A challenging client

Only once have I ever considered walking out on a client.

It had nothing to do with how he looked. I can find the sexiness in almost everyone. Maybe it’s their childlike enthusiasm, the shape of their shoulders, or the hardness of their cock.

That said, this client would be a challenge. He was quite overweight, had bad teeth and was a bit drunk. Let’s just say that it’s unlikely I would have clicked on his Manhunt profile.

He was an American here on business, and it was his first time in Vancouver. I’m very proud of this city, and I like to be a good host, even if it’s behind closed curtains.

It was snowing hard as I drove out to his hotel in Richmond. I self-consciously sipped water in the lounge until he showed up 20 minutes late, then waited with him in the cold while he pulled back a smoke and bitched about our smoking laws.

I was not impressed, but that’s not the reason I wanted to walk out on him either.

How I found out, I can’t quite remember. I mentioned that I’m a political science student, so maybe he commented on the 2006 American midterm elections. I also seem to recall him saying something about Canada breeding terrorists.

Then it hit me. Oh fuck. This guy… is a Republican.

For the first time since I became an escort, I had a moral crisis.

My logic went that if I put his dick in my mouth, I would be supporting the most destructive and corrupt administration in American history. My cock shrivelled up and my asshole slammed shut.

I had to make a quick decision. Would I treat this man with the same disdain that his political comrades showed my community? I considered calling him on his hypocrisy and making a dramatic exit.

It was a great fantasy, but I didn’t do it.

There he stood naked with all of his warts, scars and dangly bits exposed. And as he began to explore my body with his fingertips, my perspective changed.

Intimacy is a basic human need that extends beyond political philosophy, and here was a man obviously lacking. One reason I reject the rightwing is their exclusionary policies. I’d be a hypocrite myself if I left.

So, with my self-righteousness in check, I got naked.

That night, I earned my money, but I kept myself entertained with small acts of private symbolism. As a political lefty, I was sure to use my less dominant hand to stroke his cock. And laying on my stomach, getting rimmed and feeling his lips move cheek to cheek, somehow I felt like I’d achieved a small victory.