doesntsing | For Igor Conti

For Igor Conti

Susie Meyerson is not going to make it out of Europe alive. Midge is going to kill her and throw her body in the river.

The European leg of Midge’s tour has not been going as planned. Perhaps the people of the Old World don’t understand her humor, but even Midge can admit that it’s not that. She’s been off her game lately. Last night, she forgot to set up a punch line for one of her jokes and it was a disaster. Midge is distracted. She’s jet-lagged in a foreign country where she doesn’t speak the language, isn’t a fan of the food and is missing her kids back home. She’s stressed, and it’s showing in her work. An offhanded comment to her manager about how it’s been a while since she’s had sex sets into motion the events that are about to take place tonight.

Susie ultimately wants to make money, and if Midge’s reviews are bad, ticket sales will go down. In her mind, there’s a simple solution: Midge needs to get laid. Fortunately, they already know someone who can help with that.

Midge had met Igor after one of her shows and learned of what he did for a living. It’s intriguing, but Midge would never dream of hiring a gigolo for herself. Susie has no such hesitation, at least when it comes to Midge. She hires Igor for Midge for the whole night and tells Midge about it 30 minutes before he’s set to show up at her hotel room.

After calling Susie every name in the book, Midge runs around in a whirlwind trying to spruce herself up. She’s not going to have sex with him. No. That’s ridiculous. But they don’t have to! They can just talk. Igor will still get paid and everyone will go home happy. Once she’s satisfied with her appearance and the state of the hotel room, Midge pulls a small bottle of vodka from the mini bar and practically chugs it down. She’s reaching for the next one when there’s a knock at the door.

“Oh God,” she says aloud to no one. Susie dropped her bomb and then wisely fucked off.

With a deep breath, she opens the door.

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For the person who you met casually to hire you through a third party was not unusual. Not in Igor Conti's time working as a gigolo, at least. Plenty of times has the manager of a celebrity discreetly asked for some companionship for their pent up stars -- be it simply to release tension, to go on date or what have you. Sometimes it would go catastrophically wrong, with the managers hiring someone when the star was already married or dating, without their permission, or intoxicated, which was a definite 'No' in his book. He didn't run that kind of business, and he stressed that to Midge's manager. Now, all he knew was to ask for consent when he met the lady face to face and proceed as planned if given.

Igor quietly prepared for his client with rehearsed precision, knowing he would be in front of that door sharply in time. Properly showered, properly groomed and smelling like the man of the highest order. He looked like one too, beautifully tailored suit, exquisitely picked shoes and a regal, polite posture and demeanor to top it all off. It certainly turned some heads with curiosity when a man of his demeanor walked into the hotel, even if they didn't know what he did. A glance at his watch told him the clock was ticking, but he was in good time. Calm and without a hurry, he met with Susie Meyerson who seemed like she had just been called every name under the sun by a very creative woman -- a look that was hard to read but that Igor has been aware of for a while.

He was shown to her room and he, of course, gave Susie reassurance that Midge is in good hands while they stood outside. Should anything happen, he will let her know immediately. With that said, he stood in front of the door and sharp as a clock he knocked on that door.

The moment that door swings open, he's standing there with posture straight and with a vague knowing smirk on his features. To break the ice immediately, and with the confidence of someone who already is acquaintanced with the client, he says: "What have you told Susie to make her look like that?"

It’s actually the perfect ice breaker. Midge relaxes just a hair as she fires back a retort. “That I’ve been learning all about medieval torture methods while we’ve been here.”

She steps to the side so that Igor can enter the hotel room. He actually looks, and smells, fantastic. Midge feels a little quiver in her stomach, one that she does her best to quash.

“Hiring you was taking things extremely far, I think,” Midge continues. “That’s a nice suit though. Can I, um, get you a drink?”

That gets him to laughing, too. She isn't a hopeless case for comedy, that much he knew, but she did seem tense. This kind of ease was not present on stage, as far as he heard. Walking in after being given the go ahead, he looked around at the nice room. Just the right amount of luxury and coziness, and the walls were probably thick enough.

"Not yet, thank you. And you have to give it to her, she is a woman of solutions," Igor said, still with that vague smirk, walking on over to the nearest chair and having a seat. "It is all your call though. I am at your disposal to do whatever you like, even if that means just talking."

He seems very relaxed, but she supposes that he’s a professional and this is just a typical night for him.

“Yes, she is,” Midge agrees as she walks back to the minibar. “Sometimes a bit too practical. I hope you don’t mind if I help myself.” This time, she at least pours the mini bottle of vodka into a glass. She’ll sip this one, not wanting to be completely drunk.

Midge sits down in the chair next to him. She isn’t dressed as formally as she would for a performance, but it’s a standard A-line dress that most women wear. The bodice hugs her torso and then the skirt flares out.

“Glad you’re okay with just talking. You’ll get paid in full, obviously.” Midge’s tone is matter-of-fact, as though she’s made up her mind, even as her eyes scan over his form.

She could, couldn’t she? It wasn’t a lie that it had been a while and that she was craving some sort of intimacy.

