ht-ryder

[ht-ryder]

ardenhampton:

It was just another ordinary day for Arden; leaning against the counter, she eyed her surroundings, watching the small bustle of customers who had gathered in the coffee shop awhile earlier finally clean off their tables and abandon their cups in the tub beside the door. The early afternoon was generally pretty sparse throughout the week, especially whenever there were larger coffee shop chains throughout Las Vegas that might’ve had better prices - but definitely not better coffee. Pushing herself up from the counter, she grabbed her rag and spray bottle as she made her way around the small sitting area of the shop. It was a pretty easy gig, one that she felt lucky to score due to its close proximity to her apartment and the good hours she got in the morning whenever she wasn’t working at Strobe. The money wasn’t amazing, sure, but she enjoyed the small atmosphere that allowed her a break from the hustle and bustle of Las Vegas. As the bell over the door chimed and signaled the entrance of another patron into the coffee shop, Arden tucked the rag into her apron and made her way around the counter, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before she offered a smile to the customer. “Hi, there. What can I get you?” 

H.T. was not a coffee person - he had never developed a taste for the stuff, and the one time he’d tried it, it had been at one of his foster families who seemed to have the oldest coffee-maker ever. It had made the whole house smell like burnt coffee beans whenever it made a batch, and the one time H.T. had tried it, he’d not enjoyed it one bit, so when he wandered it into the coffee shop that late morning, he had a very specific agenda.

“Morning,” he said, shooting (what he hoped was) a charming grin to the barista behind the counter. “So, I have a problem, and I think you’re just the person to help me with it. I’ve been told that not liking coffee is practically, like, a crime when you’re a real adult, so I’m here to be converted.”

[ht-ryder]

jason-brooks:

Starting the day off with a good run had long been Jason’s favorite thing in the world. Even before holding office, it just felt like a good way to psych himself up every morning for what the day had in store for him. Of course these days it was as much a reminder of how on lock he had this city now, to quote the Lion King, all that the light touched. Jogging down the path with earbuds firmly in place as he blasted his workout mix, Jason noticed someone else coming up on his left side and gaining ground very quickly.

H.T. enjoyed his alone time working out - of course, he knew he had to keep himself in shape, as it was only good for business, but it also seemed like one of the only times that he truly had space and thinking time for himself. Today was cardio day, which was always important. Stamina was key, right? And he was rounding on someone quickly.

“Sorry, man!” He said quickly as he tried to pass him, shooting an apologetic nod as he moved to the man’s side (dude was tall!). Unfortunately for H.T., he hadn’t tied his shoes...and he stumbled to the ground with a startled cry.

[ht-ryder]

sidrabarker:

Sid was, for lack of a better term, dumbstruck. Any expectations she’d had for the Calhoun party were blown out of the water once she’d finally gotten in and the general anxious feeling that she’d had subsided, the party was gorgeous and so were most of the people there. It made her wonder if she stood out in her home sewn dress, she probably would if any of the people around her were paying any attention to her at all. They hardly even glanced her way when she squeezed by them with a barely audible pardon me. 

She hadn’t been expecting to see any familiar faces at the party so when she made eye contact with him it was a relief, finally someone she could talk to. “I actually ate before coming here because I wasn’t sure I was going to like the food so– I’ll just be drinking, slowly.” She spoke after reaching him, she was indeed nursing her drinks and trading them off once they got a little too warm for her liking. “We’ve met before– at the house party.”

When H.T. saw who he was talking to, he immediately beamed, remembering the girl from the house party who he’d gotten along unusually well with. They both hadn’t been wild about being around other people, so he could imagine that she probably understood a little of what he was truly feeling at the moment. “Yeah, sometimes the food at these things is shit. Like, it’s like they forget what real people eat. And drinking is always a good plan!”

He tipped his own glass at her in acknowledgment, nodding. “Yeah, the real shitty one that neither of us liked. So of course we both go to another party where there’s lots of people and stuff. Makes sense, right?”

[ht-ryder]

opheliabancroft:

Ophelia cackled out a laugh, covering her mouth in a sudden feeling of guilt. “Oh, Sarah,” She looked sympathetic, shaking her head. “She means well.” She tried not to speak out of turn when it came to others, but Sarah seemed to think her life revolved around simply being pretty, it was the only thing that mattered, and Ophelia severely disliked that. “But, in the nicest way, I think you’re right.”

