Fifty cents for your soul - Chapter Four
Chapter Four
The carpet in Jared’s room was threadbare and his knees were starting to ache, but he didn’t move, just stayed kneeling by his bed with his head bowed, his rosary beads clutched in his hands and his lips moving silently as he murmured his prayers.
He ignored the first knock on his door, but the second knock was accompanied by Sam’s soft concerned voice asking him if he was alright, and that he couldn’t ignore. Setting his rosary beads down beside his Bible, Jared pushed himself upright on stiff, sore legs and opened the door to Sam.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was just,” he gestured towards the Bible and rosary beads, and Sam nodded in understanding.
“I’m sorry for intruding. I just wanted to let you know that dinner was nearly ready. Give you time to wash up.”
The apartment smelled of onion, herbs and roasting meat and Jared realized that he was hungry, despite his chaotic thoughts and flip-flopping stomach.
He nodded and thanked Sam, following her out of his room and then heading into the bathroom where he washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face.
Sam had made meatloaf, the same meal that she and the kitchen staff had made for lunch downstairs. Jeff said grace, which surprised Jared until he remembered that Jeff had been a priest at one time. Jared mulled it over while they ate, wondering whether Jeff had struggled with his decision to leave the Church, wondering how much of his faith he had held on to.
“Jared? Jared?”
“What? Sorry?” Jared looked up into Jeff’s amused face.
“Could you pass the peas, please?”
Jared grabbed the blue ceramic bowl with the peas and handed it to Jeff. “Sorry. I was miles away.”
“It was a big day, huh? A lot to think about.”
Jared nodded. “Everyone was really nice though. Alona and Rob. Gabriel and Chad from the NA group. Jensen.”
Sam tilted her head to one side. “Jensen?” she asked. “I don’t know that name.”
“Dean,” Jeff said, before Jared could respond. “Of Eliot and Dean fame.”
Sam’s expression softened, her eyes becoming liquid. “Dean came in?”
“Jensen,” Jeff corrected. His nose scrunched up. “Not exactly. Not for himself. He came in with a friend, Danneel? Have you heard of her?”
Sam shook her head. “Is that her real name or a street name?”
“Real name. She says she works as a dancer down at Whiskey and Rye.”
“And by dancer,” Jared added, “he means stripper.”
Sam and Jeff both turned to stare at him and Jared flushed. “Jensen explained,” he said.
“You talked to…Jensen?” Sam’s voice sounded wobbly.
Jared lowered his head. “I fell over some chairs,” he confessed. “He helped me up.”
Jeff snorted. “Among other things.”
“And then he borrowed a book,” Jared chose to ignore Jeff’s comment. “He likes to read. He likes Vonnegut.” Not that Jared had a clue who Vonnegut was. The author hadn’t been on his parents’ approved reading list.
Sam looked at Jeff.
“I talked Danneel into doing the GED workshop,” Jeff said. “She’s keen. She says Jensen got his two years ago, as soon as he turned eighteen.”
Sam’s eyes filled with tears. “We were right,” she whispered.
Jared looked from one to the other and frowned. “I’m sorry. Am I missing something?”
Jeff sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Dean…Jensen…turned up and started working the Boulevard five years ago. He’s been refusing our help ever since.”
Jared’s forehead creased even further. “Five years ago? But that would mean he was…” he met Jeff’s eyes, his own filled with horror.
“Fifteen,” Jeff said. “It would mean he was working the streets at fifteen.”
“We were pretty sure that he was underage,” Sam added, “those first few years.”
“Why didn’t you do something?”
“There was nothing we could do. We let him know we were here, that we could help if he wanted us to. But they have to come to us, Jared. And Dean…Jensen never did. In fact he made it very plain that he wanted nothing to do with us.”
Jared tilted his head to one side and tried to understand what Sam was telling him.
“But…what about the authorities? He was just a child. Surely you could have reported him to Children’s Services?”
“And then what? A lot of our clients have been abused, in their birth families, in foster families, in Group Homes. It’s a sad reality that, for some, the streets have proved the safest place for them, and if they know that we’ll turn them in, they won’t come to us for the help they need.”
Jared finished his meatloaf in silence.
“Would you like another helping?” Sam asked.
Jared shook his head. “Do you think Jensen was abused?” he asked tentatively.
Jeff glanced at Sam before meeting Jared’s earnest expression. “I don’t know,” he said, “but, yeah. Probably.”
