Enzymes - Ch. 3: F*cked
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Kurt wakes with a start, the sun shining in through his high windows, Neenah nuzzled down next to him, hogging a fair portion of the bed, his skin ablaze.
He had been dreaming of Blaine.
He twists in on himself, willing his erection gone. He isn’t supposed to be thinking like this of a client. In fact, he knows way more about Blaine than any client he had ever...serviced.
Blaine was only his 6th client. Desiderate had - literally - fallen in his lap when he had gone out for a modeling job in the city - a last-ditch effort at finding a way to help with things back at home. He had tried out for the part in a group audition when Grant, another potential model, had tripped and landed ass over elbows on Kurt’s thighs. They had laughed about it and, later, Grant had come to see Kurt off, casually asking for his number. Kurt was elated when the handsome man had texted the next day to ask to meet for coffee. He scrutinized his clothing options for hours before racing to the cafe only to find a small smartly-dressed woman waiting for him instead of the blond 6-foot Adonis he had expected. The woman had identified herself as Grant’s friend ‘Clara’ and had offered him a job.
A job that Kurt, in his precarious position, had found he could not turn down.
He went home after meeting with her for an hour, eyes growing ever wider at what she was suggesting he could do; could be capable of. He unlocked his door, hands shaking, attempting to remain calm and stand by his absolute resolution that he wouldn’t...he couldn’t take this job.
And…and he had vomited when he realized that he had to take it. All the arguments in his head and the horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach were nothing compared to Carole’s monotone on the phone; his dad’s eyes still closed after all these months.
It took a lot of pep talks and concessions to himself. A lot of soul searching and wondering how he could ever look himself in the mirror again if he became one of Miss Clara’s “matches”. Grant, it seemed, was also a ‘match’ for Clara and had fulfilled one of his employer’s first-year requirements: refer one potential match.
Now, 7 months later Kurt still had his internal arguments. He still had that feeling in the pit of his stomach each time he went to Desiderate and his dad’s eyes were still stubbornly closed. But Carole’s voice had regained some strength and the hope had returned to her words so he knew in his heart that it was right…that his father could still be proud of him if he were awake.
If only someone would tell his soul.
***
Kurt finally makes his way into work at 3:27pm...cutting it very close to the “24 hours after the encounter” rule. He slides his key-card through the slot at the back entrance and quietly goes to the rows of mailboxes in the backroom. He reaches into one labeled “Vincent” and shuffles through the paperwork there. He’s just glancing at the top page (“Notes to consider for future encounters with Blaine Anderson”) when he’s quickly pulled into a hug from behind, a girlish giggle in his ear.
“Oooh, are you in trouuuuble!” Nikki mock-whispers into his ear, scratching lightly at his stomach through his coat and pulling herself free before swiftly spinning him around and looking in his eyes.
Kurt smiles at the bubbly blonde, a fixture here at Desiderate since its inception 15 years prior. She had started out as some sort of researcher and had ascended the ranks to become Miss Clara’s right-hand woman. Kurt had discovered her age - thirty seven - early on but swore she didn’t look a day over 24. He would kill for her skin care regime. She had kindly taken him under her wing and shown him everything he needed to know about being a match. He wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten so lucky but he appreciated all the help she had to offer.
“Wait, why am I in trouble”” he intoned, honestly wondering what he could’ve done. Had he forgotten notes last month? Did he forget to pay the bouncer at the club last night? No...he had done everything right. He had dotted all the i’s and...well...there was one thing but it was too early for anyone to even know and maybe-
“How was your client last night Vince, baby...or is it Kurt to all of your clients now?” she asked, eyes teasing.
Kurt lowered his head and lightly tapped his fist against it.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I shouldn’t have read so much...I should have just treated it like every other job...I shouldn’t have danced so long or looked into his eyes so much. I shouldn’t have let him tell me I’m beautiful. Dammit, I need to-
“Kurt, come ON. Don’t stress. It happens sometimes, although I did tell you to stop watching his tapes and reading his file. That man is a CATCH. I cannot believe he even came here. He is SO outside of our typical clientele. I’m sure someone passed him the card when he was drunk and he just had to see what it was all about and didn’t want to back out. But now...”
