Chapter 9 Justin touched the new sweater, wanting to wear it tonight, to look good for Lance, but JC had said it was for the interview and it was the only really nice thing he had.  Sometimes he wondered why he didn't just turn more tricks and earn more money— have the things that the others had. He knew why.  He didn't want to do this.  But selling his body on the street was better than trading it to a boss who paid minimum wage.  When he first got here, he had applied for real jobs but somehow his references never worked out and he didn't get a position. He went back to the sweater.  Maybe.  He tried it on and it fit him perfectly.  The color was great on him and it was soft and warm.  He'd ask JC if it was ok to wear it if he came over before Lance got here. He took it off and folded it carefully. As if on cue, JC rang the bell.  Justin looked at the clock, 4 PM., as he let him in.  JC looked worn out.  "Hey," Justin said, "what's up?" JC threw himself on the sofa.  They owed money for their room and JC was working extra tricks to pay it.  Without Justin's money, there was never enough.  "Not much.  I'm wiped.  Can I crash here for a few hours.  Think Lynn would mind?" "She's out but I'm sure it would be ok.  JC, let me go out tonight." Justin forgot the date, forgot why he wasn't out there already.  He just wanted to give JC a break. JC smiled, "No, baby, you are our ticket out of here.  It's only a little longer." He added under his breath, "I hope." Justin felt incredibly guilty, going on a date when JC was sucking dick to pay for *his* room.  He ran his fingers through his hair.  "Hey man, go lie down.  I'll tell Lynn when she gets back." "Thanks, Jus, " JC replied and went into the bedroom, dragging one of Justin's blankets with him. When Justin was sure he was asleep, he let himself out and headed for the corner.  Just one or two quickies.  Those were the johns who showed up now— the guys who were expected home for dinner.  It would be okay.                     As he approached the corner, he saw the john and froze.  He turned to run but the john had seen him and nodded and two of the bigger boys came after him.  Justin was fast, but they were chasing hundred dollar bills, so they were faster.  They spun him around and pinned him up against the wall. He was panting and begging them to let him go.  They stared back with hard gazes, their desire for the reward greater than any sympathy they could muster for Justin.  The john sauntered over.  "That tacky piece of shit you guys use will do.  Come on." They dragged him along, his protests wasted.  It was not an unusual event in the area so no one paid much attention.  Justin was terrified.  What the hell had he done? They threw him into the room and waited for the green bills that they sold Justin for.  The john moved into the room and locked the door.  "Strip." Justin was frozen but when the man moved as if to slap him, Justin pulled off his clothes hurriedly. He needed to keep the man happy and maybe then he wouldn't leave so much evidence on Justin's body.                                 The john handed the leather cuffs to Justin, "Put these on." Justin obeyed and stood. "Why me?  Why the fuck me?" It was an act but he hoped that if he didn't appear to be fearful, the john would lose interest. "You know why, sweet boy.  Now lie down." Justin hesitated once again but as the man approached , he complied.  "Good idea, baby." "Afraid of me?" he asked, his slimy words and voice oozing into Justin's skin. "No," Justin said with as much bravado as he could muster. "Liar.  Didn't your momma tell you not to lie?" Justin remained silent.  "Answer me." "Yes." "And you're lying, aren't you?" "No." The slap wasn't enough to leave a bruise, just a message. "Aren't you?" "Yes" "Tell me you're scared." "I'm scared," Justin repeated and the fear in his voice was real as he realized what he had thrown away by coming out to work. "Good, because, you know, that's what I like," the john said as he fastened the cuffs to the bed.  Justin watched him quietly, but when he pulled out the black silk blindfold, he couldn't suppress a whimper. The man smiled happily.  "Don't like this, do you?" "No, please don't, please?" "Ooh, begging.  Even better.  Actually, I do like to see the tears in those beautiful blue eyes but knowing you can't see what's coming is even better." He leaned over and pulled the silk tight, feeling Justin's shiver, his dick responding to the waves of fear Justin was putting out. Justin was breathing in hitched little gasps, straining to hear, and desperately trying not to pull against the bonds and create any new marks.  He could see Lance now, shaking his head and telling him that he never wanted anything more to do with him. Justin reacted as the john's finger trailed along his skin, the muscles jumping under the light touch.  He was moving all over unpredictably, so when he grabbed Justin' dick and started stroking him, it was a shock and Justin gasped.  He was rough and painful and Justin bit his lip to stop from crying out.  When he was hard, the john let go and went back to gentle touches and soft threats.  Justin tried not to listen but he couldn't.  