by Paris Lees
I’ve bin goin’ every day after school. They call it “cottagin’”. Don’t ask me why. They do it all over the place, apparently. Gaz’d go mental if he knew. Good. I can’t believe all this has bin happenin’ five minutes away from where I live all this time an’ I din’t even know. Right next to the church! It’s a wonder no one catches ’em. Most of ’em are married an’ all. It’s bad, innit? Imagine if their wives knew what they were up to! I bet some of ’em have got kids too. An’ I’m just there, in ma uniform, an’ they don’t even care. Ma uniform!
But here’s the best bit – they gi’ ya money! I daren’t stand at the urinal, I’m too scared, so I just go an’ sit in the cubicle an’ wait for someone to try the door. The next time I went, there were an old bloke in there, so I din’t undo the latch. He put ’is hand under the door, but I just ignored ’im. So five minutes later he put a note under sayin’ “How much”. It took me a while to work it out, but then he waved a fiver under the door. I were excited, but I thought, I’m gonna need a bit more than that for you, mate. But I realized, I’ve got summat they want. An’ it’s up to me if I give it ’em or not. An’ that giz me power.
Smanfa’s auntie’s a prostitute. She stands on the corner of Forest Road an’ waits for cars to pull up. Apparently she guz, “Are ya lookin’, darlin’?” As in, “Are ya lookin’ for me to suck yer cock in exchange for an as-yet-to-be-agreed sum of cash?” Ya can’t just say that, though, can ya? It’s like a game. In case it’s the police or summat. Everyone knows what they’re up to, though. She sez some of ’em are pushin’ fifty, although it’s hard to tell with all the heroin they take. Hard life, innit? Ya can see it on their faces. They hang about gerrin pissed in Vicky Centre bus station in the afternoons, so Smanfa makes us get the 45 on Sat’days coz it drops ya off at Broadmarsh instead.
They don’t say, “Are ya lookin’?” when ya go cottagin’. They’ll be like, “What ya doin’ knockin’ about in here then, lad?” or “What ya on wi’?” or summat daft like that, but what they really mean is “I’ll gi’ ya ten quid if ya come an’ suck ma cock in that cubicle.” It’s different for lads. Not that I’d do it for that price, mind. I’m worth at least fifteen. A pound for every year, plus one for luck. Twenty if yer lucky. I gorra tenner that first time, but I’ve learned how much ya can charge since then. Can’t go sellin’ mysen short now, eh?
I like a bit of a flirt with ’em, but sometimes I wish they’d just come straight out with it. Sometimes they do: “I’ll gi’ ya fifteen quid to suck ma cock.” Who said romance were dead? But if they go, “Yer gonna suck ma cock then, lad?” ya have to go, “What’s in it for me?” which means, “How much are ya offerin’ me?” An’ then they’ll go, “How much d’ya want?” an’ then I’ll be like, “Why don’t ya make me an offer I can’t refuse?” which is all good fun, but then they’ll make me an offer I can refuse an’ hurt ma feelin’s. They don’t call me soft lad for nowt.
They all like me, though. Reckon I’m good-lookin’. I get loads of attention. No one at school thinks I’m good-lookin’, or at least they won’t admit it. Coz I’m gay! Poofter! Bent as a nine-bob note! Shirt-lifter! Fudge-packer! Arse-bandit! Bender! Oh yeah, an’ how could I forget – I talk like a girl, don’t I? They go on an’ on about it, they just never leave me alone. Why d’ya talk like that? Why d’ya walk like that? Are ya gay? D’ya take it up the arse? What’s wrong wi’ ya? It’s not a comprehensive school, it’s the Spanish fuckin’ Inquisition. To be fair, they’ve bin callin’ me a rent boy for years, an’ now I am. Jamie Draper said it to me an’ Miss Kinder made ’im apologize, but she wun’t tell me worrit meant. I had to ask Smanfa to ask ’er aunty. Smanfa reckons I’m good-lookin’. She never feels beautiful, an’ I think that’s dead sad. Like, ya don’t have to feel beautiful all the time, but everyone should feel it sometimes. Don’t ya think?
