Tips from a Male Prostitute

Article by Team Penthouse

The trophy is small and unobtrusive; it stands half-hidden on a shelf top, the luster of its nameplate long since faded. "Boy of the Month," it says, referring to a time when its owner, Frank G., was one hell of a newspaper boy.

“I had a system,” he recalls earnestly. “I could carry a couple of dozen papers under my arm, band them, and throw them all in the same stroke. Saved me a couple of hours a day.”

There is a strange, almost wistful pride in Frank’s voice as he talks, and he seems to be completely unconscious of the irony built into that modest little piece of brass. For yesterday’s Boy of the Month is now, and has been for the last five years, a male prostitute, a man who has grown used to taking his pride from a wholly different sort of performance. But it is easy to see both these people in Frank the eager, overachieving newsboy with the soft eyes and open demeanor; and the relaxed, almost self-consciously sinuous whore who even in these unprofessional circumstances wears a black shirt open to the navel.

Frank is a couples specialist, a man who makes his living by being a professional numero trois in an almost dizzying variety of amateur ménages. “I’ve done hundreds of them,” he says with an all-in­a-life’s-work shrug. “It’s gotten to be almost routine.”

A far cry, though, from the routine that occupied the greater share of Frank’s working adulthood. He holds a master’s degree in business administration from a southern California college, and up to the point of his entry into what he calls “the life” he made his living as an accountant.

“I had been married for seven years,” he says. “My wife and I had separated, and I took a trip to South America so we could think things out. When I got back we decided to divorce. At that point I had more bills than I could pay, so I found a part-time accounting job. Well, those jobs don’t pay much.

“One day I happened to read an article in a men’s magazine about a guy in Massachusetts who had advertised in underground newspapers as a ‘masseur.’ Apparently he’d gotten a lot of response from those ads. So I decided to put an ad in the paper, just to see what would happen.”

His first ads—”Rocky had just come out, so I wrote, ‘Call the Italian Stallion,’ something stupid like that”—were for females only, but he quickly found out that “you don’t get rich doing that unless you have contacts.” So he put in an ad for females and couples, thinking that “maybe there are some guys out there who are kind of weird, who would want something for their wives.”

Well, his first responses were from men, but not from the sort of men who tend to form the better halves of couples. In fact, Frank’s first few clients were exclusively gay.

Originally published in the June 1983 issue of Penthouse magazine. But male prostitutes still exist.