“Mmhm,” She gave a sharp nod. It felt nice to tell the truth when it came to this. It felt as if everything that had come out of her mouth since her plane had landed had been lies and wishful thinking. H.T. allowed her the space to be real, to be sad or solemn between clients and she certainly didn’t feel judged when she was. “I’m hoping, someone told me recently to look at hotels, so I’ll give that a shot.” Ophelia leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. “I like to cook when I can, and I like history a lot. I read a lot of history books. What about you, what are your extracurriculars?” 

“See, it works! Life goals are set, we just need to find a way to magically become rich now. It’ll work out, promise.” H.T. grinned and shrugged. He imagined that he would never be rich. Maybe one day he could at least finish high school officially. That was about the extend of his ambitions at the moment, even though he knew deep down that he couldn’t be an escort forever. Eventually he wouldn’t be young and attractive. He had read enough literature to know the dangers of aging.

“Cooking, huh? Maybe you can show me something sometime. It’s so hard.” He lit up when she mentioned history. “History is great! I read so many books about history. What’s your favorite time period?” Maybe she didn’t know it, but Ophelia was seeing a glimpse of the real H.T., the one that enjoyed reading Austen and Hemingway, and the one that had a playlist of early 80′s soft-rock.

[ht-ryder]

you-dontknow-jack:

It hadn’t taken long for Jack to lose track of Carina since approximately everyone in Vegas was packed into this place, or at least that’s what it seemed like to Jack. His view of humanity in general was kind of dim so being around this many people put him on edge, even more so when he’d lost track of one of the people that could keep him at least a little grounded. He’d quickly worked his way out of the thick of the crowd, trying to find somewhere he could wait out the allotted hour where he wouldn’t have to interact with too many people. He manages to overhear, completely by accident, about some sort of underground party taking place in some lower floor that’s supposed to have better entertainment and some kind of card games. Definitely thinking it sounds like more of his kind of place than up here, Jack finds his way down there. He already feels more at home when he gets there and sees that there’s a real bar and fewer people. The scantily clad dancers don’t do it for him but whatever. Jack makes a beeline for the bar and orders a Black Russian, just settling there and figuring he can live and drink there until he has to go up and find Carina. His hopes of doing it alone are dashed almost immediately, though, when someone slides onto the seat beside him. Glancing at them, Jack frowns. “That seat’s taken.” It isn’t, but the other person doesn’t have to know that. 

“Well, sorry, just been on my feet all evening and need a break. Only a minute, promise.” H.T. grinned at the man, trying to be charming despite his apparent asshole-ness. Truth be told, the party was wearing on him too, and he just wanted to go home and read his new novel. He was a little late on the train to the Gone Girl phenomenon, but he couldn’t put it down, and he’d left off on a particularly tense part. Ordering himself a vodka-oj, he didn’t say anything else until the bartender brought his promised drink over. “Next one’s on me, yeah?”

[ht-ryder]

Would you accept a job as someone's prom date?

“Prom date? I’m a little old for it, yeah? I mean, if I could have, like...assurance that I wouldn’t get arrested for it, why not? It’s money.”

[ht-ryder]

H.T.

Frankie

Tomasz

[ht-ryder]

fox--davis:

With a stretch hidden as much as possible, Fox tried to keep his charming smile in place so that anybody glancing his way wouldn’t know just how over this party he was. He not only felt out of place, as his memories of being with his family at these types of things were anything but happy ones, but he felt old and boring as he’d rather be at home watching movies from the era they were all pretending to be in and eating comfort food instead of all this fancy shit. Still, thinking about food made him hungry, so he followed his nose to where the servers were currently passing out tiny crackers with some bullshit on them, but his attention was soon draw elsewhere. “ Henry, what a surprise.” He chuckled, remembering the man from an afternoon of drinking and dodging questions. “Sure, I could eat. Here’s hoping it’s better than the dry crackers and brie they’ve been passing around.” He chuckled as he took a snack. “ So what brings you to this…lovely party?”

