A Cunt Named Troy: How I Didn’t Have A Low Self Esteem That One Time

People who know me know that I have the self-esteem of a wet mop. A bipolar wet mop. A bipolar wet mop with the fashion sense of a schizophrenic lamp. On rare occasions I am empowered and strut the streets like a sexy goddess, but most of the time I feel like I could be described with words such as frog, praying mantis, potato, and greasy McDonald’s takeaway bag. I reflect all of my life’s negativities inwards and it makes me very vile to myself. It’s something I am working on, but that’s not the story I wanted to tell. This is a story about a time I felt like a frog but came out strutting like a goddess.

Oh yeah, and fuck you Troy.

If you’ve never read any of my other blog posts or don’t know me, I’ll give you a quick recap that will give you mega wtf whiplash. Ready? Ok – I used to be a meth-addicted prostitute living in Sydney, Australia. Cool – now go see a physiotherapist for your neck and lets move on.

One of the managers of the brothel was named Troy. I wanted to give him an ugly fake name because he’s pretty good looking and well liked but I was too lazy. So yes, Troy is his real name. He’s totally bald, so at least he’s a failure at something.

Troy seemed to have this weird thing against me. I thought he was a pretty cool guy and I tried to get to know him like I did the other managers, but he seemed to have this chip on his shoulder towards me and some of the other boys. The last time I ever talked to him he really fucked me over so my overall dislike for him doesn’t actually come from this story.

There was about six of us boys in the brothel that night. A few of the boys were very good-looking and fairly popular with clients. I could hold my own against them – I was also popular with the clients – so they weren’t competition for me. It was a quiet shift, not a single client had come by. We were lounging about the Boy’s Room watching tv and playing games on our phones, periodically making small talk amongst ourselves.

When the client bell announced the arrival of an unknown person we all sat up. Someone moaned, “FINALLY!” We could hear the muffled sound in the hallway of Troy opening the front door to let the client inside and the quiet shuffle to the office, where the client would be asked what he was looking for.

There was two ways the client would choose the boy he wanted: The first was that the client would look through photos of us in the office and select boys to interview based on the photos and bio alone. The second was that the client would request to see all of us for an interview. The interviews would be done one by one until the client had seen all of the boys he wanted to see and then he would decide which boy he would spend time with.

Troy opened the door to the Boy’s Room and announced that the client wanted to see everyone for an interview. But then he turned to me and said, “Except you, Cody. There’s no point in going in there, he won’t choose you.”

I was a bit baffled because no one had ever been asked to hang back when a client asked to see all the boys for an interview.

The first boy that went in – a muscular Irish guy – came back and said to Troy, who was standing at the door of the Boy’s Room, “Holy shit! The client is so hot!”

Troy gave him a smirk and said, “I know.”

One by one the boy’s went in for their interview with the client, and one by one they all came back and exclaimed about how hot he was. I felt dejected and disappointed – it was obvious that Troy thought I wasn’t good looking enough for the client. I was also very embarrassed because it was apparent to everyone else as well. In a normal case the manager should’ve just let everyone go in to the interview, regardless if the manager thought the boy would be chosen or not. It was the polite way. Troy purposfully chose to make me look like a fool, and to this day I still have no idea why. Maybe he was mad because I had a full set of luscious hair.

The boy’s all finished their interviews and were giggling like girls about how exciting it would be if they got chosen. Troy left the Boy’s Room and went back to the office to see who the client would pick.

I sat alone in the back corner.

Troy was taking longer than usual to come back to tell us who was chosen. The boy’s started joking that Troy was snogging the client himself and they started laughing hysterically. I thought about going out to the yard to have a cigarette when Troy finally came back into the room.

Troy said, “Cody, can you go see the client in the office.”

“I thought there was no point.” I stated.

“Well he didn’t want any of the other boys. I told him that you’re probably not his type but he still wants to see you. Go, quickly.”

I got up and moved towards the office, resisting the urge to glare at Troy as I walked past him out of the Boy’s Room.

Opening the door to the office was like being hit with a nuclear bomb. The being that sat on the couch could not be human. He was muscular like a bodybuilder, had a jawline like an icepick, had a voice like melted caramel, and was over six feet tall – everything that would make a basic bitch swoon. He was hot as fuck. I sat next to him and told him my info and we had a quick conversation. He rested his hand on my thigh at one point and I blacked out for a few seconds. When I came to I said something corny like “Maybe I’ll see you later” before I went back into the Boy’s Room.

Troy proceeded back into the office once again. He wasn’t even gone for more than 30 seconds before he came back, red with embarrassment and envy, and announced, “Cody, I don’t know why, but he wants you.”

Confetti fell from the ceiling. A chorus of angels materialised and a red carpet unrolled away from me towards the door of the boy’s room. People stood up and applauded. Troy took his real form and reanimated as a snake. I signed a cheque of a million dollars and I cut a red ribbon with a pair of scissors as big as a pair of scissors that are really big.

I strutted so hard past the other boys that when my feet fell they cracked the floor. I basically hair flipped as I past Troy, smirking as I said, “I guess you should’ve let me go in the first place.”

Exiting the Boy’s Room I was flashed with the bulbs of a million paparazzi cameras. I opened the door to the office, and with the dramatic swing of the door I entered with a wink and said, “You called?”

 

 

 

 

 

The Truth: Part 35

We were well into our giant bender when Scott finally woke up. I had checked on him numerous times throughout the night to make sure that we weren’t being too loud, but each time he was fast asleep. Once I heard him murmur in his sleep. I hoped the sound meant he was having a good dream, but hope turned into despair as the murmur turned into another groan of pain escaping Scott’s lips while he slept. How can one dream of good things during these times?

“Make sure you’re being careful,” Scott said to me once he was awake. I didn’t need to tell him what we were up too downstairs. He just knew the answer and looked at me with big, soft eyes.

“I am.” I said, sitting on the end of his bed. I could hear Brendan and Ben laughing loudly downstairs.

“I think I’m going to start trying to go up and down the stairs soon.” Scott said hopefully with a twinkle in his eye.

Through my drugged state I managed to give a warm smile, “That’s awesome.”

Scott smiled back and we sat and didn’t talk, instead we listened to the mumbled conversation downstairs.

Suddenly I found myself singing softly under my breath, “It’s not easy being green, it seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things.”

Scott looked at me with surprise, “That’s Kermit the Frog, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why but it’s stuck in my head. I think I heard it on a commercial or something.”

Scott sang softly as well, “I am green and it’ll do fine. It’s beautiful! And I think it’s what I want to be.”

Downstairs; Brendan, Chris, Jay and Ben had started smoking a new bag of crystal. Ben had just been passed the pipe by Brendan and had started smoking it. I sat across from Jay, who was staring at me weirdly once again. All night Jay had been staring at me, and when I would notice he would let out a cheeky grin and look away. There seemed to be some animosity between the ‘threesome’ of boys… their three-way relationship was on the rocks, the magnitude of problems rising from Chris and Ben; Ben’s love for Chris was waning while Chris’s jealousy of Ben and Jay was growing. It was like watching the slow tick tick tick of a bomb about to go off. Random stares and mean-hearted glances were thrown between the three all night.

We didn’t do much the first night, nor the second. We smoked lots of meth and played games. Chris made lots of off-hand jokes about body temperature that I didn’t understand, Ben and Jay had their own secret conversations. Nick spent lots of time on his phone.

Brendan, on the other hand, was a wild card. When on crystal he was all over the place. Sometimes he would spent hours on his phone. Sometimes he would talk at a fast pace about random shit for hours. Other times he would clean whoever’s house we were smoking in. On rare occasions he would fall asleep in the middle of a conversation and wake up hours later. His behaviour was always sporadic and confusing. Brendan was the only one of the friend group who intimidated me. When he was in a good mood he was fun, when he was in a bad mood he was horrible. I always had the impression that Brendan didn’t like me, only because whenever we were together (and especially when he was on meth) he would make fun of everything I did. He would ask what was wrong with my hair, or why I chose to wear a certain bad outfit. He would tell me I was annoying on crystal meth (granted, I probably was) or that my voice was annoying. On the outside Brendan appeared to be a nice person, but nine times out of ten he wasn’t. That night I avoided direct conversation with him until he said, “Cody, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

I had been spaced out with that Kermit the Frog song stuck in my head, “What?” I asked.

“You’re staring at the wall.” He laughed.

“Oh, I was just thinking about something for a second.”

“Naw man, you’re fucked. You look fuuuuuucked up!”

