Keith woke up (in the early afternoon, as usual) with a hard-on that wouldn’t take no for an answer, and cursed because there was nobody in his bed to take care of it for him. Ordinarily, the young male prostitute would have had half-a-dozen hot, humpy, hung, and paying customers fighting for a chance to get at the merchandise. But last night had been Keith’s day of rest-his night off-and he’d spent it, for free, With his lover Paul, a college student who’d had to get up early for a class. Keith was glad that Paul had dressed and let himself out of the apartment Keith shared with another hustler so quietly. Keith yawned and writhed about voluptuously on his crumpled sheets. They were soiled with patches of dried cum and smeared K-Y left over from that delightfully prolonged fuck session with Paul, and, as he realized that his body was dewed. with sweat from the hot, hissing steam radiator near the bed,Keith settled back again, figuring that a little more sweat and grime couldn’t hurt his bed-linen. Laundering sheets and replacing them when they wore out was a legitimate business expense anyway, the young stud thought sleepily. Probably tax-deductible - if Keith ever got around to paying any taxes. He ignored the musty smell of sex as he buried his nose in one of the dirty pillows. Like most single guys his age, Keith was not a terribly fastidious housekeeper. He had more pressing things on his mind.