Chapter 4
Romeo
I’m leaning against the building, wincing every time I move.
It took me days to recover after a john beat me and then fucked me.
He paid extra for the beating, tossing a bunch of twenties on the ground next to my bleeding body, even if it was non-fucking-consensual, not that I would’ve agreed to it.
Tito, my handler, loved it. He loved it way too much, the psychopath. He enjoys seeing me bruised and bent to his will. It’s a power trip for him. It’s not only me, but all his boys.
This morning, just when I’ve started to recover, Tito made sure to remind me of who’s the boss after I asked him to protect me from the beatings.
“Please don’t send me out there,” I beg, despite knowing Tito will punish me for it.
He backhands me, and I fall to my knees. The sting reverberates straight through my entire body, making my teeth rattle.
“Tough shit. Clients will love it. They’ll know they can do whatever they want to you, and pay extra for it. Make sure to tell them it’s now part of your services. Tell them it’s a fifty for a slap, and a hundred for a punch. Five hundred if they want to kick you. A thou for blood.”
This is my life. Pain and sex. It’s all I’ve known.
My eyes water, but I choke them back, not wanting to get hit again.
Tito steps up to me as I stand on shaking legs and pinches my chin painfully, forcing me to look into his evil black eyes.
“Never question me. Never beg me. You do as you’re told.
Period. All I want to hear from you is a ‘yessir.’ I don’t care if you come back to me bleeding.
If they want to take their aggression out on you, you let them.
Understood? The more money I make, the easier I’ll be on you.
” He shrugs and lets me go. “Even if they kill you, there will always be someone else to take your place. I have seven other boys, who’ll easily comply with my wishes and won’t question them. ”
His threat is real. If Tito is anything, he’s honest in his brutality. I don’t want to die, so I do as I’m told.
When Tito unbuttons and unzips his jeans, my heart and stomach sink. Getting hit is one thing, but if he wants to get his point across so I never forget, he’ll fuck me painfully.
“Get naked,” he orders.
“Yessir.”
I scramble out of my clothes. Once I’m naked, he manhandles my neck until I’m facing the closed door to his office, bending me in half.
Then he grabs a chunk of my hair. It’s why I keep it long.
He likes to yank on it painfully. Tito will never let me get it cut short.
Sometimes he’ll fuck me, using my hair as reins like he’s riding a horse bareback.
That’s one of the more painful things he does to me.
“Open your mouth and swallow the doorknob.”
Panic starts to take hold of me, and I shake my head. The last time he made me do that, I nearly busted my teeth, and I almost suffocated from crying. It’s not as big as some others, but I barely got the thing in my mouth to begin with.
His fist slams down on my kidney, and I instantly drop to my knees again.
The pain is excruciating, and I almost throw up.
Tito picks me back up roughly and forces my face in front of the knob.
“Swallow it, or I’ll make you piss blood for a week.
And if you miss any more time and don’t earn your keep, then you’ll be useless to me. I’ll just have to kill you.”
The tears spill despite how hard I try not to cry, and I open my mouth wide. The knob is so large that I have to open it as far as I can. It’s hard to breathe and swallow. I brace my hands on the wood because I know he’s going to pound the hell out of me. I need to protect my teeth.
He slams into me and says, “You’re my favorite fucking hole. Always have been. Never forget who you belong to.”
Now, here I am, waiting for a john to approach me.
I have a quota of five men a day. It hurts to have that much sex, even without the bruising, but I don’t have a choice.
It’ll hurt more if I don’t meet my quota.
Tito houses and feeds me, so I have to pay him back for his care.
This is my life. The life I’ve lived for as long as I can remember.
Everything is purely about survival, though I’m not always sure what I’m surviving for. Hope? Wishful fucking thinking?
I stand straight and adjust my clothes to make myself presentable as a guy with dark curly hair heads my way, but there’s nothing I can do about the bruising on my face. Tito didn’t give me time to put on makeup to cover it up before shoving me out the door to work.
Usually, I get old dudes approaching me.
They’re ugly or overweight with small peckers—guys who can’t find someone on their own, so they have to pay for it.
I also get the cheaters, men who’re married and pretend to be straight.
Sometimes I get sex addicts. I have a couple of those who’re regulars.
But I don’t think I’ve ever had a hot, young guy approach me before, so it’ll be a nice change.
I just hope he doesn’t beat me, too. God, I’m not sure I can take it anymore.
He’s a few inches taller than me. His hair matches his eyes.
