[Years ago the thought of what he was doing wouldn't have even entered his head—he was too busy, otherwise engaged. Even months ago the idea would have been laughable. Paying someone for their time? No, that's not what Donald Ressler did. In DC. But apparently other places were fine, so long as he were alone and on vacation. Spending money on someone else was probably better than using it to drown out the noise in his head with booze or pills anyway.
An escort, through. Fuck. Don taps the dark screen of his phone, having just read the text his.... date, is on his way. If the money hadn't already been transferred, he'd half wonder if this is what cold feet was; the feeling to cut and run. This wasn't him, wasn't what he did (feel like an old man paying some young thing to make him feel worth a damn) and maybe that's why he'd already knocked back some scotch before the other man showed up at the bar. Just to loosen up some.
But maybe maybe he was a little excited regardless. Getting to talk and interact with someone not involved in his work life did seem.... nice, almost unattainable after the godawful streak he's had back home. So maybe it isn't cold feet; the fuck if he knows what he is anymore. So it's good, Ressler finally decides, that he's doing this. One night of this will be good for him.]
Raleigh's been in the 'business' a long, long time, brought in by an old mutual friend of his and his brothers. The Becket boys were golden and in their prime, the highest paid escorts at the company. Musicians, movie stars, even certain royals requested their company - even if just for bodies in their entourage.
This time, it's none of those. Raleigh doesn't mind, a client is a client and they will get his full attention for the entire time allotted. He's been trained in the art of making someone feel like they are the center of his universe, and Don certainly won't lack for companionship or attention.
Their website offers questionnaires and matching, usually client and escort get along. Raleigh's not even nervous when he shows up and taps on the door, long black car and his driver behind him. ]
[It was funny in a somehow hilarious way how now things seemed... all right. How an utter panic of being stranded—dumped—on a foreign continent, after the harrowing loss of their mother, turned into any sort of normalcy. It was funny how things changed, just by chance, how after he never really looked back once things started getting comfortable.
So he went out on the town with ladies and gentlemen for a set price, sometimes he even entertained for a little extra. As vain and sometimes debasing as it was, the eldest Becket could swallow his pride and act the cosmopolitain American if it meant his siblings could rest easy and eat full meals.
And today was no different, having already met with one of his regulars he confirms with his agent that yes—he remembers he's got another client to go see soon. He was just given basics; name, height, age—things to help Yancy pick his client out of the crowd when they met up. Already he was intrigued by this Hansen kid, if only because it was rare someone younger than himself wanted his time. This was, at least, going to be a refreshing meeting.]
[ Refreshing, sure. Chuck is interested in a good night, in some fun, and normally he'd never pay anyone for their time but fuck it. The guy he picked is hot and older and maybe Chuck has an age kink, fuck off.
As the kid of corporate conglomerate Herc Hansen who likes playing politician with one Stacker Pentecost, he's sort of got it a little rough anyway. Most normal people don't want a lot to do with him because he's a giant pain in the ass and whatever he doesn't like them either, anyway.
So. Here he is. Designer shades in place, hands in his pockets, coat pushed back, looking every bit the escort himself. ]
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theshatterdome2015-04-12 09:54 pm
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An escort, through. Fuck. Don taps the dark screen of his phone, having just read the text his.... date, is on his way. If the money hadn't already been transferred, he'd half wonder if this is what cold feet was; the feeling to cut and run. This wasn't him, wasn't what he did (feel like an old man paying some young thing to make him feel worth a damn) and maybe that's why he'd already knocked back some scotch before the other man showed up at the bar. Just to loosen up some.
But maybe maybe he was a little excited regardless. Getting to talk and interact with someone not involved in his work life did seem.... nice, almost unattainable after the godawful streak he's had back home. So maybe it isn't cold feet; the fuck if he knows what he is anymore. So it's good, Ressler finally decides, that he's doing this. One night of this will be good for him.]
this is a crap tag idk
Raleigh's been in the 'business' a long, long time, brought in by an old mutual friend of his and his brothers. The Becket boys were golden and in their prime, the highest paid escorts at the company. Musicians, movie stars, even certain royals requested their company - even if just for bodies in their entourage.
This time, it's none of those. Raleigh doesn't mind, a client is a client and they will get his full attention for the entire time allotted. He's been trained in the art of making someone feel like they are the center of his universe, and Don certainly won't lack for companionship or attention.
Their website offers questionnaires and matching, usually client and escort get along. Raleigh's not even nervous when he shows up and taps on the door, long black car and his driver behind him. ]
no subject
So he went out on the town with ladies and gentlemen for a set price, sometimes he even entertained for a little extra. As vain and sometimes debasing as it was, the eldest Becket could swallow his pride and act the cosmopolitain American if it meant his siblings could rest easy and eat full meals.
And today was no different, having already met with one of his regulars he confirms with his agent that yes—he remembers he's got another client to go see soon. He was just given basics; name, height, age—things to help Yancy pick his client out of the crowd when they met up. Already he was intrigued by this Hansen kid, if only because it was rare someone younger than himself wanted his time. This was, at least, going to be a refreshing meeting.]
making shit up
As the kid of corporate conglomerate Herc Hansen who likes playing politician with one Stacker Pentecost, he's sort of got it a little rough anyway. Most normal people don't want a lot to do with him because he's a giant pain in the ass and whatever he doesn't like them either, anyway.
So. Here he is. Designer shades in place, hands in his pockets, coat pushed back, looking every bit the escort himself. ]