“Hey, man!” H.T. lit up. He remembered having a pretty good afternoon with the man, doing what he did best - avoiding anything serious. When he’d left that afternoon, he hadn’t imagined seeing Fox again, so this was a pleasant surprise. “No, man, these are like, mini egg rolls. They’re seriously the best. I mean, it’s like they made them themselves and not from a bag, y’know?” H.T. imagined that if anyone were to check the small fridge at his place, they’d probably be horrified, but no one had ever taught him how to cook. “Uh, this place? Just work stuff...business...y’know, the usual.” He shrugged. “What about you?”

[ht-ryder]

Big parties were not H.T.’s favorite thing for himself - however, they were his preferred form of working. He got to act like someone better than the person he was, someone with a real career, college education, and money. He was decent at it, though. Eve and the others had taught him how to dress the part, and he had read enough novels to know how to talk like someone who wasn’t from his situation of poverty. He even could spell hors d'oeuvres correctly. He didn’t know anyone who could do that.

Tonight, tho, it didn’t seem to be much use so far. H.T. had been hired by an older man, seemingly only for the purpose of having someone young and somewhat attractive walk through the door with him. He’d only made one half-hearted attempt to keep H.T. at his side before he’d left, and H.T. was on his own. Currently, he was hovering around a corner by which the waiters, carrying trays of snacks, seemed to pass by with alarming frequency. Gorging himself (but still keeping classy), it was only a matter of time until his stomach caught up to his eyes, and at some point he found himself with a tray full of little hors d’oeuvres that he didn’t feel like eating.

“Hey, so...,” he began, catching the eye of someone else who looked like they needed a break from the endless schmoozing, “These snacks are great and all, but I think they gave me too many. Wanna share?”

[ht-ryder]

opheliabancroft:

“I would very happily accept that job, but only so long as you don’t go all crazy diva on me and chuck the phone at me or something. Or do a Christian Bale freak out.” She flashed a toothy smile, she doubted that he knew just how much he was doing for her just by being around. He’d certainly become a safe space for her at Eden, as if they were casual roommates rather than sharing some sordid occupation. 

“Yeah, it was pretty shitty.” Ophelia gave a single slow nod, and a big sigh. “I was a programmer.” She mimed typing as she said it then crossed her arms on the table. “I’m still trying, looking for jobs and all that. I want to class this as survival until I find what I want and the debts are gone or pretty close to it.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll hire Sarah for that,” he said, referencing one of their “co-workers” from Eden. “She’s probably ditzy enough to where she wouldn’t mind.” Of course, there were certain people that H.T. didn’t like. He didn’t care for a lot of people, actually. It was a miracle he got along with as many people at Eden as he did. It felt more like home than anywhere else did, even if something seemed to prevent it from clicking 100%.

“A programmer?” H.T. looked up. He had recently read a book about a computer programmer, and it seemed to him only impossibly smart people became part of that career. “Well, if you play the cards right, you can get really steady money. Y’know, laws of supply and demand and all that, and demand never really runs low.” He paused. “What other things do you like to do?”

[ht-ryder]

sidrabarker:

She gestured vaguely to the spot next to her, it struck her as a bit weird that he’d even taken the time to ask if he could sit with her. Not that she minded. “Feel free.” It was all she said before taking her first hit, holding the smoke in her lungs as long as she could before the urge to cough beat out her need to breathe. The thought to switch over to edibles had crossed her mind once or twice but to her, nothing beat the catharsis of rolling your own. 

“I wish I could hold a study for this, like why do you go to house parties? I’d set up a little poll and the options would be like, to get fucked up, to have genuine fun and something else– maybe to get super fucked up.” Sid held the blunt out to him and grinned, she still felt a little tightness in her chest from the coughing. “…. Does it make me a hypocrite if I am here but not for any of those reasons?”

H.T. took the spot, crossing his ankles over each other to sit Indian-style. He breathed deeply the cool night air, letting everything mingle - the peaceful silence, his own relief, the smell of smoke from his new companion, and just sat there until she spoke up again.

“Mm, like a statistics class, yeah? Well, if it counts, there should be a fourth option for ‘I don’t fucking know. I hate parties.’“ Accepting the blunt, he took a deep drag and handed it back to her, sighing again in complacency. “And nah, not if that makes me one too. So we’d have to put our answers under the ‘other’ response, hah. What would you write in the blank, huh?”