When the meal was finished, Jared helped clear the table and wash the dishes and then excused himself. He shut himself in his bedroom and picked up the book with the rainbow-colored cross on the cover. He opened it up and began to read.
-X-
In all honesty, Jensen didn’t get fucked very often.
Most of his regulars wanted full service, of course, but when it came to casual street clients, he mostly just gave blow jobs: Fifty bucks, which includes a free rubber. Nope, covered BJs only. No, there’s no time limit, it’s to completion. Of course I can deep throat. Money first. Okay, just park over behind that dumpster.
A street trick would drive him to a deserted car park or a cheap motel and shell out for full service, maybe once or twice a week; covered full service; the only type Jensen offered. If they wanted to do him from behind, which most did, he always waited to turn around until they had the rubber on. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.
In the early days, Jensen had been fucked bareback more often than not, and he’d viewed STDs as nothing more than an occupational hazard. He tossed the pamphlets that the free clinic gave him whenever he turned up to get another dose of antibiotics, and he bore the doctors’ safe sex lectures with the kind of disdain that only a teenager can muster.
It was Sebastian who had made him change his behavior, because if Jensen stayed clean and healthy, the photographer could get him modeling work. Given his age, it was mostly erotic and fetish work for private collections, but it was warmer, easier and less dangerous than working the streets; and it paid better too. When Seb told him that if he wanted to keep modeling he had to clean up his act and that included no more barebacking, it was a decision Jensen could afford to make.
When he was eighteen, a handful of the guys who’d started turning tricks at around the same time as him were diagnosed HIV positive. Jensen’s blood had turned to liquid ice as he finally appreciated just what a major bullet he’d dodged and ever since, his insistence on no glove, no love was motivated by concern for his own welfare, rather than Seb’s financial incentive. Of course, he did have a client who he did bareback; Sebastian himself. But he trusted Seb. And besides, they both got tested every month and showed each other the results.
Jensen stifled a yawn behind his hand and Seb’s eyes narrowed. He retaliated by pushing Jensen’s thighs right back against his chest and his next thrust was extra hard. Jensen managed not to wince.
“Am I boring you, darling?”
Jensen ran his tongue across his lips and then grinned. “I think the ceiling needs painting.”
Sebastian’s eyes widened and then his expression softened. “You do realize that’s the wife’s line?”
“It is? What’s the whore supposed to say then?”
Sebastian cringed, as he always did whenever Jensen referred to himself as a sex worker. “A whore says ‘aren’t you finished yet?’, a mistress says ‘are you finished already?’, and a wife says-”
“’I think the ceiling needs painting’.” Jensen concluded the joke. “Right.”
Sebastian sighed. “I’m clearly going to need to step up my game here.” He pulled out and nudged Jensen’s thigh and Jensen obligingly rolled onto his stomach.
“Up,” Sebastian grabbed hold of his hips and tugged and Jensen got up onto his hands and knees, bracing himself as Seb slammed back in.
“There - will - be - no - more - talk - about - ceilings,” Seb said, punctuating each word with a thrust.
“I think - the sheets - need changing,” Jensen teased.
Seb slapped his ass hard, eliciting a yelp, and then slid his hand around and took hold of Jensen’s cock. “They will do in a minute,” he growled.
Afterwards, Jensen took a shower. When he wandered through to the bedroom from the en suite, toweling his hair, he found his money in its customary position on the bedside table. Only trusted regulars like Seb were allowed to pay after the fact. Jensen knew the photographer harbored a hope that one night he’d find his $400.00 still sitting on the side table after Jensen had left, but it wasn’t going to happen. Jensen always took the money.
When he appeared in the living room, his hair was still damp and he had re-dressed in good jeans and a button down shirt; Jensen wouldn’t dream of wearing his usual street garb to Sebastian’s penthouse.
Seb handed him a beer.
“I think you’ll like this one,” he said “It’s from Belgium and it’s got underlying hints of chocolate and caramel.”
Jensen raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was supposed to be beer?”
“It is beer.”
Jensen shuddered. “Caramel and chocolate? That’s just wrong, man. That’s even more wrong than that one with peach. Beer should taste like beer.”
Sebastian mock-scowled at him.
“Shut up and try it, heathen.”