If he didn't answer a question, there was a punishment. From past experience, Justin knew that the man was turning himself on with this slow torture and it would only be later that the true pain would start. Lance was early and he hoped Justin would be happy about it.  He looked at his watch as he knocked on the door.  It was a little after five, but Lance was too anxious to see Justin to wait until six.  When no one answered, Lance frowned, wondering where Justin had gone.  Maybe he was just asleep. He banged on the door, harder this time, and waited.  A sleepy voice told him to hold up and he smiled, anticipating Justin's tousled look.  When JC answered the door, Lance was surprised.  "Hey, JC, what's up?" "Lance.  How are you?" he asked, scratching his head, making his already wild mane stand on end. "Um, good," Lance said and glanced around, looking for Justin, "where is he?" "Here somewhere," JC said, the sleep still apparent on his face.  He wandered back to the bedroom with the idea that Lance could find Justin with no help from him, but before he could lie down again, Lance called him. "He's not here." JC was starting to wake up.  Justin wasn't supposed to go out alone.  He tried to remember their conversation.  "Oh shit." "Oh shit what?" "Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck." As JC walked around pulling on his hair, Lance was getting increasingly more nervous. "JC, calm down and tell me what's going on." JC sat, his head in his hands.  "He said he wanted to go out and work.  I know him.  He felt guilty because I've been turning extra tricks." Lance's voice was tight with anxiety.  "Do you think..." JC jumped up and headed out the door, "Let's go." Lance followed, his stomach flipping as he considered the possibilities.  They got to the corner, able to see from the middle of the block that Justin wasn't there. JC approached, fury written clearly on his features.  "Where the fuck is he?" Several of the younger boys shuffled nervously, but no one offered any answers.  JC looked from one face to the other, finally settling on Morgan, the one who had sold out Justin the last time. Morgan held up his hands and shook his head, "No, JC, not me, not this time." JC was wild with terror, "Where is he?  A john?" Lance was paralyzed, watching the byplay and hoping JC could find out what they needed to know. The youngest boy, Howie, stuttered, "That guy.  That bad one.  He was here.  He had hundred dollar bills for anyone who helped him." "Who helped him?" Lance shouted.  He couldn't remain silent.  He needed to know and soon.  Every moment felt like it counted and they were standing here pulling teeth.  He saw Howie's eyes flick toward two of the bigger boys, who were ignoring everyone. JC and Lance converged on them.  "Tell us, you sacks of shit.  Where is he?" Billy sneered, "Room 210 at the hotel." Lance and JC didn't waste another second, JC running toward the hotel, Lance on his heels.  They took the stairs two at a time.  Outside the door, JC pounded and yelled "Police!" Inside, the john held his hand over Justin's mouth, a rag pressed against his face, to drown out any yells.  Justin felt the tip of a knife against his throat.  "Not a fucking sound," he hissed into Justin's ear. JC and Lance spoke in low voices.  "Well, shall we break in?" JC asked.  They had both seen the cops in the movies, breaking down sturdy doors and carting the bad guys off to jail. Lance looked skeptical but had no other alternatives to offer, so he nodded.  They whispered the count and then rammed their shoulders against the door.  It didn't fall down like the doors in Hollywood.  They tried again. This time the door opened and the man was there, looking as calm as if they were selling raffle tickets.  "Funny, don't look like cops to me." "Where is Justin?" "*Who* is Justin?" "Cut the shit.  You know who he is." Lance was bouncing from one foot to the other, waiting for information that would lead to Justin.  He lost it and elbowed his way into the room and looked around.  No Justin, but the bathroom door was shut. "Hey pal, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Lance ignored him and opened the door, "Jesus Christ!" Justin was huddled in the tub, all four cuffs attached to one another, gagged and still blindfolded.  He flinched when he heard Lance's voice. JC and the john stood in the doorway behind Lance.  In a hearty voice, the john laughed, "Well, fancy that.  Wonder how he got here." JC turned and hissed, "Get the fuck out of here before *I* call the cops." The john sneered but he didn't argue. Lance had dropped to his knees and had unclipped the cuffs from one another and was gently removing the gag and blindfold.  "JC, get a blanket." Justin was shaking with sobs, allowing himself the fear and shame now that he was safe.  He couldn't look at Lance.  He knew what Lance had seen, had heard the horror in his voice, and knew if last night was bad, this was his worst nightmare. Lance was fighting his own sobs, concentrating on taking care of Justin.  JC handed him the blanket and Lance wrapped it around the younger boy.  "C'mon, Justin, stand up." Justin resisted, just wanting to stay in the tub and disappear.  "Justin, please," Lance begged. Still not meeting Lance's eyes, still crying, he stood and stepped out, hesitating at the door until he was sure that the john was gone. He waited for direction from anyone.  The three of them stood, JC and Lance staring at one another, Justin staring at the floor, sniffling softly.  JC spoke first, "Get dressed, Jus, we gotta go back to Lynn's." Justin obeyed without a word.  He looked shell-shocked, his face streaked with tears, unable to meet anyone's eyes, especially Lance's.  When he was dressed he stood like an abandoned doll, waiting for one of them to pick him up and take him along.  His tears continued unabated, though they were silent now, just an endless dripping in little trails down his face. Lance felt a pain in his chest for Justin, humiliated that way and then to know that he had seen the results.  He couldn't say anything, not here, not in front of JC,.  So the three of them walked the few blocks to Lynn's, each thinking his own thoughts. Justin was numb except for the one place where his shame burned white hot as he imagined Lance's reaction when he opened the door. *Slut* was the word that came to mind.  He knew that they were done, his *career* over before it began and even JC probably wouldn't speak to him after tonight.  He deserved it.  It was his own stupidity. JC was kicking himself for letting Justin see how tired he was.  He should have stayed up and watched him.  Then anger took over and he was pissed that every time he stopped caretaking, Justin engaged in some other self-destructive shit. Was it too much to ask for Justin not to throw himself in front of a speeding train every chance he got?  But when he looked at his friend, it was hard to stay angry, the forlorn child there for everyone to see. Lance could barely breathe.  He had not allowed himself to imagine Justin that way before.  It turned his stomach to see the person he loved shamed like that. *Loved*?  Where the hell had that come from?  Another layer added to this whole fucked up mess. He wanted to do the right thing, to tread carefully but to help and he wasn't sure what that was.  Finally, he looked, really looked at Justin and decided to trust his gut.  He would not let Justin push him away or hide or run, no matter what it took.  He would risk his heart, hell, he already had, with no guarantees.  Again. They went up to Lynn's.  JC  intended to stay only long enough to tell Lance that he was going to fill Lynn in and that he would be back to spend the night.  Lance bit his lip, "I'm staying, too.  Where are we sleeping?" "`We?'" JC asked. "Justin and me," Lance replied.  Justin looked up, the first time since they burst into the bathroom.  The tears had stopped for the moment but there was still a shimmering in his eyes, just waiting to spill over.  Hope, fear, self-hate all were there, competing for dominance. Lance's eyes met his and Justin searched, finding nothing but kindness and love there. JC nodded.  "Take Lynn's room.  I'll explain. I'll sleep on the floor here and leave the sofa for her when she comes in.  I won't bother you when I come back, but just know I'll be here if you need me." "Thanks, JC," Justin said in a whisper and let JC hug him briefly. Once JC was gone, Justin waited to be told what to do.  "C'mon, J, time for bed," Lance said. "Do you want me naked or not?" Justin asked quietly.  Lance stared at him, shocked at the question and then realized what Justin was thinking. "Oh my God, Justin, it's not like that.  I just want...." "You see what I do best.  Don't you want to try for yourself?" It was a strange mix of the hurt child and the hooker. "Just put on whatever you wear to bed and get under the covers," Lance replied through clenched teeth.  Justin nodded and stripped to his boxers and t-shirt before announcing that he had to use the bathroom. While he was gone, Lance stripped down himself and sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if he could pull this off.  Justin was the perfect puppet and Lance just hoped it was shock and not some permanent severing of the real Justin from the prostitute. Justin came back and carefully slid in to bed,  leaving room for Lance.  Lance sighed and went into the bathroom himself and when he returned he could see the covers shaking with Justin's sobs as he tried to keep quiet.  It was a good sign. Lance slid in himself and moved against Justin, spooning into him and pulling the boy as close as he could.  He felt Justin tense, but Lance held on, determined to protect him.  The sobs continued and Lance just held him, murmuring soothing words to him. He felt Justin relax, little by little until he was curled into him like a child.  Lance listened to Justin's breathing even out and then he heard the quiet voice, strangled with sadness, "My momma told me I deserved what I got, that bad things happen to fags." Lance gasped.  "No, Justin, never.  No one deserves to be hurt for being gay or for being anything." "I think of that when they hurt me." "You don't deserve it and it doesn't have to happen any more.  You never have to turn a trick again." He felt the sobs start again and he held on, no more words, just a reassuring embrace, a sad start to their first night together. continue menu