning this for a long time. She thought it would be sooo romantic."

"We're always heavily booked on Valentine's weekend."

"Does that mean you don't have an escort for me?" Justin asked quietly. He had gone through this humiliation for nothing.

"I'll have to check and see if I can find someone."

"I don't want just anyone," Justin said. The idea of showing up with some troll on his arm made him cringe. The guy didn't have to be great looking but he had to be passable or the wedding would turn out worse than arriving with nobody at all.

"Give me your phone number and I'll call you back."

Justin did so, and hung up feeling totally deflated. He had never called an escort service before in his life. And the first time he did turns out like this. Well, maybe it would be better if they couldn't find anyone to escort him. He'd just have to put up with his mother clucking all over him and worrying about him being alone. He knew she meant well, but sometimes she needed to give him space, especially since…

No, he wouldn't think about that now. He'd sketch or something, anything to keep his mind off the return phone call from Miss Debbie. Justin turned on a CD and sat on the couch in his small apartment. He picked up his sketchbook and let the pencil wander over the page. After a few strokes he knew what he was going to draw. He worked quickly drawing lines and shading and crosshatching. The face gradually took form on the paper and he looked at it critically as he let out a small sigh.

The face was that of his boyfriend, Dean. They had met at PIFA when they were both halfway through their studies there. Dean was a dancer. They had met at the book store the first day of a new semester. They immediately hit it off.

Dean was only slightly taller than Justin. He had dirty blond hair and very muscular legs from years of dance training. Justin let out a small moan as he thought about Dean's hard thighs wrapped around his waist as he fucked him into the mattress. Most of the time Dean was the top, but they shared that, like they shared everything else. He missed Dean so much.

Justin opened the zipper of his jeans and drew out his stiffening cock. He had been so lonely the last two years since Dean died. He had been devastated when Dean was killed in that horrible accident. He still remembered that call from Dean's parents. Dean had been on his way home just before Christmas. His parents lived in Cleveland and Dean had headed out to spend the holidays with them. The weather had been okay when Dean left Pittsburgh, but the farther north he went the worse the weather got. At first it had been snow which turned into a virtual blizzard with whiteout conditions. Justin had been told that Dean most likely never saw the abandoned SUV that he plowed into on the interstate. Thankfully the people who had abandoned it, stuck in a drift, had got a ride with a passing motorist. Dean was the only casualty.

Justin had gone up to Cleveland for the funeral, but it was a closed casket. He could only imagine why, and he never saw Dean again. The memory of their time together, and of what might have been, continued to haunt him. With a deep sigh Justin shoved his now soft dick back in his jeans and zipped them up. Every time he thought of sex, he thought of Dean, and that made him think of the accident. He was fucked, and not in the way he wanted to be.

Just then the phone rang. He went to pick it up. It was Miss Debbie. Justin steeled himself for her to say that she didn't have an escort for him. That was all right. He would survive it. He had survived a lot worse, unlike Dean.

"Mr. Taylor?" Debbie repeated.

"Um … sorry, I'm here."

"I have an escort for you."

"You do?"

"It wasn't easy, but this guy helps me out in a pinch."

"Is he the fag of last resort?" Justin asked feeling kind of petulant and disillusioned by the whole escort business. His fucking friend, Daphne, had told him to try this place. 'Try it, you'll like it,' she had said. Fuck Daphne!

Debbie was laughing. "I'll have to tell Brian that he's my fag of last resort," she chuckled. "On second thought, maybe I won't. He'd rip me a new one."

"I beg your pardon," Justin said with a frown. What kind of person was this Brian?

"So, shall I send Brian over on Saturday?"

Justin hesitated. "Could you tell me a bit about him?"

"Like what?"

"Well, you asked me preferences before. How does he fit those preferences?"

Debbie sighed. This client was turning out to be more trouble than he was worth. Still, seven hundred and fifty dollars wasn't to be sneezed at. It would be a tidy commission for her, and Brian could buy himself a new shirt with his take. "He's in his early thirties," she began. She knew Brian would prefer her to say he was twenty-nine, which he had been for a few years now. "He's tall, a little over six feet. He has dark hair, and he's a real label queen."

"So I can count on him being well dressed?"

"Most definitely."

That was a plus. This Brian should look good at the wedding. "Okay, I guess he sounds all right."

"Then we have a deal?"

"Um … what about the well endowed part?"

"I thought you said no sex."

"I did, but I was … curious."

Debbie laughed. "I have no personal experience of this, but the gay grapevine says 'very'."

"Very what?"

"Very well endowed."


"Want to change your mind about the sex?"

Justin was tempted to say yes, but he knew he could barely scrape together the seven fifty. No way could he afford another three hundred. "No, no, as tempting as you make him sound, I don't think so."

"Okay, so Brian will escort you to this wedding, picking you up at three on Saturday at the address you gave me."

"Um … no."

"You've changed your mind?"

"No, I mean yes, I mean … He needs to pick me up at two at the latest."

"That's another hour of his time," Debbie said. Brian was not going to like that. She'd had enough trouble convincing him to step in at the last minute, especially when no fucking was involved.

"Does that mean it will cost more?" Justin asked. Maybe he should just give up.

"I think we can keep the price the same," Debbie said with a sigh. She was trying to think of something she could promise Brian to make accept this job with another hour added on. She might have to call in a favor.

Justin let out a sigh of relief. "Okay then, I guess we have a deal. Oh, and he will treat me nicely, like a boyfriend."

Debbie snorted. "Brian doesn't do boyfriends, but I think he's a good enough actor to carry it off."

"I hope so."

"I'm running your credit card right now. No refunds."


"You knew that, didn't you?"

Justin felt like telling her that he knew nothing about this whole business. He was in way over his head. He suddenly felt like he wanted to throw up. He was spending a good chunk of his month's pay on some guy he'd never seen who might or might not be able to pass himself off as his boyfriend. He must be out of his fucking mind. He was going to kill Daphne the next time he saw her.

"There, we're all set. Brian will see you on Saturday."

"Swell," Justin said with all the sarcasm he could muster and he hung up the phone.

Debbie looked at the receiver before she set it down. This Justin Taylor was an interesting piece of work. She hoped Brian wouldn't kill him if he acted the way he had on the phone. Brian was her son's best friend and he was a very smart cookie. He didn't suffer fools easily, and Justin Taylor had not come across as the sharpest knife in the drawer.

She had better call Brian and tell him he had to pick up his "boyfriend" at two instead of three on Saturday. She could already hear his queen out at that news. She'd have to remind him about all the times she had been there when he needed her. Although, Brian already knew that. He'd do this for her. He would; she convinced herself.

Besides she refused to phone Justin Taylor back and tell him the whole thing was off. That would probably take another hour of her valuable time.

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