Carlos groaned tiredly, feeling for his phone on the nightstand. His leg hit something in his bed and his eyes flew open. He sat up and saw the guy from last night; he did not care enough to remember their names, snoring softly on the other side of his bed.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and closed his eyes.

He had managed to convince him that it was his fault, asking Carlos to strangle him tighter until he had passed out, and Mark, yes, that was his name, had believed him, maybe more out of fear than logic.

His phone started ringing again and Mark stirred, but kept sleeping. He was tired--they had had sex again after he regained consciousness, this time with Carlos perfectly in control.

"Hello?" Carlos drawled sleepily, lying back down on the pillows. He recognized the voice on the other side right away, it was the man from yesterday.

"I'm sending an address to your phone. Be there at eleven, I need to talk to you." The man said, and hung up without letting Carlos say anything. 
Carlos sighed and shook Mark awake.

"Get dressed, leave the money on the coffee table and close the door on your way out." He told him, climbing naked out of bed and going to the bathroom.

Mark sat up, his face twisted with shock.

"Seriously? We had a really great time last night and well I thought--"

"Yeah, well you thought wrong. I was merely working. It's not my fault you read into it wrong. I have to be somewhere so please, leave."

With that, he closed the bathroom door behind him. He turned on the shower and jerked off, because he was nervous as shit about his meeting, and his load was impressive even after fucking all night. He showered, brushed his teeth and shaved his stubble.

Mark was gone when he finished, and all the money, and a tip was piled neatly in the centre of his bed. He struggled to find what to wear; the address on his phone was at 65 Greene Street in Soho, and he knew he would stick out sorely if he went in jeans and a t-shirt.

He settled for black jeans, a white dress shirt and the Oxfords he was supposed to have used for his graduation. He thought he looked neater than he usually did, although he barely recognized himself.

After a hurried breakfast of coffee and toast, he locked his door, jogged down the stairs and ordered an Uber.

He got to the place a little over eleven, but his unnamed--he did not even know what the hell this guy was to him, was still very unamused.

"Look, I just want my money and then I'll leave you alone." Carlos begged, as the man motioned for him to sit.

"Ah, about that." He said with a sort of half grin, half snarl, hitting the keyboard and typing something into his computer.

"Your video--it was not the... best. Hell, it wasn't even good. It needs a lot of work; you need a lot of work."

Carlos felt dizzy.

"Are you going to give me the money or not?" He asked shakily, digging his nails into his palms.

"I'm afraid not. My hands are tied, everyone agrees you did not even try with this. Although, you do have alot of potential." He said boredly, like his voice was coming from someone else.

"I'll make another one--a better one, just please..." Carlos whispered, standing up, and knocking the chair over. The man just smiled politely at his hysterics.

"Carlos; I presume that is your name...how about I make you an offer?"

Carlos just nodded, afraid his voice would betray the calm facade he was now putting on.

"Come work for me. It pays a whole lot better and if I'm being honest, it's very easy money."

"Dude, hold on. Work for you doing what exactly?" Carlos asked, licking his lips and cocking an eyebrow.

The man's eyes glinted as he stood up, showing Carlos to the door. They walked across a beautifully decorated hallway and stopped in front of the elevator. When the elevator doors opened, Carlos gasped.

Two men were making love on a bed, while another sat behind a camera, stroking his cock through his pants. Carlos looked over at the boss, his mouth open. The man just raised an eyebrow at him, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm not gay, sir." Carlos said when they were back in the office.

"Ever heard the phrase 'gay for pay', Carlos?"
Carlos nodded absently and swallowed thickly.

"I still can't do it, sir. I'm sorry, I can't." He said, lying back into his chair.

"You need the money, Carlos. And come on, I know what line of work you're in. You have the body, and the experience. I told you, it's easy money."

This guy was right. Carlos needed the money. And he had sex with men alot. But doing it in his house, was one thing...making porn was another.

"You don't have to...have sex. You can just model. It's almost just as lucrative. Think about it, and then give me a call."

Carlos nodded, and stood up. He told himself he wasn't going to say yes, but he was thinking about it. He walked mindlessly through the door and almost got run over in the street.
He needed a drink, and a nap. He took a taxi home, and gave the driver the wrong address twice.

He fumbled with his door and when he finally opened it found the rent notice on the floor.
His hands shook as he read it...he had three days to clear his rent, or he was going to be thrown out. He thought about the money from this morning; but that was not even half the amount he owed.

Maybe if he paid it, they would give him more time to find the rest.
But he knew he was kidding himself. Even he was tired of asking for more time to clear everything.

Sighing, he pulled out his phone and checked his call logs, his thumb hovering over the one from this morning. His breaths shallowed as it rang, and he shuddered when he picked up.

"It's me. I'll do it."