“I’m not feeling too fucked. I was just spaced.”

“Cody, believe me, you’re fucked. Look at yourself, god! Your pupils are HUGE. Your hair is a fucking mess. You need help, mate.” Brendan laughed while Nick put his phone away and joined him. I must have not looked too impressed because next Brendan said, “Oh come on. We are just kidding. You need to grow a fucking backbone.”

“I do have a backbone!” I said a little too aggressively.

Nick piped in, “Did Brendan hurt little Cody’s feelings. Awe, so sweet.”

I tried to say, “No, he didn’t hurt my…”

“Awe, Cody is hurt.”

“Fuck off I’m not hurt.” I defended.

“Why don’t you build a bridge and get over it!” Nick said mockingly.

“No, I don’t care.” I said.

“Yes you do,” Brendan interjected.

“No, I’m just…”

“Awe look, he’s still going.” Nick laughed.

“Yeah because…” I tried to say.

“Oh my god, GET OVER IT CODY!” Brendan said with a wave of his hand, “Fuck you’re always so sensitive. We are just joking. Fuck.”

I remained silent and tried to hide my frustration. I felt my phone vibrate, it was a message from Jay.

Jay: I’m sorry they’re so mean to you.

I looked up at Jay who was already staring at me. It clicked in my mind then that maybe Jay liked me. I pushed the thought out as soon as I had it. I can’t get involved in this three-way relationship, I thought, It would get so messy.

For the second day in a row we watched the sun rise without any sleep or food. It was decided that all six of us were going to go to work that day. We decided to power smoke the rest of our crystal meth first since we wouldn’t risk having it at work. It seemed like a good idea until I saw how much we had left. Normally I would have three to four puffs on the pipe every hour… that alone could keep you up for days. That morning, in the space of ten minutes, I powered through ten good rips. We all did. Mixing ten rips with the fact I hadn’t slept or eaten for over two days was recipe for disaster.

“Oh we some fried chicken,” Brendan squealed as he pulled his vehicle onto the road. All six of us fit into his small car as we set off for work.

“It’s too fucking cold! Turn up the heat!” Ben yelled over the loud music Brendan was playing.

“No way! I’m so fucking hot!” Nick retaliated while opening the passenger-side window.

“Yeah, I’m really hot too.” said Chris, almost to himself.

“Yeah we get it.” Brendan said abruptly. Everyone went quiet, “You’re hotter than everyone else.”

Chris looked embarrassed as he said, “Two degrees hotter, actually.”

“Fuck,” said Nick, “I knew you were on about something.”

I had no clue what was going on. Everyone seemed to be in on something except for me.

“I heard rumors but I didn’t think it was actually true. If you don’t want people to know you shouldn’t be making obvious jokes about it.” Brendan laughed.

“Yeah, you saying I’m warmer than everyone else is a huge giveaway.” Nick added.

I finally spoke up, “Giveaway about what?” Everyone turned to me.

Nick said, “Chris is two degrees warmer…” I was still puzzled, “… His body temperature isn’t the same as healthy people…” I still didn’t respond “… There were rumors going around…”

“I have no idea what you’re on about,” I felt stupid saying.

After a couple seconds of silence, Ben said, “Chris, did you want to tell him?”

Chris answered, “Yeah,” and then he turned to me and said, “Cody, when people have HIV their resting body temperature is two degrees warmer than those that don’t. I have HIV.”

(I have to stop here and say that, after researching this ‘fact’, I am unable to find its validity. This is the conversation that happened, and everyone believed at the time that HIV positive people were 2 degrees warmer than other people at resting body temperature. But I am unable to confirm the scientific accuracy of said statements.)

“Oh, ok.” I responded.

“None of us care that you have it,” Nick said reassuringly to Chris, “I have a couple friends who are HIV positive. It doesn’t bother me.”

“It doesn’t bother me neither.” Brendan agreed.

“Yeah, I don’t care either.” I agreed as well.

The rest of the car ride I wanted to ask Chris questions about the disease but instead I tried to focus on not dying; I felt like an alien was about to burst out of my chest.

At Knight Call I was fucked up. I had never felt that high before on crystal meth; powering through the rest of the stash before work was starting to seem like a bad idea. I was shaking and tripping over my words. I tried my hardest to act normal in front of the manager on duty, Robert, but he kept looking at me with suspicious eyes. When Dave found out I had done crystal meth a few weeks back word got around quickly that I had done it and Robert was one of the first to step forward and talk to me about it. He kept saying to be very careful with it, and warned me to avoid Chris, Ben and Jay. And so Robert looked at me with suspicion, and then disappointment. He didn’t need to say it; I knew that he knew I was high.

I tried to calm my nerves once I got into the Boy’s Room. Luckily the only other person working a shift besides the group I arrived with was Bruce (the new Irish guy), and he tended to keep to himself. I was very quiet as I observed Nick, Brendan, Chris, Ben and Jay handle their highs with grace. I just sat quietly and tried to not have a heart attack. It felt like something was trying to crawl out of my throat. I had a hard time swallowing. My forehead was greasy and my palms were sweaty.

What seemed like hours were actually minutes. Brendan was called off to see a client. Then Nick was gone as well. Chris, Ben and Jay randomly left as well to see a private client, and soon it was just Bruce and I in the room. I silently prayed to no particular god that I didn’t want a client. I wasn’t in the right state for it. I felt like I was spinning really fast and couldn’t shake it. The silence suddenly was crawling under my skin and I found that I needed to say something out loud or else I would implode.

“How are you and Jason doing? Where is he?” I asked Bruce as calm as possible, remembering to breathe and pause at the appropriate intervals.

“We are doing well,” He answered with suspicion, “He’s working in the underwear shop.”

“Oh cool,” I said, regretting that I said anything at all. Trying to force out words was infinitely worse than sitting in silence.

I didn’t say anything else. We both sat in silence watching reruns of Futurama on the TV. I felt like I couldn’t move, so I sat in a hunched position for quite a while until I swear I heard Bruce say, “Cody?”

“Yes?” I answered without looking at him.

I didn’t hear what he said, but I guessed that he said, “How are you doing?”

I felt like it was odd that he asked me so long after I had asked him, but without looking at him I made up a lie about my day and what I had been up too recently, “… And then I went to the beach and it was amazing. I heard you live in Bondi? That’s amazing! I’ve only been there once but I really would love to go again. What do you think of it?” I asked and turned my head to look at him. But what I saw came as a shock.

Bruce wasn’t there.

I quickly stood up and looked around frantically. My heart pounded so hard I swear my whole body pulsed along with it. He was just there. He had just asked me a question. I remembered hearing his voice. A sudden thought about the second coming of Christ raced through my mind and suddenly I felt like I was in Left Behind. I looked out the glass door to make sure he wasn’t having a cigarette, but he wasn’t there. I even stupidly lifted a couple of throw pillows as if he were a lost tv remote.

Suddenly I heard Robert’s voice and it made me jump, “Carl, what are you doing?”

“Oh umm, I thought I lost something.” I lied, putting my hands behind my back as if I were hiding something.

“You have an outcall… they want you to come in twenty minutes, so you’ll have to leave here now.”

“Ok,” I said, hardly holding in my disappointment. I debated telling Robert that I wasn’t able to do it. Just tell him you’re sick, I said to myself. Instead I said out loud, “Hey, do you know where Bruce went?”

“Carl, Bruce has been gone for about an hour with a client.”

 

*    *    *    *   *    *

 

I had a mini panic attack in the taxi ride to the hotel to see the client.

When I was with the client I was unable to perform at my peak. The client looked at me with disappointment and within 15 minutes told me to go home and go to bed. I still got paid, but it was the first time a client had kicked me out.

“You’re terrible,” the client said before shutting the door on me.

Stupidly I went back to work in hopes that Nick and Brendan were back. Luckily they were and I told Nick about how fucked up I felt.

“Oh my god, really? I feel fine. It’s probably in your head.” Nick said.

Brendan said more bluntly, “You just can’t handle it.”

“No, this is seriously fucked you guys. I’ve never felt like this before.” I pleaded.

“You just don’t know how to let the high take over. Stop fighting it.” Brendan advised me.

“I don’t think that’s what this is.” I said as a last ditch effort to make them realise that I felt like something was wrong with me.

Even though I knew that Robert knew I was high, I didn’t want to give him any excuse to bring it up. So instead of doing the smart thing and going home, I stayed at Knight Call.

I got another client that night. This time the client came to Knight Call to use one of the rooms.