[ht-ryder]

opheliabancroft:

Ophelia leaned back in her chair, shaking her head at the idea of it. “It would be amazing to see you do that to people, although I can’t say our friendship wouldn’t be affected by my jealousy.” Ophelia joked along, it felt lovely to be able to do that without any airs put on, and to do it with someone that understood exactly how she felt. “That makes sense, I guess I haven’t been here long enough for that anyway.” She shrugged, unsure if she even wanted to know. 

“Absolutely, I’ll show you around my haunts, no work required.” It was a nice dream, and if she could truly offer it to him she would. Maybe one day, but not any time soon, not until she wasn’t such a failure. “Oh, well the short version is that my family were in massive debt and I got headhunted for a job here, and then I get here and the whole company shuts down on my first day. I could’ve gone back but…” Ophelia shrugged, shaking her head. “I hated the idea of going home like a loser.”

“It’s okay. You could be, like, my personal assistant and walk around with smart phone, tapping away and being really important,” H.T. said, miming the action with a laugh. He felt very comfortable with Ophelia, and for the moment at least, he was being somewhat himself. “It’s okay. You’ll get the hang of it. Or maybe you can get out, y’know.” He said it nonchalantly, but he meant it. H.T. didn’t know what he was doing with his life, but Ophelia seemed educated and kind. She could probably do better for herself.

“Oh, really?” H.T. perked up, looking interested. Now that was a story behind it, and he was curious. “That fucking sucks, especially if it was something you couldn’t control. What kind of job was it?”

[ht-ryder]

emira-yalman:

Believe it or not, Emira thought she was sugarcoating her words. In spite of her natural disposition, she tried not to degrade the people she labeled as ‘the help’ not just for the fear that they would spit in her foot but because of her secret respect for hard working lower class. She admired their effort to keep living in spite of their lack of reason to, and though she didn’t always succeed, she tried to extend them even a tiny bit of respect. “ Yes. Exactly.” When he finished her sentence, she nodded, appreciating that he understood. Brushing her hair aside, Emira offered a smirk as he winked,knowing too well what he meant and amused (though she shouldn’t have been) that he was offering that service. “ I have very important friends. My father is a very important man and we have an image to maintain. I am the heir to an empire and it is important to look good. So long as you understand that, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

He seemed to understand his role for the night well enough – he would hopefully point out how stunning she looked to a few people, walk around at her side confidently and act like he knew a bit about the business world, which in turn wouldn’t bring any shame to her family. Still, the rest of the package she paid for was up in the air. “ I’m sure I can picture, but I don’t pay for sex.” She clarified. “ I can promise you that if you do well, there will be a handsome tip for you as a reward and the possibility of future business. If you help my business, I will help yours. Are we in agreement?” She asked as she moved towards the front door after grabbing her clutch. “

“You’ll look like the most beautiful, badass lady there,” H.T. grinned. “Pardon my language,” he added, remembering what Eve had told him about watching his swearing in front of clients. “I understand completely.” As she spoke, he felt a knot untangle itself in his stomach, and subconsciously he relaxed his shoulders slightly. Exhaling, he refocused, determined to do his best - an evening of compliments, fancy drinks, and little appetizers? Sure, he could knock that out of the park.

“Of course. You’re my client and you’ll only get my best” He paused, shrugging. “I take it seriously. Now, after you...” he said, opening the door. “After you, miss.” He waited until she was outside, sighing softly at the cool evening air. It was quite nice. “Now, I have to ask - I’m a little confused as to why you hired me. Most of the time when I go to these things, it’s someone who’s...er, a little older, a little less gorgeous and looking like they couldn’t go and get any man or woman they wanted.”

[ht-ryder]

xvxlet:

“Quite true.” Violet smiled. “A week in and he was already sleeping in my bed like it was his. I was lucky that he liked me.” A laugh escaped her and she nodded. “That he most certainly does. The size of him usually warns people away which I certainly appreciate as the ‘skeevy’ people as you call them, do come out quite early.”

“I mean, not to bash the skeevy people, since I’m one of them, y’know, but they’re out pretty much all the time. So keep him with you, that’s what I’d do if I were you.” H.T. shoved his hands in his pocket. He didn’t often have genuine conversations without expectations at the end of them. He wasn’t sure what to say. “What do you do? For work?”

