tagGay MaleQuadDating



The only thing that Sophie Creighton related to her husband's disappearance when she called me in to try to track him down was his recent obsession with an online dating service. She didn't suspect foul play or anything. He had packed a suitcase and, she said, had been withdrawn and acting strangely for some time. She said she primarily wanted to know where he was so that she could have divorce papers served on him.

He hadn't taken his desktop computer and she'd spent time breaking into his private areas before she'd called me in. She'd found that he'd been playing around on a local dating site called QuadDating, which had a stiff six-month membership fee that gave you access to the member profiles, and where, for an additional fee, you could make four appointments for hookups on a single day at the service's facility with those whose profiles attracted you. The appointments were for four-hours at QuadDating's facility, an old downtown hotel converted for the purpose. The four hours was broken into four separate appointments for forty-five minutes each in a hotel room, to do whatever the two (or more) of you wanted to do. The sessions were separated by fifteen minutes. You could sign up for fewer sessions, but you paid for all four. And the hookups were all by mutual consent.

Sophie had found not only Don Creighton's personal profile on the dating site Internet page but also evidence of his last session signup. For the first sessions, he'd made an appointment for a young woman named Cindy—for two consecutive sessions. But, though the record indicated he's made two other appointments, he'd managed to blank out the names of who they'd been set with.

Sophie said she wanted me to track this Cindy down and find out if Don was with her. She flattered me by saying she'd picked me, on recommendation, because she didn't think I'd have any trouble making an appointment with this Cindy. Sophie gave me a check to cover not only my expenses for three days work but also the relatively high cost to sign up with QuadDating and to pay for information. Saying yes to her proposal wasn't difficult as I had no other work pressing, and I wouldn't mind trying out one or two of those sessions she was paying for. I wasn't exactly celibate.

* * * *

I was gratified to find that Sophie had assessed my chances in the QuadDating profiles correctly. It wasn't long after I put in my profile that the interested private messages started pinging, and within several hours I not only had appointments for the next day with Cindy but also with three other prime candidates of my choice. What was surprising to me was that good research on the QuadDating Web site revealed that several of the profiles were for listed staff members of the site. As these were some of the more attractive profiles, it struck me that QuadDating wasn't just running a referral and enabling dating-cum-sex service, but it also was running some form of a brothel—and one where amateurs could play on the same level as the professionals. Only the member setting up the appointments was charged for the service, so my guess was that some of the honeys with the best profiles on the site had just discovered a clever way to avoid walking the streets.

The pros undoubtedly got a cut of the fees, but everything a session with an amateur brought in most likely went directly to the house. This was a new concept for a brothel to me, and one that seemed to be clever. Undoubtedly connections with the amateurs could be made outside the service, but I was willing to bet the pros made their hookups keep contact within the confines of QuadDating's expense structure.

It didn't matter to me whether I signed up for pros or amateurs as long as they were arousing and helped lead to where I wanted to go. Beyond Cindy, who was quite a looker, if you liked that type, I signed up for the best I could find. It actually worked to the benefit of what I was tasked to do to have hookups with service staff members, so that maybe I could learn something about the operation that would permit me to track down the wandering Don Creighton. And whoever I hooked up with would earn their way.

Cindy was a bit surprised when all I wanted to do in my first QuadDating hookup, beyond some light kissing and groping, was talk. She seemed a bit disappointed and said so, saying she'd been looking forward to the hookup, but when I started flashing the wad of money Sophie Creighton had given me to loosen lips, she was willing not only to talk but also to go out to the reception area and pump her friend in reception for information on Don Creighton. Before she went she said he'd fucked her but almost seemed reluctant to do so.

"He was a hunk—like you," she said. "But he didn't really want to do any more than you have. He was nervous the whole time he was with me—like he couldn't wait to get on to the next session. I felt like I had to seduce him. And I'd had such hopes for him."

"Hopes for him?" I asked.

"I checked up on him. The man's loaded and is a real good looker. A beautiful body—just like you, hon. I had visions of more than just a hookup."