I entered the room. I took my clothes off. I hopped on the bed. He pulled me in. I kissed him once. Then he said, “Nope. Naw. Nope. Fuck this. I don’t want you. You’re fucked. I don’t want you.”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” I said a little too brashly.

“You’re not even hard, and your skin stinks. Something is wrong with you.”

I was immediately offended, “Umm my dick isn’t a fucking button that I can turn on and off. I don’t just get hard immediately.”

“No, I don’t want you. I want someone else.”

“But I…”

“Please leave now.”

When I shut the door behind me I realised I didn’t even get any money off him.

I now hold the record for the quickest to be kicked out of the room… I was in there for less than two minutes. I also was the first one to be kicked out twice in one day.

After being kicked out a second time that day I decided to bite the bullet and go home.

When I went to bed I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t toss and turn, instead I lay perfectly still staring up at the ceiling, watching it pulsate and pondering my sanity.

“It’s not easy being green,” I silently sang, “It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things.”

The pulsating ceiling turned from being frightening to being comforting. Soon I found myself drifting to a much needed sleep.

The Truth: Part 34

In King’s Cross there lived a homeless woman. The first time I saw her was the first day I arrived in Sydney. She had long brown hair and wore a purple sweater with black sweat pants. She was begging on the street and I gave her a few coins. She was sitting on a heap of bundled blankets on the concrete, yelling obscenities at other homeless people walking by. The next time I saw her I bought her a burger. Her face looked leaner and her teeth were more yellow. She smiled and said thanks. I saw her around quite often, but she never seemed to remember who I was.

“She’s so disgusting,” Nick commented once when we both had seen her on the street, “I never give her money because she’s obviously using it for crystal meth.”

Overtime I would see her less and less, and when I would spot her the features on her face were more sunken and her teeth started going brown. I saw her once pulling uneaten sushi rolls out of the garbage and eating them.

She asked me once, “Oi, do you have any spare change?”

“No sorry, I don’t.”

“Fuck you, cunt.”

The last time I ever saw her I was waiting in line to buy coffee before a shift at Knight Call. I was tired and coming down off crystal meth. She came into the shop and started yelling, “Does anyone have any spare change? I need a coffee!” Most of her hair had fallen out and I think she had a tooth missing. Her voice wasn’t as soft as it was before. Nobody even turned to look at her. She started going up to every person and individually asking them, but they all shook their heads.

She finally came up to me and asked, “Can I have two dollars, mate? I really want a coffee.”

I replied, “I won’t give you two dollars, but if you wait with me in line I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“I hate the coffee here. I want two dollars to buy coffee somewhere else.” Her breath smelt like rotting flesh.

I snapped, “Well you’re homeless so you really can’t be that picky.”

“Fuck you, mate!” She stormed off.

After she left I grabbed one of my teeth and wiggled it. It was firmly in place.

At Knight Call I started seeing this old man with white hair. He made me laugh, and we would shoot the shit for the better part of the hour. He came in to see me twice in one week. On the second visit he asked me, “Do you like anyone here?”

“No not really,” I answered as I rolled over to the side to look at him.

“I don’t mean like, crush like. Is there anyone here you think is good looking?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

With a cheeky grin he asked, “Who is it? I would like to have a double with you and a guy you think is really hot.”

I had never done a double with another escort before. I debated just telling him that I didn’t want to, the prospect of it made me nervous. For another escort to see how I act in the room seemed like someone would be infringing on personal matters. I acted very different with my clients than I did in real life, so I wasn’t sure about having another person I worked with witness my client persona.

The white haired man continued, “… think of it as a gift from me to you, to be able to sleep with anyone you think is really hot.”

I was quiet for a few seconds, contemplating if I wanted to say the name of the boy I really would’ve liked to have sex with. I said with a grin, “As long as you don’t tell them that it was a gift. I don’t want them to know that I’m the one who set this up.”

“Thats fair enough. So whom shall it be?”

I couldn’t hide my smile, “Jake.”

“Oh, and who is he?”

“He’s this really muscular guy that I work with. He’s pretty cool, sometimes really annoying. He drives me home from work on the nights I work late once in awhile.”

“Sounds fun. I’ll set it up once we are finished here.”

It took Jake only one day to find out we had a booking with a client together. He announced it in front of the entire brothel.

“Cody and I are having a double in a week,” Jake said loudly to all the boys in the Boy’s Room. He had a cheeky grin and looked directly at me, “I’ll be your first double, correct?”

“Yeah, you will.” I couldn’t hide me smile.

“He booked it for next tuesday. Are you excited?” He asked, obviously happy he still had the attention of the room.

“Meh, I don’t really care.” I said nonchalantly. A couple of the boys laughed.

Jason, Bruce’s boyfriend, had started working that week. We all thought they were a cute couple. Everyone remained thoroughly entertained at their Irish accents, making them say words like ‘leprechaun’ and ‘thursday’ and laughing when they pronounced it ‘Tuuuuursday’. Jason seemed really nice, though. He seemed to care for other people and wasn’t like most of the other boys. He obviously liked to make people laugh, and he had a devilishly charming smile.

Immediately Jason got along well with all of the boys, and many fancied him as he was really good looking. He had a second job working in a gay underwear shop located near Oxford Street (the gay street.) I got along with him very well, and it didn’t take long before he became a good work mate of mine. We would spend time telling funny stories and smoking darts in the outdoor area, but outside of work we had never hung out.

The week went by as I was getting to know the Irish couple at work, and Jake texted me everyday saying:

Five more days till we have that double….

 

Four more days….

 

Three more! Are you nervous?

 

Two more days and we have that double.

 

Tomorrow is the day!

Then the day arrived. I was nervous. The client had booked it for early afternoon, but requested that I came into the room for the first fifteen minutes alone and then go down into the Boy’s Room to collect Jake when we were ready. I liked this plan as it gave me time to calm my nerves. I smoked a cigarette minutes before the white haired man was supposed to arrive. When he arrived and we met in the room I told him I was nervous and he said, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He didn’t seem to understand that I was nervous because this was the only thing I wanted to do for the past three months. Sleeping with Jake was something I wanted for a long time.

After fifteen minutes I went down the stairs and collected Jake.

“You nervous?” He asked.

“Nah, this will be fun.” I said with as little emotion as possible.

Jake disappointingly blew his load within 5 minutes and then begged me not to tell the other boys; he was obviously embarrassed. We had kissed roughly, the client sitting naked on the chair watching us throw each other around a bit. Then when it came to the actual sex Jake didn’t last long at all.

“I just don’t want people knowing.” He said once again before we left the room.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” I promised, but it wasn’t even an hour after our session that I had told everyone about it. Payback was a bitch for when he let everyone know I had gonorrhea the week previous.

Nick was jealous that I had the double with Jake and acted snarky with me the rest of the afternoon. Nick had fancied Jake for a while, his crush being strengthened once when Jake and him cuddle on the Boy’s Room couch one afternoon (Photo evidence of this was provided to me by Matt, the Brothel stalker and good friend, as I was not there during the cuddlement). Nick had been wanting to be the first one to have a double with Jake, but I beat him to it.

“He blew within five minutes,” I laughed as I was telling Nick.

“That’s because he probably wanted to get the fuck out of there.” Nick said with satisfaction, which didn’t make sense to me because normal people blow early because they’re too riled up.

That night we decided to go on a big bender at my place. Nick’s intentions seemed to be that he needed drugs to alleviate the emotions he was showing towards the situation with Jake. Nick hated emotions. The rest of us just wanted a fun night on it. Scott would be sleeping, so it didn’t matter to us that he was there. He would’ve never found out that we were smoking crystal meth. Nick brought the poker set, and Brendan drove him and I to my place in little Chippendale. On the way we picked up four points of crystal from Brendan’s dealer, a man who would literally throw the meth off his third story balcony in an envelope and Branden would have to try and catch it as it was falling. Branden would then put the money in the dealer’s letter box. I guessed that the dealer was trying to be smart and not get caught dealing by the police, but I thought that having random people stand under your balcony trying to catch falling envelopes seemed way more peculiar than doing a deal in person.

“We are such meth addicts,” Branden said while driving from the dealers.

“I’m not,” said Nick, “I just do it every once in awhile.”

“Fuck off, we are all addicted.” Branden laughed.

“I don’t think I am. I’m not loosing my hair and my teeth aren’t brown. I can control it,” Nick retaliated.

“Look at us, we do it all the fucking time. It’s ok to be addicted. It’s better when you just admit it.”

Everyone was quiet. I cleared my throat, “I’m addicted.”