I always look in the mirror before I leave the house an’ tell mysen that I am be-yoo-tea-full. I saw it on this programme once called Abigail’s Party. It’s from like Old Mother ’ubbard’s time, but the woman in it’s just like me mam, tryna give people olives an’ that. I don’t think I’ve ever actually had an olive, but it’s just the sorta thing me mam would like coz it’s what posh people eat, innit? I bet Joan Collins has had one. An’ that’s what they have at this party. I reckon it does ya good to tell yersen yer beautiful. Gorra believe in yersen an’ that. Coz if ya don’t, no other fucker will. A lotta the attention I get in here though is coz I’m young, I know that. I’m not stupid. They love that. One of ’em sez I’ll be too old in a few years, when I start gerrin a snail trail. I don’t wanna be hairy. I like bein’ smooth. I already shave ma legs, although there’s not many hairs yet. I know boys aren’t s’posed to, but I just don’t like it.
There were someone quite unusual in there today, though. He asked me to pull ma pants down an’ show ’im ma private parts. I’d never seen ’im before. Sez ’is name’s Winston. Black man. Dreadlocks. Stands out like a sore thumb round here. But he din’t wanna do anythin’ wi’ me, he just wanted to see worrav got. I thought he din’t like me at first, I wondered what I’d done wrong. But he sez he’s workin’ on behalf of ’is “client”, someone who’s lookin’ for a lad like me, apparently. A client “willin’ to pay a pretty penny for a pretty boy”. Sez I’ve bin wastin’ mysen for pocket money round here, but I’ve struck lucky now. Coz Winston’s gonna help me make some proper cash.
A Little Bit of Luck
Winston wanted me to meet ’is mate. He’s called Max. I had to go to Titchfield Park after school, he said they’d be in a white car, a sporty one like ma dad’s. I got in the back an’ could only see the back of ’is neck to start off with. He were wearin’ joggin’ bottoms an’ had ’is ’ead shaved. Proper rude boy, proper Ali G. An’ yes, I definitely would. You’d never know he were gay. To be honest, he din’t talk much an’ I cun’ really see ’is face properly, but I kept catchin’ glimpses of ’im in the mirror – an’ he’s gorgeous. I were fascinated by ’im. I love that word. It’s like a good way of sayin’ obsessed. Ya could say I’m fascinated by it.
I were dead nervous. I’d never done owt like that. All the pretty girls at school do stuff like that all the time, but I’ve never gone racin’ wi’ big lads. In fact, I’ve only ever bin in Gaz’s car, an’ Aunty Ray’s. I din’t even realize I’d wanted to go racin’ till I got in with ’em. Not that they took me anywhere, mind. We just talked. I can’t even remember what they said apart from ey up an’ what the plan was. I really wanted ’em to just drive me away, just rev up the engine an’ piss off somewhere. I’d have let ’em take me anywhere. But I agreed to meet this Max on Sat’day at midday in ’ucknall Market bogs. How’s that for a date?
It were empty when I got there, but I din’t care coz I knew I were movin’ on to better things. I were washin’ ma hands so din’t realize he were behind me at first – he just come up an’ put ’is arms round ma waist an’ went, “Hello, you”, like I were someone good or summat. No one’s ever said Hello you like that to me. I turned around an’ saw ’im properly for the first time, an’ I’ve never met anyone wi’ such blue eyes! He’s got ’is left eyebrow shaved an’ it looks dead good coz they’re dead thick an’ masculine. He’s gorrit pierced, like Scary Spice. He’s gorra bit of a goofy smile, but it’s proper cute. Proper laddish. An’ he’s not an old man! Sez he’ll be twenty-one soon.
