NEITHER ANGEL NOR HUSTLER by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2008 written on August 12, 1992 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Acam
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"NEITHER ANGEL NOR HUSTLER" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
Second notebook
The city police came to turn us out of the old house, as it was to be demolished. Zio asked us if we would like to find something else together or whether we preferred each to go our own way. We all answered that we wanted to stay together.
"For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in good times and bad!" Samba pronounced for us all
Zio told us he had an idea - if we each chipped in with part of our earnings, we could rent a couple of rooms in a building he knew of. The only problem was that most of the other occupants were "Moroccans" but at least it would be cheap. We decided to go to check it out. It was an old house with balconies all facing a central yard. The two rooms were in a rather bad condition. The one next to the balcony could be used as a kitchen-living room and the other with a view of the street could be the bedroom. And even if it was way smaller than the old abandoned house this would be a real apartment.
We decided to rent it and Zio put it in his name. We moved there with our scanty luggage, the gas stove, three pans and our sleeping bags. We bought paint and cleaned it all. Now that we had "our" home we decided to furnish it a little. We went round second hand furniture shops and bought five bedsprings with five mattresses (we could sleep on them in our sleeping bags), a closet with five doors (one each), a kitchen cupboard, a table with six chairs and even a fridge. After less than one month it became something liveable, better than our old refuge, but a bit less than a real home.
Samba found some posters we hung on the walls. MemŽ put some pots with plants on the window-sills. And one day Giorgio came home with curtains for the windows on the balcony side so that we didn't have to keep the shutters of the room closed all the time. But even then we couldn't all go around naked as we had been used to do. We still slept naked in bed as we had always done.
Winter came and we decided to buy two paraffin heaters. We were becoming middle-class as MemŽ said. But we were very close to each other even closer than we had been.
Zio even put up a shelf for his books.
The relations with our neighbours along the balcony were normal; they were an Egyptian family, a group of six men all Moroccans (one of them was an incredible beauty), a family from the Puglie region, an old Piedmontese woman, a Senegalese couple and another group of seven Moroccans. Of course none of them knew we were hustlers. We told them we all worked the night shift in a small factory and they believed us.
Anyway we didn't meet them often as we usually slept until noon. The loo is in common at the end of the balcony, and we went on washing ourselves using our old wash-tub because there was no bathroom. Sometimes we go to the sauna too (the gay one, of course) where besides washing ourselves thoroughly we sometimes find some johns. In that sauna there are some cubicles for people wanting to have sex and also a small room with a TV with porno-videos. Some of them are good but most of them are boring - once you have seen one you have seen them all.
The other day, on the wall near the baker's shop, somebody had spray painted "Ale ti amo. Marco" (Ale I love you. Marco). I thought "I hope you are luckier than me, Marco, with your Alessandra". But just a few meters beyond, in the same writing and the same spray colour, was "Ale sei un figo" (Ale you're a hunk) with an "o" therefore Ale is a man - Alessandro. Alessandro and Marco! I felt touched and pleased at the thought that a gay guy expressed his love so publicly. I would like to write on a wall "Giorgio ti amo. Nicola" (Giorgio I love you. Nicola), and I would like to write it in huge letters and on all the walls.
Who knows why my folks called me Nicola? Zio says (as he has a book with the meaning of all the names) that my name means "the winner amongst the people". Winner of what? If only I could win Giorgio's love!
The fabulous Moroccan's name is Abdel, but he seems to be irretrievably straight. I would have fucked with him even for free... He's always very kind. At times we meet when going at the loo, or in the stairway. He speaks reasonable Italian and he works at the wholesale general market, therefore he wakes up very early in the morning and in the evening he goes to bed very early too - all the opposite of what we do. If Abdel hustled, he would draw the crowds, he is so beautiful!
In our street a couple of "Moroccans" came to hustle too. One of them is Ali (but he's Algerian, even though everybody calls him a Moroccan) and the other is Muhammad. I don't like Ali, who is arrogant and not so clean. On the other hand Muhammad is nice, kind and really clean. Ali pretends not to be gay; Muhammad has no problems admitting he is. He still doesn't speak much Italian, so he often is left alone. But whenever we cross paths, we always greet each other with a smile. Anyway both of them are handsome. Who knows what it's like to have sex with an Arab? The only non-Italians I've had sex with were other European people.