“Of course you fucking are!” Branden howled.

“Well you two may say that you’re addicted, but I know that I’m not.” Nick hissed.

“If you’re not addicted then don’t have any tonight.” Brendan looked at Nick with malevolence.

“Fuck off,” Nick’s eyes were wide, “I paid for my half of this for tonight, I’m not gonna waste it.”

“Whatever you say,” Brendan gave up.

I instinctively grabbed one of my teeth and wiggled it. I was sitting in the back seat of Brendan’s car, which was silent.

My tooth was still firmly in place.

The Truth: Part 32

Statistically, escorts would have many clients who were HIV positive. I never had a client fully come forward and tell me that he was positive, but in a city where the HIV rate among gay men was 1 in every 10 I assumed that a few of them were.

Dean was still working at the brothel at the time of Scott’s return. Although I hadn’t heard from Blaire in a few weeks I knew that she was still hanging out with him. Dean wouldn’t come in and work shifts, he was strictly booking only so I never saw him hanging around the brothel.

One slow day at Knight Call I managed to get only one client. He was Asian, wore glasses and had a skinny frame. He was very awkward at first, but once I gave him a massage I felt his body relax and he engaged in conversation.

“Have you ever heard of Dean?” He asked me lying naked on his back. I lay beside him looking up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, I know him. The kiwi guy, right?”

“Yeah, him. I had him last week.”

I rolled over to face the client. I loved gossiping about other escorts with my clients, it helped me learn what they liked and disliked, “And how was he?”

“Well, he’s very good looking, which is a shame because he was shit in bed.”

I chuckled, “Really? Why was he shit?”

“He didn’t want to do anything with me. He only wanted to give a massage and to get me to suck him off. He refused to touch me or do anything to me. What a waste of money.”

“I’ve had someone tell me that before, I think it’s because he’s straight.”

“Yeah, maybe. But is he really straight?”

“Probably not.” I laughed.

“And he said something to me at the end. Something very odd.” He paused as if hesitating to say what it was.

“What did he say?” I egged him on.

“Well, at the end of the session he told me that… he told me that I shouldn’t bother booking anyone else here.”

It didn’t surprise me. Dean was cut-throat and would do anything to keep a client as a regular. But what the client said next really took me aback.

“He said that you were all dirty and diseased.”

I shot up into a sitting position, “He said what?”

“He said that most of the boys here didn’t use condoms and that most of you had HIV or other STD’s.”

“That little…” I wanted to say cunt but I didn’t want to offend the client, “poop.” The client seemed to enjoy that I was flustered, I continued a rant. “Who does he think he is? Going around say all that… stuff. No wonder he gets so many clients. I wonder how many people he has told this to? Did he say any specific names?”

“No, he said just all of you.”

“That crazy…” I couldn’t hold it in, “…fuck.”

After the client had left I took no time running into the boy’s room to announce it to everyone. Word got around to Pete the owner, and when Pete confronted Dean about it Dean blatantly denied saying it. I was called into the office by Pete one night.

“Carl, please sit.” Pete usually used my escort name in place of my real name. I sat in the office chair opposite of him. “You must not go around spreading these rumours about Dean any longer. I have banned that client from ever coming here again, he obviously was looking to start drama.”

“But I think he was telling the truth.”

“Carl, I have known Dean for a long time. I trust his word.”

That was the end of that conversation.

As the days passed I noticed a change in my body. What started as a tingling feeling in my nether regions turned into a painful burn every time I peed. I was scared and I didn’t tell anyone about it. I let it go on for two days, hoping that the pain would go away on it’s own. I started getting a thick yellow discharge and the pain became so unbearable that I was scared of peeing altogether.

I went to the free clinic for prostitutes the next day by myself. I told Nick to wait for me at work.

The nurse ran through all the tests, doing blood work, anal swabs, a very uncomfortable penis swab (which entails sticking a cotton swab up the urethra), and a urine sample. When she inspected my penis she almost immediately said she was certain it was gonorrhea. She had the Doctor to come in and look at it and he concurred.

“Now, it will take about a week for the test results to come back to prove whether or not it actually is gonorrhoea,” the Doctor said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “But we are going to give you the medication today as a precautionary. You are an escort, correct?”

‘Yes I am.” I said quietly while swallowing back tears.

“You won’t be able to do escort work for a week from today,” He leaned back in his chair, “The reason being that gonorrhoea can raise your risk of getting other diseases such as HIV significantly, so it’s safer to take a week’s break.” He noticed I looked upset and said, “Don’t worry, gonorrhoea isn’t too bad. It’ll clear up in a week and you’ll be, umm, back to normal.”

The treatment for gonorrhoea included a week’s worth of large white pills you need to take daily, and a one-time needle in the butt.

I mistakenly thought the needle wouldn’t hurt that bad, but after it was done I could hardly walk on the leg that was attached to that butt cheek.

I walked with a pimp limp, head down in shame, to Knight Call. Luckily it was Dave who was manager that day so I told him the truth about why I couldn’t work the roster that week and he said he’d keep my secret. I went into the boy’s room sheepishly and told Nick to come outside for a cigarette with me.

Nick laughed when I told him, “OH MY GOD! That’s so funny! Even I haven’t got any STI’s yet! Who did you get it from?”

“I have no idea.”

“Wait, you’ve been using condoms, right?”

“Of course I am!”

“Well then how the fuck did you get it?” He took a drag of his cigarette.

“The doctor said that if someone has gonorrhoea in the throat they can give it to you when they give you a blowjob.” I paused, wondering how to word the next question, “You let clients suck you off without a condom too, right?”

“Yeah of course. Everyone does.” Nick swished his cigarette through the air.

I bit my lip, “But, do you sometimes suck clients off without a condom?”

“It depends on who they are.”

I slowly nodded and looked down at the ground. It was a cloudy day so I didn’t cast a shadow. I took the last drag of my cigarette and flicked it into the ash tray.

Since there was no point in staying at Knight Call I decided to head home. Scott was awake when I went into the room to check on him. He yelped in pain as he struggled to sit up. I sat on the bed next to him.

“I thought you were at work, darling?” Scott asked drearily. I could tell his eyes were having a hard time focussing.

“I am unable to work for the next week.” I replied with a mock frown.

“Oh no. What happened?” Scott looked at me as if he knew the answer.

I let out an almost guilty smile, “I found out today that I have gonorrhoea.”

“Oh that’s awful. From who?” His voice was uneven.

“I don’t know,” I realised I hadn’t had sex with anyone but clientele for the last month so I added, “A client.”

“Are you ok? Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I think I’m alright. I’m a little bummed out about it but the doctor explained everything to me and it should clear up soon.”

Scott was quiet, and then he said with a cheeky smile, “You’re a dirty bitch.” Then he tried to chuckle but each laugh sent pain through his body so instead he ended up wincing and moaning in pain. Scott fell quiet and sunk down into the bed. “I need to rest.” He said it with a pang of defeat.

I left him alone and went down into my room. I suddenly realised that, for the past two and a half months since I started working in the brothel, work was my whole life. I worked almost every single day and partied almost every single night. I could still do the partying for the next week, but I was at a loss of what to do for an entire week without the brothel.

I messaged Nick: What are we doing tonight?

Nick replied: I heard the threesome (Chris, Ben, and Jay) wanted to get together tonight for some. (Meaning a night on crystal meth)

Me: I’m in.

The Truth: Part 30

“The plane ride was a fucking cunt,” Scott complained. He was lying on the couch, wincing in pain with every movement, “When we took off and when we were landing I couldn’t help but scream. Every bump was fucking agony.”

“Fuck, that sucks.” I was slowly getting ready for a shift at KC.

“Just leave me on the couch tonight, I am too sore to move upstairs.”

I brought him a pillow and blanket from his bedroom. I sprayed on some deodorant and fed Deniro.

I was putting on a clean shirt when Scott yelled, “Hey hun, can you come here?”

“Yes?” I asked as I walked into the room.

“I had an idea. I can hardly walk, I’m in too much pain. I am going to ask around for a wheelchair tomorrow, but for now I was hoping you could bring down the desk chair from upstairs? It has wheels, so I am hoping that when you are gone I can push myself around on it to go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

“Thanks, hun. I don’t want you to have to help me to the bathroom. I’m hoping I can do it on my own.”

I paused for a second, “How much pain are you in, if I may ask?”

“Darling, it’s the most intense pain I’ve ever been in my life.” He let out a weak smile.

*  * * * * * * *

At work I told Nick, Brendan and Matt about Scott’s arrival by ambulance.