"More than a hookup? The man's married you know." But when she gave me that "so what?" look, I realized that Cindy was using the service to land a sugar daddy. Beyond that, of course, Don hadn't put anything about is marriage in his profile. It was sort of a tossup on whether to do that or not. To some, cheating on a spouse would be part of the arousal.

One thing was clear about Don, though. It was increasingly looking like whoever he ran off with was as a result of hookups with this dating service, using QuadDating as a stepping stone much as Cindy was.

When Cindy came back from reception, she had the most peculiar look on her face.

"Well, no wonder," she muttered. "But why did he even bother to book me?"

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"I asked the receptionist to check the records three times. The two appointments he had after me the other day were with men."

"Men?" I asked.

"Yes. And one of them is Rick—a really great-looking guy. He works here. I knew there was nothing going with him, though. He's gay. And, being staff here, he obviously isn't what I'm looking for anyway. He's here today, though, if you want to ask him about that guy."

And again she wondered why he'd even bothered with her. I didn't really wonder, though. I figured that it was insurance, so that, if Sophie Creighton managed to break into his computer and find the QuadDating service material, she might be ticked at him, but she wouldn't find the worst. He had left a hookup with a woman, but he'd erased references to sex appointments with men. He had been covering many levels of his tracks.

I'd normally go back and just tell the client she was better off without the guy, but in this case, Sophie Creighton didn't seem to need to be convinced of that. She just wanted to track him down to serve him with divorce papers. That he was into men rather than women would just be so much more frost on the ice cube she was forming around her husband.

I knew a lot more now about the circumstances than I had before arriving at QuadDating, but it didn't get me any further with locating where Don Creighton was now. It wasn't with this Rick guy. I knew that because my next appointment in the QuadDating cycle was with Rick. He hadn't run off with anyone. And he was a real honey—one I'd picked out for my own enjoyment.

* * * *

A forty-five minute session didn't permit much opportunity the first time to shake off the awkwardness and the nerves of what touted itself as a dating service and to get much beyond petting, groping, and getting each other off with hands and mouths. And it was a bit taxing to do this with a new "date" four times within four hours. But that likely was part of the design of the service. They were encouraging follow-up visits. I supposed, with practice and experience with the system, one would make appointments with new people one wanted to meet at the beginning and would, by the fourth session, be fucking ones where the comfort level had been reached in previous sessions.

None of that came into play with my session with Rick. I hit the jackpot in the second session. We both came into the room aroused and hard; got past the kissing, groping, and undressing stages quickly, and had plenty of time for a hot, completed fuck and a bit of postcoital conversation afterward.

There had been a bit of a struggle on who was going to be the top between Rick and me, but I'd read his profile. He'd listed himself as versatile—and I hadn't. He was a cute trick. Younger and smaller than I was. Auburn hair with blond highlights, long eyelashes and a shy, sensual smile. Rings in one ear, both nipples, and his navel. I was sure he had no trouble booking up from the Web site profiles.

But we both knew that time was of the essence, so after just a bit of wrestling, he allowed me to turn him over on his back and run my hand down his back and into the curve of his buttocks while we were kissing and my fingers to move inside him. I felt him relax and legs fall apart and spread for me. He already was moaning and moving his hips when I moved inside him and started to pump him deep. He struggled with me again then, as I went in deep, writhing under me and panting. But then he just relaxed under me and went with the ride.

He was making all the right noises and moving his hips with me, and we both came in time, nearly fifteen minutes, for me to do a bit of a different kind of pumping.

"God, that was too quick," he said with a good semblance of a whine when we were done. "We need to meet again."

"That's possible," I answered. "But I know you work here, and I need a bit of information on one of your recent hookups." I also figured that chances were good that his "gotta have it again" response was a function of his job here. I'd been with rent-boys before. Not too many, though, as I didn't need to go that route to get it off—at least not yet in my life.

"One of my recent hookups?" Rick asked. "I don't know if I can—"

"Not even for a Benjamin Franklin?" I asked, pulling my wallet out of my trousers that were neatly folded on a nearby chair and extracting a hundred-dollar bill. But that's when I learned that Rick really had enjoyed the fuck and wanted to do it again.

"Maybe you could apply that to another QuadDating session with me," he said. "And longer. You can sign up with a guy for two sessions in a row, you know. So, who's the guy you want to know about?"