MemŽ caught crabs from an Arab man. We had to dust him with Mom powder and we all used it for fear we would get them. We're lucky we haven't caught anything worse than that. Zio wants us to go and have an Aids test every six months and near the door he keeps a box full of condoms. Of course we take precautions. Zio said that one of his friends died of Aids and that it was terrible.
One evening, we were hustling in our usual street, when Giorgio pulled me back and said, "Bloody hell; the man in that car is my Uncle!"
I looked at him and asked, "Do you want to skulk for a while?"
Giorgio giggled and said, "No. I'd like to go with him. But if he recognizes me, he will slink off, I bet. Listen, I've got an idea - go and try to hook him, ask him what he wants to do and give me the usual signs behind you to tell me. Then, when you're about to get into his car and he opens the door, I'll come out and get in instead. Will you do that for me?"
"Yes, but what if he isn't interested in me?"
"Go and try, anyway."
So I stepped forward and showed myself.
The trick of our signs is quite simple - we use them when a john wants to do something we don't like but one of our mates is willing to do to communicate at a distance or silently. Thumb and forefinger united in a circle like for the OK sign, means that the john wants to be fucked in his arse. Just thumb up means that he wants a blow-job, thumb down that he wants to fuck our arse, forefinger and middle finger crossed, that he wants to do S-M, and so forth.
The car drove past again and stopped in front of me. I bent down and smiled. He's a man in his forties (Giorgio father's younger brother he told me later) a rather colourless man. We talked and agreed (and I made the signs to my friend) and when his uncle opened the door to let me in I just stepped back and Giorgio jumped out, got into the car and shut the door. I saw them discuss for a moment (it was a pity I couldn't see his uncle's face!) then the car drove away. I was dying with curiosity to know what they would say and do. When Giorgio came back later he told me everything.
He said that his uncle felt like shit but could not deny the facts. So Giorgio told him to take him where he had planned to go. His uncle begged him not to split on him to the family and Giorgio told him there was no danger of that as long as they had sex and his uncle paid him the full tariff. His uncle accepted at once, so Giorgio first got a blow-job, then fucked him in the arse and then asked him for a 100 thousand lire.
Giorgio told me that he almost felt as if he was fucking his father because the two brothers looked a lot like each other and that as a result of feeling like this he got even more satisfaction. His uncle is married and has two sons. The elder one is just one year younger than me. Anyway his uncle never showed up again in our street.
Giorgio knows where to find him. "If we need money I know where to go to milk him." he said merrily.
"Would you really do that? Would you blackmail him?" I asked.
Giorgio became serious. "No, I don't think I would. But if I needed money I might ask him to give me a hand and I presume he would cough up. But no, I certainly wouldn't blackmail him."
I liked his answer.
I met Abdel when he was wearing just a track-suit and I could see that he seemed well endowed between his legs. That really made my mouth water. But he always goes around with an Italian girl and I think he screws her too - once I caught them necking in the entranceway of our building. Lucky her! Who knows what Abdel is like in bed? Probably hot as it's said Arabs are. Rough or gentle or both at once? Just thinking of Abdel makes me horny, anyway. He's really beautiful. If I wasn't already in love with Giorgio, I think I could fall for Abdel. All my loves are hopeless it seems.
Madam Ghiglia, our Piedmontese old lady neighbour, came here and asked me if we had some butter to lend her. I think it was just a pretext to come and nose in our home.
In fact she said, "I usually sleep little and not so well and... I noticed you boys always leave all five together, but then come back at different times? How comes it? I understood you were all working in the same factory..."
The bitch! But I had the presence of mind to answer her, "Yes, we do, but in different sections, and the time table isn't always the same in each section. We can't come back home until we have finished all the work on hand as in our job we can't leave anything pending..."
I think she swallowed it, because she said, "But at least they pay overtime, don't they?"
"Of course!" I answered.
