The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Ted stepped out not into a hallway, but into what looked like a large, elegantly-furnished living room. White leather couches, deep mahogany tables, a huge flat screen TV on one wall, indirect lighting, and a warm, inviting fire in a free standing fireplace in the middle of the room greeted him. Ted stood nervously looking around, not sure what he should do. Just then his host rounded a corner. Ted’s breath caught in his throat. Trace Morrison’s hairy, muscular torso was framed by a deep red tank top. White sweatpants of a soft material clung to the man’s lower body, revealing a powerfully developed set of legs. The garment did little to hide the prominent bulge in his groin. He was barefoot and smiling broadly.

Trace came up to Ted with arms outstretched and engulfed him in a tight embrace. Ted could feel the muscles of the man’s chest against him. And if that wasn’t enough, the prominent bulge pressed firmly against his own rapidly-responding equipment.

Trace kissed Ted lightly on the cheek. “Welcome! Come on in.” He broke the embrace and led the way into the living room.

Ted followed the magnificent buttocks as he struggled to remind himself he wasn’t gay.

Trace leapt lightly onto one of the white leather sofas, crossed his legs, and patted the seat cushion beside him.

Ted obeyed the unspoken invitation and sat beside Trace.

As if by magic, a tall, blond young man in a spaghetti strap tee and runner’s shorts appeared. He was boyishly handsome and was smiling broadly.

“This is Jason,” Trace said by way of introduction, putting an arm casually around Jason’s waist. “Can he get you something to drink? Or do you need dinner?”

“No, no, I ate at the dorm. A Coke would be okay I guess,” Ted replied.

Trace added, “I’ll have my usual.”

The young man nodded and left.

Trace continued to smile at Ted. “I’m very happy you took me up on my offer to help. I know how hard it is for you struggling college guys.”

Still confused as to what Trace meant, he decided to take the bull by the horns and find out. “Uh ... thank you. But I really don’t understand what you mean. Just how will you be able to help me?”

Trace’s smile deepened accentuating the dimples in his cheeks. “I’ll get straight to the point. Among other things I run an escort service, Escorts Inc.” he said, pride in the simple statement showing on his face. “And a handsome young man like you could do very well for himself working for me.”

“Escort service?” Ted asked, feeling a mixture of bewilderment and embarrassment -- bewildered because he didn’t know what an escort service was, and embarrassment, both by the compliment on his looks and his ignorance.

“Perfect,” Trace said with a chuckle. “So handsome, such a stud and so innocent. The clients will just eat you up, literally.”

“I’m sorry,” Ted said, feeling more puzzled and more than a bit uncomfortable. What did Trace mean about the clients literally eating him up?

“I guess I’m really out of it. I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Just then, the blond in the spaghetti tee returned with Ted’s Coke and some sort of frothy drink in a tumbler for Trace.

“Thanks, Jason,” Trace said, taking the drinks from the young man and handing one to Ted. “He’s one of our boys who’s most in demand,” Trace added as Ted watched Jason walk away. “Here’s to you having equal success.” Trace raised his glass and clinked it against Ted’s in a toast.

As if reading Ted’s puzzled expression, Trace smiled and said, “Okay. I won’t keep you in the dark any longer. I’m offering you a job as an escort for men who are interested in spending some time with a handsome young man like yourself.”

Feeling apprehension at this revelation, Ted asked, “What would I have to do?”

“Well, that depends on the wishes of the client. Some just want an evening of dinner and a show or some quiet conversation. Some want more. You’re paid by the hour on the basis of how much service you’re willing to offer.”

“Service?”

“You are a delight!” Trace said with a laugh. He reached out and squeezed Ted’s thigh. “Sex, my boy, sex. That’s where the real money is. If the client likes you and the two of you get along, you could make as much as five hundred dollars a night. It all depends on how much you’re willing to offer.”

“Five hundred!”

“Easily,” Trace replied casually. “And if you have the stamina and a quick recovery time, even more.”

As the shock of the large sums of money wore off, Ted realized the man was offering him a job as a male prostitute, someone rented out for the evening for the purpose of having sex.

“Who are your clients? What sort of men pay for ... uh ... the services?”

“Oh, all kinds. Some are older, others are younger. All are rich and in need of a discrete outlet for their sexual needs. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Norman, your maître d’ at the restaurant is one of our clients.”

“I don’t know,” Ted said, staring at the glass of Coke he was holding. How could he ever have sex with Norman! Returning his gaze to the handsome man next to him, he added, “I’ve never had sex with anyone. I’m not gay. I don’t know if I could do this.”

“Of course you could,” Trace said silkily, setting his drink on an end table before sliding closer to Ted. “Sex is sex. You just let what comes naturally happen.” Trace took the Coke from Ted’s hand, set it next to his drink, put an arm around Ted’s neck, and slid the other up Ted’s leg until he cupped and squeezed Ted’s balls and hardening cock. “See, nothing to it,” Trace said, continuing to fondle Ted’s now rigid dick. “You’re a natural.” Trace pulled Ted into a kiss, slid his tongue into Ted’s mouth, gently caressing Ted’s tongue.

With an explosion of arousal and desire, Ted returned the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Trace, leaned back on the couch, pulled the older man down on top of him, and arched his back to press his cock against Trace’s firm body.