6:30am: Tim – Rugby loving financial services consultant – Vaucluse to Airport
7:25am: Jamie – Game of Thrones obsessed digital media account manager – Bondi to Surry Hills
8:20: Russell – Terribly depressed recruitment consultant – Coogee to Wynyard
9:10: Jacob – WTF
Early morning Uber rides during the week generally aren’t the most exciting. I enjoy the conversations, but people are exhaustingly well behaved. That all changed with Jacob.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Jacob – 7 minutes – Rosebery
My phone started to ring from a private number as I approached the apartment block Jacob had entered into the app. I answered.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah just wait! I’ll be down in five!” A panicked male voice whined into the phone before hanging up.
The whole, “I’ll be down in 5,” is usually ok, but Jacob lives on a busy main road and there isn’t anywhere to pull over. I am left lurking in a no standing zone with fingers crossed hoping police don’t drive past. I was so preoccupied scouting for police I didn’t see him coming.
“Okay, okay, okay I’m running late!” Announced a frantic Jacob as he tumbled into my car, dropping his designer bum-bag, sunglasses and two phones on the floor.
“F#!k, f#!k, f#$k!” He wailed as he clumsily snatched at the dropped items.
Jacob was in an absolute state.
“Ummm fuck! Darlinghurst, take me to Darlinghurst.”
Jacob was high. Not your chilled out stoner high, but raging meth-head high. He was in a losing battle with my seatbelt which he jerked at aggressively. For those of you who have read my previous story about Marco, the cocaine injecting raver, you will remember my description of Marco writhing around in his seat with hands clasped together, like the happiest little snake in the history of the world. Jacob put Marco to shame. His movements resembled the abstract dancing performed by Summer Heights High’s Mr G.
Jacob shares an uncanny resemblance to Freddie Mercury. A young Freddie Mercury. He is dressed for the gym, wearing a red singlet, gym shorts and a pair of black Nike trainers. It is 14 degrees celsius outside but Jacob is apparently boiling hot. He reaches forward and blasts my air-con to its highest level as he continues to thrust back and forth next to me. I was becoming increasingly weary of Jacob. He was unpredictable and so I attempted to befriend him.
“What are you up to today mate? Off to work?” I enquired in a thoughtful tone.
“hahaha yeahhh I don’t work…. well not really,” replied Jacob as he fumbled through his bum-bag for a tissue.
“My nose won’t stop f#!king running. I better go catch it. HAHAHAHHAHA!” Decried a rambling Jacob as he continued tugging at his seatbelt which he had miraculously managed to secure in place.
“hahaha,” I chuckled politely. “What do you mean you don’t work? Did you win lotto?” I asked.
I was blown away by Jacob’s response.
“Ummmm yeh. I’m an escort. For gay men. yeh.” He replied nonchalantly. Well as nonchalantly as possible for a man with ice pulsing through his veins.
“No way!” I responded in a surprised, but again positive tone. “How did you get into that? Am I taking you to a job now?”
“yeahhhh like I usually don’t do outcalls but I need the cash,” replied Jacob.
Jacobs phone started ringing. Not his iPhone, his throwaway black Nokia I assume is used for his escort service.
“yeahhh! I’m on my way. The traffic isn’t that bad. I’ll call soon ok by ok by,” Jacob whispered into the phone as he chewed his fingernails.
Jacob was becoming increasingly agitated. His body contorted, shuddered and shaked. He rocked back and forth moving his head from side to side. His speech became faster, more erratic.
“I’ve been doing this for like 5 years but i’m going to quit next week and move home with my parents because I can’t keep doing this forever I’ll have wrinkles in 5 years and no one will want to f#!k me,” said Jacob at the speed of light.
“What do you think you will do instead?” I asked, genuinely interested.
“I’m lazy and have a sex addiction, so I don’t know what the else I’m going to do. I make more in two days than most people make in a week.”
“How do you find clients? Do you work for a company?” I asked.
“No way. I wouldn’t give a cut of my money to an agent when I’m out there literally selling my ass. I advertise online and get referrals through word of mouth,” replied Jacob, still worming about on my seat. His mouth was getting drier by the second as he started to lick his lips uncontrollably.
The next question I asked is one I instantly regretted. “What are some of the craziest things guys have asked you to do?”
It was far too early in the morning to listen to Jacob describe the deep-seated depravities a percentage of his clientel indulge in. I couldn’t help it. I coughed and dry retched as Jacob went into graphic detail. It is far too much to reveal on this blog. If you’re seriously interested in knowing what he told me, send me an email and I will reply with the details: firstname.lastname@example.org
I am not surprised Jacob needs to be as high as a kite to perform the horrific sex acts his clients request. Jacob found my reaction hilarious as he broke into a fully fledged laughing fit. We pulled into Victoria St. in Darlinghurst and Jacob’s phone started ringing again. It turns out this particular client had been out partying all night and was incredibly keen to continue the party with Jacob.
“Gotta go!” said Jacob as he jumped out of my semi-moving car and disappeared up a set of stairs.
I was relieved to see Jacob go. I really do hope he moves home with his parents, gets off the drugs and escapes the living hell he has become accustomed to.