Then to avoid facing more questions I told her I had to go shopping. Later I told my mates what I had said so that if the hag asked them too they wouldn't give her different answers. What a fucking drag it is always having to hide what one is and what one does. Why don't people mind their own fucking business? I never asked her how she screwed with her late husband! Supposing that they really did screw! They didn't have children.
I had a glance at the cock of the husband of the Puglie couple. He didn't close the window of his bedroom properly and he was changing while I was passing on the balcony. It was a fleeting but agreeable vision. A nice stake softly hanging from a thick bush of very dark hair. When hard it should be a big one I think. I may be a sex maniac or a voyeur but a beautiful male body or a beautiful cock, is always something I find good to look at. I like looking at my mates too when they are naked especially Giorgio.
++++++++++++++++++++++++
We bought bed sheets and even a washing machine. Our home looks more and more like a real home. We all agreed that we would never bring our johns home. Samba asked one of his johns to give him a poster with a beautiful naked hunk and he put it on the wall near his bed. He says that one day or another he will marry such a man. Samba always dreams about his prince charming. He is an incurable romantic.
Zio dreams of his shop, MemŽ of becoming a singer, Samba of finding the charming prince, Giorgio of getting married and having children... and I, what do I dream of? Nothing. And yet I can't go on hustling all my life. Sooner or later I will start to decay and I will not interest anybody any more. Then I will get no more johns. But I'm not able to do anything else besides hustling. Sooner or later I'll have to think about my future... but not for the moment. After all I'm just eighteen I don't give a shit for the future at the moment.
Sometimes on Saturday evenings, instead of going to our street to hustle, we go to a disco. Especially when the weather is bad. There it is also possible to pick up a john and we get to see smart people and to enjoy ourselves too. Of course we almost always go to gay discos. But sometimes Giorgio takes me to mixed discos too. Once I was picked up in one by a young couple - he wanted to be fucked in the ass by me while he fucked his girl's cunt. Giorgio introduced me to them. It was fun and he paid me good money. He was rolling in money, the son of an industrialist. Apparently he's only able to come when he has a cock pumping into his arse even though he likes to pump only in cunts. I think he is about twenty-five and that girl seem to be his steady woman and they may even get married.
A guy like that one; is he gay or straight? When I told MemŽ about the couple and asked him this question he burst out laughing and said that such a guy surely has a gay arse and a straight cock. That couple should marry in a threesome - he, she and the other he (for him). The guy, whose name is Alberto, wanted to have my telephone number because he loved how I fucked his arse. But we haven't a telephone. A real pity - as he pays well. I explained to him where I normally hustle and he said he might some times drive down our street to look for me. Who knows what it feels like to fuck and be fucked at the same time? I would like to try - with two men of course: It has never happened to me so far but who knows? Maybe it will!
+++++++++++++++++++++
A queen in his sixties took me, Samba and Muhammad. He drove the three of us to his bachelor pad and we had a real orgy. So I got to see Muhammad naked - he has a beautiful body and a piece of meat commanding respect. The queen was directing the dance. First he wanted to suck all of our cocks. Then he asked Muhammad if he was willing to be fucked in the arse by me, and Muhammad accepted. He has a small, tight arse and he moves it in such a skilled way that I found it difficult not to come too soon. Then the queen went on all fours to suck Muhammad once more and asked Samba to fuck him in the arse.
He then gave us 250 thousand for the three of us. I decided to give Muhammad 90 and the Arab boy thanked me.
While we were walking back Muhammad said to me, "Me have liked much how you fuck."
"I liked doing it a lot too." I answered him.
"We again go together you and me good Niki?" he asked.
"Why not!" I said.
"What are you little doves cooing about?" Samba asked.
I told him.
"So you've hit it off with our Moroccan mate have you, heart-breaker? Or better to say arse-breaker."
Samba always teases, I love his cheerfulness. And yet he had a rather hard childhood judging from what he told us.
