My New Job


 I got a new, really great job. I am working for a doctor. It pays insanely well, I meet interesting people, and I get to travel all over the world.  Like next week, I am going to Venice. No, not Venice, California. Venice, Venice. You know, the place with the guys with the striped shirts pushing boats around with a stick.

 This is what my job description is while in Venice: Sunbathing in a small tight bathing suit, looking handsome while standing next to a doctor, and laughing at his jokes. That pretty much is it!

You might be asking, what kind of job is this? Due to some legal issues, I am called his "assistant" or "boyfriend". I know you are saying, "Boyfriend, Dwyer? That sounds like homosexuality. You’re not gay." Yes, it is homosexuality, and, you are right, I am not gay.

When I am not working I can sleep with as many women as I want. Surprisingly, now that I am "gay" forty plus hours a week, I meet a lot more woman. I can't tell you how many women want to "turn me around". I totally play it up, too. I fumble around their breasts like a caveman looking at a TV.  After I have sex with these women, I thank them for "showing me the light" and then I beg them to please have sex with me, again. It takes everything I have to not crack up laughing.

I know you are wondering a few things: One, how do I justify doing this for a living? A job is a job, man. I provide a valuable service to Dr. Jim, or as I call him, Baby Daddy. For starters, before he hired me he was a very lonely man. Once you see him you'll understand. He's pretty ugly and hairy, like Gorilla hairy. I am constantly plucking hairs from my mouth. So, daily I make this man smile and feel loved. Everybody in this world deserves to feel love, right?

I'm sure the other thing you are wondering is, do I have sex with him? Yes, I do, and a lot, but every job has its downside. I think of it like taking out the garbage. You hate to do it, but you have to.

I know a lot of straight men wouldn't be able to handle this sort of job, but I think it is a matter of perspective. I don't think of it as sex. I think of it like this:  a few times a week for ten to fifteen minutes I have to have something placed up my butt.  I mean, when I get an exam from a doctor he puts things up my butt. Baby Daddy happens to be a doctor. He is putting something in my butt. So I have something up my butt? Big deal. I am not thinking, “Wow, I sure like this gay sex.” I am thinking, “I can't wait to buy that new laptop with my next big fat paycheck.”

 What is worse, me making some fat, ugly, lonely, hairy doctor happy or some corporate shill stealing old peoples’ retirement funds? I am a human being providing another human being with warmth, love, and affection.  So what if it is empty on my part? He doesn't know.

 The great thing is, I think I am getting a promotion. Last week he started discussing the possibility of us becoming life partners.  You know what, if it pays well enough, I will do it.