As I stole quick glances at their faces, I realised how far I was from their way of life, their seemingly normal lifestyle of blind dates, late-night movies, furtive kisses, crushes or cramming for tests. I would never be like them, and I was half relieved and half scared by this fact. Half relieved because I did not want to be hiding from what I was, from my sexuality and my needs. Half scared because I was heading nowhere and was fearful of being ostracised by my peers, my family and the whole damn society.
Like any pimp worth his salt, Shun wanted to make sure I got the machinations of this trade into my head, and so he kept drilling these words into me, until I could repeat them word for word. By then, I was already onto my eleventh rich client.
“Just be careful in what you do or what the client wants. Always wear a condom and insist on one if he wants to fuck. Be persistent and show that you are in control over this matter. And never give in to bareback sex. Trust me, you don’t want to die from AIDS at your age. It won’t be the best experience of your life.”
I nodded like a puppet and agreed with what he said. “How long?” I had wanted to ask him several times before, but could not drum up any courage to do so. “Why did you go into this line? Was there no other way?” But I knew he would not entertain my questions.
His secret life as a rent boy was known only to me. “Why me?” I wanted to ask. Did his friends know anything about this life at all? Each time I saw him with his classmates or close friends, in the canteen or library or at the swimming pool, he would look away, ignoring me completely. He would feign that nothing was out of sorts and carry on the conversations with his friends, joking and laughing with them. And every time I would be hurt by his careless actions, no matter how hard I tried not to think about it.
But when he was with me, away from his friends, he displayed a completely different side of himself: a serious no-nonsense Shun, in control of himself and me as well. How could I ever confront him with this disparity?
His eccentric behaviour? He had every reason to back away from me, to head back to his normal life, to have anything and everything he wanted — great looks, peer admiration, good grades, and an attractive personality. What did I have that I could give him? My mouth and my ass? He could have that from anyone, anytime, so why me?
Slowly, Shun began to share other aspects of his secret life with me.
About the middle-aged banker who wanted to keep him as a toy-boy and almost bought him a condominium and a car. But Shun turned him down flatly “because he has a wife and two kids, and there are too many fucking complications.”
And about the creative director of a US-based international advertising agency, who wanted more than just normal sex: “He’s such a pervert and jerk, always asking me to do this and that to him, pull off the S amp;M acts on him.
But it’s hilarious, some of the things he’s asked me to do.” Or about a rich Indonesian-Chinese guy, who claimed to love him and wanted Shun to be his boyfriend: “You should be there, to hear him say the things he says. Taken straight from some trashy magazines or C-grade romance novels. Lovable, but too clingy.”
Where Shun got some of this clientele, I did not know and really did not care to know. But it bothered me to no end, to know that he was with these strange men, let alone having sex with them. And so I didn’t ask him anything about them.
I should have seen it coming sooner or later. Shun was planning to leave me on my own. We had been good friends, but our friendship was not something that could be carried along in our own separate lives. It would be incongruous, even absurd. Of course, by then, I already had a small but growing pool of clients generating a steady flow of comfortable income.
“Do you know what I’ve been doing? Teaching you everything that I have learnt through my mistakes, bad experiences and weird encounters?
It’s not about the money. It’s about strengthening your guts and mind.” Shun looked straight into my face, saying these words with a controlled demeanour, his eyes intensely lucid. “When I first saw you in the toilet, all I saw was a pitiable creature, crawling around on his fours, looking so helpless and lost, and I was so angry. ‘Why are you doing this to yourself?’ I wanted to ask,
‘Being at the mercy of the next person who comes into the toilet and gives you a sympathetic fuck.’ And I wanted so much to grab you there and then and give you a sound beating.”
I bit my lower lip so hard, it began to bleed slightly. Was this true? Was I so helpless? But I did not want his sympathy, and I hated his pity.
“But why me? I’m sure you can take your pity to someone else. Why me then? Am I your personal charity case?” I shot out vehemently, tripping over my own words, and as I heard them coming out of my mouth, I could feel the helplessness of it. I stared at him as coldly as I could, in silent defiance.
“I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’ve chosen you. I just did,” Shun replied, as he stirred his cup of mocha latte continuously, absent-mindedly, as if to blend his words into the murky mix. And he remained silent, his thoughts far away from mine, a world apart though we were sitting face to face in the Starbucks outlet in the university. The white noise of chatter and laughter from nearby tables drifted over in wisps. A young female student laughed heartily at the next table. A fly landed on Shun’s hand and he waved it away.
“I have an important client tonight who is organising a small orgy and wants the company of young men like us.” Shun looked into my face for any changes, and seeing no expression, continued with his proposal.
“He’s paying four thousand dollars for just one night. I want you to come along with me, we can split the money equally. Anyway, it’s good money.” He stirred up the dregs of his drink with his straw, took a sip and pushed the cup away rudely, as if it was an abhorrent object he’d just discovered. I’d already taken part in several orgies by this time, so I was not squeamish about his request. But I wanted to refuse him, for the very sake of saying no to him, to deny him my dumb submission for once. But something in me, a pure rush of impulses, wanted to give in without hesitation. There was no reason to refuse him but there was no reason to acquiesce either.
“Come on, tell me, are you interested or not? If not, forget about it.
Forget what I just said.” With that, he pulled back his seat and stood up. My heart leapt to follow him.
“Okay, okay, I’m in. Just tell me where and when. I will be there,” I said.
“I will call you later,” Shun replied casually, before grabbing his bag hanging from the seat, smiled at me and left the table. A heavy feeling overcame me and, like a ship’s anchor dropped into the depths, I was submerged and sunken.
The man answered the door almost immediately, as if he had been standing behind it, waiting anxiously for our arrival. He extended his hand solicitously and welcomed us.
“Hi, you’re finally here! We’ve been waiting! My name is Ben.” With that, he gestured us into the spacious living room of his bungalow. “For a while, we thought you guys were lost,” Ben said as he led us into the room. Which was almost impossible, I mused inwardly, since the bungalow stood apart from the rest of the houses along this stretch of road in the obsequiousness of its lavish facade. No one with eyes could miss it. In any case, Shun and I took a taxi from our hostel. Along the journey, we hardly talked to each other, except to ask the perfunctory questions. Shun looked out his window at passing streetlights, at people waiting at bus stops, at the traffic, hardly acknowledging my presence, while I stole long glances at him from time to time.