He had his first sex experience when he was just twelve, with his elder brother, who had Samba give him blow-jobs. Samba said he worshipped that brother so he went on giving him blow-jobs swallowing his spunk for about two years that is until his brother married and left home. Samba loved doing it. So, when he was fourteen and a tourist offered him five dollars for a blow-job Samba agreed at once. That was how he discovered he could earn money just by having sex. That man was the first of many johns he had. But until the time he was raped by the black man he never agreed to be fucked in the arse. Samba told us that he used to lie in wait near luxury hotels where Yankees used to stay and that he was sometimes able to pick up more than one john in a night especially when Yankee was willing to take it in his arse. Even now he still prefers being a top.
Samba shoved me a picture of his brother - he always has it in his wallet. I asked him if he's in love with him. He at first laughed but then became serious and answered that maybe he was... I didn't think his brother was very handsome but of course I didn't tell Samba that as he worships him. He told me that his brother is the only one in his family that knows he's gay and that when he wanted to come to Italy to see the soccer world championship and then stay here his brother paid his air fare.
He also told him, "If one day you want to come back to Brazil and you haven't the money just write to me and I'll send it you."
I asked him if before leaving for Italy he did again something with his brother. He looked at me with a cunning smile nodded in assent and then said, "He really didn't want to do it again but I wanted to so much that in the end I managed to make him horny and he fucked my arse. That was the most beautiful gift I received in my whole life."
++++++++++++++++++++++++
For my birthday Giorgio gave me a cake with nineteen candles and a pocket recorder too, a really beautiful model. Zio gave me a book "The Little Prince" that I've already read twice and that's really great. MemŽ gave me two of Battiato's tapes - he knows how much I like Battiato's songs. Samba gave me a book with really sexy male nudes ("don't beat your meat too much!" he said as he handed it over). I was really moved. At home, for my birthdays I always got socks, briefs, tank-tops and so on! They always gave me things that they would have to buy for me anyway. Giorgio organised everything, I'm sure of that because he was the only one who knew when my birthday was. I know his birthday too.
Giorgio is always full of a thousand small kindnesses to me even if he's not in love with me. I on the other hand am more and more in love with him. I can't help it.
++++++++++++++++++
I met Muhammad climbing our house stairway. At first I thought he was coming to look for me, and asked myself how he could have found out my address. Then I realised he was even more astounded to meet me than I was. He said hi and I asked him what he was doing here. He told me he was going to visit his cousin - Abdel! I told him I knew Abdel because we live on the same floor - the same balcony.
I felt a twinge of doubt, and asked him, "But... is Abdel gay?"
"No, he not."
"And does he know you are?"
"Of course knows. We have known each other since we were children and we came Italy together."
Then I asked him, "But did you ever have sex with Abdel?"
"Yes often. He likes to taste my arse sometimes."
I then got an idea. I told him not to tell Abdel he knows me for the time being. I didn't want him to guess we are hustlers. Muhammad nodded. We said goodbye and he went upstairs while I went out shopping.
If Abdel wasn't above tasting a boy's arse sometimes there was some hope for me both to have that wonderful Moroccan fuck my arse and maybe also I could fuck (Muhammad) and be fucked at the same time (by Abdel)! My fantasy was already galloping and I was getting aroused just by dreaming of it.
That very night I met Muhammad on our street. I approached him and asked him how Abdel was.
"Fine..."
"Have you have sex with him recently?"
"Yes, this afternoon when I went up see him."
"Is he skilled at it?"
"Oh yes, very skilled."
"Better than me?"
Muhammad smiled, thought a little and then said, "You are both pretty good. You please me lot but we've only done once and that was months ago... You want try again with me?"
"Of course I would like that."
"If you want Niki, tonight we won't wait for johns and instead we'll go your house and have sex, I would like that."
I thought a little and then nodded, "Alright. I'll just tell my mates and then we can go to my place."
"Your place? If Abdel see us? He might be home now... Better you come my house, so Abdel not see us together and not understand you like man like I like."
I agreed. He lived in a room nearby with other Arab boys hustling like him and who were not at home at that time. On the floor there were several mattresses alongside each other. He locked the door to be safe and we undressed, lay down on the mattresses and started to screw. We had all the time we wanted so we did it quietly even though we were passionate. The boy was really skilled and I enjoyed having sex with him. Also because it wasn't a matter of money as it usually is but mainly because I could feel he liked me. While I was penetrating him I thought of Abdel and this added a lot to my excitement. After we both came we lay down and hugged each other for about half an hour and stroked each others' naked bodies.
