san francisco treats
16 march

After a lively LA-to-SF drive up I-5 with Teenseses, I made my way to the Henry House, waiting for my friend Jeff to pick me up. At the Henry House the two children were bigger and now both could run around and both were happy to have me to play with again.

I did have an ad out in the local rag, so I couldn't understand why I had no pages. When Jeff arrived he said he had paged me a few times, yet I hadn't received a single page. Then I figured it out: I had asked the company to set my pager for the Northeast region coverage for my stint in New York, and I had forgotten to ask them to change it over to the Western region. I took a deep breath and dialed the pager company.

In the 'gotta get it now' world of escorting, the first couple days of a new print ad produce the most activity and hence are the most important. That is when you book the most sessions as well as field calls from the curious looking to plan ahead. Ignore calls during this crucial period and the client base will assume you're either a flaky dilletente who can't be depended on to keep an appointment or so wasted on party favors that they better call someone else.

I had plenty of time to ponder such thoughts and calculate how much money I already lost by not having a working pager while waiting a half hour for the one customer service rep at Whatever They're Calling Themselves Now Paging-sorry, Communications Company. The person at the other end of the line gave me another number to call, which, surprise, turned out to use the same annoying 'we appreciate your paitence...' baldface lie to break up elevator music set to a peppy beat.

Getting a similar sounding but differently named person, I now found out I would have to wait until Monday until someone could rectify my problem. More deep breaths. Coming through once again, Jeff let me borrow his cell phone for the weekend. It had an East Bay prefix, which would put off many potential clients, but it was better than nothing.

So much for work, that night I attended a going away party for a friend who was moving to... London. It was Old Home Week, San Francisco's most interesting people came out for the bash, and I even saw my stalker, which was a major downer, but the evening passed without incident. Instead, I focused on seeing so many old friends I hadn't seen in years, it was the perfect night for a warm fuzzy love-in. Many people came up and said 'I saw your ad!' I spent the night with an old fuck buddy.

Sunday morning I called Jeff to let him know I was OK and he wanted to go to breakfast so we agreed he'd pick me up outside the End Up, which was still going strong at mid-morning. While I waited for Jeff, one of my clients walked up to say hi and then told me he was about to go to jail. The night he was locked out by his psycho roommate, he slept in his car, which is illegal in San Francisco, so when the cops decided to search the car and found drugs, he was arrested. He was headed back to jail later in the week. Then, after finishing his story, he asked if I wanted to get off somewhere for a blow job. Ah, the power of libido.

After breakfast at Seal Rock, where Jeff and our friend Joe explained the use of the term 'meanwhile' to refer to a hot guy, we took a walk along Land's End and I got to practice the use of the new code word. Jeff and I later headed to the Castro to check out the guys. I ran into Tony, a guy I had the hots for and used to fool around with, and we exchanged numbers. I remembered I had a client who wanted an American jock strap and I dragged Jeff to Worn Out West where we dug through the used jock basket. There is no discreet way to do this, you have to just sit on the floor, where the basket is kept, and dig like children with a box of Legos.

I got a call on Jeff's phone and left for Nob Hill for a session. Riding the bus on the way back from the happy client, I watched as Rodney O'Neill climbed on. I wanted to tell him I had one of his pieces on my wall in LA, but he didn't exactly look approachable.

Who did look approachable was this remarkable looking man I saw on MUNI. He had the kindest eyes and a friendly smile and we instantly connected. I guess we both wanted the same thing, and in a few minutes and a train ride later we were in the home he was house sitting. I must have been exhausted because after we finished our bout of sex I went right to sleep.

I would have happily spent the night but that would have to wait, I told him, because I promised two friends (Jeff and Joe) I'd meet them for a viewing of 'Queer as Folk' at a local bar. I asked him if I could give him a call after the show and he said sure.

Now I had never seen the show, either version, and I did not like the bar where it showed, but a commitment to a friend is a commitment to keep, so I strode down to the bar where of all things, a line greeted me. About a quarter of the way into the show I finally was permitted entrance and faced a solid mass of men.

Now normally I greet a solid mass of man- er, men- with unbridled enthusiasm, but I had to find Jeff first. Even though he's like six three I couldn't find him, so I did what anyone would have: made my way to the men's room.

To leave a message on Jeff's phone, to prove I was there. Behind me this interesting looking but slightly loony and/or drunk man was trying to pair men up in Ladies room. I scoped the room again, and this time was successful in spotting Jeff, standing at the other end of the room. I waded, groped, and waved off my way to Jeff and he tried to catch me up on what was going on while the rest of the show ran. All I really remember was that this underage kid got a man to sleep with him so he could blackmail the guy into dropping the sex harrassment suit against the underaged guy's pal. And that Sharon Gless, although looking like the Michelin Man Hippy, hadn't aged a day since her Gag Me and Lace Me days.

My take on QAF: it's better viewed in a room packed with horny men. After the show, the bar showed something else, I don't really remember, but I do remember this really cute guy getting all in my jacuzzi. I was tempted, especially when he and his lover offered to work me over and take me to heaven, but a commitment to a new trick is a commitment to keep. I took their number.

I spent the night with Mr. Kind Eyes and spent the next day recuperating. I was feeling run down and just wanted to rest. That night I called Tony, and we made a date for Tuesday night. I never lost my attraction to him, but my run down feeling turned into a non-stop runny nose, so I grabbed some over the counter crap and spent Tuesday trying to will myself better.

Didn't happen. I warned Tony, but he was just an anxious to see me as well, so we met up near Jeff's and walked hand in hand through the Upper Fillmore in search of a dining experience. Then we both agreed to just get pizza so we could get back to his place and get naked.

Looking at him I wondered what happened and then it hit me, we must have met sometime after Tim, when I couldn't concentrate on anything. Looking at him I could imagine making a habit of walking hand in hand anywhere he wanted to go. Right after I drained my running nose.

Spending the night with Tony was sweet, we took a cable car to his day job where he runs a fitness center at one of the city's fanciest hotels. That was the last I saw of him. Spent the next few days indoors to recuperate.

This meant going to bed early and turning down calls, not exactly how I planned this trip, I usually make good money in San Francisco, but again, in life you just never know. I had only one other call, it turned out to be one of the worst ever.

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