The streets were cold, and as he shivered in the first doorway he came to he tried to figure out what he was going to do. It all seemed so hopeless...there was no place to go, and with no money he couldn't stay in another motel. He had to find something, anything, that would allow him to survive. He couldn't stay where he was though and he started walking again, not really caring where he went as long as it was a little warmer than the street.
Gothik looked the same as any city he had imagined, a little more grey, but impersonal like all the others. He walked past store fronts and warehouses, cheap motels with rooms that could be rented by the night or by the hour, and as he got further from the center of the city the night seemed to get louder and darker all at the same time. Cats, or perhaps rats, were getting into the trash stacked against the buildings and twice police cars sped past with sirens and blazing lights. He wished that the police could help him, but they would be on his parents side, authority spoke to authority and he was left huddled into himself.
Flashing lights up the street caught his attention and he hurried, knowing that he might have a chance to get warm. He stopped short in front of the bar and read the signs carefully. The red flashing sign on top shouted to the empty street, "Illusions," and the three neon playing cards underneath seemed unable to make a decision on what color they would be. A smaller, printed sign was in the corner of a blackened window, it stated what Illusions was; a dance club and juice bar, no alcohol. The boy smiled to himself, pleased at the turn of luck. At least he couldn't be kicked out for being underage if they didn't even serve alcohol. He stepped forward and grabbed the door handle, and opening it was assaulted by a wave of loud music and heat. He paused only briefly before stepping inside and disappearing into the crowd of moving flesh.
He danced wildly, losing himself to the music and forgetting his immediate problems for the moment. It was so easy to do in the midst of the moving bodies of men and women around him. This was the most wonderful place he had ever been to; he'd never been able to see so many men dancing with men and not seeming to care. He didn't want to have to leave this place and go back into the cold streets of the city, but he knew that eventually he would be forced to do so.
As he turned and swayed with the pounding rhythm he was touched by others. People casually reached out to those around them; sharing a caress with a stranger was part of the natural movement. No one seemed to mind the lingering hand, but when he felt a touch slide across his butt he jerked forward. The hand didn't go away though, he was grabbed at the waist and pulled backwards to be enclosed in a powerful embrace.
"What's your name beautiful?" The harsh voice was right next to his ear so he turned a little.
"Paul Lewandowski." He looked up into a pair of icy blue eyes. A man that had to be his own father's age was holding him.
"Paul, you look like you've gotten into a bit of trouble. Care to make a little money? I could get a motel room."
Paul tensed, "What do you mean?" He stopped moving and the man pulled him closer.
"Well, you look like you haven't slept well for a few nights and you probably need a shower. That means trouble. A sweet young thing like you could make a lot of money for being a little friendly. Let me get us a room and I'll show you."
Dim understanding finally came. The man wanted to pay him for sex. He didn't know what to say; how to respond. He needed the money, and a place to stay for the night, but...he'd never had sex with anyone before. He was a virgin, but...he did need to survive somehow and the conventional methods of job and apartment seemed a little more than out of his reach at the moment. He looked back at the man and nodded slowly. "Okay."
The man brought him to one of the all night motels, it was cheap enough and he had promised that Paul could have the room after he had left. Paul watched the man pay for the room, his mind racing with the thoughts of his parents. What would they say if they knew he had been driven to this by them, that he had no other choice than to sell himself. He didn't know what he was doing there, with a man who could be his father, he didn't know how he could have gotten here when his life had been so easy only a few months before.
He trembled a little as he reached out to take the man's hand, and he let himself be led to the room. A small curl of doubt began seeping into his heart and he went slowly; still unsure if this was the right decision. He wasn't asked again though, the man started undressing him as soon as the door was locked behind them. The touch wasn't gentle, but he barely noticed anything beyond his tightly woven circle of thought.
He watched the man carefully, unsure of what to do or say. He didn't know what was expected of him so he followed the instructions given and lay across the bed, keeping his eyes downcast; afraid to see what the man was doing. He felt the man get onto the bed and suddenly realized that he didn't even know the man's name. Paul felt his whole body go cold and he started to turn over, coming to a simple answer to his fear; he couldn't do this, he just couldn't. A warm hand in the middle of his back stopped him, but he whispered, "No," anyway. He tried to turn over again and suddenly the man was on top of him, holding him down.
"No, I can't do this." His voice broke a little, but the man didn't seem to hear him, or didn't care. The touch continued as the man slid his body against Paul's. The boy squirmed, not wanting to be touched, only wanting to get away; only stopping when he knew it was too late. He whimpered deep in his throat, curling his hands around the edge of the mattress as the man pushed into his body. It was over quickly, but to Paul it felt as if he were being torn apart forever.
When the man finally finished with him he was left shaking on the cooling sheets. A handfull of dollar bills were dropped in front of him and the man began to dress; the methodical sound of zippers and cloth against skin rustling behind him somewhere.
"I paid for the room so you can stay all night, I won't give you anymore than that." The man seemed to pause in the doorway, "Maybe I'll see you again sometime."
Paul shuddered and got out of the bed awkwardly, moving towards the bathroom. The shower stall was small, but the water was warm and he only had one moment of panic as he saw the spots of blood mixing with the water streaming down his legs.
Eventually he had to get out of the water though; he curled up on the neater side of the bed, hugging himself and shaking. After a short while he managed to fall into a fitful sleep, and dreamed of something a lot more pleasant than the way his life had turned out.
The morning brought a brightness he didn't want to face. He couldn't stay in the motel room though, and didn't really want to anyway. He left in the early morning with no place to go, walking the streets until he found a small mom and pop grocery store.
There was only one thing that he really needed and the six dollars he had gotten the night before wasn't going to cover much more than that. He wouldn't have another time without protection, that he swore to himself. The condoms were even more vital than getting something to eat. They could make all the difference if he was going to survive on the streets for very long.
*
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