I often dreamed of my time at the home, especially of the years spent with Bradley, but the one recurring dream I had was of my eighteenth birthday. The day I walked out of the imposing old, red brick building, free and ready to forge a life for myself.

Bubbling underneath the joy at leaving the only home I’d ever known, I was petrified.

My parents, if you could ever call them that, had left me outside the doors of the home when I was five years old, and in my mind’s eye, I could still see them running away. I remember it like it was yesterday. My mum’s face is still etched in my mind as is the anger in my heart for her abandoning me.

“Stay there and be a good boy,” she shouted, turning briefly before abandoning me forever. “The nice ladies will come and find you soon. They’ll look after you.”

I wasn’t one of the lucky ones. Nobody wanted to adopt me. So, the home was all I’d ever known.

* * *

Present Day.

I stood on the street corner battered by the unrelenting wind as it howled around me. Shivering, I could feel my nipples poking against the material of my fitted T-shirt.

Storm Gloria, I think the weatherman called it this morning on breakfast news. Apparently, she’d be a howler, and she certainly was.

Well, fuck you, Gloria, I thought, as I stand dithering, arms wrapped around me, trying to hold onto whatever warmth I can.

It’s too cold to be out in the elements, especially in this dark alley with little to no shelter, but I don’t have any other choice right now. At least the threatened rain hadn’t materialised. That would be enough to send me running home. Messy hair in my trade wasn’t an option.

I shivered and danced about on the spot, trying to generate a little body heat.

I can hear dance music pumping loudly from my favourite club in the next alley, and all I want to do is rush round there, chat up the hunky straight-ish doorman so he lets me in for free, and score myself a drink, maybe even a warm bed for the night. And what would make it even better would be if the warm bed came with a big cock and an even bigger wad of cash.

I haven’t eaten since yesterday and am ravenously hungry. My brain conjures images of all manner of food. What I wouldn’t give for a supersized Big Mac and fries right now. Hell, I’d bend over backwards, forwards and any which way I had to for it. My mouth watered at the thought, but with only three pounds and twenty-five pence in loose change to my name, I couldn’t even afford that.

I needed to eat, pay my rent and mobile phone bill, as well as earn enough money to continue to look as hot as I did right now. I was lucky – blessed with good genes, azure blue eyes, sandy blond hair, and exceptional bone structure. My body was to die for and muscled to perfection. I had a personal trainer, who thankfully took payment in blow jobs. It worked for us both. He was Spanish, heavily accented and drop dead gorgeous. His chunky veiny cock tasted good, as I’m sure his girlfriend would agree, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her. Still, it isn’t all for vanity’s sake. I had to look amazing. My face and body were supposed to be my fortune and being a male escort didn’t come cheap, and neither did I, most of the time. Yet, I was usually broke and needed to take a tighter grip on my finances. Money dripped through my fingers like running water and I knew that if I’d been more careful over the years, I’d have had a nice sized nest egg by now, and that my main focus could have been on finding a man I wanted to marry. Not one I wanted to fleece for all he was worth.

I shivered again, and my teeth chattered together, the cold cut right through me. This was not the way to sell my arse, but choices were limited. Usually, I’d do business via an App on my phone, but as I said above, I’m more than a little hopeless when it comes to organising my finances so forgot to pay my phone bill. Understandably, my usual services have been restricted until the damn bill is paid in full, but at one hundred and forty-eight pounds, it will take a few days of tricks, or a very generous client. At least, before normal services are resumed.

Unfortunately, generous clients were like dinosaurs – extinct. You see, I have very high standards and can’t get a hard on or bend over for just any old Tom, Dick or Harry. There has to be a semblance of attraction, or I can’t do it. My dick would disappear, and nothing would coax it out of hiding. Dirty old men with bellies that hung over their belt buckles did nothing at all for me, nor did men with cocks like mini mushrooms. That might make me sound superficial and you’d be right to think that, but I sell my body to make a living on my terms only.

I’m about to give up and head round to the club when a shadow catches the corner of my eye. Squinting in the poor light, I notice a man watching me. This isn’t nicknamed Rent Alley for nothing and there are a lot of window shoppers who like to look and touch, but these people have very deep pockets and short arms.

Now, from experience, clients don’t like to be any more visible than they have to be, often skulking in corners, waiting for me to make the first move. You can’t be reckless in this game. Reckless behaviour has put me in hospital more than once and in front of a judge more times than I care to remember, but tonight, I’m desperate, so I move toward the shadows, praying the guy lurking isn’t some hairy, sweaty, fat, old monster with a pick axe, or worse, a micro cock.

To my surprise, he is fucking gorgeous and that’s an understatement. A total stud and a half. This guy shouldn’t be paying for anybody. Shit, they should be paying him, and if I could afford it, I might have offered.

He was totally hot. Dark hair, a hint of stubble (Yum!), chiselled features, and the most amazing brown eyes I could have lost myself in. I couldn’t see much of his body, but his jeans clung nicely to what looked like shapely, muscular thighs. He dazzled me with a perfect smile.

I quickly glance down, looking for the wedding ring, or at least the tell-tale signs of one, but couldn’t see anything. He must have noticed the look of surprise on my face, smiled and winked.

“Do you know what the time is please?” he asked, ever so politely.

“Sorry, no, left my watch at home,” I replied, knowing full well his question had another more sexual meaning.

“Isn’t it a little cold to be hanging round out here in this weather?” he asked.

“Got nothing better to do,” I replied. “I’ve lost my wallet and waiting for my mate to pick me up.” A lie, I know, but if he was undercover, that story had worked before.

“You look cold,” he said.

“I’m freezing and need something, or someone to warm me up.”

There was that smile again. Perfect pearly white teeth lit up his handsome face. This man was marriage material, and my current predicament aside, I’d have let him fuck me for free.

“Fancy a coffee back at my place?” he offered.

“Is that all?” I asked, suggestively, hoping against hope he wasn’t an undercover police officer. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Throw a chocolate biscuit in, and you got a deal.”

“You can have whatever you want,” he added, suggestively.

“This weeks winning lottery ticket would be good, or a hundred and fifty quid to pay my bills, whatever comes first.”

“Well, I can’t help you with the lottery ticket, but…”

Enough said. “Are you driving?”

“Yeah, I’m just parked at the top of Temple View.”

He walked away, and I fixed my stare on his arse. It fit nicely into his jeans, as did his thighs, and I hoped, underneath the clothes was a body like chiselled marble.

I felt a rush of excitement. There was something different about this one, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was – yet.

I followed him to his car. It wasn’t the sporty car I expected him to drive, but it had four wheels, and if it got me out of this hurricane, or whatever it was, who was I to judge?