He held ma hand as we walked to the bus stop so I were like, “Ya’d better not do that round here.” I din’t let go, though. It were weird, I just kind of feel like I don’t care about anythin’ when I’m with ’im. It’s not like anyone’s gonna beat me up when we’re together, is it? He’s like proper grown up. An’ they beat me up anyway, so what’s the point of pretendin’ yer not gay if yer already gerrin gay-bashed? Might as well be hanged for a poof as for a lamb.
I’ve never bin to a hotel before. Well, not a posh one. It’s called the Hilton. Max sez it’s gorra swimmin’ pool. Gaz took me to a yoof hostel
in the Lake District once, but that’s about it, really. I follow Max up to the room an’ he introduces me to the bloke. Sez ’is name’s Dave. I’m thinkin’, Yeah, an’ I’m Joan Collins. They always lie about their names. I mean, I do too actually coz I don’t want ’em knowin’ ma real name. It’s just what ya do. I go, “Hi, I’m Nick.” Like Smanfa’s brother.
Well, this Dave’s disgustin’. Fat an’ old an’ hairy. He wanted me to kiss ’im, but I just cun’ do it. It were too much. He’s older than Gaz, for God’s sake! An’ ’is breath stinks. He must like bein’ with us though coz he keeps cummin’ an’ cummin’. Dirty old man. I din’t wanna suck it at first coz it were all slimy, an’ I’ve never seen one like that, but Max sez, “That’s just precum, don’t be rude”, as if we’re in Pride an’ fuckin’ Prejudice an’ I’ve just made some awful faux pas by askin’ the wrong person to dance. I thought, Rude? Is he serious?
So that’s where I’m sleepin’ tonight. Old Mother ’ubbard thinks I’m stayin’ wi’ Gaz, Gaz thinks I’m stayin’ wi’ me mam, an’ me mam thinks I’m stayin’ with Old Mother ’ubbard. They’ll not check or nowt. Clever, aren’t I?
Get Ur Freak On
Dave’s leavin’ dead early. It’s like five o’clock in the mornin’. I’ve hardly slept. We’ve bin waitin’ for ’im to go for ages. I like this Max. Like, really like ’im. An’ he likes me too, I can just tell. I reckon he’s bin wantin’ dirty old Dave to leave as much as I do, although he’s bin actin’ dead cheerful, like this is all totally normal. I’m half asleep an’ waitin’ for Dave to shut the door when we finally hear it go an’ Max puts ’is arms around me. It’s still dark outside but I can hear people startin’ to move about. Bin men. Buses. The smell of breakfast comin’ down the corridor. An’ I’m so happy, coz I’m here, where I’m not s’posed to be, an’ it feels amazin’. Just me an’ Max, together. An’ we’ve done it! We’re rich! Well, by ma standards.
He jumps up an’ sez he needs a wee, but I can’t hear anythin’. The toilet door’s open an’ lettin’ light in. He guz, “It’s hard to piss with a semi”, so I go in. I don’t wanna spend a second away from ’im. The light hurts ma eyes, but I don’t care coz it’s just us. I feel like Bonnie an’ Clyde or summat. I s’pose it is illegal, what we’ve done. I love misbehavin’. It’s the best feelin’ in the world. Well, maybe second best coz then Max is kissin’ me an’ it’s like a dream. He drags me back to the bed an’ guz, “Come an’ ’ave a look at this.” An’ there it is, one hundred an’ twenty pounds! All for me. A hundred pounds is a lotta money, innit? Money don’t grow on trees! It grows on dirty old men wi’ greasy little dicks.