Then I told him, "I would like to have sex with your cousin Abdel... he is really gorgeous. I feel strongly attracted to him."
"Oh, but he not gay. He not take in his arse and he not suck."
"Yes, I realised that. What I mean is that I'd like to suck him and take his cock in my arse. I've wanted to do that ever since the first time I saw him."
"Ah, maybe that possible. But don't know... He do it not only with me; in Morocco he also did other boys I know, but he not give money to hustler."
"But I don't want money from him. Don't you think he would like trying it with an Italian boy?"
"Could be. I not know. Here in Italy he do sex only with me, I think. But I can ask him."
"I would like a threesome with you too - I would fuck you and at the same time he would fuck me. Do you think he would agree?"
"But you like taking in arse?"
"Both taking it and putting it all the same. But I have never have a chance to do both of those things at once and I would like to try it with you and Abdel."
These exchanges got me turned on and he noticed it so we started to have sex again. When we left Muhammad promised me he would talk with his cousin.
One afternoon he came to knock at our door and told me that Abdel was waiting for us. It was a really agreeable encounter. Abdel really had a wonderful body and used it in a wonderful way. He seemed to have been born to have sex. He was really sweet and terribly manly at the same time and it was evident he didn't only go for his own pleasure as many men do when they have sex (and not only the straight ones) but he really cared about enjoying it "together". And we reached our orgasm together several times!
His hands were able to make my body vibrate all over with an extreme intensity, and I never wanted to stop having sex with him even though he didn't kiss and he didn't use his mouth with us. At the end before I said goodbye, I asked him if we could meet again sometimes to have sex.
He smiled, "We can sometimes. Yes." he said and then added, "I saw you desired me. But I not know your ways so I not know how to tell you I know... but now, Niki, we friends, yes?"
That evening Muhammad told me that Abdel was really glad to have met me, and that he liked me. While we were chatting Alberto's car stopped and he asked me if I could go with him. His girlfriend was already waiting for us at home, and as the other time, Alberto wanted to be between me and her. This time I could well understand what Alberto was feeling - I had experienced it just a few hours before.
+++++++++++++++++++
When I told Giorgio, he told me with a sly smile, "If you start to let yourself get fucked for free, you are on a bad track as a hustler my boy."
"One can do it for free out of pleasure... or out of love." It just slipped out of my lips.
It was the first time for months that I had used the word love with Giorgio. He said nothing but became serious. We changed of subject. He suggested that we should take another trip on his bike at the week-end. It was quite a long time since he had suggested such a thing and I didn't ever ask him because the memory of the first time was still hurting a bit. That was the time I told him I was in love with him and the time he rejected me.
Each time we went to a different place but always somewhere in the countryside where we could be all alone. And when the weather permitted we spent a night outside under the stars. He never would sleep together at home but on those occasions we always slept spooned together. This always gave me the same problem - I got terribly turned on and had to do my best not to let him see. But I would not for anything in the world have given up the beauty of falling asleep and then of waking up in his arms. Or sometimes waking up during the night and seeing his sleeping face almost brushing mine and feel his light, regular breathing on my face. Oh! how I wanted to wake him up by covering him with kisses... but I never did.
Sometimes during the night I could feel his hard-on pushing against me, but I very well knew that his erection was just a physiological thing - that unfortunately I was not the cause of it. But I enjoyed it... it was better than nothing. I would have liked to talk about it with somebody but he was my only confidant, the only one I couldn't talk to about it. I couldn't ask for his advice.
My Giorgio he was so close to me and yet so far from me.
When we went back home MemŽ said to him, "Hey, Stallion is your honey moon already over?"
"No, we will have many more." Giorgio answered laughing.
"Ah, how I would like to have Niki's luck!"
"Are you sure it's lucky for Niki?" came Giorgio's sibylline answer.
"Well then" I thought "Giorgio is aware of the situation... and maybe he is giving me in his own way all that he can give me." This thought moved me and made me want to hug him.