Matt could hardly believe it, “There is no way they let him out of the hospital in that condition!”

“Well you should have looked at him, Matt. He is all skinny and his face is sunken. He is in such bad shape, he can’t even climb the stairs to get into his bedroom.”

“Don’t tell me he’s gonna sleep in your bed tonight?” Matt gasped.

“Oh my god, no way. He’s going to sleep on the couch tonight.”

The conversation swayed to more boring topics so Nick and I slipped away for a cigarette.

“I’m thinking,” Nick paused to take a drag, “I want to make an online profile.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same.” I stated.

“I need the extra money, business has been slow. Plus we get seriously ripped off here anyway.”

“Yeah I know, right? We could be making double the money online. I’ve just been very skeptical about being online. It doesn’t seem as safe.”

“Matt has been doing fine. Nothing bad has happened to him and he’s the one who always makes mistakes. I want to make a profile soon.”

“Yeah, I should as well.” I flicked the finished cigarette from my hand into the ash tray.

Nick followed suit, his cigarette became a glowing projectile as it bounced off the lip of the tray and landed on the ground. “Fuck,” Nick said under his breath. He then said, “We should get together and make our profiles together.”

Yeah, that would be fun.”

“Brendan said he wants to make his profile soon as well. We can make a night of it at his apartment or something.” Nick stands up to go back inside.

“Are you going to pick that up?” I asked about the cigarette he left lying on the ground. It was still glowing red.

His face contorted into disgust as he spat the words, “No.”

I noticed that I started spending lots of my time in the manager’s office every time Robert was working. There was a comforting quality about him that I enjoyed. He reminded me of a family member I never had. With a sense of humor that was golden and a gentle soul that was pure, he didn’t belong in the line of work he was in. Yet he managed to fit in perfectly as the strong and gentle male presence that the brothel needed. Everyone respected Robert. Nobody ever said anything bad about him.

Robert was sad to hear about how much pain Scott was in, “That’s too bad, mate.” He winced when I told him about how Scott was wailing in pain. “Does he have someone taking care of him?”

“Yeah, me.” I responded.

“No way,” Robert was shocked, “No mate you can’t. He can’t do that to you.”

“Apparently he doesn’t have anyone else.”

“That shouldn’t be your problem. I know this is horrible to say, but you shouldn’t be doing this. Nope. That is way too much for you to deal with.”

“I can’t just leave him. I’m not that kind of person.”

“But listen, mate, you are a very young guy. You have so much going for you, the last thing you want to do is to take care of someone. It’s just not fair, and quite frankly, it’s not your problem.”

“I know. I just… I just can’t. At least not right now.”

Robert’s face grew soft, “Just please be careful. Please, please… just be careful. Scott, he’s a good guy and all, but he is trouble. He isn’t someone you should be around often.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Later that night I arrived home to find the neighbors had infiltrated my living room. The three guys were spread out on the floor, Scott was passed out with his mouth wide open on the couch. They were all glued to the tv, stoned out of their minds. The bong rested on the floor beside them. I greeted them and said no to an offer of a bong hit. I stayed up with them late into the night, and once they all had gone back to their house Scott woke up and said softly, “Hello, darling.”

“Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine, darling.” Scott whispered, and then went back to sleep.

For a few seconds I watched him sleep. This man who used to be as strong as a rock was now a frail shell. He was swaddled on his blanket, looking smaller than any man I’ve ever seen. His facial features looked alien. He seemed to have aged ten years since the last time I had seen him. What used to be a whole man was now broken.

As he slept peacefully, Deniro guarding him at the base of the couch, I couldn’t think of a reason not to help him. I wanted to see this man whole again. It made me sick to see him in such a bad condition. There is nothing worse than comparing a man who is supposed to be whole to that of an infant.

Once I had crawled into my bed I felt proud of myself. I was proud that I was willing to go against better judgements to help this man I hardly knew. To help this man who had helped me at one point.

I had only just closed my eyes to sleep when I heard a faint noise. My eyes darted open and I wondered what it was. There was silence for a few seconds as I squinted at nothing in the dark. The noise came about again, louder than the first time. It was silent for another second, and then the noise got so loud I shot out of bed.

It was Scott wailing in pain.

When I got out of bed to inspect him he was fast asleep, but once I climbed back into the comfort of my bed he wailed again. His cries chilled me to the bone.

I hardly slept as Scott cried all night.

The Truth: Part 27

Scott had just called me, Deniro’s neck was bleeding, and I was high as fuck. He reminded me of the birthday that I missed and had asked me about Deniro. Luckily he was also fucked up on his own form of prescribed medicines so he was unable to sense the unease and paranoia in my voice.

“I went outside today,” He said proudly, but quickly grew sad, “I was so scared.”

“Well that’s good you left,” I praised him, “That’s such a good step.”

“I had a hard time crossing the street. I was so scared of the cars,” He paused and then added, “I have to wheel myself around in a wheelchair, you know?”

“Oh… well you are going to be able to walk again, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s what I wanted to call you about. Deniro hasn’t been a pain to deal with, has he?”

“No way,” I look down once again at his bleeding neck, “I like taking care of him.”

“Would you be against looking after him for a longer period of time?”

“Yeah, that should be ok,” I assured him.

“Ok, because the doctor told me today that I won’t be released from hospital until September.”

SEPTEMBER, I think to myself, THAT’S MONTHS AWAY! I responded with, “That should be ok. Don’t worry about us, just focus on your recovery.”

“Thanks hun.”

The conversation ended there. I wished him luck and hung up the phone.

The five of us grabbed our coffees and teas and went back to my place. I brought Deniro into the bathroom with a roll of paper towels and cleansed his wound. I got the bleeding to stop but didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t even know where the nearest vet was nor did I have a vehicle to take Deniro to the vet in. In my drugged state I decided to let the wound run it’s own healing course and wish for the best. I decidedly neglected something that needed immediate attention, and I take full responsibility for that now. I had a shift at KC that day, but when I came back that night I checked Deniro’s injury again and cleaned it once more. Deniro was very patient as I cleansed it. He didn’t move or whimper as I dabbed his wound with paper towels. When I was done nurturing his wound I looked him deep in the eyes and started tearing up. I was stretched thin from the stress of the day; from the stress of having these responsibilities, of not knowing when Scott would come back, of trying to fit in, the stress of work and how toxic it became because of Chris and Ben; but when I looked at Deniro and his unrelenting patience with me I felt as if all those problems sunk away. He needed me as much as I needed him. Deniro slept by my door that night for the first time.

Sleeping after a three day meth bender was harder than imagined. You’d think that after three days your body would be begging to sleep, but instead I lay with my eyes closed for hours. Just when I’d be about to sleep my body would jolt and I would be wide awake again. Once I did fall asleep though I was in such a state that only a good shake would’ve woken me. The mornings were for regret, and usually for crying as well. As I stumbled to try and get ready for the day, the come down in full force, I felt empty and emotionless. The smallest thing would make me burst in tears, and there was numerous times I cried to the Les Miserables soundtrack. I felt heavier with each step when I was walking to work. I would have my sunglasses firmly in place with a power drink gripped in one hand. I would sometimes get shaky and my breath would get uneven. My heart would be racing and I would have to tell myself that it was all in my head. In my comedowns I would always tell myself, Next time I’ll wait a week before having more, or I would think, Maybe I won’t do it for three days in a row next time. But once the comedown was gone it was also forgotten and all I could remember was the unforgettable high that preceded it.

One night Chris, Ben, Matt, Brendan, Nick, and I met at Nick’s apartment. Since Matt was there we tried to keep the drug use on the down low and had it prepared and hidden in the bathroom. When one of us felt like we needed a hit we would excuse ourselves to the bathroom and take a puff or two (or three… or four…). Brendan and Nick were obviously less worried about keeping it from Matt as they would usually both go into the bathroom together. At one point Chris, Ben, Brendan, Nick and I were ALL in the tiny bathroom before Brendan noticed and said, “Fuck, not all of us at once! He’s gonna know!”

Matt wasn’t as stupid as we loved to pretend he was, so he knew right away. He didn’t say much about it but still gave his judgemental two-cents. It was quiet royal coming from a gambling addict and ex-stoner.

When Matt went to the bathroom (to actually USE the bathroom for it’s intended purposes) Brendan leaning in close to Nick and I and whispered, “Let’s play a prank on Matt.”

“Ohmygod yes,” said Nick, “That would be HILARIOUS.”

