Promoting Jet
by Londonboy
I’m a businessman in Los Angeles. I don’t just have one business; I have many different interests that seem to make me a lot of money. I’m also very powerful in this town, well probably in the entire country, but let’s just say in this town for now. I’m constantly looking for something to make my next twenty million or so dollars. Usually something comes along that will be both profitable and enjoyable for me sink my teeth into. I love having the kind of power that can get a returned call from the governor in nothing flat or get you any table at any restaurant in town with little or no advanced notice. I like having men constantly groveling for my attention and my assistance. I must admit that my life is blessed, even though I’ve ended up not really trusting anyone and I’ve never been in love. So there are some downsides to having a helluva lot of power, but it’s a small price to pay for all of the fucking great benefits.
So, one day I’m flipping through channels before getting ready for bed and I see the finals for something called the Ultimate Fighter Challenge. Of course it’s really the beefy studs fighting each other that makes me set the remote down on the bed beside my leg, but that doesn’t matter. The two guys going after each other on the screen were beautiful examples of manhood. They had chiseled bodies drenched in shiny sweat and covered with muscles. My cock got hard instantly. It was also quite obvious both men were strong and agile. I was amazed at some of their acrobatics and the power behind their punches. Shit, I knew one punch from either man would knock me out for days, but these guys took beatings beyond my wildest fantasies. This was a kind of power that I could relate to. My strength came from money and prestige. My kind of power was impressive, but this kind of muscled strength really turned me on. Finally one of the guys won the prize and a cool two million dollars for him and his promoter. They interviewed the promoter, a fat southern man, who seemed to know nothing about the sport of his fighter. He only cared about his boy, as he called him, doing well. He also talked about the Super Bowl of this sport called the Ultimate Fighter Championship held in Las Vegas every year. Because the sport was getting so popular, the prize in Vegas was now up to ten million – shared by the winning fighter and his promoter.
That was the only thing I needed to hatch a new business scheme. I was immediately excited about mixing my two favorite things in the world – money and muscle. I jumped out of bed and began to dress. It was about 11:15pm, but I wanted to get started on my new venture. I knew exactly where to begin. I didn’t want some guy already trained in the art of being an ultimate fighter. I wanted someone who had the fighter’s instincts deep in their bone marrow. I wanted someone who would want the money, the muscles, and the fame as desperately as I wanted them. I also wanted someone that had very little baggage holding him down. I knew just the place to find my perfect fighter to promote.
There is a stretch of Santa Monica Boulevard, near Hollywood, that is known for hustlers. Everyone in town knew the spot. I had never picked up anyone from this stretch of the road, because usually I got my hustlers from private clubs that were discreet and reliable. But for my present business deal I needed someone with street smarts and a toughness that radiated from everything he said or did. I drove slowly through the darkened area watching the guys who stood just beyond the streetlights in doorways of darkened buildings. I saw a few big guys that stepped into the light as I drove near, but none of them impressed me. I was about to give up when I saw, at a street corner just ahead, a broad shouldered guy standing boldly in the bright light of the street lamp. There was something about his open cocky stance that attracted my eye. He didn’t slouch over like most of the men; he was standing up tall and seemed ready to take on the world. He didn’t approach my car when I pulled over to the curb. He stayed a few feet away in his spot, daring me to get out of the car, or, at least, call out to him from an open window. I decided to take a good look at him before I made any move. The guy wasn’t huge or intensely muscled, but I could tell he had a frame ripe for building mass. The first thing that jumped out about the guy was how dark his hair seemed. It was the blackest hair I had ever seen. When he moved his head his shoulder length hair caught the light and I saw a deep blue color reflected in the shine. It was obviously his real color, because no dye job could have been that impressive. The guy was dressed up a little. He had on a collared shirt and some jeans that looked new. His shoes even seemed polished. I was impressed by the fact that this cocky hustler took the time to make sure he looked good. When he turned to me and I saw a surprising pearly white smile, that was mixed with cockiness and something kind of eerie, I decided this guy was my new business adventure.
