The Truth: Part 33

Everyone at the brothel found out I had gonorrhea.

I was at a loss of what to do with my spare time so I started showing up at work and hanging out with the boys. They noticed I wasn’t taking any clients, and when Jake found the bottle of pills in my bag and confronted me about it the truth came out and it didn’t take long before everyone was making jokes about my predicament. I was the butt of every slut joke for the next week. I didn’t seem to mind as it was all in good fun, but when Jake felt bad that he outed my condition he admitted to me while driving me home one night that he once had syphilis.

A week later I was called back into the sexual health clinic and was cleared from gonorrhea. I was so happy it was all over, and I started working again immediately.

A new boy started at Knight Call; His name was Bruce. Bruce was a stocky Irishman with a very round face. His Irish accent made the other boys howl with laughter as he explained that he had done escorting work before. He seemed like a nice guy, and immediately everyone seemed to like him. He was a bit nervous, his round face glowing red. But Bruce seemed to enjoy the attention of being a new boy with a funny accent, and he told us all that he had a boyfriend, Jason, who was starting the next week. They had both moved to Australia as a couple and hoped to stay for a long time. They spent all their money coming down the coast of Australia, so they needed to make some quick cash.

“I convinced him to do this with me,” Bruce said about getting his boyfriend, Jason, to work at Knight Call, “He knew I had done it before in my past and I had convinced him to do it here so we can make some extra cash. It’s such easy money.”

After that everyone was excited to meet the second Irishman. It seemed to be all that everyone was talking about for the next week. I didn’t get what all the excitement was about. We had people from all over the world work at KC, so why all the fuss over two guys with funny accents?

“Do you think that Bruce is hot?” I asked Nick one day after work.

“God no! Why the fuck would you ask me that?” Nick hissed.

I was surprised about the anger in his voice, “Oh, I don’t know. I think he’s kind of cute.”

“Eww you’re so disgusting.”

“Well I was just saying…”

“Well maybe you should keep your shitty opinions to yourself. Did you ever think of that?” I didn’t understand why Nick was being rude.

Work was slowing down for everyone that week. I don’t even think Bruce got many clients, despite the fact that he was fresh meat. We struggled to scrape by and when we had to go and interview clients we all were trying our best to make a good impression.

I had my interview technique down pat. I would walk into the office (the clients usually sat on the couch) and walk straight up to the client and say, “Hi, I’m Carl. What’s your name?” I then would shake his hand and sit right next to him, making sure I was very close. I would act like an innocent young boy, knowing the right cues to look away and blush, like when they said ‘You’re really good looking’. I would usually place my hand on their thigh and look deep into their eyes and ask them personal questions about their lives. I was good at pretending to be interested in them. I was good at flirting with them. I was good at making them fall for me. I then would recite what I would and wouldn’t do in the bedroom, ask if they had any questions, and then leave saying, “I hope to see you later.” Sometimes I would add a wink for good measure.

As far as I knew, no one had a technique like I did. New boys would ask me what to say in the interview and I would always lie. I didn’t want to share any of my trade secrets about the interviews. They were the most important part of getting a client so I needed to keep the edge over everyone else. I needed to stand out, especially during the ‘down times’.

I got one client that week: An Asian man who brought a peculiar bag with him into the room. I was afraid that the bag was full of dildos. The client set the bag beside the bed. I gave him a massage and we started fooling around. For the most part he was nice and polite, but we got into a small argument over what I wouldn’t do in the bedroom.

“You lie to me.” He said in broken english, pushing round glasses up his nose. He was very thin, in his late 40’s, and lay naked on the bed.

“No I didn’t. You never said anything about doing that downstairs.” I retaliated, sitting up and trying to keep my voice steady and playful.

“I pay for full service.”

“No… “ I drew out the word, “You pay for a massage, anything else needs to be discussed before hand. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to, and I don’t do that.”

The client looked severely disappointed. He sulked for a second, then straightened up and bent over the side of the bed to grab the bag.

Oh great, I thought, He’s going to pull out a knife and stab me.

The client bent back up with the bag in his hand, “I want you finish. I want you to cum.”

“Yeah, cool,” I say looking at the clock. He was asking for me to finish 15 minutes early.

“I want you cum in here.” He rummages through the bag. I wait a couple seconds, afraid yet curious as to what he was looking for. “Finish in this,” the little Asian man hands me a small frying pan.

I nearly laugh but quickly compose myself. I asked the next question as straight faced and normal as I possibly could, “You want me to cum in a frying pan?” The client nods furiously. I couldn’t help myself, “But like… what are you going to do with it?”

“Cum for me in here.”

I studied his face for a second hoping that it was a joke. He looked at me with such intensity I knew he was serious.

After the job was done I really hoped he washed the pan before eating something out of it.

I went home after the Frying Pan Client, knowing that it was going to be the only job for the day. Scott was starting to get better in his long recovery and was noticing that I didn’t seem in full form most of the time. He blatantly asked me one night, “Have you been doing drugs?”

I hesitated, “Yes I have.”

“I hope you’re being safe. What are you doing. I heard rumours you’ve been dabbling in ice…” His voice trailed off. I was quiet for too long, so he added, “It’s fine if you are. I’ve done it before. It’s a really fun drug to take every once in awhile.”

“Yeah, I have done it.”

“Just be careful, darling. Don’t make it a habit. I have noticed you’ve been going out a lot.”

“Well I’ve been hanging out with Nick and them a lot.” I defended myself, them meaning Brendan and Matt. “We’ve just been drinking and going out a lot. Honestly I’ve only done ice a couple times,” I lied with the straightest face possible.

“Well, you can talk to me about anything, honey. I’m ok with you doing it. I’m not your mother so you do what you want. I really care about you so let me know once it starts becoming a problem.”

“I will,” I lied again.

“It’s only a problem once you start lying about it.” Scott said with a hint of confrontation, then he said more softly, “You can trust me. I’m like your cool Aunt. Auntie Scott.”

I let out a fake chuckle, “I do trust you. You’ve done so much for me, letting me live here and all.”

“The same goes for you.” Scott grabbed my hand, “Thanks for being so patient with me. I hate being in this condition and all the responsibility I’ve placed upon you. I really wish it was different and…” Scott stopped himself, his voice had cracked and tears welled in his eyes, “Just thank you.”

“It’s no problem, Scott. Really, I just want you to get better. You just focus on your recovery and I will focus on keeping everything in order.”

Deniro lay on the end of Scott’s bed and lifted his head lazily.

I said in reaction, “I need to feed Deniro still. Do you need me to bring you up anything?”

“No darling, I’m alright. Can you just take some of these dishes down for me?” Scott motioned to a plate, bowl, and empty glass.

“Of course.”

I washed up the dishes and fed Deniro. I gave Deniro a big hug and kissed him on his head. That dog had really grown on me, even though it was still a pain in the ass to give him a bath.

I went up to check on Scott before heading to bed.

“I think tomorrow I’ll try walking down the stairs for the first time.” Scott said with a ring of hope.

“Yeah, it should do you some good to get off this level. Do you want me to be there?”

“Yes please, darling. That would be wonderful.”

 

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One thought on “The Truth: Part 33

  1. squid

    found this on reddit and im hooked….this side of sydney is terrifying and fascinating… i didnt realize it wasnt a finished piece..look forward to hearing the rest of your story

    Like

    Reply

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