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#and i had to do a $400 course that my work said they'd pay me back for
joyridingmp3 · 3 years
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having had no money for about 6 months now and getting paid monthly is the worst. i swear once i get my first proper pay check I'm going to the grocery store and buying EVERYTHING my hand touches
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It was a job and it paid well, very well. The work was easy enough, but the real money was in the tips. That's why I jumped at the chance to sign up for a second summer of sun and fun off the California coast. Far as I know, there were no gay cruises at the time, so I guess that made Tim's little operation ahead of its time with his mostly male clientele. The Wet Dream was a nice boat with three staterooms, a big salon, full kitchen, two baths and a big ass Jacuzzi. I certainly could have lived comfortably on it, which is pretty much what Drake and I did that first summer.
Our longest "excursions" were 24 hours up and down the coast, and many were just day or night trips. Basically, I was a waiter in a swim suit whose only job was to keep Tim's "A" list guests happy. Did a lot of them hit on me? Of course; I wouldn't have been doing my job if they hadn't. If we had a full passenger list of thirty, I could easily make five-hundred bucks in a day. And I'd never spent a single night in one of those staterooms with anyone. That's why when Tim called me to say Drake wasn't coming back, I thought he had to be the dumbest fucker on the planet. Drake was good looking enough, but obviously not real bright.
"Hey, Tim. I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds here, but I wish you'd give me a couple of days to see if I can find his replacement. Obviously I know the ropes, you're hardly ever there, and it would be great to work with somebody I know and trust who won't get all pissy like Drake."
"You were reading my mind, Robbie. Look around and get back with me in couple of days. I don't want to do a repeat of Drake either."
After I hung up, I had an epiphany of sorts. I couldn't remember a time when Brett had ever owed me less than a hundred bucks. His car was a beater and always needing something. He worked at that stupid beach bar when he wasn't playing volleyball and obviously wasn't making jack shit. Plus he had a killer bod and wasn't a complete asshole.
I called. "Hey, dude, what's up? I need to talk to you. Come meet me for a beer."
"Can't, Robbie. Waiting on the old man to get off work and take me to get an alternator."
"Call him back and tell him to blow it off. I'll take you. And fuck that fucking piece of shit car square up the fucking tailpipe. I'll see you in half an hour."
After a run to the parts store, we went for a beer or six. I told him about the job and the pay, the hours, etc; "The only down side for you in this deal, Brett, is you won't be getting much beach time this summer. It's a full-time gig, but on the bright side, if you work that fine ass of yours off, you'll be driving a new car this fall. So do yourself a favor for once, call Jackie and give her two weeks' notice. Good as she's been to you, she at least deserves that.
We start June 1st, and now that you owe me two fifty, I'm taking it out of your first check, asshole."
I called Tim back the next day. "You owe me big-time for this one, boss man. I managed to snag you a Laguna volleyball God. He has wait staff experience, the body of death and he isn't Drake. I'll bring him by the office in a couple of days. He's giving two weeks' notice at his job tomorrow, and he can start with me on the first."
I thought Tim was actually going to cry when I came walking in with Brett. And Tim is straight. After they'd talked and Brett did his paperwork, the boss said, "Let's do a trial run on the 29th. I've got some friends coming in town anyway, so we'll take a full crew and go out for the day."
Brett was a natural. Tim's friends loved him almost as much as Tim, and it looked like smooth sailing ahead. Two days later we went live with a guest list of maybe twenty five. One of the last to board was an actor and his "friend." They'd been with us several times, alone and together. But we had a strict policy of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell, and sure as hell, Don't Talk" about anything that happens aboard The Wet Dream.
"Isn't that...?" Brett asked.
"Yes, but like everyone else, he isn't here, and you did not see him."
"Didn't he just come out in that movie...?"
"Yes. Now put your tongue back in your mouth and go ask them what they'd like to drink. No autographs, either."
Then late Thursday night we were driving home. Brett said, "You know the guy who's some kind of a producer, the one with little round glasses and the ponytail? He tried to grab my ass this afternoon. I scooted out of the way and gave him the evil eye. I don't think he was even drunk."
"You're an idiot, Brett. Do you know who that guy is? Lighten up, dude. That little stunt probably cost you a fifty dollar tip. Looking like you look, do you really think Tim hired you for your bartending skills?"
"So, do you let them touch you?"
"Damned straight. Fuck, it's not like it's a big deal. How many times have I grabbed your ass? I know I've seen you grab a fistful of nuts at least a hundred times. If you wanna' make serious bank, you're gonna' have to play ball. And yes, the pun was intended."
He did seem a little more relaxed the next few days. We'd been on a 24 hour excursion until Sunday morning. People got really hammered, but it looked like everyone had a blast even if we were probably going to have to drain and power wash the Jacuzzi. I also made $425 in tips. Not bad for the beginning of summer.
I asked, "How much did you make?"
"$300. I would've made $400 if I'd let some dude blow me. He offered me a hundred bucks. I told him I was too busy. Does that ever happen to you Daddy Warbucks?"
"Sorry, I'm not having this discussion, Brett. You know the rules. What happens on The Wet Dream..."
"Stays on The Wet Dream. I hear you, Captain, loud and clear."
Because we'd been out all night, they needed to clean and restock Sunday. Monday was pretty sedate. It was only four hours and we were back by nine. I asked Brett if he wanted to grab some beer and go to the beach. We'd built a fire and were sitting there relaxing. Out of the blue, he pops off with, "I just don't want to freak out with some guy's dick in my, I mean my dick in his mouth. I need to try this someplace besides work first. If I went ape shit and decked some guy, I know Tim would fire me if you didn't. And I really want that car."
"Seriously dude? I know you must have some gay friends who'd love to suck your dick. I've seen it. They'd probably suck anything and everything you've got. Ask one of them if you'd like to get in a little practice.
Look at it this way. You carry some girl out to a decent dinner and a movie. How much does that set you back? Maybe forty bucks? Does that forty get you a blowjob or a date with your hand when you get home?"
"Sometimes I get lucky."
"Fuck luck. I'll take a guaranteed income anytime. I can't believe with that face and body, you've never even fooled around with another guy."
He started laughing. "Joey Gibbons did hunch my leg once in junior high. I smacked him pretty good."
I had to laugh at the image of that. "Brett, that isn't what I mean. Joey was a little porker who drooled and had asthma. Haven't you ever looked at some of the guys on the volleyball court and thought they were hot?"
"You mean like you?"
"Okay, sure. Like me I guess." Honestly, I really think I was only trying to prove a point. "So what if I put my hand on your leg like this and started rubbing up and down? Do you really feel like you need to smack me?"
"Maybe not if you kissed me first... I'm really serious, Robbie, I want you to kiss me." When he pulled me over on top of him, it didn't seem like he was joking.
"Okay, buddy. You asked for this." It was probably five minutes before either of us came up for air.
My brains were completely scrambled, but honestly I was considering doing it again when he looked at me and said, "More." An hour later, we took one last rinse in the water and headed home. On the way, he put his hand on my leg as we drove in silence. When I pulled up in front of his house, he didn't try to kiss me, but asked, "Next time, can we do this in bed? It's gonna' take me a week to get this sand out the crack of my ass."
I laughed and shook my head. "Next time?"
"Yeah, I think I could use more practice."
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