Besides his normal job and working at KC, Matt also worked as a private escort and advertised online (as a rent boy). Although it was riskier, private escorts made double (sometimes triple) the amount that escorts in a brothel made. Instead of giving some money to the brothel owner, you kept the whole sum for yourself. The trade off was that you had to handle your own calls, emails, texts, and transportation; basically the manager’s job.

“Let’s text Matt’s rent boy account and pretend to be a client,” said Brendan, obviously proud of his plan. Matt had two phones; his personal phone and his work phone. Our plan was to text his work phone pretending to be a client that was interested in his services and see where it went from there.

“Yes!” exclaimed Nick. I nearly gasped at how funny the potential was. We were all in agreeance.

Brendan texted Matt from a blocked number just as Matt came out of the bathroom. When I saw Matt I was pathetically having a hard time composing myself even though nothing had happened yet. I pretended to look out the window so that he wouldn’t see the stupid smirk that was struck across my face. Matt pulled his work phone out of his pocket when he felt it vibrate. As a group we never hid work-related things. Work was our entire lives.

Matt unknowingly corresponded with Brendan for a while. Brendan came up to me at one point and said, “Do you think I should send him a picture of this guy and pretend it’s the client?” I furiously agree and he sends it. It was a picture of a hot, shirtless lebanese man.

Almost immediately Matt looked at his work phone and said with excitement, “Holy shit! Holy shit guys! Look at the hot client that wants to hire me tonight.” He goes around the room and shows everyone the picture on his phone. He was beaming. I tried my best not to laugh.

Brendan consulted with Nick and they both decided to pretend that the client’s address was the apartment complex next door, that way we could secretly watch Matt walk to his ‘client’s’ apartment and witness his disappointment. They texted him the address.

“Oh my god!” yelled Matt, “He lives like, right there!” He pointed out the sliding glass doors toward the apartment complex, “I’m sorry guys I’ll have to leave you. If he wasn’t so hot I might pass but this is just too good!”

“That’s ok,” we replied, trying our hardest to act at least somewhat disappointed.

Matt left the apartment in a rush. When the door closed behind Matt, Brendan sent him one last text. It read: Will you do bareback with me?

Matt texted back: Probably not.

Brendan texts: What if I gave you an extra $500.

Matt: Yes, then I would.

Immediately I feel some humiliation for Matt. Nobody would ever admit to doing bareback with a client. It was so risky, and for someone like Matt to admit he would, even with his fear of HIV, was embarrassing. I had a slight feeling that maybe we went too far with that question, but was still laughing along regardless.

We scrambled to the balcony and watched Matt head towards the complex next door. He stopped at the gate and texted: Your apartment number isn’t on here? (We gave him a fake apartment number so that he wouldn’t accidentally buzz someone in that complex).

Brendan texted: Yes it is.

Matt: No, it’s not.

And then Matt calls Brendan’s number. Brendan tells us all to shut up and then answered the phone yelling, “Yes it is cunt!” The five of us lost our shit laughing. I am howling as Matt tried to explain miserably that he knew it was us all along, “Yeah right!” yelled Brendan, “You fucking didn’t know shit,” then he said in a mocking voice, “look guys, he’s soooooo hot!” I laugh even harder.

Brendan decided to meet Matt outside of the elevator, and when the doors opened and Matt saw Brendan, he took a swing at his face.

We laughed. It was a really good time. Matt cooled down after a minute and laughed himself.

“We should plan a vacation together,” Matt suggested after Ben and Chris left to go home for the night.

We all agreed that was a good idea. 

The Truth: Part 16

My first two weeks at the brothel were not entirely eventful. Brendan, Matt, Nick and I became good friends. I was officially a part of their group, and together in our naivety we ‘ruled’ Knight Call. The other boys would moan whenever the four of us had shifts together because we would sit there and talk and laugh so loud that I’m sure the clients could hear us all the way from Room 3. I was smoking cigarettes full time again, something that happened gradually from hanging out with all three boys in the smoking area so often. We would sit on the wooden slats outside cross-legged, gossiping about other escorts and telling tales of bad clients, cigarettes swinging around as we flamboyantly used our hands to communicate grandeur. Our friendship took off at break-neck speed, and it was only the second week. It felt like I had been friends with those three boys for a year by that point. I never felt so connected within a group in my entire life. Finally I had a group of friends who I could relate too mentally and sexually. It was amazing.

Blaire and I had met up within those two weeks as well. She had gotten a new job in an office downtown and was still seeing Dean.

“You’re making how much money!?” Blaire asked when I told her how much I had made in the past week.

“Fifteen hundred.” I repeated.

“Holy shit Cody,” Blaire said and then laughed, “Where can you sign me up?”

I met Dean that same day I caught up with Blaire as well. Dean, Blaire and I went for a run along the cliffs near Bondi, the most famous beach in Australia. He ran behind me yelling, ‘Move twinkie move!”, which Blaire thought was funny at first but then told him to stop once it got annoying. Dean and Blaire started getting more intense with their relationship. She would visit him quite often, but she was still wary about him and his odd personality. They weren’t dating, but it was obvious that they were both developing strong feelings for each other. Blaire still hadn’t let Dean know that she knew he was an escort, so he comically kept fabricating some giant lie to her that he worked at a few night clubs doing their paperwork.

I met many boys at Knight Call. I would see Dean there every once in a while, but he only came in if he had a pre booking. He would never hangout in the Boy’s Room. Instead, Dean would seclude himself in the office. One boy (or should I say, man) really perplexed me. His name was Scott. Scott was the older guy who was there on my first day. I hadn’t officially been introduced to him until a few days after the first. I learned that he was in his late 30’s and that he used to work at Knight Call way back in the hay day. He seemed distant, but connected. Loud, yet soft. Scott and I didn’t interact that much, and it was surprising how many clients he would get with his age. I’m not saying he was ugly or anything, he was beautiful and had the most intense eyes you’ve ever seen, but normally clients wanted the young boys. The only way to make money if you weren’t young was to have big muscles, which Scott had neither. Despite this, client after client would come and ask for him. Compared to Nick and I, Scott didn’t do as well. Nick and I alone would pull in a couple clients a day, but Scott would steadily get one a day, maybe one every two days.

Besides a muscular asshole named Jake that I had a huge crush on, Nick and I pulled in the most money at Knight Call. Jake wasn’t actually an asshole, he started about a week after I did, he was just opinionated and stubborn. Once I got comfortable at Knight Call I would start telling Jake, regardless of my crush, that I thought his opinions were stupid. Normally I would never openly insult someone that quickly, but I was heavily influenced by my surroundings and the people I hung out with. I had never hung out with gay people before, or had really ever lived the gay lifestyle before. Those first few weeks (and months after) were years of oppression being released, and it released in the gayest way possible. I finally had an outlet and pedestal to be myself and was using it to my advantage.

I had been paying $180 a week for the hostel I had been living in, which was useless because I spent every night at Nick’s flat. At first I slept on his couch, but I graduated to his bed after a drunken invite. I didn’t like Nick in a sexual way, I moved to his bed because he gave me the invite and it was better than the couch.

Brendan and Nick told me numerous times that no guy would like my mohawk or plugs, so I had my plugs replaced with normal earrings, my mohawk replaced with a crew-cut that made me look like Sigourney Weaver in Alien 3.

After those two weeks I felt like I had to start looking for a place to call my own. I couldn’t stay in Nick’s bed forever, and I was sick of paying for a bed in a 6-person dorm. Across the city I had looked at a room, but it was a $100 taxi to get there from the inner city, and the neighbourhood scared me. Instead of risking that experience again I decided to ask around the brothel.

“I may have a room for you,” Scott said, “Why don’t you come over in two days and check it out?”

“Ok… sure.” I confirmed apprehensively. I hadn’t actually asked Scott, he must have heard I was looking through the grapevine.

Later in the smoking area Nick said, “Don’t do it. He’s weird and he’s crazy.”

I didn’t feel the same way. Scott intrigued me.

The Truth: Part 15

After the collective gasp the room fell silent. Nick looked at me with sympathetic eyes while I gazed at him scared and confused. Suddenly a boy from the back corner broke the silence and started laughing. A few other boys followed suit.

The boy who broke the silence said, “One time Arthur got me to stand behind him in front of the mirror and jiggle his belly fat.”

Another boy chimed in through the laughter, “Yeah, he got me to do that as well. He also stinks like shit!’

The first boy added, “He always wears that ugly leopard shirt!” More boys laugh.