"His name is Don Creighton. But his profile on the Web site has him as Jeter Creed. Any chance you remember him?"

"Businessman type, high strung, but hunky. Good muscles. Big dick? Not as big as yours, of course. A bit older than you. Cocky and an edge of cruelty to him? That the guy? Just last Tuesday for our last session?"

"Yep, that would be him. I just want to find him and talk to him. Nothing illegal or violent. One of his relatives has lost contact." That was true, of course, but no reason Rick had to know that the relative looking for Creighton was his wife.

"He's a top too, you know. And aggressively so, like you. You won't really want—"

"No, I don't want to fuck him. As I said, I'm just trying to locate him for a relative."

"A rich one, apparently, if you're willing to pay a Franklin for the information."

"The guys rich, yes. He's needed to sign some papers so the relative can stay rich too." That also was absolutely true.

"You could try Craig. I understand that this Creed guy liked Craig so much that Craig has left us and run away with him."

"Are you saying that this Craig that my guy likes a lot is on the staff here too?" I remembered Craig from the profiles. He'd been one I'd tried to make an appointment with but couldn't. A really good-looking tanned guy with a good amount of body hair who looked like a high-paid personal training type who was willing to offer other personal services as well. He'd given "personal trainer" as his occupation in his profile—and his bio photo, showing him shirtless upheld that possibility, but rent-boys habitually give themselves a false occupation, so one never knows. He'd also listed himself as bi. I'd sent him a callout for an appointment, but he hadn't answered. Apparently he hadn't answered because he'd already run off with Don Creighton.

"He was, yes. When he didn't show for appointments, he was given the boot. In his absence."

"If I sign us up for a serious session, you can pull his card or something and give me an idea of his address or cell phone number?"

"I could do that, yes," Rick answered. "But our session is done now. You got two more to go through. Who's your fourth?"

I told him. A dark-skinned Brazilian who'd had an exotic look to him.

"Julio. He's good. He'll give you a good ride. Just don't let him spin you out with foreplay; that's his way of squeezing out a second session. Take him hard out of the gate, like you did me. He'll be good for you."

"You're plenty good enough for me. Deliver me an address on Craig and I'll be back with you next week." And I would too—written up on Sophia Creighton's services bill. Rick was a real honey.

"OK. I'll check where you'll be and I'll deliver the information you want before your session with Julio."

Rick was right about Julio. He tried to spin the introductions and "getting comfortable and aroused" up-front parts out, but I swiftly let him know that I wasn't fooled one bit about the dating service fig leaf, that I'd bought his ass for three-quarters of an hour, and that I intended to make full use of the time—and of his ass. Once I'd gotten my dick inside him, he gave me one wild, satisfying ride. And he seemed happy afterward when I told him that the preliminaries didn't matter—that I intended to give him a spin again during my six months of membership.

* * * *

Rick made good on his promise, and he stood there at reception with me at the end of my QuadDating day while I signed up for two consecutive sessions with him, topped off with a fourth of Julio for the same day the next week—all thanks to Mrs. Creighton's open purse and burning desire to be rid of her husband the lucrative way.

I took another day to check out Craig's residence to assure myself that Don Creighton was there—which he was, and then I presented myself and my bill to Sophia Creighton.

Who surprised the shit out of me.

"You sure that the man named Craig was there?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered. Sure I was curious why she would ask about him.

"That little shit's name really is Tim Frazer," she said. "I don't really give a fuck where Don is or what he's doing. To tell the truth, I'd already served him with the divorce papers. But Tim was my personal trainer and gave me special service. I want him back. Just for spite, Don found out who was giving me that special inner glow and he's taken Tim away from me. It's all part of the divorce negotiations."

"But how did you—?"

"How did I know that was who Don ran off with?" she asked. Then she laughed. "Those other appointments had been erased in Don's computer when I saw them—but I knew how to unerase them. When I saw he'd been with Tim, I knew that's who Don had run off with. It's Tim I was paying you to track down. And I chose you for more than your muscles and your good looks. I knew you could play the same switch-hitting game Don and Tim were playing."

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