“But now what?” Kurt questions, eyes on his mail as they both begin walking down the hall and toward the main offices. She turns her head and glances at him, her eyes alight with mischief as she leads him down the hall and gently pushes him towards a door. He looks up to see where she’s pushed him and his eyes widen, his head turning to ask what the hell she thinks she’s doing but she’s already closing the door behind him, a smirk on her face, as Clara’s voice fills his ears.
“Hello there, Kurt. Tell me about your encounter last night.”
***
Kurt is sitting in the match relaxation room rereading the paperwork Clara had handed to him at the end of their brief meeting.
“…it’s up to you, Kurt.”
Kurt sat eyeing the careful handwriting, as familiar with it now as he was with his own. Desiderate had a very clear privacy policy for its clientele - except when it came to the match. As a match with a potential client he could ask anything and everything about his client. He could ask his shoe size or what the client’s childhood games were like. The researchers at Desiderate could find out for him. The company functioned on three things: impeccable matches, flawless privacy, and intricate research. The clients knew that they agreed to a great many things by signing on with their gold watches and shiny BMWs.
A blood tracker, inserted at the crook of the elbow and taken out within a week of a filled encounter. No one seemed bothered by this because, hey, bareback sex was always better, right?
A full background check to ensure to both the company and the client that everyone involved was safe.
Full payment before any encounter for “expenses relating to creating the maximum enjoyment of the client.”
What they didn’t usually do was read all of the fine print.
That a background check in Desiderate’s case was full disclosure and videos of anything and everything they could find about your life.
That the blood tracker also tracked your movements.
That the full payment was mostly for tracking and checking and padding wallets. One fourth of the $20,000 fee came to the match.
Desiderate could charge what they wanted, though, at this point because it had earned a reputation. One that was carved through careful planning and precise actions on Miss Clara’s part.
Kurt is both in awe and afraid of her.
He sighs and returns to the paper in his hand.
Please answer the following questions completely as we want to be sure to meet your every need.
1. Please describe, in as much detail as you can, the exact kind of sexual activity you are looking for. I want to be picked up at my home on a Friday night and be taken to an exclusive restaurant. I see us at a venue where we can both have dinner and dance and it would not be a problem. Classical style dancing. I want to take my time and have a romantic date that culminates in him and me returning to my home and having passionate - if more vanilla - sex where he is in charge.
2. Please describe, in as much detail as you can, the exact kind of sexual partner you would want in said activity. Kurt.
3. Choose one: Private
...
7. Why are you here? He. Was. Amazing.
Kurt’s eyes kept returning to number 2. His name, bold and bright, a request for him. It had happened before and, as he had insisted; his contract stated that he did NOT have to be a repeat match for anyone at any time. He had also stipulated that he would only perform one encounter per month. So he had never done it. Ever.
But here he is, contemplating breaking both of his own rules to fill a match that wasn’t even close to his type.
It is far too close to what he actually wants out of life. It is far too close to actually feeling worthy of someone like Blaine.
Instead of a high-end whore.
A man who fucked other men for money.
Quite frankly he couldn’t remember what it was like to have sex for fun or be the one that was being fulfilled.
Oh, Blaine had been fantastic; he had meant the things he had whispered frantically into the back of Blaine’s curls as he buried himself repeatedly into Blaine’s tight, wet heat. He had read enough and seen enough to know that this was not a typical “Blaine” adventure and Kurt had wanted to make it count.
Apparently he had been a bit overzealous.
“Blaine was here at 7am, Kurt, and instead of returning to have his tracker removed he requested another encounter. He seemed quite adamant about it. He had one stipulation, however, and it was that question number two is a deal breaker. Look this over carefully...it’s up to you, Kurt.”
Kurt hugged the paper to his chest and leaned back, searching the ceiling tiles for answers; the crown molding for inspiration.
$10,000 in less than two weeks. He could see Carole’s eyes and hear her smile as she realized she didn’t have to worry for a little while.
Those honey eyes, tuxes pressed sharp and bodies molded, graceful movements paired with piano melodies.
Kurt sighed and closed his eyes.
