The brunet glared at his Crosby wall clock as the minutes dragged by. Finally, at 8:36, a light knocking sounded against metal. He strode over to the door, slid it open, and brusquely greeted the escort, "You're late."

"Uh," the young man stuttered, "the boss told me ninety minutes" - he looked at his wristwatch, a cheap Timex - "and that means I'm ten minutes early."

"Bullshit," Brian snapped; "it's been more than an hour and a half since I talked to the dispatcher at your agency."

Apparently remembering that he was supposed to please his customer, not argue with him, the escort shrugged. "Sure," he said, "you're right. I'm sorry to be late. Can I come in?"

Brian moved out of the doorway, nodding for him to enter. At least the kid had blond hair, he observed, although it was a dirty blond, not the bright gold he'd wanted.

"I'm Sasha," the boy introduced himself as he stepped over the doorsill. "Wow, this is a nice place," he continued as he took in his surroundings. "Hey is that a-"

"Shut it," Brian ordered. He didn't give a fuck about the kid's name, and he was irritated by his inane babbling. His voice was too high-pitched and had a strange, whistling atonality. It was nothing like that of the blond he wished were standing in front of him. The stud jerked his chin toward the bedroom. "Up there," he commanded.

The escort's expression turned mulish. "Not before I collect my fee," he asserted.

"Christ," Brian muttered as he snagged his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. The boy did have a right to be paid for services rendered, even if it was taking forever to get to the ‘rendering.'

The brunet counted out the money into the lad's open palm, looking him in the eye as he did so. Noticing his eyes were more grey than blue, and that there were fine lines around them, suggesting the ‘boy' must be at least twenty-five, Brian snorted. Best match , my ass, he thought; any halfway competent escort agency should've been able to meet his specifications more closely.

"Now lose the clothes," the stud ordered, "and get up there. No talking," he reiterated, when the blond opened his mouth again.

Shutting his gob, the escort complied, climbing the two steps to the bedroom area and stripping, letting his clothes drop to the floor.

Brian sauntered closer, inspecting the lad. His nostrils flared when he was only a few inches away. His scent was completely wrong, with some kind of odd floral tang, maybe from whatever inferior soap he'd used. The brunet shook his head in an effort to dispel the lavender-ish aroma, breathing through his mouth instead of his nose.

Evidently taking that as an invitation, the escort stood on his tiptoes, wrapped his arms around Brian's neck, and tried to kiss him.

"No kissing," Brian rebuffed him. "Just do what you're told and don't take the initiative."

The boy rolled his eyes slightly, but then stood stock still and waited for further instructions.

"Good," Brian said before running a hand down his torso, stopping to pinch a nipple. Dammit. He wished the lad had a nipple ring; that would make him a more acceptable, albeit fleeting, stand-in for the other blond.

Backing up a few steps, he ordered, "Turn around," accompanying the words with a circular motion of his forefinger.

The boy immediately obeyed.

As Brian went to shove him face first onto the bed, he noticed a tramp stamp just above the swell of the lad's bum. Jesus. Could it get any tackier than a rainbow? It wasn't as if there was any question that the boy was gay.

Blinking the image away, Brian moved closer so he wouldn't have to look at the ugly tattoo. He didn't have to see the kid's ass, which was way too flat, in order to fit together the pieces of the puzzle.

The brunet reached over to the bedside table and pumped some lube onto his fingers, before inserting one digit into the boy's hole. Brian's finger slid in so quickly, it startled him. Not only was his ass flat, it was also exceedingly loose. Even a shaft as large as Brian's was going to be flailing for purchase in that cavern.

Brian sighed. This was beginning to seem like a lot of bother, but he still wanted to get off. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pushed them down below his hips. He quickly grabbed a condom packet from the handy dish next to the lube, tore it open with his teeth, discarded the wrapper, and unrolled the condom onto his erection - all within a few seconds.

When the lad turned his head to look at him, Brian threaded his hand into the lad's hair and pushed his face into the duvet. The hair, he noted, was too coarse, nothing like the fine silk he'd been accustomed to.

Positioning his cock at the boy's entrance, Brian pressed forward. The fit was awkward since the escort was shorter than he'd realised, nearly causing Brian to miss his aim. The stud had a vague thought that he'd be laughing hysterically if he were watching this pitiful attempt at sex. He grunted, squatting down further so he could push in all the way. As he'd feared, the boy's flaccid arse barely gripped his cock. No point quitting now, however, since he was all suited up, even if this ass ranked as the loosest he'd ever encountered. Doing his best to imagine that it was Justin beneath him, Brian pulled back and surged forward, again and again.

The illusion that it was the other blond he was fucking didn't hold up for long. Finally, after what must've been at least ten minutes of vigorous, yet unsatisfying, activity, Brian came, unloading into the condom. He immediately pulled out, removed the condom, tied it off, and tossed it aside.

That really couldn't have been any more disappointing, he mused as he demanded, "Get dressed and get out."

The escort propped himself up on his elbows before staggering to his feet. "That was great," he slurred; "best I've had all year. Want to go another round?" he asked hopefully. "No charge."

Brian snorted. "Are you joking? You'd have to pay me to go another round," he snarked, before adding, "and trust me, you couldn't afford me."

The boy pouted as he slowly moved away from the bed and pulled on his clothes. "Are you sure?" he whined, batting his eyes flirtatiously. "I don't have any other customers tonight."

The brunet rolled his eyes. "Do you have a hearing problem?" he queried. "Do as I said and get out of here."

Brian tugged his jeans up over his hips, following along behind the crestfallen lad to making sure he didn't linger. Once he'd shut the door on the boy, he returned to the bedroom, intent on retrieving a reefer from his toy box so he could put the disappointing experience behind him.