+++++++++++++++++
Zio told us about his first sex experiences. He never told us before but that afternoon he was in a talkative mood.
He was eleven (he beat all of us!). One of his mates just a little older than him took him to the cellars and taught him how they could beat each others' meat. Zio didn't yet come but he liked it anyway. The next time his mate, Berto, taught him to suck too and he loved that even more. So when two or three months later he invited Zio to go to the cellars together with a couple of other boys whose apartments gave on the same yard to "amuse" themselves, Zio went without turning a hair.
The other two boys were Ottavio, thirteen, and Fausto, fifteen. While Zio was giving a blow job to Berto, Ottavio was doing the same service to Fausto. Zio was fascinated by Fausto's cock which was bigger and more developed than theirs and already surrounded by a thick bush of hair. Then Ottavio lowered his trousers and asked Fausto to fuck his arse. Zio was still looking at them and even more fascinated - Ottavio seemed to enjoy it a lot and urged Fausto to do it harder. And so after a while when Fausto asked Zio if he wanted to try taking his cock in the arse too. Zio agreed. But Fausto's cock hurt him so he asked him to stop. Then Fausto fucked Berto's arse. Zio looked. Then he wanted to try to fuck Berto... So, at the early age of eleven, Zio had already done all those gay things.
Zio told us (laughing) that on that first occasion he couldn't manage to shove his cock in Berto's arse. But he gradually learned how to do it and enjoyed it a lot. Then some more boys joined their group - all boys from the council houses such as Linowho was his age and then Marcello who was fourteen years old. All six boys often met in the maze of cellars but sometimes at Fausto's house when his parents were both working the same shift. They were then a lot more comfortable because they could undress completely and all be together on his parents' king size bed . They continued holding these orgies for about three years. Ottavio loved being the bottom for all of them. Fausto was always a top with all of them and the others, included Zio, were versatile. Zio was very fond of Lino and at times they met alone.
Then Zio's family moved away. For some time he didn't have anyone do it with until one day when a guy, in the crowded tramway, touched him on his fly. Zio allowed that guy to do as he pleased as he was excited. When the man winked at him and with his head signalled him to get off at the next stop Zio followed him without a second thought. He followed that man to his apartment and there they had sex. They met on and off for about three months and he got to know the cruising places from him. So he started to cruise and to hustle.
Zio said that the only one of his old mates he ever still meets is Lino who also became a hustler but cruises at the railway station. Then Zio met Bruno a twenty-four year old hustler working in the same street as us and they became lovers. They lived together for two years. Zio said that they were the most beautiful years of his life. But then Bruno got Aids and died. Zio then met MemŽ and Samba, then Giorgio, and then me...
Zio was moved while he was telling us about Bruno - he is still in love with him even though he is not alive any more. What an odd thing love is. While he was telling us about his love for Bruno I thought I might ask for his advice. I think a true lover isthe best sort of person to ask for advice about love.
And so on the next occasion when Zio and I were alone, I told him everything about Giorgio and me and asked him what I could do.
"Nothing. What can you do my poor Niki? If Stallion is not in love with you all you can do is go on loving him in silence as you are already doing. A weird boy our Stallion with all his talk about marriage and children. Evidently his family's mentality stuck to him. Try not to think about it... No, that is stupid advice - I can't help thinking of my Bruno. I would have travelled to the ends of the earth with him. But where he went... I didn't have the guts to follow him. Love! It's at one and the same time both the strongest and the most fragile the weakest emotion - the most vulnerable thing. I lost mine, you can't have yours..."
"But love is good isn't it?"
"Yes it's good when you're in a couple to live it. But when you're the only one..."
"But you will one day find another love and be able to love again won't you?"
"Who knows? It's possible. A human being without love is a nothingness and I... I never accepted that I am a nothingness." He interrupted himself then, with a forced smile, asked me, "Isn't it weird that two hustlers talk about love?"
"I'm very glad it isn't." I answered very seriously.
He gave me a quick kiss on my forehead and went to wash the dishes, murmuring a faint "thank you".