Usually, I don’t care about brown eyes. Most people have them, but his are surrounded by thick black bands of long lashes, topped with thick eyebrows that sit low.
The chiseled jaw, plump lips, and high cheekbones remind me of those male models in magazines.
His nose is swollen, and his eyes are bruised.
Has he been hit like me? Still, he’s fucking stunning.
Why the hell would he approach me, or any prostitute for that matter?
He could find whatever guy he wants for free.
“Hi,” he says simply.
I instantly switch on my prostitute persona. A smirk forms on my face, and I tilt my head, resting my hand on his chest. “Hey, cutie, lookin’ for a good time? I can do whatever you want, honey.”
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, breathes out a sigh, and smiles tightly. “Yeah, I… wasn’t sure you were a…”
“Hooker?”
The man winces at the word. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Why? It’s what I am.” I wave a hand across my body. “I mean, I’m dressed for it.”
“Right.”
“What do you like? A blow job? Wanna fuck me?” With a deep breath and a twisting gut, I say, “My newer services include beating me as you fuck me, if you want, but that’ll cost extra.” He suddenly narrows his eyes and snarls, forcing me to take a step back. “Uhm…” I breathe, trying not to panic.
“Beat you? You like to be beaten? Is that why you’re bruised? What the fuck? I mean, not to shame, but… Jesus.”
Shit, I have to remedy this fast if I want his money. “Sorry, my… handler made me say that. I don’t want to be beaten. Not one bit, but… I have to let them if someone wants to do that.”
“You don’t have to do shit.” He hisses out again, closes his eyes, and pinches his nose. “No, I’m not looking to hurt you. I want to hire you… for two weeks.”
Two weeks?
“Ah, I don’t think you can afford that… no offense.”
“I can.” He glances around from left to right before his eyes land back on mine. “Can we go somewhere to talk? You hungry? I’m fucking starving. We can eat, and I can tell you about my plan. I can pay you for that, along with your food.”
He doesn’t look much older than me. How does he have so much money? Then again, this is Los Angeles. There are tons of wealthy people who live here. It’s a world of extreme wealth and extreme poverty.
“Uhm, I’m not sure my handler will like me gone for so long.”
“He will if I pay you enough. How much do you charge per hour? Not for a blow job, but for sex?”
“Well, my going rate is a hundred per fuck.”
He nods thoughtfully as he calculates in his head. “I can pay you that per hour. That’s over thirty-three thousand. I’ll pay you forty thousand for the full two weeks. Surely your fucking handler can accept that.”
Holy fuck. Can he really pay that? I’m more alert now, ready to give this dude my fucking soul for that kind of money.
If I tell Tito, he’ll demand more money just because he can.
“I’ll ask him.”
“Do that.”
I pull out my phone, which Tito also pays for, so he can keep track of me at all times, and I text him.
Me: Client wants me for two weeks.
Tito: Tell him to piss off.
An idea quickly forms as I type out my next message. My heart fucking races, and my stomach twists in knots. What I’m about to do could get me killed, but I can’t pass up this opportunity to be free of him.
Me: He wants to pay me thirty thousand for the entire
two weeks.
Tito: Tell him $35k or no deal. He has to pay something
upfront.
I couldn’t help but smile. That would leave me five thousand by the end of it. Maybe I can use that to escape Tito’s hold on me. He leaves me with barely enough cash to do much with. If I want food, clothes, or anything, I have to ask him for an allowance. He keeps my very survival tethered to him.
“My handler says, yes, if you pay some up front.”
“Do you have a Venmo or Cash App?”
“I do.”
“I’ll pay you once a day, but I won’t pay everything up front because I don’t want you running off with the money. No offense.”
“Never. I wouldn’t do that.”
Me: He’ll pay me once a day for the next two
weeks.
Tito: Fine. But if he don’t pay, you fucking leave.
Me: Okay.
“He says that’s fine.”
“Good. I’m Julien, by the way. What’s yours?”
He holds out his hand for me to shake, but I just stare at it. Clients never shake my hand or give a shit about my name. I’m generally just a hole for them to fuck. I’m barely human. I know it’s not normal, but I don’t know any other life. It’s my normal.
“Uh, Romeo,” I tell him after reaching for his hand.
Julien suddenly smiles, and his face turns into literal sunshine, even with all the bruising and swelling. “Romeo and Julien. Bound by fate and tragedy. Fucking apt.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, so I don’t say anything.
“Is that your real name?” he asks.