Chapter 18
It was the first Friday night everyone was home in at least three months.
Daniel worked every weekend, unless he was too sick.
Arlo often went out for after-work drinks with coworkers or put in some hours cleaning a house.
Brody played poker with his dad at least one Friday a month, and Casey did whatever Casey did.
But tonight, they had a full house. At least for a while.
Casey had his feet kicked up on the coffee table while he scrolled on his phone, waiting until he had to leave for some event.
Daniel’s other two roommates played a game that seemed to be set in a medieval fantasy world, but Arlo’s character was running around with cat ears and dressed entirely in pink.
The muscled man Brody played was completely naked, his dick swinging with every lash of his sword.
It was a nice dick, all pixels considered.
“I don’t want to go to this event alone,” Casey complained, covering the sounds of grunts and splashing blood coming from the large television. “You all should come with me.”
“You aren’t going alone. Your entire studio will be there,” Brody said.
Arlo rubbed his forehead with the overly long sleeve of the black sweater he was wearing before going back to mashing buttons. “What’s the event for?”
“It’s just the studio’s birthday party. They host a little get-together every year, and every year, I’m like the only person that doesn’t bring anyone with me.”
“You could open any app right now and have a dozen or more dates by the time you have to leave.”
“Yeah, and they’d ditch me the moment we got there. I tried that once, and they kept trying to instigate an orgy and had to be thrown out.”
The room collectively grimaced. While their jobs were incredibly different from one another’s, they all knew how some people got when they were drunk and horny.
Suddenly, common sense and basic human decency became too much too handle.
Daniel had had a few of those moments himself back in college, but he’d grown up and learned how to read a room. Some people never did.
“Danny boy, will you go with me?” Casey asked, his eyelashes fluttering.
Daniel’s face scrunched up. He hadn’t gone out for fun in such a long time he wasn’t sure he remembered how to let loose. But it was quite literally his first Friday not working in memory. “Shouldn’t Brody be going as your date? You two are supposed to be dating according to social media.”
“All my coworkers know that’s just for show. And there’s a strict no phones policy at all studio events, so it’s not like anyone is going to post photos of me with other men.”
“I’ll go if Daniel goes,” Brody said, eyes still on the game.
“What? Why?” The spontaneous trip packing excluded, he was never especially close with Brody. Definitely not close enough for him to enact such a weird buddy system for a porn studio birthday party.
Sure, they sat around the living room and chatted on a weekly basis and Daniel allowed Brody to pull him into a cuddle. But Brody was a touchy guy. Daniel assumed it was because he did mostly solo scenes for his cam site and was a tiny bit touched starved because of it.
Occasionally, Daniel would join in on a card or board game his three roommates were playing. Even less often, he would go out to a club or bar with them. Those outings usually ended with Brody and Casey dancing while Arlo played on his phone and Daniel dropped business cards for the Lillian.
But they weren’t friends. Were they?
Brody shrugged. “It seems like you could use a night out, and I’m not above peer pressure.”
“I’ll go,” Arlo said as he set down his controller. “Can I wear a skirt?”
“Sure, man. There’s not really a dress code.”
“Thank fuck, I did not want to put on pants again. Will there be food?”
“Yeah, and it’s usually pretty good. We hire the same company to do all our events, and they haven’t disappointed yet.”
“Why does it seem like I need a night out?” Daniel asked, talking over the continued discussion.
Brody sent him an incredulous look. “You’re reading an art history textbook and sighing every five minutes.”
Daniel hugged the book to his chest. “This isn’t a textbook.
And it’s about architecture, not art history.
And I haven’t been sighing.” He might have let out a few louder than usual breaths every time his mind wandered back to his conversation the day before with Lucinda.
But they weren’t sighs. Just regular breathing.
Normal human functions. Certainly not a manifestation of his annoyance at being dismissed from his job while trying very hard to not think about his bank account.
“If you say so.” Brody stood up, stretched, then slapped the side of Daniel’s thigh. “Come on, you’re going with us. It’ll be fun.”
Daniel doubted that.
Unfortunately, the event was fun.
He was hoping it would be horribly boring or nauseatingly over the top.
At least then Daniel would have an excuse to bow out and head home early.
Stepping into the rented hotel’s ballroom, all he wanted was to turn around, burrow deep into the blankets on his bed, and read more of Jensen’s book.
He was just over halfway through and had started keeping notes on his phone of things he found interesting so he could start up conversations with Jensen.
Jensen had been unusually quiet that day, probably due to the backlog of work waiting for him, and Daniel used that time to digest more.
He couldn’t wait to call Jensen and ask if he thought the more current move from maximalism to minimalism mirrored the change from art nouveau to art deco.
And somehow discovering a love of architecture through a veritable textbook was a gayer way to spend his night than drinking with a dozen queer porn stars.
Daniel breathed out a quiet laugh and shook his head.
Here he was, ignoring all the conversations happening around him to stand by the bar and think about his boyfriend’s obsession.
Ten years ago, he would have been in the middle of the party, jumping around from group to group and gorging himself on the lively atmosphere.
Hell, a year ago he might have been trying to plug the Lillian with any of the guests and background employees of Casey’s company. Now he was more than happy to lean against the end of the bar, sip at his drink, and watch the antics unfold with a slight smile on his face.
Even if part of him still wanted to rush back home, the booming laughter and slideshow of ridiculous behind-the-scenes photos kept Daniel rooted to his spot.