+++++++++++++++++++++
One evening MemŽ came home early because wasn't feeling well. The day after, when I went to wake him up, I felt he was burning. I at once called the others. Zio measured his temperature - 42 centigrade! He went headlong to call the doctor. MemŽ had a ferocious headache and seemed that the least noise or even the light made it worse... then he started to throw up too and we were really scared but luckily Zio came back with the doctor who examined MemŽ. It was an attack of meningitis! He wrote down a prescription and told us that if he was lucky MemŽ might even recover without long term after effects, because his illness may have been diagnosed in time. Zio asked him what the consequences might have been if we hadn't been in time. The doctor's answer froze our blood - cerebral lesions with consequent partial mental deficiency or complete mental deficiency and partial paralysis - or even death.
Zio asked the doctor to explain carefully what he had to do and then sent Samba to buy the medicaments. Then he organized us - each of us had to forgo hustling for one night in turn in order never to leave MemŽ alone and we could sleep during the day. Zio offered to pay us for the missed nights but we all refused.
"Are we or aren't we a family?" Samba said on our behalf.
MemŽ was going through moments of lucidity and moments of delirium. Sometimes he waved his hands in the air as if he was trying to grab something that wasn't there. Sometimes he went all rigid and curled up and and trembled violently. He was as white as a sheet. It was scary seeing him in that state. His pain was almost palpable. But he gradually recovered though he was terribly weak. The headaches disappeared then the throwing up and last the moments of unconsciousness or delirium. He was now able to sleep for hours and his face was not contorted into a grimace by the pain we had got used to seeing when he first was ill. Also his temperature came down.
Once MemŽ said to me "I'm sorry. I am such a nuisance..."
I shut him up, asking, "Wouldn't you have done it for me?"
"Yes certainly..."
"Well then there you are! Be quiet now and try to get completely better soon."
The great fear was over. The doctor found him well and tested him and analysed him and told us he wouldn't suffer any long term consequences. Zio had called the doctor soon enough to save his life. Convalescence took a long time because Zio forbade him to get up or to go out until he was completely better. Zio prepared him chicken broth and good food, nourishing and tasty. He had asked the doctor to suggest a good diet too and he carefully followed his advice.
We all in turn kept MemŽ company but Zio wanted to be the only one to care for his meals and give him the drugs.
The last evening that it was my turn to keep him company MemŽ pulled my sleeve and said, "I can tell you... I know you will not tell the others. Last night Zio made love to me you know? It was the best medicine he could have given me."
"I thought you had done it before..."
"No never. Even though for ages I had wanted to."
"Are you in love with him?"
"I don't know. I know I'm very fond of him and he is fond of me too. That's enough for me. I have never been in love with anybody and so I don't know whether it's love or not. Moreover he still has his Bruno in his heart. I don't think I could ever take Bruno's place. But never mind."
"You should have seen how worried he was about you!"
"Yes I know. As long as I matter so much to him... That's enough for me whether it is love or not."
I squeezed his hand in a gesture of solidarity or maybe of complicity. A weird family our group is I thought. Citizens of sex and stateless of love. Mercenary of sex and beggars of love. I thought about Giorgio and me, and MemŽ seemed to read in my thoughts.
"You and Giorgio?" he simply asked.
I shook my head. "Nothing. Just a strong friendship."
"You say it as if you regretted it... Is it that you are in love and he isn't?"
"Just so."
It was his turn to squeeze my hand without needing to say a word.
++++++++++++++++++++
When he was completely better MemŽ resumed his "work" with us. I don't know if it was because of the confidences we had shared but now between him and me there was a kind of complicity made of small gestures invisible to the others. Knowing the new relationship that had started between MemŽ and Zio, I did my best under different pretexts to arrange that they could sometimes be alone. I think that MemŽ realised even though we never spoke to each other about it. Amongst us boys there was such a mutual understanding that we often didn't need to talk. It was great. The other mates seemed not to perceive the new relationship amongst them or at least they didn't show they knew.
That summer we moved to the seaside again all together because in summer the city became almost a desert and business was very poor. Zio bought a six-man tent and in day time we lived on the camp site or on the beach. At night we were in the discos or other premises, or in the tourists' rooms to fuck.