I got out of the car and moved toward him confidently. It was obvious the guy was impressed with my car and surprised by the fact I was a decent looking fellow. I was pretty sure he got his fair dose of slobs looking for a quick fuck before they went home to families, so I was glad that my appearance made him perk up even more. I didn’t want to beat around the bush about anything. That’s the way I did everything – especially when it came to business.
“How much for the whole night?”
I think the guy was caught off guard by my frankness. I also got the impression that he liked it in some way. His smile got broader. Because I was closer to him I could see that the guy was actually extremely good looking. His hair was a little too long, in my opinion, but well kept and clean. His eyes matched the color of his hair. I had never seen eyes so black. It gave him more of a mysterious and somewhat dangerous look. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, cocky, and very deep.
“So much for small talk. It looks to me like you could handle a cool thousand for the pleasure of my company this evening.”
It was such a smooth and, yet, powerful voice. I was impressed with his boldness, too. I quickly surmised that my friend had the required street smarts and dedication needed for our future endeavor. I circled him a little and saw that I had been right about his body. He was built nicely and obviously took care of what was surely his greatest resource.
“Yeah, I could handle that with no problem. One request, though. Would you mind taking off your shirt before I finish the deal.”
“Checking out the merchandise before you take it out of the store, I see. You’re not going to squeeze my balls like you would cantaloupes in the store, are you?
His joke actually made me laugh and this made him smile, like he had achieved a goal or something. I had quickly determined his business style. He wanted to be included in making all decisions. It wasn’t that he wanted to be in charge, he just wanted his opinion to be considered. After all, he was the one with the goods. I decided, however, to make it clear, from the beginning, that I was running the show. I didn’t say anything. I just stood there for a few minutes and then I reached back behind me and pulled out my wallet. I knew better than to take the money out in public. The guy, himself, could be a cop or there might even be one near by. I simply opened the wallet and let him see that it was full of crisp one hundred dollar bills. I slid the wallet back into my pocket and just stood there staring at the guy. My plan worked perfectly. I saw the guy’s cockiness waver ever so slightly as he waited for me to speak. When he finally determined that I wasn’t going to say anything he shrugged his shoulders and then pulled the bottom of his shirt out of his jeans. He quickly slid the shirt off of his upper torso and I saw, for the first time, what I new would be the body of next year’s Ultimate Fighter Championship winner. The guy had a solid build. His chest was full and muscled. His arms were beautiful. I stared at his biceps, my favorite body part, a little too long because I saw that he registered my fondness for his arms. He tensed his biceps as I studied them and I felt my cock tighten a little.
“That’s fine. You can put it back on. Follow me.”
I turned and walked to my car. I was not completely sure he would follow, but something deep inside said he was ready to find out more about my desires. I think he sensed I was safe and somehow held a promise of something that would benefit him in some way – even if it was just for the evening. As I walked around my car and got in the driver seat I was shocked to find that he had already gotten in. His quickness and his ability to do it so silently convinced me that I had found the perfect protégé for my new business. He put on his seatbelt as I started the car and then stuck his hand out toward me.
“I’m Jet. Sorry, it’s a rule of mine to not go with anyone that hasn’t given me their name – whether real or made up.”
I shook his hand and noted its strength and roughness. I could tell that he was impressed by the firmness in my hand, as well. I actually think he was beginning to look forward to our time together. That made me very happy and a little hornier.
“I’m Mick Jacobs. Feel free to Google me later. You can find out everything you need to know pretty quickly. So, is Jet a made up name?”
“No sir. It’s been my nickname since birth. My name is John Edward Tune, but everyone has always called me Jet. You can Google my name if you want to, but be assured that nothing is going to come up.”
He smiled and I actually felt bad for saying something so insensitive to the guy. He probably didn’t even own a computer. He could probably tell that I felt a little weird because he immediately went into a smooth routine he must have worked up for new clients.