[ht-ryder]

opheliabancroft:

“Probably not, it’s traditionally a pretty mind bending place to be.” She laughed, referring to the book rather than the bar itself. Then again, this was her first trip here and maybe it would be maddening. Ophelia watched him simply wave the drinks over and admired the casual confidence of it, wishing she could do that. She planned to learn. “H.T, I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world that deserves an Oscar more than you.” She grinned, trying to bring the lighten the tone that she’d created. 

“Not to sound dim, but how do you know you’re good at it?”Ophelia asked, wondering whether it was less a case of being so good you didn’t need to think of it, or getting to the point of numbness where it didn’t matter what happened either way. She didn’t want it to be the latter. “That’s where I’m from. Next time I go home I’ll bring you with.” They both knew that was highly unlikely, both that she’d go back any time soon and that he’d come along like a best friend or boyfriend might, but she felt good for offering at least.

“Can you imagine someone like me with an Oscar? It would be really fucking annoying for all of you. I would never let anyone forget it - like I would go to the club and just be like ‘Hey! Oh, I forgot something at home - what was that? - oh, just my Oscar.’“ He laughed. H.T. knew it was an acting award, but honestly, he couldn’t tell more than that. Paperbacks were more his thing, and until a few years ago, he’d not had access to a television consistently anyway. 

“Um, well...” H.T. paused, unsure of what to answer. “If people keep coming back, I guess.” He shrugged. To him, it was just something he did. He didn’t derive any particular enjoyment out of it - but that seemed like a weird detail to add, so he left it out. “Really?” He lit up for a moment before the reality of the situation hit him, and he shrugged again, trying to keep his tone light. “Well, in that case, just let me know. I’ll have my bag packed and ready.” A pause. “Is it cool, like, if I ask what brought you here?”

[ht-ryder]

sidrabarker:

“I watched for a few minutes but uh, most of them looked like they were betting some serious cash so I didn’t stick around.” She filled the wrap carefully and looked up, giving the male a shrug. “People watching, even though I prefer to keep a considerable distance from said people. The party was too loud and I didn’t want to choke on someone elses cigarette smoke whileI’m trying to be choking on my on so I found my own little spot, ya know?” Sid licked the edges of the paper before rolling it together, making sure everything was neat and fit together before sealing it with the flame from the lighter. 

“What about you? Party scene not really your thing or?” Finally she looked up at him, it may have been dark outside but the light from the house made it possible for her to see a little bit more than just his general outline, though the angle made it harder to see his actual face.

“Yeah. Looked like it was getting pretty legit,” he agreed. H.T. didn’t move from his spot, instead crossing his arms across his chest and rubbing his elbows with his thumbs. The pleasant buzz that fuzzied his head also made him slightly woozy. “No, yeah, I totally get it. It’s a bit much in there. All the people and all the noise...” 

Truth be told, it was far too much for him after a while. H.T. was good at acting like he enjoyed things (sometimes he even fooled himself), but there was always a breaking point with him. Usually it involved him getting blackout drunk or some other stupid decision, and tonight’s break from the party was mild by comparison. 

“No, not really. Can I sit down with you? I mean, we don’t even have to talk. I just don’t really want to be down there.

[ht-ryder]

evemasters:

Eve liked to think she was one of the lucky few. The good experiences outweighed the bad ones during her time as an escort. And from early on she was taken under the wing by someone who had her best interest since day one. It was rarity in sex work, knowing not everyone had the same luxury as she did. Which is why Eve made it her mission to value her employees over clients and money. H.T. may’ve not viewed it as a big deal but, for Eve at least, the clients behavior was inexcusable.

“For the last time, you are not a bother.” Eve reiterates, her voice more firm as she speaks to clarify her point. “Before I can tell you what to do and how you should go about handling this situation, I need to ask one thing: do you want to continue seeing this client?” As bothered as she was by how uncomfortable H.T. was, the answer would guide Eve how to properly handle the situation. “You aren’t obligated to say yes. I can easily move him to someone else or ban from the guest list.”

H.T. decided to stop arguing the specific point. He still felt like he was, but he had never been able to take his concerns to anyone before Eve without being ignored or even laughed at. At some point he had stopped asking and just let himself be happy with whatever scraps he was given or could fight for. Being thought of as worth something was something he still struggled deeply with. 

Taking another long drink of water, he thought about her question for a moment. “I...I want the money, I think. And I think I can...I think I could deal with it if maybe I had someone to help me talk to him, maybe.” He paused. “But would you be mad if I said I didn’t?”