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Echo the Escort: ‘The Dominican Top’ (Pt. 6)

*Contains Graphic Sex Scenes and Language*


10/10/2018

(11:50 PM)

It’s been a full week since Dave offered me an amazing opportunity but I didn’t have time to fully think it over. I had clients, after clients, after clients, after clients. So, my week was booked. Most of them were Erik’s clients.

They were apprehensive to try out a new escort, but Noah made sure everyone was referred to an escort that fulfilled their needs and desires. Most of the clients told me I was different from Erik, because days before his murder he was acting different whenever he met with them.

He wouldn’t perform normally and if he did he would just stay there, taking it.

I don’t remember Erik being that disheveled, maybe he was on drugs or thinking about someone else. Either way it made me curious as to what exactly was going on in his head at the time of his death but today is October 10, and I had to spend my evening in a place I didn’t want to be in—at T’s birthday bash.

If you wanted to look for hairless Twinks wearing short speedos and dancing sexually to songs by Donna Summers then T’s birthday party is certainly the place to be.

He lives in a large 40-floor apartment building where socialites, Youtubers and super models live.

On the last floor of the building is a penthouse where only the rich residents get to throw parties. How T was able to throw his party there was beyond me, but knowing T for as long as I have, I’m sure he used his gift of blowjobs to work out that deal.

I reached the golden colored door of the penthouse to hear loud music playing from the other side. The bass was causing the floor to vibrate underneath my feet and my thoughts went straight to the poor people who lived underneath this penthouse and how pissed off they must be to have their night ruined by the loud and obnoxious Miley Cyrus music blasting through the speakers.

I was seconds away from knocking on the door—which would’ve been a stupid idea considering the music was louder than a volcano erupting—when a naked man opened the door, ran out causing me to quickly jump back avoiding being tackled and I watched in confusion as he ran down the hall yelling out, “Fuck yeah! Albus rules!”

I didn’t know what the hell that was about and honestly, I didn’t want to know what that was about.

But he did have a nice penis so, God bless him for that.

I walked into the chaotic party to find half-naked Twinks, Cubs (men who are stocky and a bit hairy), Bears (men who are thicker in size and hairier), Otters (skinny hairy men) and even some occasional Drag Queens; grinding, dancing, making out with each other and one Cub was actually jerking off in the corner watching the scenes unfold.

My prayers go to housekeeping.

I searched throughout the crowd in hopes of spotting T, but instead I spotted a cute guy smiling at me. He looked a lot like a cuter and tolerable Chris Pratt.

He was a bit stocky, wore a black leather harness, black leather shorts and dancing by himself. But I wasn’t there to flirt with anyone, I was there to find T, give him his gift (a designer sweater which retails for $540 but I got it for $5 at the thrift shop) and then I can leave and enjoy the rest of my evening binge watching Halloween movies.

I turned away from the guy and spotted T nearby chatting with two Drag Queens.

T wore a pair of white briefs that didn’t really leave much to the imagination. He always said he never wanted to have a “fat ass” so he had a decent small one. But what he lacked in his ass he made up for with his tight abs, collagen filled lips and one hell of a sex drive, as he was always happy to brag about.

I chose to wear a pair of black jean shorts—even though it was cold as fuck outside, steel toed black boots, a white t-shirt with the words "Bottoms Rule!" on it and a long black cotton jacket.

I approached from behind and lightly tapped him on the shoulders, he let out a fake laugh as one of the Drag Queens told a stupid joke that involved lip synching and the mayor; and he turned to face me.

“Oh, hey bitch!” He gasped hugging me tightly. He and I were never that intimate with one another, so witnessing him giving me a hug made me worry he was using again.

It was no secret to Somin Agency that T had a problem with crystal meth. In an industry like ours you have to make sure you are aware of your limitations, crystal meth in the gay community is like candy during Halloween.

If you look in the right places you end up finding the drugs and with older men, they use the drugs as stimulation. I’ve had a few clients offer me some but I would usually pretend I was sick and run off. Drugs never interested me.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked him but he couldn’t hear me over the loud music.

He lowered his eyebrows and I repeated the question again to no avail. Letting out a sigh, he grabbed my right arm and dragged me through the dance floor, passing the Cub jerking off and T pushed open the kitchen door dragging me inside.

Once inside, he closed the door and as if it was done by magic, the loud obnoxious music was no longer heard. Just pure silence.