Brendan clears his throat and announces, “I heard he always gives boys chocolate dicks!” The room erupts in roars of laughter and collective eww!‘s. Brendan notices my confusion and explains, “Chocolate dick is when you pull out and its dirty.”

One boy fake gags, another one shouts, “Covered in shit! Smells fucking disgusting!”

Robert clears his throat and speaks up, “Well don’t traumatise him!” He looks directly at me. I could tell he was trying to keep his composure. A smile curls out of the corners of his mouth.

Nick grabs my hand and pulls me down closer to him, “I’ve never had Arthur before, thank fuck! But don’t worry, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Does he really do all that stuff?” I asked.

Nick doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but then says, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Nick then covers his mouth to hide his smile.

Just before I exit the Boys Room someone shouts, “Arthur is a rite of passage!”

I found myself going into the office once again, Robert not saying much as I gathered up the supplies from the cupboards. Robert had put the client in Room 3, and just before I leave up the stairs he reminds me, “Don’t forget he owes you one hundred and sixty.”

Opening the door of Room 3 let out a wave of pungent air that immediately made me want to gag. Arthur, a large white man in a leopard print shirt, sat on the edge of the bed. He eyed me up and down while wetting his lips with his tongue. His triple chin rolled in a wave at the slightest movement from his head. Arthurs jet-black hair was shined with grease, his eyes filled with lust. If I hadn’t known any better I would’ve thought he was an inbred cousin of actor Oliver Platt. I introduced myself and he reciprocated by smacking his lips and grunting his name in return. I slowly sat down next to him, his eyes never leaving my body as I carefully sit. I take a few seconds, but when I build up enough courage I lift my head and look at him with an apologetic smile. His was looking at me from the corner of his eye, either too lazy to turn his head or unable to. I almost look down out of embarrassment, but then he stands up and starts taking off his top.

Arthur was my second client, and I would categorise him in the top 5 worst clients I have ever had. Everything the boys said in the room was true and then some. I jiggled his fat in the mirror, and thats about all I will say. His skin stank of rot, his breath was death. His eyes creepy and focused. His genitalia was minuscule but his stomach was large, so large in fact that he tired to get me to lay on top of him while he was on his back and it was like laying on top of a bean bag chair. It was so awkward and uncomfortable, laying on top of his bean bag fat, that I asked to scale down and lay beside him instead.

By the end of my second night at the brothel I had two clients. One, my first client ever, was nice and made me realise the job wasn’t so bad. The other, my top 5 worst client ever, was horrible and made me realise that this job was going to be roulette: I’ll never know what I’m gonna get.

The boys howled when I told them in detail what had happened in the room. Many responded with ‘the worst is now over’ and ‘it’s only uphill from here’. Even Robert, when I first came down the stairs and led Arthur out the front door when the service was over, turned to me and said, “See, it wasn’t that bad.” I didn’t say anything, instead I gave him the stink eye.

Once work closed late that night Nick and Brendan invited me to go out with them for drinks. Nick said that Matt was out and that he’d introduce me to him.

“Just a warning though,” Nick said, “Matt can sometimes be full on,” Nick grabs me and starts shaking me, “SO DON’T BE FRIGHTENED IF HE GRABS YOU!” He lets go and Brendan starts laughing. I start laughing too and they tell me funny stories and facts about Matt as we walk to a club named Palms.

According to lore, Matt was pretty successful in his real job. Matt had a tendency to throw drinks at unsuspecting strangers and sleep with anything with a pulse when he was drunk. I also learned there might be a chance he’d try and go home with me, and like a man to a dog I should just say a firm NO!  Nick and Brendan tell me they would look out for me and protect me from him if needed.

Palms was an underground club, literally not figuratively. You had to walk down a set of stairs and through a hall into a giant dance floor with one bar. It was a very small club, full of old men, and they were playing 90s music. Three things I hated.

Nick spots Matt at the back of the club. We slide our way through the tightly packed crowd, and once we get to Matt it was obvious he was stark drunk. His eyes were unfocussed and halfway open. He had a big smile and swayed as Nick and Brendan hugged him hello. Nick introduces Matt to me, and Matt leans in and licks my face. Not a playful lick (is there such a thing?) but a full, sloppy chin-to-forehead lick.

And that was the beginning of everything. That was the first time Matt, Nick, Brendan and I all hung out. That was the start of the small incline before everything crashed around us.

The Truth: Part 14

Standing in the hallway of the brothel, I had a decision to make. Before me were two doors: one that led into the office where a client was waiting to interview me, and one that led outside. The former door was filled with amazing uncertainty, fear, and possible regret. That door represented everything in the my life that was fucked up; all that was wrong with me, my insecurities and my selfishness. That door was the bad side of me, the side that not many people get to see.

Then there was door two. Door two was the door that led outside to freedom. It led to a place where the birds were chirping and where good life choices were made. That door represented my mothers love, the touch and purity of snow, working in restaurants, cheese factories and retail stores. That door was safe, comforting, normal, and filled with endless possibilities.

Before me were two doors. One was beauty and the other was pain.

When I was a kid I tried to cut myself multiple times. I held rusty knives to my wrists, applied a small amount of pressure and tried to jerk the knife down. I would always apply the pressure but could never bring myself to jerk the knife down.  This angered me as some of my friends tried cutting themselves to mild results, and I thought to myself, ‘Hey, my life is as shitty as theirs. If they can do it then I should do it as well.’ But no matter how much I wanted to rip the knife across my skin, I was never able to do it.

I did, however, take up poking for a while in my teen years. I would get a sewing needle from my mother’s sewing kit and start jabbing my legs with it. Soon I realised that if I dipped the needle in ink I could start giving myself prison tattoos. I spent hours creating two small tattoos on my inner legs. On one leg I tattooed a small cross, on the other was an outline of a tiny lizard. After I finished my tattoos I put down the sewing needle for good, I was happy with my results and didn’t feel the need for pain release anymore.

Two weeks after the tattoos were finished they got horribly infected. My skin around the area started turning purple and green puss started oozing out of both wounds. I spent two days watching my skin get progressively worse. My legs started getting sharp pains that would shoot up my thighs. I was afraid to tell my parents about it, knowing they would have a major freak out. So one day I took a large knife from the kitchen, went down to my room, rolled up my pant legs and sat on the floor. With the knife in one hand and my other hand stabilising my leg, I started sawing off the infected tattoo. I nearly screamed as pain overtook my entire body. Blood and green puss ran down my leg as the non-serated blade of the knife sliced through my skin. I didn’t have to use much force as the skin was already softened from the infection. I had forgotten to bring any sort of material to soak up the blood with, so I shuffled across the floor and gathered up all the blank paper I could find and put it around my wound. Then I shifted legs and continued the same routine with the other tattoo.

I had always wanted to cut myself but could never do it without necessity.

I started opening the door that led to the client.

I tried peering around the door as I was opening it, as if seeing the client before the door was fully open would help with the shock of it all.

Sitting on the couch was someone… normal. He was a white man in a suit. He wasn’t pretty but he wasn’t ugly. Older, probably in his late 40’s. He sat with a resounding peace in his posture and smiled at me as I entered the room.

“Hello,” the man said, extending his hand.

“Hi,” I replied, we shake.

“Please,” the man gestured to the space beside him on the couch, “Sit down and tell me about yourself.”

I sit down next to him and he placed his hand on my thigh. The client’s touch soothed me in a weird way and I felt my shoulders relax. He had a beautiful innocence in his eyes, almost childlike as he gazed at my face. I suddenly realised that these clients weren’t scary monsters, just human beings searching for connection. I smile back.

“Sorry, I’m new so I don’t really know what to do,” I say.

“Awe, that’s ok.” He says and squeezes my thigh.

“Thanks,” I say again and smile, “So, my name is, um, Carl. I am a top. I do, um, massage. And I think that’s it.” I realised I forgot something so I quickly add in, “Oh and I’m 20 years old and do you have any questions?”

The man lets out a small giggle, “No I don’t have any questions. You’re cute.”

I blush, “Thanks,” I stand up, “Well maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

****************

Back in the Boy’s Room, Nick asked how the interview went. I told him it was fine, and let him know what I said.

“That’s perfect. It’s good you remembered to say that you’re new, they love the newbies.” Nick applauds, “Did I tell you that I made six thousand dollars in my first two weeks?”

Robert comes into the room, “CARL!” He yells while scanning faces. His eyes lock into mine and he smiles, “He wants you.”

In the office Robert helps me collect all the materials I would need: one bed sheet, two towels and a glass of water.