Fuck.
Chapter 2
Kurt wakes with a start, the sun shining in through his high windows, Neenah nuzzled down next to him, hogging a fair portion of the bed, his skin ablaze.
He had been dreaming of Blaine.
He twists in on himself, willing his erection gone. He isn’t supposed to be thinking like this of a client. In fact, he knows way more about Blaine than any client he had ever...serviced.
Blaine was only his 6th client. Desiderate had - literally - fallen in his lap when he had gone out for a modeling job in the city - a last-ditch effort at finding a way to help with things back at home. He had tried out for the part in a group audition when Grant, another potential model, had tripped and landed ass over elbows on Kurt’s thighs. They had laughed about it and, later, Grant had come to see Kurt off, casually asking for his number. Kurt was elated when the handsome man had texted the next day to ask to meet for coffee. He scrutinized his clothing options for hours before racing to the cafe only to find a small smartly-dressed woman waiting for him instead of the blond 6-foot Adonis he had expected. The woman had identified herself as Grant’s friend ‘Clara’ and had offered him a job.
A job that Kurt, in his precarious position, had found he could not turn down.
He went home after meeting with her for an hour, eyes growing ever wider at what she was suggesting he could do; could be capable of. He unlocked his door, hands shaking, attempting to remain calm and stand by his absolute resolution that he wouldn’t...he couldn’t take this job.
And…and he had vomited when he realized that he had to take it. All the arguments in his head and the horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach were nothing compared to Carole’s monotone on the phone; his dad’s eyes still closed after all these months.
It took a lot of pep talks and concessions to himself. A lot of soul searching and wondering how he could ever look himself in the mirror again if he became one of Miss Clara’s “matches”. Grant, it seemed, was also a ‘match’ for Clara and had fulfilled one of his employer’s first-year requirements: refer one potential match.
Now, 7 months later Kurt still had his internal arguments. He still had that feeling in the pit of his stomach each time he went to Desiderate and his dad’s eyes were still stubbornly closed. But Carole’s voice had regained some strength and the hope had returned to her words so he knew in his heart that it was right…that his father could still be proud of him if he were awake.
If only someone would tell his soul.
***
Kurt finally makes his way into work at 3:27pm...cutting it very close to the “24 hours after the encounter” rule. He slides his key-card through the slot at the back entrance and quietly goes to the rows of mailboxes in the backroom. He reaches into one labeled “Vincent” and shuffles through the paperwork there. He’s just glancing at the top page (“Notes to consider for future encounters with Blaine Anderson”) when he’s quickly pulled into a hug from behind, a girlish giggle in his ear.
“Oooh, are you in trouuuuble!” Nikki mock-whispers into his ear, scratching lightly at his stomach through his coat and pulling herself free before swiftly spinning him around and looking in his eyes.
Kurt smiles at the bubbly blonde, a fixture here at Desiderate since its inception 15 years prior. She had started out as some sort of researcher and had ascended the ranks to become Miss Clara’s right-hand woman. Kurt had discovered her age - thirty seven - early on but swore she didn’t look a day over 24. He would kill for her skin care regime. She had kindly taken him under her wing and shown him everything he needed to know about being a match. He wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten so lucky but he appreciated all the help she had to offer.
“Wait, why am I in trouble”” he intoned, honestly wondering what he could’ve done. Had he forgotten notes last month? Did he forget to pay the bouncer at the club last night? No...he had done everything right. He had dotted all the i’s and...well...there was one thing but it was too early for anyone to even know and maybe-
“How was your client last night Vince, baby...or is it Kurt to all of your clients now?” she asked, eyes teasing.
Kurt lowered his head and lightly tapped his fist against it.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I shouldn’t have read so much...I should have just treated it like every other job...I shouldn’t have danced so long or looked into his eyes so much. I shouldn’t have let him tell me I’m beautiful. Dammit, I need to-
“Kurt, come ON. Don’t stress. It happens sometimes, although I did tell you to stop watching his tapes and reading his file. That man is a CATCH. I cannot believe he even came here. He is SO outside of our typical clientele. I’m sure someone passed him the card when he was drunk and he just had to see what it was all about and didn’t want to back out. But now...”