“So, Mick. Are you from LA?”
“Born and raised. I only went away for college. And you.”
“No, I’m one of those who got off the bus here from somewhere in the Midwest – just a few years ago. I had my dreams shattered by some rough times, but have seen a steady increase in finances because of my latest business practices. So, you could say, I like LA a lot more now.”
Mick liked the way Jet talked. This sexy hustler and he had a lot in common. Mick was positive that Jet was going to like his little business proposal.
“I’m glad you like it here. What would you say if I told you I might have a business proposal that could increase your finances dramatically?”
“Well, I’d tell you first that I don’t need a pimp, if that’s what you’re proposing. If it’s something different than that, then I’d certainly be open to hearing more. That is, only if it’s something legal. I haven’t been arrested, so far, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Oh, it’s definitely legal and there are some added benefits for you from the business deal, as well. Well, this is my place, so we’ll save that discussion for later.”
Mick knew his place in Beverly Hills was impressive. The gated entrance, the security guard, and the immaculate lawn were magnificent enough, but to add to that a giant hotel-like mansion, definitely caught people off guard. Jet didn’t even try to hide his amazement. His mouth dropped open and he was busy trying to take everything in. Mick just stayed quiet and let the moment engulf his new business prize. He parked in front so they could enter into the grand foyer first. When they walked through the front door Jet was overwhelmed.
“This must be heaven.”
“No it’s just my home.”
“How many people live here?”
“Just me.”
“Damn, I share a one bedroom with three other guys. You have it made Mickey boy.”
There was something in the way that Jet felt comfortable calling Mick that name that made him realize he had made the right decision in choosing the black-haired hustler. He watched Jet take in the huge entranceway and then led him to the enormous kitchen/den through a long hallway. Mick walked slowly so Jet had time to take in all of his new surroundings.
“I’m going to have a little scotch. Can I interest you in anything, Jet?”
“Uhm, could I have some water?”
“Sure, sparking or still?
“Uhh, sparkling, I guess.”
Mick flipped on the large flat-screen television on the den wall as he walked toward the fridge. This was the pivotal moment of the evening. Mick had kept the Ultimate Fighter Challenge episode, he had been watching earlier, on his TiVo. Immediately the loud commentary and the sight of rough fighting filled the room. Mick watched to see what Jet would do.
“Oh, man, have you seen this fight? It’s incredible. You think the big dude is going to win, but that shorter guy is all muscle. He’s a fucking tank. I won’t give it away, but just don’t write off the short stocky guy.”
Mick’s heart leapt for joy as he watched Jet focus on the fight. He was now 100% sure he’d be able to convince Jet to join his business plan. He took a sip of his drink and then joined Jet in the den area, handing him his drink, and motioning him to sit on the sofa. They watched a little more of the fight and Mick could tell that Jet was entranced. Mick turned down the sound.
“Ready for a little action Mr. Mick?”
“No, no. Not yet, Jet. I hope it’s okay if we just talk for a few minutes.”
“Well, as long as you lay the promised amount on that table, we can do whatever you like.”
“Of course, of course. Just as a good businessman should be.”
Mick took out his wallet and counted out two thousand dollars. He left it on the table and put his wallet away. Jet’s attention was no longer on the television.
“I’m not arguing Mick, but the arrangement was just for a thousand.”
Mick was instantly impressed, again. Jet obviously liked money, but he wasn’t a dishonest man. He didn’t even attempt to let Mick think the deal had been for two grand. This sealed the deal in Mick’s mind. He would do anything to get Jet to agree to his proposal.
“I’m going to leave the full amount on the table, Jet. It’s yours. I want to talk about that business arrangement I mentioned and I feel like I should pay you for listening to my proposal. Depending on what you decide tonight about the deal I’d like to make, we’ll discuss whether we will move to the ‘little action’ that you mentioned. Here’s a question for you, Jet. When you look at those two guys fighting on the screen, tell me what you see and feel.”