“Relax,” he reminds me before I start making my way up the stairs. Robert had put the client in Room 2, “And remember you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And get the money first. He owes you one hundred and sixty.”

“Right.” I replied. With my hands full of towels and a glass of water, I made my way up the flight of stairs. I was eerily calm, my brain wouldn’t let itself go into a panic. I knew that if I started freaking out it would quickly escalate into a full-blown panic attack in the middle of the stairwell. I didn’t even pause when I got to the door of Room 2, I just burst my way through it, giving the client a fright.

“Sorry about that.” I said calmly.

“It’s ok,” replied the client, who was in the middle of taking off his pants, “I haven’t done this much… hiring escorts, I mean.”

“That’s ok, if you want me to be completely honest, you’re my first client ever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, so I’m probably more nervous than you are.” I lied, I was completely calm.

“Well don’t worry about it,” The client ensured, “We can start off easy with just a massage.”

“Ok, cool.”

In the end my time with my first client was, for lack of a better word, pleasurable. We had a good laugh and a nice chat. I told him about my old life on the ranch and he told me about how he wishes to come out as a gay man to everyone in his life. It was decent and it was honest. I went back into the Boy’s Room feeling confident, like this job wasn’t going to be as bad as I thought it would. Before I even get a chance to sit down, Nick eagerly awaiting to ask me how it was, Robert burst into the room and says, “Carl, another one for you right now.”

“But I didn’t do the interview.” I question.

“He doesn’t need you to, he only likes to see new boys.”

Nick’s smile turns into a frown, “No,” he says, “It isn’t leopard-print guy, is it?”

Robert replies, “You mean Arthur? Yes it is.”

Everyone in the room gasps.

The Truth: Part 13

When I wake from my drunken sleep I wipe some drool from the corner of my mouth and sit up. I almost scream when I realise none of my surroundings look familiar. I was in the living room of a small apartment. Who’s messy house is this? I think. A wave of relief hits me as I remember that I drunkenly got here with Nick… it was his apartment. I didn’t know where anything was so I sat and scrolled through Facebook while I waited for Nick to wake up, craving water to deter my oncoming hangover but being too polite to start rummaging through his kitchen like a raccoon. When Nick finally emerges from the shadows we hug hello and then he grabs us both large glasses of water. We laugh about the night while secretly hating ourselves for our hangovers, and we spent the early afternoon watching Will and Grace, a television show I had only briefly seen before.

Growing up in a Christian family meant that my parents were against homosexuality. Even though we owned two baby calves named Will and Grace (I’m really uncertain if my parents named them coincidentally or on purpose) the tv show was strictly banned. I remember sneaking in an episode or two when I was little, laughing at the rare joke that I understood (The gay world was scary and foreign to me). I vaguely remember my father once being disgusted at the tv show called Modern Family, and he banned us from watching it, saying something about how it ruined the sanctity of family values or something like that. Looking back I also remember my brother once shielding his eyes and shrieking when Chuck kissed Larry on I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry. It’s funny how incidences like that were forgotten once I came out. My family conveniently forgot all the times they were disgusted by gay culture. It hurts when people don’t realise the damage they caused. It’s not like I want an apology, but sometimes I think back and those remarks still hurt. They had no idea about the secret I was harbouring, so its just another reminder on why human beings need to be more sensitive with their words and actions.

After watching Will and Grace I went back to my hostel and started getting ready for night two at the brothel. Meandering about the hostel I felt like I was a secret agent. It felt like I was a part of something the people in the hostel would never understand; even if I didn’t understand it myself. It felt like I was a part of something greater than their sums. They were there on vacation and I was there risking my neck in Sydney’s underground. It felt edgy. It felt important. It felt like my life was finally something more than the mundane and it was only the second day.

I changed from my khakis to my baggy green pants and I kept wearing the blue Australia sweater. I took a look in the mirror and wondered how any clients would want me.

*************************

It takes a couple minutes to walk to the brothel from my hostel. I ring the secret ‘boys bell’ and wait for someone to open the door. I’m a little shocked when it was not Pete who opened the door but a very tall older gentleman with dark hair, a long face, and very soft eyes.

“Hello, you must be the new boy,” The man said, he squints his eyes and tilts his head as he says, “Carl, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my name is Carl.” I reply, almost robotically. The man was enormously tall, yet was so soft in his demeanour that I wasn’t intimidated by him.

We started walking towards the office while he said, “Hi, I’m Robert. Have you met Dave yet?”

Before I respond we are in the office and there is a smaller gentleman sitting in one of the office chairs. This man, Dave, was the very opposite of Robert: he was very short, had a rounder face, and looked slightly more intimidating. I am put as ease though when he starts speaking,

“Oh, you must be the new boy, Carl.” Dave said, dragging out my pseudo-name in a way I could only explain as gay.

“Yes I am,” I reply.

Dave asks, “You started last night, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh good, so we don’t have to give you the grande tour!” Dave threw his hand up in the air in relief, and then he lets out a cackle, “I usually work the day shift so you’ll see lots of me if you work during those times.”

“How long have you worked here?” I ask.

“20 years,” He replied with a hint of shame.

After a quick chat with Robert and Dave, Dave decided that before he left he would bring me to the boys room and introduce me because lots of the boys on that night hadn’t met me yet.

The room had about ten boys in it. A surge of anxiety shoots up my body.

“Hey everybody!” Dave blurts out. All ten boys turn around to stare at me, “This is Carl! He just started last night, so try and help him out if you can!” And then Dave turns to me and whispers, “Good luck,” before leaving me standing there like an idiot. I gulp as I scan the room of boys, most of them had turned back around to chat amongst themselves or watch the tv, but a couple stared for longer before continuing what they were doing. I couldn’t find room to sit on the couches so I sat on an old office chair close to another boy who looked like he would be my ‘competition’, probably Brendan or Matt but I was too nervous to ask.

Nick hadn’t arrived yet so I sat for about an hour awkwardly scanning the room. A couple boys came up to me to introduce themselves, and some seemed to be extra loud and boisterous to try and intimidate or impress me, I couldn’t decipher which.

For a bunch of gay boys the room seemed filled with testosterone and it was clear that there was an unspoken struggle to be Queen of the brothel. Some boys kept to themselves, but the ones who didn’t made sure they were the loudest. Boys were yelling and screaming, making dirty jokes and picking on each other. A closer look revealed that they were still in their social structures, the three social structures that Nick had mentioned before; no one seemed brave enough to break through the three main social groups. All the boys remained in the safety of their social group so, as a consequence, their attempts to command the room was weak at best. The boys continued to yell at the wind and laugh loudly and I enjoyed watching their empty dance to become Queen.

Nick finally arrives and hugs the boy next to me, and then hugs me.

“Sorry I’m late,” Nick apologises, “It took me a long time to get ready.”

“It always takes you forever to get ready,” the boy next to me snarked.

“Shut up! You take just as long,” Nick retaliates, and then turns to me, “Have you met Brendan yet?”

I replied, “No I haven’t,” and Nick formally introduces us.

I was about to attempt small talk with Brendan but I am cut from talking when the client bell goes off.

One boy yelled, “FINALLY!”

Another shrieked, “CLIENT!”

 Robert comes into the boys room surprisingly fast and says, “He wants to see everyone.” My stomach turns from anxiety.

Nick quickly turns to me, “You haven’t done an interview yet, have you?”

“No,” I reply, trying to hide the sudden panic that was rushing through my body.

One by one the boys go out of the room and into the office as Nick explains what I should say, “Everyone does interviews differently, but basically how I do it is I go in and say, hi, my name is Nick. I am 22 years old, I am versatile, and I do massage. Do you have any questions? And then answer any questions they may have and then come back here into the boys room. Its really simple.”

“That doesn’t sound too hard,” I say, feeling a bit less anxious.

“Its so easy,” Brendan pitches in.

Nick goes into the office and I am stuck in awkward silence with Brendan. When he returns he sits next to me as Brendan goes in.

“This guy is easy. He wants a top and a massage. He’s white, not bad looking- for a client.” Nick informs me, “And tell him you’re new… they love the newbies.”

Too soon is Brendan back from the office. Robert looks at me when I realise I am the last boy to be interviewed. I take a giant breath of air, stand on my wobbly feet, and walk to the door of the boys room, which Robert is politely holding open for me.

Robert stares me in the eyes and says, “Don’t be nervous.”

I was unable to find the words to say back to him. I turn and realise all the boys were watching me. I take one last giant breath of air before taking my first steps through the hallway towards the interview room.