Page 4 of Tobias

Fuck, where are my clothes?

I move to the other side of the bed, hoping for better luck, and catch a glimpse of more clothes behind the couch, toward the kitchen.

Last night, I was attacked when coming through the door after going to the store to get more alcohol. Charlie and the two girls bombarded me the second I walked inside. They were already naked, and apparently I had to be too. I’m not mad about it. Charlie always pays well, and he’s one of the only people I party this hard with. He knows I don’t fuck anyone, but he always tries to push it. Once he realizes I’m not going to break, he takes both girls for himself, which he's never mad about. Still, I’ve come pretty close a few times. Most times I end up naked and watching. Once I even jerked off while I watched.

I grab my clothes from the floor, shoving on day-old underwear which has me cringing.

“Leaving so soon?” Charlie calls fromthe bed.

I smirk as he leans over to suck one of the girl’s tits into his mouth, waking her up with a moan.

I chuckle. “Yeah, I gotta get to work.”

“Who the hell wants dates this early in the morning?” he says, his hand moving down her stomach and disappearing beneath the white sheet.

“Myotherjob, Charlie.”

“Oh, right.” He chuckles again, pulling the blanket off the girl who is smiling at him. It was a wild night. The empty alcohol bottles and coke baggies on the end table say so. I didn’t do any of that shit, but I did drink enough that some of my night is blank. Sometimes I think Charlie hires me to babysit him—make sure he doesn't go too hard. I'm totally fine with it.

“Hey, there’s a tip for you in the microwave.”

“The microwave?” I ask with a raised brow.

“Knew we wouldn’t be using it last night and didn’t want it to get lost or blown on...” His eyes go wide as he leaves me in anticipation. “Blow,” he finally adds, then laughs as he rolls over on top of the girl.

I shake my head and pull open the microwave door to find a letter envelope stuffed full. I pick it up and shove it into my back pocket.

“Thanks, Charlie.”

“No, thank you, Toby!” He hikes up the girl’s thigh and I get a glimpse of his dick disappearing inside her, the other girl just waking up.

I grab my jacket from the floor and shrug it on. My phone and wallet are in the inside zipper pocket, and thankfully my cell has enough battery to call a car. I leave the room without another word, knowing I'll hear from Charlie again in a few months.

“Morning, sir,” one of the cleaners says as I make my way to the elevator.

“Morning, Miss.”

Once in the elevator, I pull the envelope from my pocket to count. Charlie doesn’t call me for dates often, but he’s done it enough over the years that I know what to expect. I have to prepare myself for days. He likes to party hard, but it’s always worth it in the end. I have no idea why he pays for me instead of making actual friends. It wouldn’t be difficult for him because he’s rich and hot. I think he likes my discretion though, and the fact he knows I’m going to let him have all the girls in the end.

As an employee of Foxy’s Rent-A-Date, I get all kinds of people wanting dates, but there is a strict no-sex policy. However… that sometimes goes out the window. For me, not so much anymore, though it did happen often in my earlier years. I like sex, what can I say? Am I ashamed of having been a prostitute? Nah, not really. There’s no room in life for shame. I just like to do whatever feels right. So when being paid for sex stopped feeling right, I stopped doing it. Now, I'm as professional as they come.

The bills inside the envelope are all hundreds. There has to be at least five grand here. Yeah, definitely no room for shame when this is what I’m walking out with as an off-the-books tip. I tuck it into the inside zipper pocket with my wallet and pull out my phone to order a car as I get off the elevator. I need to go home, shower, eat, drink a ton of water, and head to my day job which pays next to nothing, but it's not about the pay check. I do it to keep myself humble.

The car shows up right on time, and thanks to the early hour, we don’t hit traffic. Seattle is a bitch for traffic. Once I get back to my house, a small two-bedroom just outside the city, I go right to the shower and wash up quickly.

I put some product in my hair, blow dry it, and get it styled just right while I air-dry my body. When I’m finished, I brush my teeth, moisturize my face, then get dressed in my blue scrubs. I call another car to take me to work, and ask them to stop at the bank on the way to deposit the money—$5,800. We get to the rehab center twenty minutes early, which gives me time to grab a coffee at the small café before heading up to punch in.

“Morning, Tobias. How were your days off?” Hannah asks once I reach the counter to order my coffee. She works most day shifts here at the Little Donuts Café, and because I'm a frequent visitor, I know her well enough that we chat.

“They were great. How was your weekend?”

“Not too bad. Mom got a new cat.”

“Another one?” I ask in surprise.

“Mhmm,” she says with an eye roll as she pumps the hazelnut syrup into the cup, then adds a swirl of caramel around the rim before adding ice.

“How many is that now?”

---