“Is this a sound proof kitchen?” I asked clearly impressed at that fact.

“Yes it is.”

I handed him the gift box, which was poorly wrapped. I apologized for it looking as if it was hit by a car, stepped on and wrapped up in red and black wrapping paper.

“It’s okay, I’m just happy you came. I’ve always invited you to these parties but you never show.”

“Yeah it’s no disrespect to you, I’m just not a fan of parties or any social gatherings of 40 or more people.”

“Oh honey, the best kind of parties are the kinds that have more than ten people in it.”

He gave me a wink as he nudged my side.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked out of concern.

“Ugh! Of course I am.” He responded as he rolled his eyes. “Just because I’m having fun on my birthday doesn’t mean I’m high.”

“And I’m glad to hear that. You’ve been clean for five years now, the last thing we need is a relapse especially on your special day.”

“You are such a mom!” He playfully slapped my right arm.

T was probably somewhere in his early 30s, but he had so much plastic surgery done to his face that he looked to be a bit younger than I was. He was always full of energy, obnoxious and loud. And when he was high he was even worst!

I remember the night when he called me in 2013. It was a cliché cold winter night, and he was crying that he didn’t want to live anymore. I ran over to his place to find him sitting on the edge of the roof. It took me 10 minutes to talk him off the ledge—literally.

The next day he admitted himself into rehab—a notion that Noah hated because it meant he would be losing business—but for me, T staying alive and being the healthier version of himself was more important than Somin’s business.

I smiled accepting his compliment of calling me a mom. “I wouldn’t have to be a mom if you’d stop acting like a child.”

“Blah, blah, blah!” He teased placing his gift box on the counter. “So did you mingle? Did you spot any cute guys you’d want to dance with?”

“Ew.” I replied looking at him as if he’s lost his mind. “This isn’t Prom night.”

“Noo, but you’d probably find your Mr. Right.”

“My Mr. Right? Now I know you’re high.”

The chances of me finding a Mr. Right in a party like this, is as high as the chances of Madonna and Lady Gaga doing a duet.

“You say that now, but every guy here is a confirmed bachelor and highly respectable in the gay community.”

“Highly respectable? Just outside the door you have a man-baby dressed like cupid jerking off and not to mention I was almost bum rushed by a naked guy running down the hall screaming about Albus.”

“Oh yeah that’s Mervin. That Homo came here to freeload so I took his clothes and made him run outside naked for 20 minutes.”

“It’s freezing outside.”

T shrugged his shoulders. “That sounds like a him problem.”

I smiled and realized T was sober as hell. Only sober T wouldn’t care about anyone else’s feelings or wellbeing.

“Okay. So you are going to go back out there and mingle.”

“No I’m not.” I snapped back laughing nervously.

“Are you kidding me, Echo? You are a fine piece of ass. Emphasis on the ass part, I mean seriously your ass is big and that is a good thing.”

I rolled my eyes and let him go on giving me empty compliments. “I know you love being an escort as do I, but us Bottoms need a big strong Top to call at the end of the day so he can swing by and fuck us.”

“If that is your definition of true love, then you’re as fucked up as me.” I laughed not entirely sure if he meant every word he said.

T grabbed my waist and stared into my eyes in a nonromantic, yet creepy kind of way. “You put everyone else before you but never focus on yourself.”

“That isn’t true!” I retorted.

“Oh yeah? Then when was the last time you were fucked, not by a client but by a hookup?”

“You mean on Grindr?” The hint of disgust coming out of my mouth was as clear as OJ Simpson being guilty. It wasn’t because I hated the app I just never enjoyed being on it.

If I wanted to chat with brainless, coked out men, I’d just go cruising at the local park.

A part of me does yearn to be in a relationship, to fall in love and take stupid Instagram pictures but I’ve faced the truth a while ago. And that truth is, no man wants to date an escort!

I don’t blame them. Many guys don’t want to share their boyfriends emotionally, mentally, physically or sexually and I don’t ever plan on quitting my job either.

It’s hypocritical of me because I want to be with a man who knows what the word "monogamy" means. I don’t want to date a cheater yet here I am, cheating on him legally and being paid for it.

I guess that’s another reason I’m single, it’s too much drama for no reason.

“You’re right, but at the same time I’m happy to be single. I come home and if I need to get some sexual relief I have a dildo and some lube.”