I was hired for five days by a rich American who asked me to go with him to Florence. I visited the town with him (it was new to me) and went to museums. Then I spent the night in his bed. Wonderful hotels famous restaurants - a good life. I bet that guy was of fixed habits - we started with a sixty-nine then I had to fuck him (but without coming), then he fucked me and then we both came with another sixty-nine. Exactly the same every night for the five nights, He paid me well and I went back to my mates by train.
When I got back Samba was missing. He had been hired by a couple of wealthy Portuguese gay twins sailing along the coast on their yacht. I thought it was amusing - two faggot twins sharing everything, even their hustlers.
In a month at the seaside we earned twice as much as we had in one month in our town. There was also a Yankee hustler who kept courting me but he wasn't at all my type so I did all I could to discourage him. The last day he even proposed to pay to have me in his bed. So in the end I accepted. In bed he was rather skilled though he didn't appeal to me physically. At least with me he was totally passive.
We also became friends with two Croatian hustlers. One of them was quite handsome. They had deserted from the Yugoslav army at the time of the secession of Croatia and never went back. Now both of them were working in Germany as waiters but in summer they came to Italy to hustle to supplement their wages. Seasonal hustlers in short - as Giorgio says. They had realised they were both gay when they were in the army before deserting because both of them had sex with the same Slovene lieutenant who told one about the other. But they never had sex together. They were just close friends.
During that month at the seaside Giorgio went with a couple of German girls too and they paid him of course. He also went with a black doctor who was a naturalized Italian and some other men. He told me that the black doctor had a huge tool but it didn't hurt him because he used a gynaecological cream that is slightly anaesthetic so it avoided the pain but not the pleasure. Such is the power of the discoveries of modern medicine!
++++++++++++++++
Back in town we resumed our usual life. Abdel married his Italian girlfriend and moved away but this didn't stop him from making dates with me via Muhammad. Ali was caught by the cops who served an expulsion order on him because he didn't have a residence permit. It was the third time that had happened to him but he always found a way to come back. Muhammad didn't have a residence permit either and with his cousin's help was looking for a job to enable him to get one and stay here without problems. But he told me that even if he found a job he would go on hustling because he likes it.
Amongst us hustlers some view our condition as a tragedy and are just longing to stop; others on the other hand enjoy it and would not change for anything in the world and there are some who are totally indifferent. I can't understand the first kind. It's not true that anyone is ever "forced" to hustle. This is demonstrated by the so called "Moroccans" - anyone who wants to can go around selling lighters on the streets or cleaning windscreens. Nobody has to sell sex by the hour. Hustling is a vocation I think. Well, I might be exaggerating. But whoever weeps about his own choices either is a hypocrite or he is just putting on an act. A whore might possibly be forced by her pimp or by the prostitution racket with menaces and violence but for us boys it is different. Nobody forces us.
One evening a group of new hustlers came into our street. We had to chase them away coming to blows. We would have been too many and we would have done little business. Moreover some of them had the appearance of drug addicts and we really didn't like that. Well yes, maybe drug addicts do hustle more out of need that by a genuine choice. Drugs are very expensive you never have enough money for them.
We bought a colour TV. It was a new one though we seldom look at it. But Samba and MemŽ wanted to have one so we said yes.
Zio bought an encyclopaedia in twenty volumes on the instalment system and he had to buy another shelf to put it on. He's very proud of it. It's beautiful. Sometimes I thumb through it. And that is how I discovered plenty of words - Italian words I mean - that I didn't know and this shocked me. And also a whole lot of other information on subjects I knew nothing about. Maybe Zio is right to read almost continually - you seldom see him without a book in his hands... apart from when he is hustling of course. It seems that things between him and MemŽ are going on nicely and I'm astounded that the others seem to suspect nothing. Unless they just pretend - who knows. Anyway MemŽ seems to be flourishing and he stammers lot less than usual.
Samba received a letter from his brother who writes that he has a fourth son (yes another boy) and that he christened him Gilmar (Samba's real name) and this made our mate really proud. There was also a picture of his brother with Gilmar Junior in his arms. In that photo his brother seems even more handsome than in the other picture I saw.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3
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