In truth, the beer wasn’t bad, but Jensen wasn’t going to admit that to Sebastian. Part of the fun in these ‘educating Jensen’s palate’ sessions, as Sebastian called them, was in giving the man shit. In the beginning-well, not the beginning beginning, but when Jensen turned eighteen, which was the legal drinking age in England, which was where Seb was from originally-anyway, in the beginning, Sebastian had tried to teach Jensen to be a wine connoisseur, only Jensen had point-blank refused to drink wine, insisting that he was more of a beer man. Seb had responded by becoming a Bier-Kultur connoisseur and was forever trying to develop Jensen’s tastes.
Jensen drank down half the glass. “I dunno, man,” he said, licking his lips thoughtfully, “It ain’t as good as Bud.” Which was bullshit, actually. He only said it to watch Seb’s face twitch.
“So, Jen,” Jensen hated people calling him Jen, but he tolerated it from Sebastian, because he could retaliate by calling the man Seb. “Have you thought any more about what I said the other day?”
Jensen’s stomach dropped. He’d been dreading Sebastian bringing this topic up.
“About dinner with your parents?”
Sebastian nodded and Jensen played with the label on his beer.
“I have thought about it. To be honest…I’m not really comfortable with the idea.”
Sebastian nodded again. “Jensen,” he said, “I want-”
Jensen reached out and put his fingers against Seb’s lips. “Don’t. Just…don’t.”
Sebastian grasped Jensen’s fingers with his own and kissed them softly.
“But I don’t understand. You don’t have to keep doing it, you know. You could come and live with me. I’d provide for you, give you everything.”
Jensen squeezed Seb’s hand. “I don’t want that. Like Julia Roberts said, that’s just geography. I like my independence, Seb. I’m not giving that up, not for anyone.”
Sebastian tilted his head to one side, his fingers steepled in front of his lips. “I see. And what if, when you came out of the shower one evening, there was nothing for you on the bedside table. What then?”
Jensen just looked at him until Seb looked away with wounded eyes. “Right. Perhaps you’d better go.” He strode over to the sideboard where he kept the good Scotch and Jensen watched as he took down a crystal tumbler and half-filled it with the amber liquid.
“I like you, man,” Jensen said, his voice rough, “I really do. But you pay me for a ‘boyfriend experience.’ Don’t get confused.”
Sebastian was swirling the Scotch around in the glass. “Hm? Oh right. Yes, of course. Of course. You can see yourself out, I expect?”
Jensen could and he did. The night air was crisp against his face as he walked home. He should probably work a couple more hours before he called it quits, but he wasn’t dressed for it and he couldn’t be bothered to get changed. When Jensen got home, he was going straight to bed with a mug of hot cocoa and lamenting the shitty day he’d had. First he’d pissed off Jeff Morgan, then Danneel had ripped into him about his need to be an asshole to people who were just trying to help and now he’d had to hurt Seb. Just about the only person who seemed to like him today was that weird kid at the drop-in center, Jared. And the really scary thing about that? Jensen had a feeling that he might sort-of like him too.
-X-
Jared knew that not everyone shared the same religious beliefs, and he knew that not everyone was religious.
All of the arguments that he’d heard against premarital sex, using contraception, and homosexuality were predicated on the belief in a God who had decreed those acts were wrong. If you didn’t believe in God, Jared didn’t see why you’d have a problem with premarital sex, contraception or homosexuality.
But Jared did believe in God. And Jesus. And the Christian faith. And that was why the book The Rainbow Cross was such a revelation. The author was a gay man who wanted to be a Church pastor and in the introduction, he described the grief he had felt when he’d first realized that he was same-sex oriented. His earliest memories were of being told that he was one of God’s creations, that he was made in God’s image and that God loved him. To then learn that he was ‘broken’, sinful by his very nature, was heartbreaking. He was never able to come to terms with the idea that God wanted him to be alone; after all, didn’t God clearly state in Genesis that it wasn’t good for man to be alone? And yet, because a woman wasn’t a natural partner for him, if he accepted the traditional interpretation of scripture, then he must accept a lifetime without romantic love, without companionship, without a family. No relationship that would be natural for him would be celebrated by his community; he must take up his cross and suffer, knowing that if he ever fell in love, then he must walk away, break his heart and that of his prospective partner, and live in isolation all of his days.
The misery of such a life caused him to question the traditional interpretation of scripture. He recalled that when Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount he told his followers that you could always tell good teaching from bad teaching. Good trees bear good fruit, Jesus said, and bad trees bear bad fruit. Good trees cannot bear bad fruit and vice versa. If he-the author-was God’s creation and his sexual orientation was gay, and if it wasn’t good for him to be alone, then a traditional interpretation of scripture could not be good teaching. And so he began to analyze that interpretation.