“A dildo will never substitute a real cock. Trust me. We all need to get fucked by someone. And that someone needs to be a man that didn’t hire us to suck his cock.”

I was going to tell him he was nasty, but I was rudely interrupted when the kitchen door swung open and in walked the Chris Pratt doppelganger.

He looked at T, “The baker is here with your cake.”

“Then tell him to bring it in.” T stated flipping back his dark blonde hair.

“Well that’s the issue.” He said glancing at me for a quick second causing me to blush. Why the hell was I blushing? “He doesn’t want to bring it inside unless you take it from him. He’s one of those Christians.”

“Ugh! Of course he is!” T turned to me and shook his head. “Excuse me for a second.”

He exited the kitchen leaving the handsome man and me alone.

The loud music was once again drowned out as the door closed and the man smiled at me. “Are you a friend of T’s?” he asked causing my heart to race a bit.

“Yeah, umm, kinda. We’re work friends.”

“Oh so you’re an escort too?” He asked.

“Ah, I guess you know about T and his work?”

He nodded smiling. “Yeah I do. I also know that you whores will do anything if money is thrown in your face.”

Was this asshole serious? For a few seconds he was the cutest guy I have ever met but once he opened his mouth he became the most ugliest thing in the goddamn house.

I smiled to myself shaking my head, “Ah you’re one of those.” I simply replied discovering who he was in a matter of seconds.

He was taken aback by my words as if I was speaking a language he didn’t understand. “One of what?”

“You’re one of those guys who thinks he can talk down to others because of their careers.”

Sure, this man looked cuter than Chris Pratt, but he reeked of desperation, looked as if he had just wrestled a shark because he was sweaty, greasy and from the looks of the leather shorts he had on, I understood what he was compensating for with his nasty personality.

“I ain’t got a problem with what you do or how you do it. I’m just curious—”

I smiled watching as he took out crumbled up bills from the inside of his leather briefs. He unrolled the bills showing me a $20, $10 and $5 bill. Who the hell keeps that exact amount in their briefs was a question I wasn’t in the mood to ask him.

He slammed the bills on the kitchen counter and licked his chapped lips. “What will $35 get me? A hand job? A blowjob with an edge? I have some poppers in my car downstairs; we can see where that leads.”

I felt as if someone spilled a nasty, dirty and smelly drink on me and I couldn’t wash it off. I have never felt so disrespected or offended before by some greasy guy that looks as if he was high as hell.

But money did talk in my world. Oh, how money did talk.

I looked at the wrinkled bills and smiled at him. “This amount of money will get you what not many guys can say I have given them.” I said as I slowly approached him softly biting my bottom lip.

“Mmmm, yeah? And what’s that?” He asked curiously.

“This!” Without a second to think I punched him in the stomach causing him to let out a deep groan and fall to the ground. I bent down and whispered in his right ear making sure he could hear me. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but now you know who I am. I’m the "whore" that will not allow a man who looks like he doesn’t know what a bath is, treat me like I’m some newbie in this industry. I’m Echo, it’s time you’ve learned my fucking name, because I’m the gay escort you do not ever want to fuck with.”

“I—I’ll kill you.” He spat trying to regain a regular breathing pattern but considering the impact to his stomach, that was going to take a lot longer to get for a few minutes.

“Yeah, you probably can try.” I said nodding my head. “But one thing about me, I may not look like it, but I know more than 200 ways to kill someone and get away with it. So I’d advise you, once you regain your breath, to get up and leave the party. Because if I hear you tried to pull this shit with someone else, you’re going to be searching all through Morris Plaza for pieces of your dick after I cut it off.”

I got up and grabbed the $35 from the counter. “And I’m keeping the money, fuck face!”

I placed the money in my pocket and walked over to the door, thankfully I stopped walking as it swung open and T reemerged holding a large pink box. “Fucking baker didn’t want to come in but now he’s getting a blowjob from some Twink. Typical Christian man.” T laughed as he placed the box on the counter and he looked at the sorry excuse of a man on the ground. “Oh my God what happened?” He asked in shock.

“He fell.” I replied leaving the kitchen and reentering the party.

Thankfully, the music was lowered to a suitable volume where no one had to yell over it just to have a decent conversation. I didn’t want to be here any longer. I felt disgusted even showing up but T was a good friend of mine and I did enjoy punching that dumbass in the stomach.

