Escapology

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic
A gay boy forced into prostitution, use memories of his past to drown out the trauma of what he experiences in the present

Submitted: July 04, 2011

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Submitted: July 04, 2011

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The Peugeot halts a little down to street from me. I deter the coloured marijuana dealers, telling them ‘I’m not interested in buying and neither is he’ pointing at the car. They regard me with the familiar post apartheid contempt. Ignoring this, I slip into the car and take a look at my first ‘John.’ He might’ve shaken my hand before he drove off, I don’t recall. What followed was probably the longest drive in my life. Aggravated with the fact that my ‘John’ took every back road he could find on the way back to his house. Earlier that night, I drank in excess. I smoked two joints with Ryan. My body was drunk and stoned, but my mind was stone cold sober.

We engage in ‘anti conversation,’ speaking words that do not reveal anything significant about our lives, for the sake of penetrating the silence. It’s casual enough to fizzle away the moment we walk through his door. There’s a thousand rand on the table in front of me. I wonder what I’ll have to do to earn it. In aid of maintaining the ‘I’ve done this before’ illusion that I wasn’t doing a good job of maintaining, I ask him how we’re going to go about doing this. “What I usually like to do [he says passing me a beer], is to go out to the back. I have a Jacuzzi and a pool. We can chill out there,” odd wording for a man who was probably twice my age.

Taking a greedy draught from the glass of beer, I follow him to the Jacuzzi. Once there, he immediately disrobes. Uncomfortably, yet automatically, I do the same. I get into the water, very aware of the predatory visual dissection I was getting from John. It comes as no surprise to me that he likes what he sees. I know I’m attractive. My glass was scarcely on the edge of the Jacuzzi, when he pulls me closer to him. His hands wander to my cock and he starts playing with me. Momentarily, I forget that I’m supposed to do the same. As things progress, so does my disgust. Although, I do have to credit myself, my composure never faltered. A few minutes in, I remembered the last time I was in a Jacuzzi and it made the seemingly unbearable bearable.

It was December 2010. Travis and I were on our way to Kloof (close to coastal Kwa-Zulu Natal) from the Drakensberge, where we were on holiday for a while with my family. This would be the first and last holiday Travis and I would share. The road trip there was bliss. Hours on the road together, listening to Faithless and savouring the simple pleasure of being alone in each other’s company. My hand remained in Travis’s lap all the way there. No matter where we drove, I always had my hand in his lap.

What ensued makes me laugh whenever I think back on it. Except for now. I don’t laugh, thinking back on this remembrance in the presence of John. The deal was that we were supposed to join Travis’s lesbian friends who had sole access to a mansion where we were to stay for the duration of our holiday in Kloof. Evidently we had sole access to a single room in a commune, in which we would be effectively squatting for the duration of our holiday.

Five people in a single room for a week and a half. The first thing I did was organise a bankie of potent weed from one of the other commune inhabitants. You have to love communes. It was so tragically student-esque, it was so chaotic... it was heaven on earth. My very favourite evening in Kloof I spent alone with Travis in the Jacuzzi. We were in a private little love cocoon, where I spoke words to him I’ll never speak to another man and where we made the most intense love I’ll ever experience. Following night I entered the New Year lip locked with Travis in the rain in Ballito. What a crazy night. I witnessed the first sunrise of the year, reflected in Travis’s eyes. “Wow,” he said. “You should see the sun sparkling in your eyes,” shortly after, I fell asleep on his lap on Ballito Beach.

If there was a time I was happier in my life, I do not remember it.

***

If it weren’t for the Faithless song that started playing, I probably would’ve vacated myself forever. I’m sitting in a mini casino in a bar in Houtbay. How I got there and what I’d been doing there escapes me. My hand was mindlessly pressing the ‘repeat bet’ button on a slot machine dubbed “The Queen of the Nile” and next to the slot machine there was a stuffed ashtray and three empty Heinekens.

It had been a particularly traumatic ‘working night.’ My rear still stung slightly from where my John spanked me. Vaguely, I remember going to Ryan’s place afterwards. There I asked him to come get pissed with me somewhere, but he was too tired having spent 3 days at a Trance party to come with me. So I went by myself to a pub down the road from him. Pirates, I think it was called. If there was a time I felt more alone in my life I do not remember it.

After a while, I realised what had reanimated me. The Faithless song. My mind went back to February. Travis and I stood in the queue for two and a half hours, waiting to go see Faithless in Johannesburg. His father had gotten him double tickets for the concert as a Christmas present. With a pang, I realise how sad it made me that I never met his father. In the queue, we were buzzing slightly from the SoCo and Coke we’d been given by people we’d randomly met... I welcomed the light-headedness because I get anxious in large crowds and at the time I was very self conscious about the ridiculous shade of blonde the salon had made my hair the day before.

Yet Travis was a bigger comfort than the alcohol, because he made me feel like I was the only guy at the concert. To make me feel more at ease, he steered me through the crowd the strange way he always steered me about with his hands on my hips. Like I was some kind of manikin he carted about. He bought us a few Heinekens and dragged me through the throng to the Golden Circle to witness what I would later learn was Faithless’s very last concert tour. But I was the only one who saw most of it, because Travis spent the entire concert looking at me. When his favourite song came on, he took my face in his hands and looked me in the eye standing still in the dancing swarm. If there was a time I felt more beautiful in my life, I do not remember it. 

“We’re about to close,” the barman tell me. With a shock I realised that I’d drunk close to three hundred rand’s worth of Heineken. If this was any other night I’d be blackout drunk, but now I was stone cold sober. Biting back the tears, I pay the bill and leave.


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