Rent Boy
Part Two
By Miss Dincht
Who: Seifer and Squall [Who else?] Squall gets to abuse Seifer for a change. Seifer is going to be a more balanced personality in this one, but the temper will still be there, just not as much bravado. Seifer can be a nice guy too. It's a change and a challenge. He's always so mean and conceited in all my other fics. Squall is 17, as in the game, and Seifer is slightly older than that, but not by much.
What: Yaoi fan fiction using characters from Squaresoft's Final Fantasy 8. Alternate Universe fic.
When: Eh, the present.
Where: Alternate Universe [our own, maybe, heh.] Big Urban City [ New York maybe].
Why: This fulfills a request for Dunsinane.
How: Pains shot up my arm!
A new character in this chapter, but doesn't have anything to do with the story. I had basically used up all the FF8 guys.
This chapter is pretty raunchy, so if getting a glimpse at Squall's job as a stripper offends you, skip this chapter.
In case you don't know, a "John" is a whore's "date".
Rent Boy
Part Two
By Miss Dincht
Squall glanced at his reflection in the mirror - the eye shadow, the lipstick, the glitz, and the glitter - and decided that he wasn't happy with what he saw.
The brunette leaned forward in the rusted, metal chair with the vinyl cushion, and reached for one of the discarded eye - liner pencils that littered the wooden shelf. He placed slim fingers beneath one heavily made up eye and gently ran the pencil along the pink edge of his lower lid. Years of practice had given him a steady hand, and the line was absolutely perfect. He had been painting his face for as long as he could remember, even before it was done out of necessity for his job, and sometimes it was easy for him to forget what he looked like without all the cosmetics.
When he was finished painting his face, Squall stood up from the chair and looked at himself again. He removed the little, white t - shirt he was wearing and looked at his stomach. Although Squall could be a very vain young man, and although wearing trendy clothes and make - up made him feel better about himself, Squall was never completely satisfied with the way his body looked. No matter what nice things he wore or how perfectly made up his face was, Squall found himself always wanting to be thinner or just a little bit prettier. Squall moved his fingers down the stark outlines of his ribs, then down his flat belly, to the black thong he was wearing before turning around to examine the bold marking on his back. Squall chewed his lip as he looked at the large tattoo. It really was a gorgeous design, perfect in every way, and even despite the puffiness and redness, Squall could see that it was going to be beautiful. Squall had just gone to get the tattoo on the spur of the moment, not really considering how it would all come out, and he hadn't expected to be so happy with the results, especially since he hated everything else about his body. The artist was certainly talented. Squall had been impressed, but Seifer's artistic ability hadn't been the only thing that had impressed Squall about the handsome blonde.
Squall turned away from the mirror, sighed heavily, and collapsed back into the chair. It bothered Squall that he was still thinking about the young man hours later, thinking about him beyond what should have been normal, and thinking about him in a way that made it different than how he thought about other men. Too many men came in and out of his life every day, and so Squall couldn't imagine why that one boy should be so special. Well, he was devastatingly handsome, maybe the most gorgeous piece of man Squall had ever seen, but Squall had had plenty of good - looking men in his time. The blonde had been sweet too, in a very appealing way, but men were always sweet when they wanted something. There really wasn't any reason at all for him to be thinking about this young man so deeply, and Squall suddenly felt annoyed with himself and especially Seifer, and he tried hard once again to distance himself from what he was feeling. He didn't like the emotions that he was feeling. They didn't make any sense, and suddenly Squall wished he hadn't walked into that stupid place and gotten the tattoo at all. The marking suddenly felt like a brand on his skin, and just like the swirling patterns that were scrolled on his back, the feelings wouldn't be easily washed away.
It was stupid, really. Ever since he had met that young man, Seifer, he had been thinking about the handsome blonde, imagining things that a fat, ugly whore shouldn't have the audacity to imagine. Squall had in fact been going over the events of that evening again and again in his mind. It was so stupid, but it was like he couldn't help it, and he was actually trying to convince himself that someone like Seifer could actually be interested in him for something other than his body.
Some part of Squall - that part of him that was still a dreamy child - found a secret joy in these feelings, but that part of Squall that was world - weary and worn, and much older than his seventeen years, knew it couldn't be true. That part of Squall knew he was a fool to even think that someone could want something more from him than his lips, his cock, or the little hole between his legs, and that's what had bothered Squall most about this Seifer character. Squall just hadn't been able to figure him out. It irked Squall to no end because Squall had always thought he knew exactly what men wanted from him, but this man's actions had left him shaken and baffled. This idiot Seifer wanted to pretend that he was different, that he wanted "dates" and "friendship", but every man said the same fucking things to Squall. They all said that they were different, special, and in that they were all the same.