My eyes were set on the apartment door as it was my only way out of this hellhole. I just needed to pass the jerking cub, the three kissing Twinks and two guys giving each other hand jobs-I just hope they weren’t brothers because they looked exactly alike and it was already creepy to watch.

“Leaving so soon?” I heard a familiar voice ask. The voice sent chills down my spine because I’ve heard it before, many, many times before.

I turned around hoping it wasn’t him and when I saw who was standing in front of me, I wanted to cry, scream, hide and run all at the same time. Although, that made absolutely no sense.

Standing before me was Matteo Romero! The Dominican porn star that fucked me like a God—well at least in my head he did, every time I jerked off to his videos.

“Hey! Yeah I’m calling it a night.” I replied trying my best to sound composed and poised even though every part of me wanted to scream.

He smiled his signature-crooked smile. It wasn’t at all because he had crooked lips, but I guess it was his way of smiling to maintain that flirty trait he normally has.

“Funny, I was about to leave too.”

“Really? I’d thought you’d be into this party. It’s full of Twinks all eager to blow the first guy they see. According to your latest film, you wouldn’t go anywhere unless there were easy Twink bottoms around.” I was just teasing him but his latest work made no sense.

In the adult film, he played a Zorro-type character who uses his “sword” to get bad guys to confess and after he fucks them he cums on their faces making the letters "DT" for "The Dominican Top."

It was obvious the cum wasn’t real since no man can write two letters with their cum and if he can, I’d like to meet him!

The storyline was lacking but I expected nothing less from a pornographic film.

He smirked licking his soft Dominican lips. “Nah, that was my character’s preference.”

“Oh?” I smirked. “And what is Matteo’s preference?”

He tilted his head to the side and smirked, “How about you ask me that again after we go out for pancakes?”

SCREEEEEACH!

That was my heartbeat coming to a screeching halt at the words that came out of his mouth. Was he serious? Was he honestly asking me out for pancakes?

For the first time in my 28 years of living, I was speechless! And everyone who thinks they know me, knows I’m never speechless.

“I—I um…”

Matteo nodded his head laughing. “I know, I caught you off guard but life is too short to live in a daydream.”

I could feel my face cheeks burning up, this 6’1", mocha skinned, Dominican man with a black buzz haircut and a short-boxed beard (a short beard with thin trimmed sides) was working his charm on me.

He was wearing dark blue jeans with ripped knees and although I’ve always hated that style of jeans, I was trying my best not to look at his bulge which would’ve been noticeable since his dick was thick and long when hard.

Was this all an angle of his? To flirt with me, dine me and then fuck me? Was he going to be another dumb ass like that guy was in the kitchen?

I don’t know and I hate not knowing! But maybe T was right.

I need to put myself out there.

I don’t know how the rest of the night will unfold. However, I do know that I’m going to go about this with an open mind so I can know where Matteo Romero falls in the men ratio.

If he only wants sex then he’ll fall into a one and if he wants more—oh who the fuck am I kidding? He’s a freaking ten and I’m a three! He doesn’t want more!

“Okay, I’ll take you up on that offer.” I said with a smile on my face.

“Great! Let’s get out of here before T notices we’re gone.”

Matteo opened the door, I walked out and waited for him as he walked through the threshold and closed the door behind him.

We walked toward the elevators, Matteo pressed the button and by the grace of God the elevators door opened, so we didn’t have to wait for it to ascend.

Before we could step inside, we came to a pause noticing the naked guy from before, passed out on the floor of the elevator.

“Seems like someone partied way too hard.” Matteo said stepping over the passed out man.

I chuckled following him inside and pressed the "L" button.

“Should we leave him here?” Matteo asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m sure this isn’t a surprise to anyone who lives here.” I stated as the elevator doors closed and it started to descend.

I was scared! For the first time in a long time I was scared to go out with a man.

Not just any man but Matteo Romero a.k.a La Cima Dominicana.

Maybe it’s time I focus on me.

Matteo was the man of my dreams—in my head—so whatever he wanted tonight, I’ll gladly abide by.

Not because I’m submissive, but because I’m horny as hell.

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Edwin Betancourt
Edwin Betancourt

Edwin is a published writer, author & poet from the Bronx NY. He has been writing since the age of 14 and hasn't stopped since. His dream is to write television shows or movies telling stories that people in all walks of life can enjoy.


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