Philadelphia, March 2013
Every academic is pestered by textbook company representatives pushing for you to assign your students their latest frightfully over-priced, generally gay-free textbook instead of some of the thousands of articles and e-books available for free at the campus library.
I'm usually immune to their pleas, but the rep that knocked on my office door last month, Mark from ___ Company, was jaw-droppingly handsome, and knew it: wavy brown hair, square jaw, piercing green eyes, huge hands, and a bodybuilder's physque crammed into his too-tight white shirt and grey slacks.
He flashed the smile that had been getting him special privileges his whole life and began pushing the new textbook with interactive e-book that meshed directly onto our online learning management system and...
"Um...sure, sure," I said, grinning like an idiot. "But how is it with gay content? I never order a textbook unless it covers the Stonewall Riots of 1969 that started the Gay Rights Movement."
He didn't flinch at the "controversial" topic. "Well, let's take a look." He came over to my side of the desk so I could see his laptop and leaned over me, so close that I could feel his body heat and, if I looked down, check for a basket.
There were several references to gay people: Stonewall, Anita Bryant, Matthew Shepard, the AIDS Quilt, gay marriage -- a lot more than the none in most intro texts.
"Ok, let me send you a link to the supplemental materials, and give you my card." His huge bear-paw hand enveloped mine. He flashed that smile again.
The moment Mark left, I dropped everything to look him up on the internet: Linkedin, twitter, instagram, and Facebook.
Mark was 26 years old, grew up in Pittsburgh, spent his junior year in high school in Japan, graduated from Duquesne University, had been to Europe and Canada, had a DUI arrest, had a brother named Clay.
He wrote a google review of a restaurant in Philadelphia.
He wrote an Amazon review of the tv series Sherlock.
There were a lot of newspaper articles about tennis -- his various matches and awards in high school and college. He was signed on to a professional tennis recruitment website.
Facebook and Instagram had some pics of Mark with his arm around an older man and a guy he tagged as Mohammed, wearing a graduation gown, holding a fish [the models in the illustrations are not really him].
I saved the shirtless pic to look at his thick, smooth chest, his shoulders and biceps, and his sixpack abs later.
He had a profile on a professional modeling site: interested in print and tv assignments, photos in a suit, in a sweater, in a swimsuit. His resume listed some catalog work and local commercials.
How did this guy have time to work as a textbook rep?
Mark was back in my office the next week to see if I had gone over the supplementary material.
I was a little embarrassed that I had done so much internet stalking, so I decided to come clean.
"I looked you up online. Quite an impressive list of accomplishments: decathlons, tennis, modeling."
He grinned. "Oh, you saw my portfolio?"
"I lived in California for eleven years, so I've been around models' portfolios a lot. Have you done any tv or movie work?"
"I have some youtube videos, if you'd like to see them. Look under Markster348."
He moved on to discuss another textbook that my students might like.
As soon as I got home that night, I checked youtube for Markster348, and found a lot of streaming videos of Mark singing and flexing.
Then on a hunch I looked for Markster348 on some gay dating sites.
Jackpot! Single, bisexual, into anal, oral, frottage, rimming, into jocks and preppy types. A nice nude photo, semi-aroused cut Kielbasa. But he hadn't accessed his account in "over two months."
No way I was going to date him -- he lived in Harrisburg, a two hour drive away (textbook reps have a wide territory). And a hookup seemed inappropriate, given our professional relationship.
But I saved the nude pic to look at later.
The next week, Mark was in my office again.
"Have you made any decision about the textbook?"
"I'm about 75% in favor of ordering it."
He grinned, "What can I do to get you to 100%?"
Let me see you naked! "Let me look over some of the supplemental materials, the pre-tests, the videos. and so on. Speaking of videos, I saw yours online. Very impressive. And not just on youtube. Some of the dating sites."
He glanced around nervously, probably afraid that I was going to out him. There were five other offices right next to mine, and you could hear conversations in any of them.
"Oh...um...thanks. How did you find them? I didn't think I had my screen name published anywhere."
"You told me -- Markster354, on youtube."
"Oh -- those videos. I thought you meant my..."
"Your..." I continued.
"Some stuff I did in college. No big deal, but I'd rather not have my girlfriend find out about it. Or my boss."
He took out a piece a paper, scribbled a few words, and pressed it into my hand. "To look at later."
I obligingly put it in my pocket, and looked at it after he left: "Frat Boy Rim Job."
Boystube had a clip: five "fratboys" have a sex party, with oral, anal, rimming, and barebacking.
My friend Alan in West Hollywood starred in some porn movies in the 1980s, so I know a little about the industry. This was strictly amateur, and rimming -- gross!
If you don't know what it is, look it up. I'm not going to explain.
Still, it was interesting to watch Mark in action. How often do you see someone that have a professional relationship rimming a guy while being topped?
He was in my office the next week. "Ok, I've decided on your textbook," I announced, to spare him endless drives out from Harrisburg.
"Great. And if there's anything else I can do..."
"I'll send you an email. And, by the way, I saw that movie you recommended."
He flashed a broad smile. "What did you think?"
"Very talented performer. Very versatile."
He glanced around and leaned in close. "If you'd like -- you know, a private showing -- I'm staying at the Days Inn." He passed me a card with his phone number.
In case you were wondering: oral only, no rimming.
See also: Alan the Pentecostal Porn Star; the Great Hookup Contest of Philadelphia.