After a lot of study he was able to detail why he believed that modern interpretations of scripture were wrong when it came to viewing homosexuality as a sin. He wrote a paper on the subject and after several successful public speaking engagements, and a lot of online publicity (both good and bad), he was invited by a publishing house to write a book.
In outlining his stance on the subject, the author claimed that the passages in Leviticus that related to homosexuality could be ignored, because the New Testament stated that the Old Laws (those outlined in Leviticus) did not apply to Christians. He also said, with respect to the passages in the New Testament which supposedly spoke out against homosexuality, that it was important to remember that the Bible had been through many translations. In his opinion, the early interpreters of the ancient texts had got the meanings of some words wrong, and these mistakes were compounded by each subsequent translation. He was able to offer alternative interpretations, substantiated by translations of various words and phrases that had been used in other, secular works. All the New Testament really said, the author argued, was that same-sex relationships weren’t the custom in the region at the time and they were no more or less frowned upon by the Bible than a man having long hair, which was also described as not the custom in the region at the time.
Jared found the author’s arguments persuasive and he knew, long before he’d finished reading the book, that he couldn’t be part of a system that was so damaging to so many of God’s creations. Jared found the idea of insisting that some people must reject love and live alone abhorrent-he’d read The Rainbow Cross’s introduction with tears in his eyes, his heart aching for the fear, grief and loneliness the author must have felt as a young man.
Early evening turned to late night, and late night turned to the early hours of the morning, while Jared read. Sam had knocked on his door at some point and told him that she and Jeff were going out to run the evening coffee van for a few hours. Jared was still reading when they came home and went to bed. Finally, he closed the book, put it on his bedside table, next to his Bible and rosary beads, and wiped away the tears in his eyes.
The book -and the day-had given him a lot to think about.
In many ways, he could empathize with the young author. When Alona had told Jared she could set him up with a girl he’d felt scared and panicky. When Jensen had hauled him to his feet and then groped his privates, he’d felt scared…and more turned on than he’d ever felt before.
Jared might be naïve, but he wasn’t stupid. That meant something.
Or maybe it didn’t.
Jared had never been touched in a sexual way by another person before. Maybe he would’ve gotten half hard, no matter who had groped him. With Jensen, it had all happened so quickly that he hadn’t had time to panic. What if someone-Rob or maybe Chad-yes, Chad seemed a more likely candidate. What if Chad had offered to set Jared up on a date with Jensen? Jared tried to imagine it and his stomach fluttered with something that very definitely wasn’t panic.
Jared got off the bed and began to pace. What about Danneel? She was very attractive. What about if Chad offered to set him up on a date with Danneel? Jared tried to imagine it and felt vaguely alarmed. Then he imagined Jensen seeing him out on a date with Danneel and…no. It just felt all wrong.
It was beginning to look as if Father Michael was a very wise man. Jared knew very little about the big wide world, but more importantly, he knew even less about himself. It seemed that he had an awful lot to learn about who he was, and what God wanted for him, before he would be anywhere near ready to take his vows. It was both frightening and exhilarating.
-X-
Jared woke up with a hard-on and shame flooded through his veins. He covered his face with his hands and thought about the flabby, crusty skin on Nanny’s elbow and the time Dosu vomited on him, until his traitorous dick went flaccid.
It was ten past eight. Jared’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the green glowing figures on the clock and he scrambled out of bed, tripping over his feet in his haste. He hurried out of his room wearing nothing but sweatpants and a tee-shirt and found the apartment empty. He closed his eyes and cursed softly. What must Sam and Jeff think of him, sleeping in so late? He shuffled toward the kitchen and saw a note in round, loopy handwriting propped against the salt and pepper shakers in the center of the dining table.
Dear Jared,
You were up so late reading the material that Jeff gave you that we didn’t have the heart to wake you this morning. I hope you are now well-rested. Please help yourself to whatever you want for breakfast (or brunch, depending on when you wake up!) and then feel free to either continue with your reading or come to lend us a hand downstairs, whichever you would prefer. There is fresh coffee in the pot.
Love, Sam.
Jared felt a rush of warmth for Sam. She was such a loving, caring person and in a lot of ways, she reminded him of his own mom. His mom was away a lot for work and he’d mostly been raised by Nanny-who was strict and demanding and not at all soft and cuddly-but on those rare occasions when Dad was working and Mom had stayed at home with them by herself, she gave them a lot of time, talking and laughing with them, playing games, listening and hugging. Both Nanny and Dad said she spoiled them and there was always an argument when Dad came home, with Nanny and Dad siding against Mom. For Jared, and for his siblings, those times with Mom were the happiest part of their childhood.
