Page 8 of Forgive Me Father: For I Have Sinned

THE LANDLORD CAME TWOdays later and made a shitty ass repair to the door, mumbling something about charging us for it but left without another word when he was done. I said nothing about Robert leaving, but now I knew there was nothing else I could do but hope Doug still had a job available for me at his club. After watching what working for Andre did to Jason, I knew I’d rather dumpster dive for food again than succumb to the hell he’d endured while doing who knows what for that piece of shit. Not that a job with Doug would be much better mind you…

Arriving at the club that night, I was uncertain what the best way to approach this with him would be. I paced back and forth a few times before finally getting up the nerve to knock on the door. When the lock turned, I swallowed hard, not mentally prepared for what was awaiting me on the other side.

“Well, well, well. I wondered when I’d be seeing you again here, boy,” Doug said, chewing on the chunk of cigar hanging out of his mouth. Probably the same damn piece he had the last time I was here.

Nervously fidgeting, I shifted from foot to foot, staring at the ground. “Yeah, um…”

“Speak up boy, I haven’t got all night,” he cleared his throat before spitting out the remnants he’d gathered during the chewing process.

“Do you still have a job for me?” I all but yelled, nerves getting the best of me and taking over.

“Get inside so we can talk.”

He held the door open as I walked past him. The lock engaged behind us and a feeling like I was about to sell my soul to the devil himself washed over me. Just before we got to the open bar section, he opened the door to the left that led into a small, dingy office and motioned for me to come inside.

“Take a seat,” he ordered, planting himself into a desk chair that had seen better days. “Like I told you that night your chicken shit ass ran out of here,” he smirked. “It’s a split, fifty-fifty with the house. Paid in cash. The less we know about each other, the better off we are. You show up by ten p.m., you get a space to use. Cops show up looking for you, don’t bother coming back ’cause I’ll tell them I never saw you before. What you do in your own time is your business, but don’t bring no drugs into the building and clean up after yourself before you go home at night.”

Clean up after myself? From what I remember this place had no idea what cleanliness was. I should probably get a tetanus shot before I even start.

“Do they wear condoms for blowjobs?” I asked.

“You paying for them, boy?” he retaliated.

I gulped.

“That’s what I thought. You make your own rules, you want them to wear them you supply them. Otherwise, you take their loads like a man,” the disgusting ogre of a human being informed me. It was obvious he didn’t give a fuck about the health and safety of those in his employ. “I don’t mess around with none of that gay shit, and I won’t pretend to get it. But there’s a market for little twinkie asses like yours, and it pays well. So, I pretend to look the other way while these sick fuckers get off on it.”

He literally made my skin crawl. Not only was he pimping us out for a profit, but he was a homophobic asshole on top of it. How I fucking wished I didn’t have to stoop to working in that place.

“You wanna work or not?” he asked, staring me down. As much as I wanted to run, I knew better. This was my last resort if I wanted to avoid living on the streets again and continue to eat, I had to take the job.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, reluctantly.

“Aight, let me show you where everything is,” as he stood, the legs of the chair protested and scraped the floor under his weight.

He took me back through the bar area, pointing out the obvious, and telling me we were only allowed water for free. Beyond the curtained stalls were the restrooms. We shared them with the patrons, and they were just as disgusting as everything else was. I hoped like hell I’d never have to do anything more than piss in them. We had no locker rooms, no uniforms, nowhere to hide from anyone if we needed a few moments to ourselves. If you showed up, you were put to work. He asked that we enter through the back door facing the alleyway the five nights a week they were open and clean up the stall at the end of our shift. He said he provided the cleaning supplies necessary to complete that task. Tuesday through Saturday, he claimed Sunday was the Sabbath day, and it wasn’t to be worked. Like I believed for one second that he had a religious bone in his body.But then again…those who hide behind a shroud.

“If you’re ready, pick a stall and get to work. Them perverts will be showing up any second now. At the end of the night, clean up, count the cash and hand me my half. Don’t even think about ripping me off, boy. I’ll see how many bodies go behind your curtain and I watch from this side of the glass.” He tapped the pane in front of him. Great, openly homophobic but actually closeted. The worst of both worlds rolled into one smelly, unbearable package.

Shaking, although I didn’t know how much of it was from nerves and how much was from the anger I had boiling inside me towards my new employer, I headed toward the curtained openings. Reluctantly, I picked a stall and stepped inside. All it held was an old ass metal chair, a makeshift trash can, a roll of paper towels and a bottle of generic window cleaner. Not much in the way of the cleaning supplies, he claimed to provide. The floor was black painted concrete, scraped up like nails had been drug across it, which didn’t help my unease in any way. The soles of my shoes stuck to the paint, making a horrific crunching sound with each step I took. Doug must’ve been paying off someone at the health department because the lack of sanitation in that place wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere else. I hadn’t so much as taken a seat before the curtain was pulled back, and the first John walked inside, pulling it closed behind him.

“You must be the new kid,” he said. I didn’t move an inch, which didn’t seem to bother him either way. He unzipped his pants, pulled his cock out and stroked it until fully erect. “Well son, it ain’t gonna suck itself so get to work.”

I can do this…I can do this…I can.

I must’ve taken too long to decide what to do because in the next moment he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head over to his crotch.

“Suck it!” he ordered.

The familiar voice of the priest ordering me to my knees to do the exact same thing escaped the vault in my mind I’d long since locked it behind. Listening to him praise me while reciting a prayer in the hopes of absolving his sins for defiling a child left in his care. This haunting scene far too familiar, the reminiscent fear paralyzed me. The only difference this time was I’d chosen to be here and would be paid for my services. Which doesn’t make it sound much better now that I’m thinking it through.

He squeezed my cheeks, forcing my mouth open as he thrust his dick inside, subsequently choking me. Holding my head in place, he continued to fuck my face. I was almost thankful, almost, that I didn’t have to do any of the work or I’d have failed miserably at it.

“Look at those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. You like this, don’t you? Sucking dick for money. Maybe next time I’ll fuck that little ass of yours instead.” The bile that rose at his crude words made me gag. It took all I had to not release what had was built up in my throat. I only wished he would hurry up and come so we could get it over with and I could vomit in peace. I chose to think happy thoughts, thoughts of a better tomorrow. Allowing myself to hope for a better existence until I heard him grunt and knew what was coming next as my mouth was filled with his salty release. I refused to swallow, sat there holding it in until he’d zipped up, paid me and exited the stall. Once he was out of earshot, I turned, puking into the bucket and wiping my mouth on my shirt.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

I sucked three dicks that night before my jaw hurt so bad, I thought I’d dislocated it and was unable to take any more. As each of them left, I spit out what they’d left behind cursing them as none had so much as said a simple thank you afterward. Not that I’d really expected it, but still it would’ve been nice to hear.

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