Plus, he didn’t want to miss the personalized awards that would be given out to all the employees at the end of the night, along with the studio statistics of things like premature cum shots, loads taken, and number of scenes ruined for various reasons.
Daniel hated to admit it, but Brody was right about the party being fun.
“Is this spot taken?”
The question pulled Daniel from his silent vigil. A woman stood next to him, gesturing to the open length of marble with her drink. She was dressed more formally than most of the attendees, in a pair of black slacks and a silky button-down.
“Be my guest.” He gave her unassuming makeup and air of strict professionalism another look. “Though, I might be your guest.”
She smiled and let out a tinkling, polite laugh. “Not quite. Janelle Butler. I’m the director of Butler Events.”
He shifted his drink to shake her hand. “Daniel. I’m just here so my friend didn’t have to come alone.”
“So not one of the actors?” she asked casually, like she wasn’t inquiring if his sex tapes were on the internet.
“No. I—uh, I work at a hotel downtown.”
“Oh, what do you do there?”
Daniel was laughably bad with money and life decisions, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.
He was more than aware of society’s view on sex work, especially gay sex work.
Though, he was fairly insulated from the negativity, since he only interacted with his coworkers and roommates who were all in the trade in some capacity.
There were a few times Daniel had been subjected to gay bashing or snide comments at the Lillian by the other hustlers, but they didn’t tend to last too long.
Still, the stigma of his job was always lurking behind the corner and kept his guard from ever truly lowering.
He never let anyone outside the thick walls of the hotel know what he actually did.
It was just too dangerous, socially and physically.
He didn’t even have the whole Casanova deal of bedding older, influential women to use as a shield.
While the adult video industry was demonized in its own right, prostitution was seen as much worse by people in general.
And gay prostitutes—not just straight men that were taking advantage of the degenerate and lustful homosexual—were judged much worse than the women that did the job.
Hell, there were legal brothels in states that were only allowed to hire employees that were assigned female at birth due to how the laws were structured.
All things considered, it would be a bad idea to out himself to this stranger, even if she was comfortable around queer adult performers.
“Guest relations and experience,” he said, then took a large swallow of his drink, eyes trained on the crowd in front of them.
“Interesting. Does that include parties?”
Did three- and foursomes count? Daniel had heard someone say three made a crowd and four made a party. “I have been involved with the occasional intimate gathering.”
She hummed lightly. “How long have you done that?”
“Since college, so about eight years.”
“Eight years. Nearly a hardened veteran, then,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “And you said you worked at a hotel downtown, not this one?”
He shook his head and ignored the heat grasping at his neck. “No, it’s smaller and older. Been in operation for over a hundred years now.”
“You ever consider moving to somewhere bigger and newer?”
“Sometimes,” he said, acutely aware of her stare on the side of his face.
He couldn’t turn his head to meet her eyes—he might burst into flames of embarrassment if he did.
This obviously important and accomplished woman who oversaw flashy events at expensive hotels was talking to him like he was her peer, which was ridiculous.
God, if she only knew what guest relations at the Lillian actually entailed. Daniel doubted Janelle Butler got on her knees as part of her regular job. The thought of it was offensive. No, her job was respectable and completely different from his.
He looked out at the party happening in front of them with new, inquiring eyes.
What did her day-to-day look like as an event coordinator?
It probably included clipboards and lists and telling people where to set various things.
Janelle and her team must have gotten the DJ and vendors for the food and alcohol.
They also probably ordered the decor, as he doubted the hotel had so many phallus-shaped objects in their storage room.
She’d obviously had to work with Casey’s boss to determine and execute the vision for the whole event.
Which didn’t sound too bad, if Daniel was honest. It almost sounded enjoyable.
Well, besides the decorating part—Daniel had no talent for that.
But he could probably throw around a few floral arrangements and balloon arches if he was asked to.
It was probably a bit copy and paste for most events.
He’d certainly been to enough parties thrown by his DC friends to remember how things should look and flow at expensive events.
And while he wasn’t much of a partier anymore, he did enjoy the atmosphere still.
He didn’t much want to participate in the drinking, dancing, and socializing, but he liked being immersed in it.
He liked when people around him had a good time.
That was essentially his job, wasn’t it?
Putting on a show for his client, making their fantasies and expectations a reality.
Janelle Butler did the same thing, just in the form of corporate events, not sexual experiences.
Except what Daniel did was illegal. It was eating away at his soul. It was simultaneously killing him and keeping him alive. He wasn’t some respected professional with career progression and a retirement account. He was a jaded prostitute with dwindling hope about his future.
He took another sip of his drink. “You put on a good party.”
“Thank you.” Her drink glass clinked on the marble next to Daniel. “I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the event. I have to make sure the microphone is working for the awards.”
He met her polite smile with a nod. When she was a few steps away, her heels eating up the patterned carpet, he let out a loud breath.
Daniel hated to admit it, but it was easier when people were rude or demanding. Janelle was too nice, too kind. She’d come over just for some small talk and treated him like a person with a legitimate job.
Like he mattered and had value.
Like he was worth her time.
It made him want to be all those things. He wanted to talk to a stranger and give his actual job title. He wanted all the normal things other people got like bitching about coworkers and deadlines and corporate goals.
He wished he had fun at work, or at least got other people to have fun for more than just an hour.
Everyone around him was laughing and letting loose.
For years, people might talk about this party with fondness.
They’d want to invite their friends, like Casey had.
Nothing Daniel did behind the closed doors of the Lillian amounted to the good times that were being experienced by all the attendees of Miss Butler’s event.
God, wouldn’t it be nice to work with her instead.