For just a moment, Jared allowed himself to wonder what it would’ve been like to have been adopted by Sam and Jeff instead; to have grown up here, helping his parents to work with the less fortunate; to have been a worldly kid, who knew what was what, and who was part of a vibrant, eclectic community. As much as he loved his parents, Jared’s heart ached for the life that could have been his and he regretted deeply the time he’d spent closed off and apart from things.
Jared crossed to the coffee pot and lifted it from the metal ring where it was keeping warm. He breathed the delicious aroma of the hot, dark liquid and decided to try it. Jeff and Sam seemed to drink a lot of coffee, so he figured it had to be nice. He pulled an olive green mug from the cupboard and filled it two thirds full with coffee. He sniffed at it and then took a sip.
Ugh. Coffee was horrible. Tart and…ugh…bitter. It smelled so much better than it tasted. How could Jeff enjoy this? Jared eyed off the sugar jar. Sam put cream and sugar in her coffee. Maybe he should do the same? He added a teaspoon of sugar to his coffee and then got the milk out of the fridge and filled the cup to the brim. He took a sip. Hmm. He added another spoonful of sugar. Sipped. Added another spoonful of sugar. Much better.
He popped some bread in the toaster and then went and flicked through his books, looking for something he could read while he ate breakfast.
Gay Sex. Jared froze with his hand on the cover. Could he? The thought of reading it was scary; a herd of elephants stampeded through his stomach at the mere idea, but…
But he had to know. Even though the thought of Sam or Jeff seeing him reading it, frightened the hell out of him. He picked the book up and then picked out a few others as well and took them all back out into the kitchen. He put peanut butter on his toast and then put another two slices of bread into the toaster. And then he picked up Gay Sex and began to read.
Jared decided to put grape jelly on his next couple pieces of toast. They’d never been allowed jelly at home, but boy was it good. And this coffee? Now that he’d added sugar and cream, Jared had to confess that it wasn’t bad at all. He made himself another cup and then figured that he should probably put the jelly back in the pantry. Ooh look. A packet of Oreos. They’d never been allowed to have cookies at home and Jared had really enjoyed the few that Sam had put on a plate for him yesterday. Surely Sam and Jeff wouldn’t mind if he helped himself to one or two today?
Fifteen minutes later Jared was reading about prostate stimulation and sporting a hard-on so massive, he was embarrassed to get up from the table. The Oreo packet was empty.
Jared’s eyes fell upon Exploring Healthy Adolescent Sexuality. According to that book, masturbation was a normal, healthy part of sexuality and nothing to be ashamed of. And here, there was no one who was going to paddle his butt for doing it. Also? He was feeling a little reckless right now. Jared thought that maybe the coffee and the cookies had something to do with that. Maybe this was why his parents had banned cookies, candies and drinks containing caffeine. Jared ran a hand through his hair and grinned to himself. He felt kind of awesome. Like he could do anything. He giggled and then clamped a hand over his mouth. Okay. No more cookies or coffee for Jared. Perhaps it was time to have a shower and get ready.
The water was hot and Jared lathered himself slowly. Closing his eyes, he lowered a hand and began to lightly stroke himself. His already-hard penis strained and jerked and Jared took it firmly in hand, drawing his fist up and down the entire length and flicking his thumb across the head at every pass. He groaned at the intense feeling of pleasure, tucking his bottom lip in behind his teeth as pinpricks of light sparked beneath his closed eyelids. He fisted himself harder and faster and used his other hand to stroke his balls, his fingers straying down to rub across his perineum, the tips occasionally tapping and stroking against his hole as Jared tried to find the courage to push a finger up inside his ass and chase that magic bundle of nerves that the book had talked about. He couldn’t do it, though. He was having enough trouble fighting off the feelings of guilt and shame that were his automatic response to the mere thought of masturbation. Sodomizing himself with a finger was just a dirty-wrong-sinful step too far and Jared couldn’t take it, not yet. It wasn’t long, though, before he felt his balls start to draw up and he groaned as he hurtled to his inevitable, unstoppable climax. As his orgasm rushed out of him, a pair of big green eyes and full, bowed lips forced their way into his imagination and Jared squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut, bit his bottom lip harder and wondered how he’d ever be able to look Jensen in the eye again.
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