“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “This is all I have.”
“But you owe me more than a $1,000,” I say. “This is only $200.”
“I know, but I couldn’t get any more,” he says, now staring at the floor. “I’m sorry but I don’t know what else to do.”
We’re standing in the tiny bachelor apartment I’m subletting in Toronto. It’s just after 1pm on a hot summer day and he’s been here less than 30 seconds. We’d agreed in advance we’d go directly into the scene, without any preamble. The window air conditioner is doing its best to keep the temperature down, while the sun penetrates the slats in the venetian blinds, throwing horizontal lines of light against the wall.
I clear my throat slightly, allowing me to drop my voice an octave.
“It’s been more than a month,” I growl angrily. “I can’t wait any longer for you to pay me back.”
He just shakes his head, still averting my eyes.
We stand silent for more than a minute, while he shifts uncomfortably.
“Well, there might be another way,” I say, “I run this website I might be able to use you for. I always need new models, so maybe you could work for me to pay off your debts.”
“Anything you say. I’ll do anything you say.”
“Good. Just let me get my cameras set up.”
I go to the closet, pull out my suitcase and drag it to the centre of the room. I unzip it and pull out two tripods, a camcorder, and a digital camera. I don’t have proper film lights, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m actually going to use the photos for anything.
After setting up the tripods, I grab a towel tucked in the bottom of the suitcase, putting it on the dining room table. Unfolding it partway, I reveal a bunch of underwear in different colours.
As I open the towel, he lets out a little gasp.
“What kind of modelling did you want me to do?” he says.
“Oh, I thought you knew,” I say, smiling over my shoulder. “I run a porn website.”
“But I don’t want to do porn,” he gulps. “I can’t . . . do that.”
“Well how else are you going to pay off your debt?”
“Well . . . ” he trails off.
“Look,” I say, with a touch of annoyance. “If you have another way to come with $800 today, we can do that. If not, the only way for you to pay this off is to model for me.”
He stares silently at the floor.
“If you’ve got another idea, I’m happy to hear it. If not, strip off so we can get started.”
He starts to unbutton his shirt without saying anything.
“Great,” I say, giving him a little slap on the ass. “Let’s see how this goes.”
I walk back to the camcorder and fiddle with it. The battery’s dead, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not even going to be turning it on.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as he gingerly eases himself out of his jeans and folds them neatly, before placing them on the chair next to him.
I’d guess he’s in his late 40s. He’s got a round face and a deep tan, which looks sprayed on. His body is soft, and every part of him is shaved completely smooth, including his head, with the exception of a small, dark moustache.
He stands there in his red boxers briefs, nervously shifting, looking around. I turn my attention to the other camera, pretending I’m making adjustments to it, when I’m really just letting him squirm.
After I feel like enough time has passed, I snap a picture. The flash makes him jump.
“Just testing the light,” I say.
I snap a few more pictures before crossing to the dining room table and grabbing one of the chairs. I bring it to the centre of the room, leave it facing towards me, and go back to the camera.
I snap a few more pictures, the flash bouncing around, and then look up.
“Okay, let’s get started,” I say. “Why don’t you just come and stand in front of the chair?”
He crosses nervously and stops in front of me, still looking at the floor.
“Let’s have you looking directly into the camera,” I say, my eye pressed into the viewfinder. “Okay, that’s great. Now slide your hand into your underwear and start playing with your cock.”
“You want me to play with my cock?” he says, seeming genuinely shocked.
“Yeah,” I smirk. “It’s a porn website, so we gotta get your dick hard, right?”
“But . . . ” he trails off and I step towards him, grabbing his crotch and bringing my face close to his.
“You’re gonna get this hard for me, right? Because if not, the deal is off. No hard-on, no deal.”
I pause, waiting for him to respond, but he stays silent.
“So, we’re gonna get it hard?”
He nods.
“Maybe we’ll start with you sitting down.”
“Sitting?” he says.
“Yeah. And while we’re at it, let’s get rid of these.”
I grab his briefs, pull them to his ankles, then toss them on the chair with the rest of his clothes . . .
Follow Devon on Twitter @devondelacroix
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