Summary: Noah is a male prostitute. Max is a high school teacher. So how do their paths cross? MxM.

I stood at the corner of Maple and Elm with a bright smile pasted on my face. It was early, but no doubt I would get the best customers. Usually I wasn't out yet, but a man's gotta work. The others were either with their johns or home—wherever that was.

My first customer of the night drove up in a black car. He rolled down the window and motioned for me to get into the car. We did business quickly and I left the car twenty-five dollars richer. Not that that actually mattered: all of the money I made would go to my father anyway.

The next guy drove a grey car. "How much?" he called to me. He looked nervous, I noticed. I hoped he wouldn't try to rob me. If he did, all he would get was twenty-five dollars.

"One hundred," I answered him.

He bit his lip in hesitation, and then he shook his head.

"Fifty for a blowjob," I said quickly, before he could drive away. I hated when they did that. Was one hundred dollars really too much to pay for a body, a soul? But I couldn't afford to lose a precious customer; I needed to beg.

He nodded slowly and opened the door.

I slid into the passenger seat gracefully.

"Can we do it right here?" he asked. Thank god for tinted windows.

"Sure, but I need the money up front."

He pulled a wallet out of his back pocket. He peeled off a fifty dollar bill and handed it to me. "I'm not really used to this," he said nervously.

"That's okay. Just close your eyes," I advised.

He did as I said, and I expertly undid his belt and unfastened his khaki pants. I lowered my head and started to suck him off.

It was not unusual for a straight man to come to me for sex. Sometimes, they were just experimenting. Other times, they wanted something more than what they got from their girls. Some men even have come to me just for a listening ear.

"I'm close," he gasped, gripping the seat. I sucked once, twice more before he shot his load into my mouth.

"Thank you," I said mechanically, turning to leave.

"Wait!" His hand shot out and grabbed mine. I looked down. He dropped my hand like a hot potato. "Is your offer still valid? One hundred dollars?"

I grinned. "Yeah."

"All right. My place, then? This car is too small."

I disagreed that this car was too small, but I preferred not to do it in his car anyway. "Okay. As long as you can bring me back."

His house was not far. As we drove, we filled the silence with small talk, but it wasn't awkward.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Glitter," I replied. I was named for the shine in my clothes and accessories.

He frowned. "I'd like to think that I'm fucking a person, not a sixteen year old girl's pet dog."

"…Or you can call me Noah."

"Noah. Nice to meet you. I'm Max." He smiled and held out his hand without looking away from the road.

I doubted that I would be seeing him again, but I smiled back and shook his hand anyway.

"You were fantastic," he said. "My wife doesn't give head that good."

"You have a wife?" I inquired politely.

"Um, yeah." He sounded ashamed.

"I'm not judging." I laid a hand on his thigh. It remained there for the rest of the ride.

He lived in an apartment building. Apartment 306, to be exact. Eyes darting around anxiously, he led me upstairs. Once inside, he flipped on the light, and I got to check him out. He was short, shorter than I, but powerfully built. His brown eyes matched his hair. I suppose you could call him fairly handsome.

"So, uh, how do we do this?" he asked.

"Any way you want to. For one hundred bucks, you can live out your sexual fantasy, as long as it doesn't get too kinky."

"Oh. Well, do you want to shower first?"


"Bathroom's right there," he said, pointing. "Towels are in the closet. I'll wait here."

"Are you sure you don't want to join me?" I asked.

He shook his head and said, "You can take your time."

Now I'm pretty good at figuring people out, but this guy was a mystery. Did he not want me? Was I really that ugly?

I shook off those thoughts and headed for the shower. I let the water rain down on me as hot as it would go. There were so many hair products, that even I didn't know what to use. To tell the truth, I'm not really your average effeminate gay guy. That was an act to attract men. I finally decided that I would rather smell like Axe than a flower, so I chose the grey bottle.

Once I finished with my shower, I toweled dry and left the bathroom—naked.

"Holy…" he whispered, appraising me with googly eyes.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes…" He walked over to me as if in a dream. His hands hovered over my skin.

I leaned closer. "You can touch me," I reminded him.