"Help yourself," Igor chuckled, tapping the arm rest of the chair and crossing his legs. "I've heard you've got a few rough nights behind you, after all."

Despite the casualness of it all, he still finds her looking beautiful. Even if it wasn't his job, he would be delighted to get to know her. Quietly, he noted her look and he wouldn't dare to guess what she was thinking, but he could intuit. Either way, a normal conversation was in order regardless.

"It is not the first time I have been hired just for company. Some people don't feel like going through what they wanted, or feel too shy to do so," he shrugs. "Not that this is your case, of course."

Midge sighs. “The audiences haven’t been reacting to my jokes the way that I had hoped they would,” she tells him. “I don’t know if I’m still jet-lagged or… what.” Maybe her humor isn’t translating in Europe. It’s not like English is this country’s native language. She and Susie have to have something to show for this very expensive trip though.

“I’m not shy,” Midge confirms. “It’s just…” She looks up at him, her cheeks slightly pink. “I shouldn’t need sex, you know? Even if it’s been a while. It’s not personal. You’re… an attractive man. But this is… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

She’s not even sure if she’s doing this now. Her thumb wipes at the condensation on the outside of her glass of vodka.

"Different cultures seem to have different attitudes and truths, do they not?" It's a comment he just tosses out there with a little smile. He was priviledged enough to travel and he came to realize this quickly. "Maybe this is unlike anything you've visited?"

Even if deep down he finds the blushing adorable, he keeps that comment to himself seeing as it is a little out of place. Instead, he listens attentively and nods, understanding what she means. However, when she's finished he shrugs a little. "Everybody needs sex, it's just how we are," he said ~~(Asexual folks beg to differ, but this is the 50s-60s)~~. "There really is nothing wrong with it. Perhaps if people were more open and less dramatic about it, some people would be far less grumpy."

Doesn't he know a thing or two about it, considering the many times there has been a change in client's attitude after a session. However, he does go further. "Unless you mean that you shouldn't need sex for your comedy to be better."

“Well, yes, I definitely shouldn’t need that,” she replies, “but I can admit that I’ve been… tense.” She isn’t even cracking jokes to try to lighten the mood.

Midge looks up at him again. Igor is well-groomed and looks very sharp in his perfectly tailored suit. He smells good too. Would it be so bad? It’d be better if he wasn’t being paid to be here. Midge would like to think she can attract plenty of men on her own, though she hasn’t been herself lately.

Maybe Susie is right. Maybe this will help her to loosen up.

“How… do you usually start with a client?”

"We start by making sure you want to do this," he says without hesitation, smiling as he does. No secret to it, no convincing, just plain truth. "Then after that, we do whateveer you prefer. Talking, cuddling, drinking then cuddling, the works."

He pauses before he lifts his finger up, remembering something else. "We also discuss what kind of things are off limits," Igor looks around as if someone could be listening before he leans in a little and continues. "Like whether or not there will be clown costumes."

Well, if she's not lightening up the mood, he will!

Thank God someone is going to break the ice. Midge is well-practiced enough in banter that she doesn’t laugh at his comment, but she does crack a smile. “Fortunately for you, my clown costume is at the cleaners.”

She takes a sip of her drink, which she realizes is straight vodka. That seems a bit extreme, suddenly, and she places the drink on the table next to them.

“I guess off limits for me would be pain. A lot of pain. A little is okay. I don’t mind being tossed around a bit, but not hurt… if that makes sense?” Hopefully she’s explaining herself correctly.

He places his hand in his chest and breathes out in relief, following along with the banter. "Good, that's a relief. I didn't bring my honking nose this time." What's worse, is that it feels like something that legitimately happened to him.

Listening to her limits, he nods and makes a mental note to himself about it. He knows what she means, but to clarify further he asks: "You like being dominated, but not roughly pushed against a wall for example." Some do, unsurprisingly. The feeling, he's told, is rather exhilarating.

“Oh, that’s too bad. A honking nose would be adorable on you.” Her smile grows. This type of chatter helps her to relax.

Blunt sex talk, less so. For a woman who doesn’t consider herself very shy, her cheeks flush at his words. Maybe it’s the fact that the two of them don’t know each other well yet. “Um, yes, I suppose?” Midge says. “I like to be on top sometimes too, though tonight I think I’d rather it be you.”

"I would modestly disagree, but I have tried it. It is incredibly adorable." Well, that's the confirmation it did happen. And that not all of it was unpleasant.

"That is no problem, you can always get on top and take charge whenever you feel like it," it is more than once that shy clients explicitly stated they didn't like to get on top then suddenly changing their tune in the heat of it all. Counting with his fingers, he goes: "So no extreme pain, no extreme rough housing... What else?"

So the clown story is real? Not that Midge thought Igor would lie about it, but it seems so outrageous. She supposes that she can’t judge other people’s sexual desires, but he really goes above and beyond for his clients.

“That’s it… I suppose I can tell you to stop if I don’t like something?” Midge thinks he would easily oblige her. “Maybe I should tell you what I do want?” She bites her lip, pausing for a moment. “I… want you to fuck me with your fingers while you lick my clit.”

So much for them just talking all night.

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