It was quickly obvious that Jet was used to all kinds of weirdness when it came to clients. He didn’t even blink an eye or pause at all as he turned to look at the screen. Mick could tell the young stud was honestly thinking about the question – with absolutely no judgment. After a couple of minutes of watching, Jet turned to face Mick.
“First of all, their muscles make me hard, really hard. I mean, look at how those bodies move. It’s poetry in motion. I also start thinking about the power and the strength that each man has and that turns me on more. I work out hard to get my body to its present form, but I’d give almost anything to get fucking huge and strong like one of those guys. Wouldn’t you, Mick?
Mick just nodded his head. He did not want his voice to break the incredible mood created by the words coming out of Jet’s mouth. His statements were music to Mick’s ears. His silence encouraged Jet to go on. It was obvious they guy felt like he was ‘on the clock’ and needed to please his client.
“I also see a pretty fun way to make a living. Those guys make good money from basically working out and learning to use their strength in ways that can defeat the opponent. It’s really a place where the strongest and toughest usually win. Well, that and the smartest. I think it takes someone with the total fucking package to win a fight like that. You have to have what I call punk smarts and the brawn to back it up. Those guys sometimes get up to something like fifty thousand per fight. Fifty thousand would go a long way for me, Mick. But more than all of that, those two bodies on the screen really get my man juices flowing.”
Jet was smiling like he had just won some kind of prize. He was sure his answers had pleased me. He had no idea how much, though. I let silence fill the room for a few minutes and then spoke slowly.
“What would you say if I told you I’d be willing to give you one hundred thousand dollars just for becoming one of them?”
I pointed to the screen and Jet looked from me, to the screen, and back to me. I could tell he was taking in everything I just said and quickly making sense of it. I saw his face light up as if a light bulb had gone on in his mind.
“Mick, if I understand what you’re saying correctly, you’re asking if I want to become an Ultimate Fighter. And I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I would like that very much. It took me a while to figure out what this little deal would mean for you, though. I’m guessing you want to be my sponsor. You figure I can win us both some money. By the looks of this house you don’t really need money, but you love finding things that will make you more money anyway. And you think I could be a winner in those challenges. I’m now sure that’s why you checked me out on the street like some prized cow you were entering in the state fair. How am I doing so far?”
Mick smiled in a way that made Jet’s cock get harder.
“I’d say you’ve hit the nail right on the head. You’ve only left out a few fun details. I would want you to live here. I’d get you the best trainers that money can buy and any equipment that is needed. And only one more thing, Jet, I never mix business with pleasure, so we’d move to only being in business together and not being together in the bedroom. We’d need to stay focused on what we both want. I’ll promise to support you all the way. All I’d ask in return is that you train fucking hard and make us both proud.”
Jet smiled back at Mick and, again, it had both that cocky and eerie feel to it. Mick wasn’t scared by the smile; he was turned on by it. He knew that this was the kind of attitude that was needed to win. For the first time in a long time Mick was sure that this business deal would be perfect.
“I think I’ll miss the pleasure of having sex with you, Mick, but if it means getting a fucking hard massive body, then I’ll live with the disappointment. You’ve got a deal, Mr. Jacobs. When do we begin?”
“It begins right now, Mr. Turner. Let me show you to your bedroom.”
“I like the sound of that, my bedroom. Before tonight, my bedroom was the corner of a living room with nothing but a foam mattress. Lead away, Mick, lead away.”
To say that Jet was blown away by his new home would have been an understatement. He told Mick that his new bedroom suite was twice the size of his entire apartment. They parted at the end of the bedroom tour with just a handshake. Mick said he’s show Jet the rest of the place the next day. He felt they should both get some sleep since training needed to start immediately. Neither man had any idea that the other would sleep more soundly than they ever had in their entire life.