His hands were super soft. He led me to his bed. "I have condoms but no lube," he said, as if he were confessing the crime of the century.

"Don't worry about it," I said. I, too, carried condoms with me but not lube.

"I can go get some."


"I have lotion."

"No, don't worry about it."

"Well, okay," he said dubiously.

"So, how do you want to do this?"

"How is it easiest for you?"

This really was a mysterious guy. What kind of person cared if their whore felt pain? "Any way you want it. We can pretend I'm your wife—"


I guessed that he was having marriage problems. "Or we can just fuck."


So we fucked.

Later, he drove me back to the corner, and I went on with life, never to see him again… NOT!

Where the fuck is my money?" he growled as soon as I walked in the door.

"Right here, sir." I handed over every single dollar I had made that night. I had learned early on not to try to trick him. He knew if I was lying.

He counted the money and looked at me with an ugly sneer. "Did you really think that this would cut it? Get your ass back out there and make some more money."


"Now." He raised a hand and narrowed his eyes.

My shoulders sagged. "Yes, sir," I mumbled dejectedly.

My father knew what I was doing, and he didn't give half a shit. In fact, he thought I deserved to be punished for being gay.

Once I got back to my corner, I did my job. Once I had made an acceptable sum of money, I went home. I tried to sneak up to my room quietly. My room wasn't actually a real room. It was merely a closet in the upstairs hall. Most nights, he would lock me in my room, but if I was lucky, he wouldn't. I opened the door to my room, and there he was, standing with a cleaver in hand—

Just kidding. But he was waiting for me.

"Aah!" I screamed, jumping back.

"You're late."

"But you said—ah, never mind. I'm sorry, sir." I just gave him the money.

He counted the money and nodded in approval. "Go to sleep, now," he grunted.

The next morning was my first day of school. In most of my classes, we did the usual this-is-what-we're-going-to-do-this-year spiel. And then, English…

From the moment I walked into my last period, I was in shock. It was Max. no, it was my English teacher… who was Max.

In a trance-like state, I took a seat. I couldn't help but stare at him.

He noticed after a few moments. He gaped at me open-mouthed. He, also in a trance-like state, walked over to my desk. "Noah," he whispered. "Please… don 't…"

I nodded and said, "I won't."

"Thank you…" He turned away, likely to regain his composure, and then he faced the class with my trademark smile on. "Good afternoon, class."

We stared at him in silence. He was lucky that we even stopped talking.

His smile faltered a tiny bit. "Um, I thought we would play a get-to-know-each-other game."

"We're goddamn seniors," someone groaned.

"Yes, well, if you would rather not play, we can just go around the room and introduce ourselves. You can go first. Tell us a little something about yourself.

"Okay. My name is Chris, and I hate school."

"…So, who wants to go next?"

No one raised their hand. I could not, of course.

"Let's go up and down the rows, then." He nodded to the person behind Chris.

As each person spoke, I thought of what I might want to say. I'm Noah, and my dad's an alcoholic. I obviously couldn't say that. I'm Noah, and I'm a male prostitute. That wouldn't go over well either.

When it got to my turn, I simply said, "I'm Noah."

After everyone went, Max—er, Mr. Weber nervously told us what we would be doing this year. He didn't have many expectations of us. I guessed that he might be a new teacher.

The bell rang. He glanced over at me and mouthed, "Wait."

I nodded.

When everyone had left the room, Max closed the door and whirled around to face me. "How old are you, Noah?"

I flinched. "Nineteen." Was the room vibrating, or was I shaking?

He stormed over. "You're a liar."

"I really am!" I cried earnestly.

His gaze softened. "Please, don't be scared of me. You were so bold—"

"About that. Can we make a deal? I won't tell if you don't tell."

He hesitated. "I can get you help, Noah."

"And I can help myself, Max." I didn't mean to be rude; I was just used to being self-sufficient.

He nodded. "I don't want it to be like this."

"I know. But it will have to be."

A/N: Back into the swing of things! Suggestions? Too much dialogue? Too little description? Any weird looking things is due to my lack of knowledge of proper knowledge. -facedesk-