We get back under the covers. I’ve done things wi’ quite a few people now, but I’ve never had ma chest pressed against someone else like this. He sez he don’t mind ma scar, reckons it’s quite cute, actually – unique, like me! I’d never really thought of it like that before. I’ve gorra skin graft from when I pulled a pan o’ boilin’ hot water on mysen when I worra baby. No one’s seen it coz I’ve always bin in cars or cubicles an’ places like that. ’Is chest’s broader than mine. I wonder if I’ll end up as big as ’im? I hope not. I like bein’ smaller, although I am big for ma age. I’m taller than Gaz now. Max’s got lovely legs too, dead muscular like David Beckham. An’ he’s got hair in all the right places. In fact, I just love everythin’ about ’im.
He puts the radio on. 96 Trent FM. They’re playin’ dance. Love, life and laughter, is all I believe. Dreamer. Ma favourite. How can I explain it? I just feel … warm. An’ safe. Here we lie all alone, am I dreaming? He gets me on ma back, an’ kisses me. Your heart’s smooth, my soul is unbelieving. Sez he wants to go inside. Now you see the me and I’m feeling, I’m feeling. We just stare into each other’s eyes. I feel your hands, your lips, the heat of your body, an’ he looks at me an’ guz, “I love ya.” Whisper your love to me say that you love me. As he sez it, I realize I love ’im, too. Please just love me down and never leave me. I wanted ma first time to be special, an’ this is it. I’m a dreamer.
It hurts, but I want ’im to like me. I think he’s pleased wi’ me, an’ I like how close we feel. I start thinkin’, This is about as close as ya can be wi’ someone else, innit? ’Is ’ead touchin’ mine, ’is body inside ma body. It’s amazin’. An’ for a minute, it’s like all I can feel is ’im. The whole world just dissolves into blackness, like on The Never-Endin’ Story, till nowt else exists. There’s just us. Me, Max, an’ the feelin’ of ’im between ma legs.
Well, I weren’t expectin’ any o’ this. I’ve never let anyone do that to me before. But he loves me! An’ I love ’im! Although part of me thinks guys like Max might just say stuff like that so you’ll have sex with ’em. But he could love me. I reckon I’m the sorta person ya either love or hate, but I’d rather that than be borin’ like most people. People are always tellin’ me I’m “a one”. I don’t really know worrit means but it must be like “one in a million”, although everyone’s one in a million if ya think about it.
Now he’s takin’ me for breakfast in a greasy spoon. I’m clearly livin’ in an alternate universe, where normal rules don’t apply an’ I can do whatever I want. No Gaz tellin’ me what to do, or how stupid I am. Max loves me. Somebody actually likes me for me! The thing is, Gaz reckons he knows who I am better than me, but Max accepts me as I am. There’s some builders in the café so I can’t hold ’is hand, but I’m startin’ to feel like I cun’ give a flyin’ fuck what people like that think about me. So long as they don’t beat me up, mind.
I’m not stupid. I know it’s not how it’s menna be. Yer not s’posed to have sex for money wi’ the person ya love, are ya? It’s not exactly Romeo an’ Juliet, is it? But it feels good.
I’ve never bin to HMV this early. I’ve bought singles in ’ucknall – I’ve got “He Wasn’t Man Enough For Me” by Toni Braxton on CD – but I’ve never bin able to afford an album. I’m gerrin one by Moby coz he’s in all the adverts, an’ one by Kelis wi’ that song that guz, I hate you so much right now, coz I sing that about Gaz. An’ I’m gerrin Ray of Light by Madonna coz Max sez it’s got that song on it where she guz, An’ I feel. Aunty Ray sez it sounds like she’s goin’ “Anna Friel” off of Brookside, like that time Mammar Joe thought that Bee Gees song were “Bald ’Eaded Woman” instead of “More Than A Woman”. Silly old Mammar!
