taxing times
25 april

My anxiety over the drug dealers, and the dealers themselves, has subsided. I’ve only had to call the police once since returning from Palm Springs, where I was moving in the boss from my ‘illegitimate job’ into his new home. As difficult as that week was, it was in that house that I had my first full night’s sleep.

It was on the second or third day, after stopping at a convenience store to get directions and perhaps a pair of sunglasses that I recognized the similarities between this stretched out week moving in the boss, and a vacation with a client. Here I was on my own, on one of many errands, but without my own money, so I couldn’t buy a bottle of water let alone a pair of tacky sunglasses.

Sure, it was a free moment, but at the end of a very long leash- and I wasn’t getting paid nearly what I would get with a client in Puerta Vallarta. I was not in my element, I’d never leave the house without cash, but when you’re commanded to fetch and it’s an opportunity for reprieve, well, I just didn’t think, so there I was thirsty and squinting, but, I reminded myself, I was employed.

Meanwhile, my taxes were not figuring themselves out, my plan to finish early for the first time in my tax-paying life was way off the tracks. The weekend I was planning on sorting my books was spent unpacking boxes and making repeated sorties to Home Depot. One night, in a bizarre plot turn, the boss got me a massage, directly after same masseur finished him.

It was after midnight, and I felt bad for the guy, not only had he done my boss, but earlier in the evening one of the other working guests and before that a tennis player. I started to decline but he convinced me that I should get him while he’s there, and hell, I wanted him to make more money. As someone who does my own sort of bodywork and knows how tiring massage can become, I felt it my duty to make sure he got some pleasure back. We kept up the exchange near into dawn, and made a date to meet up for dinner. He also offered to give me a ride to LA.

I tried not to think of the money I was losing by not being home, I told myself I’d make up the time doing my taxes, and vowed to figure out a way to get to my sister-in-law’s baby shower in Riverside on Sunday, oh yeah, and find a present. But I worked everything out, without the help of the masseur, who never showed for dinner or the ride. Friends and tricks come and go, but you can depend on Target and Greyhound.

And my boss’s impulsive tendencies. Sunday morning at the last minute I was sent out to get air in his bike tires, giving me the opportunity to grab a baby gift with enough time to return and get a lift to the bus station. The tires never got filled, those fancy Italian valves won’t take common gas station air.

I was glad to leave the Palm Springs compound. I was beginning to resent every minute beyond the Friday I agreed to, and when you’re at Sunday, that’s a heavy sack of resentment to hide until you can dispose of it properly. The blurring of regular ‘legitimate job’ duties with such intimate tasks as unpacking your superior’s personal belongings was a test on its own; adding the boss’s parents into the mix turned the test into a midterm.

But I passed, and I chucked the leash and the sack of dark thoughts in the trash can at the bus station. I was a hit at the shower, and my cousins offered to drive me to the parking lot at work, where my truck sat waiting. I was so glad I didn’t have my cousins taking me to my doorstep, my place wasn’t even client-ready.

Fast-forward to Monday, April 17th, ten minutes before midnight, after an especially torturous wrestling with the tax forms, culminating with me swearing to high hell trying to find the checks I had just written out. I still can’t believe how much I owe every year. Uncle Sam as Pimp Sammy. And the little hand written sign on the mailbox, ink running in the light rain, saying 'we’re closed, you may go to Alameda and Union’ or whatever it said helped complete the scene.

But so what, next project: a porno in a couple days. “will I be able to keep it up?” was my mantra, remembering that my performance in the last video for this company was not my best work, one critic called my fucking ‘tepid’. It’s tough enough maintaining an erection all day as it is, rubbing your head against butt stubble for an extended amount of time doesn’t help. I was determined to do better than tepid.

At the same time, I was starting a new sideline, cleaning up people’s gardens, and escort calls were picking up. This was turning into a busy week. And then I had one of those evenings:

A guy I had seen before wanted me to come to his hotel. He was so sweet, and I don’t think we had sex for more than six minutes, he came almost before I got my whole dick inside him. Amazing. And he was so grateful, not disappointed that we were done so quickly. And guess what, on top of the fee, he gave me two pair of designer sunglasses. One of them had my name on them, and I put them on in the elevator.

Maybe it was the glasses, maybe it was some glow I had after making money, maybe it was karma for being stood up, but people started looking at me- with interest! I was early for a dinner date with my friend Sid, so I ducked into a couple places on Santa Monica Boulevard. The guy at the bookstore was all in my jacuzzi, and a few minutes later, so was the guy at the sports drink place. I just rode with it, and hoped I might run into one of the cute guys on my short list.

I didn’t, but so what, I was enjoying the evening. At dinner, I gave Sid the other pair of glasses, and complimented him, he cleans up good, and his head shots he brought along for me to see were really great. Me, I turned no more heads, the spell had worn off, but it was a warm Spring night in LA, I had much to be thankful for.

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