“But now what?” Kurt questions, eyes on his mail as they both begin walking down the hall and toward the main offices. She turns her head and glances at him, her eyes alight with mischief as she leads him down the hall and gently pushes him towards a door. He looks up to see where she’s pushed him and his eyes widen, his head turning to ask what the hell she thinks she’s doing but she’s already closing the door behind him, a smirk on her face, as Clara’s voice fills his ears.
“Hello there, Kurt. Tell me about your encounter last night.”
***
Kurt is sitting in the match relaxation room rereading the paperwork Clara had handed to him at the end of their brief meeting.
“…it’s up to you, Kurt.”
Kurt sat eyeing the careful handwriting, as familiar with it now as he was with his own. Desiderate had a very clear privacy policy for its clientele - except when it came to the match. As a match with a potential client he could ask anything and everything about his client. He could ask his shoe size or what the client’s childhood games were like. The researchers at Desiderate could find out for him. The company functioned on three things: impeccable matches, flawless privacy, and intricate research. The clients knew that they agreed to a great many things by signing on with their gold watches and shiny BMWs.
A blood tracker, inserted at the crook of the elbow and taken out within a week of a filled encounter. No one seemed bothered by this because, hey, bareback sex was always better, right?
A full background check to ensure to both the company and the client that everyone involved was safe.
Full payment before any encounter for “expenses relating to creating the maximum enjoyment of the client.”
What they didn’t usually do was read all of the fine print.
That a background check in Desiderate’s case was full disclosure and videos of anything and everything they could find about your life.
That the blood tracker also tracked your movements.
That the full payment was mostly for tracking and checking and padding wallets. One fourth of the $20,000 fee came to the match.
Desiderate could charge what they wanted, though, at this point because it had earned a reputation. One that was carved through careful planning and precise actions on Miss Clara’s part.
Kurt is both in awe and afraid of her.
He sighs and returns to the paper in his hand.
Please answer the following questions completely as we want to be sure to meet your every need.
1. Please describe, in as much detail as you can, the exact kind of sexual activity you are looking for. I want to be picked up at my home on a Friday night and be taken to an exclusive restaurant. I see us at a venue where we can both have dinner and dance and it would not be a problem. Classical style dancing. I want to take my time and have a romantic date that culminates in him and me returning to my home and having passionate - if more vanilla - sex where he is in charge.
2. Please describe, in as much detail as you can, the exact kind of sexual partner you would want in said activity. Kurt.
3. Choose one: Private
...
7. Why are you here? He. Was. Amazing.
Kurt’s eyes kept returning to number 2. His name, bold and bright, a request for him. It had happened before and, as he had insisted; his contract stated that he did NOT have to be a repeat match for anyone at any time. He had also stipulated that he would only perform one encounter per month. So he had never done it. Ever.
But here he is, contemplating breaking both of his own rules to fill a match that wasn’t even close to his type.
It is far too close to what he actually wants out of life. It is far too close to actually feeling worthy of someone like Blaine.
Instead of a high-end whore.
A man who fucked other men for money.
Quite frankly he couldn’t remember what it was like to have sex for fun or be the one that was being fulfilled.
Oh, Blaine had been fantastic; he had meant the things he had whispered frantically into the back of Blaine’s curls as he buried himself repeatedly into Blaine’s tight, wet heat. He had read enough and seen enough to know that this was not a typical “Blaine” adventure and Kurt had wanted to make it count.
Apparently he had been a bit overzealous.
“Blaine was here at 7am, Kurt, and instead of returning to have his tracker removed he requested another encounter. He seemed quite adamant about it. He had one stipulation, however, and it was that question number two is a deal breaker. Look this over carefully...it’s up to you, Kurt.”
Kurt hugged the paper to his chest and leaned back, searching the ceiling tiles for answers; the crown molding for inspiration.
$10,000 in less than two weeks. He could see Carole’s eyes and hear her smile as she realized she didn’t have to worry for a little while.
Those honey eyes, tuxes pressed sharp and bodies molded, graceful movements paired with piano melodies.
Kurt sighed and closed his eyes.
Fuck.