I really like the look o’ this Madonna album. I thought she were Marilyn Monroe when I were little coz they had this old video of ’er on the telly where she were dressed like ’er, surrounded by all these men. She seemed to be havin’ a good time. Then a few years later, I saw this woman wi’ short black hair on TV an’ I were like, “Mam, who’s that?” an’ she explained it were Madonna, an’ that she changes all the time. She sez, “That’s ’er thing.” An’ I liked that that were ’er thing, coz I wish it were ma thing too. Me mam’s mate Denise used to have one of ’er albums on cassette an’ it’s got this song called “Vogue” where she sez it don’t matter if you’re black or white, if you’re a boy or a girl, an’ she wants everyone to dance with ’er. Well, I wanna go an’ live wherever she is, coz round ’ucknall it’s actually quite a big fuckin’ deal if yer skin’s a different colour, if yer a boy or a girl.
Can’t Get You Out of My Head
People at school say they’re in love all the time but I think that’s ridiculous – as if ya can be in love at our age! I guess me mam were sixteen when she met Gaz. She were walkin’ down the street wi’ Denise an’ he wolf-whistled ’er. He worra few years older. Not that that ended well. But I do think they were in love. I reckon he still loves ’er, actually. But this is different. Coz I love Max Loxley. Or should I say, I am in love with ’im. That’s more grown up, innit? He din’t wanna tell me ’is last name at first, but I seen it on ’is business card. Max Loxley. Sounds like summat outta Robin Hood, don’t it! Max Loxley. I love just rollin’ the sound round on the end of ma tongue. It’s almost as good as the real thing.
How many peopl
e end up marryin’ someone they met at fourteen, though? They’re all stupid at school anyway. To be fair, most grown-ups are too. Like in the shops an’ that, people talk absolute bollocks. Just pure, non-stop shite. I were in the newsagents the other day an’ there worra picture of Victoria Beckham on the cover o’ the Sun an’ the woman in front of me guz, “Ooh, look at the state of Posh Spice”, an’ the bloke behind the counter went, “That’s not Posh Spice, is it? She looks like an owd bleddy woman!” coz that’s how they all talk round here, innit, an’ I were thinkin’, Oh just fuckin’ shut up an’ gimme ma chewin’ gum, will ya?
So maybe I don’t love Max. Even if I think I do. Which I definitely do. I think. It’s just a little crush. Possibly an obsession. People say I get obsessed wi’ stuff an’ I reckon they might be on to summat when it comes to Max Loxley. I think about ’im on the way to school, an’ I think about ’im on the way home. I think about ’im in lessons, an’ I think about ’im at lunch. To be honest, I reckon the only time I’m not thinkin’ about ’im is when Big Brother’s on. Gaz don’t know about ’im, obviously. It’s forbidden love! Like Romeo an’ Juliet. We’re doin’ it in English at the moment an’ we watched the film – the one wi’ Leonardo DiCaprio – an’ apparently they were about our age coz people got married at twelve back then, an’ that’s menna be one o’ the greatest love stories ever, innit? So maybe ya can fall in love at our age. Oh, an’ Leo DiCaprio! He’s gorgeous! I definitely would. If I weren’t in love wi’ Max.
Max’d buy me fags if I asked ’im, but I don’t need ’im to. I don’t have problems gerrin served usually, although some of ’em can be a bit funny wi’ ya. Thank God I’m tall. I can’t get alcohol yet though, so that’s where he does come in handy. I’ve started twaggin’ off school an’ goin’ to meet ’im in the afternoons. He always buys me Bacardi Breezers from Tesco an’ feels me up on the park. I’ve told ’im he’s takin’ advantage of me, although, to be honest, I’d let ’im take advantage of me all the time if I could. If he knew I felt like that though he could take advantage o’ that too, eh? Knowledge is power, as they say. I like gerrin drunk, but it’s time I started doin’ it in style. I reckon I’d get in round Nottingham if I dressed up. Max has told me about this bar he guz to called AD2. Used to be called the Admiral Duncan. Apparently they play a lotta Steps coz it’s a gay bar. An’ ABBA, coz he reckons they love all that. He sez he can’t take me, though, in case he gets me into trouble. I think he means in case I get ’im into trouble, but whatever. I love Max, but I’ll go by mysen if I have to.