It was all bullshit, and he refused to buy into it. He was no fool. He wasn't under any illusions when it came to matters of love and lust. He had learned a long time ago that the kind of love they talk about in romance novels and "Fairy Tales" just didn't exist. When he was very young he had still believed that love existed in the world, he had actually believed that when he finally found love that it would be like it is in "Fairy Tales". He would dream about it a lot when he was young, when he still had faith. His mother and father both having died when he was relatively young, all he had as a child was his dreams. He had had the scenario all planned out by the time he was seven. He thought he would meet the "Handsome Prince", they would fall in love, and then they would both live happily ever after. Then he had to grow up, and he realized that love was never real, just something people made up to feel good, and soon Squall began to believe that no one ever needed love to feel good anyway. A good fuck was all anyone ever wanted, and so what could Seifer want from him but a good fuck? Why else would Seifer have looked at him like that? What else could such a strong, handsome young man want with a fat, ugly little whore? Squall was no fool, but he would play the game. It was what he knew how to do best, and he would be getting something out of it, so who cared? The guy obviously had money, and if he wanted to go out on "dates" and be "friends" that was just fine with Squall. He could pretend too.
Squall told himself he didn't care, but he still felt miserable. He always felt miserable in some sense, but usually he could pretend. Now it didn't seem as easy a thing as he remembered to pretend and wear that pretty smile. Squall wanted to go home, and just go in his room, and sleep, but he continued to get ready for his set, and he did his best to put these things out of his mind as he did all the things that ever hurt him. He lived to give men pleasure, and so when he worked there was no place for pain, for fantasies that were his own, for thinking about what could be when he had learned better.
Squall grabbed the tight - fitted, white button - down shirt from the rack of clothing nearby and hurried into it. They called him "The Schoolboy". That was his gimmick, and so that was the persona he took on whenever he danced. He would wear the white shirt, a pair of little blue and green, plaid hot - pants that barely covered his ass, white knee socks, his boots, and the black thong. He would strut around on stage and grind his hips against the steel pole and remove one - by - one the pitiful scraps that made up his costume. Then all the men in the bar would shift in their seats - raw lust clouding their eyes - as they watched his body twist and gyrate, his cock sliding against the cold metal. He was a flexible boy too, and he would get them worked up with all the odd things he could do with body.
Every time Squall took the stage a bunch of balding, pasty - faced perverts in pin - stripped suits and tinted glasses would throw all of their hard earned money at his feet, hoping desperately that this would earn them the right to fuck him up the ass. Squall would give them what they wanted - what they were too afraid to admit they wanted in their big board rooms and their parties at Muffy and Biff's mansion - and he would flaunt his body in their faces, giving them just a taste of what they could buy later if they had enough money. Squall would pretend he hated the way they looked at him, hungry and salivating, the way they would grope him and use him, but for a boy who had come into the world alone and unloved, it was often difficult to pretend that some part of him didn't crave the attention, no matter how sick, twisted, and fleeting it was.
Squall would have never admitted that he wanted to be needed and loved for who he was, but he had learned long ago to take what he could get, and this type of worship, as unfulfilling as it was, was better than nothing. It was better than being nothing. Besides, he was usually able to bring home about $150 - $200 dollars on a weeknight - before Cid took his cut - and up to $300 whenever he worked on the weekends. He could at least take care of himself. He could buy all of the little things that made him happy.
There was nothing better out there anyway, at least not for a little whore like him, a little whore no one in their right mind could ever really want to spend time with, even if he did say he didn't want only that. Even if he did say they could go out on a date and just be together. Squall cursed under his breath and sucked his teeth. Foolishness, and he was foolish to even consider a life like that. He was a fool to think about dates and white picket fences, and dogs named Spot and cats named Snowball, or a nice house in a quiet neighborhood, and strong, handsome blonde husbands coming home after work to nice dinners and soft beds kept warm by a waiting lover.
Squall sighed heavily again, a sad, tired sound, as he slipped the pair of white knee - socks onto his feet and up his smooth legs. He then slipped his feet into the motorcycle boots before standing to look at himself once more. He frowned as he angrily grabbed a plastic brush from the shelf and raked it through his messy hair. That done, he posed beautifully and smiled brightly - so fake - then headed out of the dressing room.
The small dressing room opened out onto a cramped, dark corridor, the corridor leading out to the small stage. There was a stairwell at the right side of the corridor that led down into the main area. Kenny, the "Naughty Nurse" was standing just beyond the stage, in his costume of a white t - shirt that had a red cross symbol on the front and tight white shorts. Nida was on stage, and Kenny was waiting to go out and do his set. Squall hadn't seen Kenny earlier. He actually hadn't thought the other youth was coming in at all. Kenny stood there, looking tired and weak, and it made Squall angry that the young man should be forced to come in and dance.
Kenny had gotten beaten up by a "John" last month, and he had been forced to leave the hospital early. The dancers had all put money together so that Kenny could stay in the hospital a little longer, but Cid had threatened to fire him if he didn't get back to work, and Kenny was too scared of Cid to do otherwise. He had been forced to leave the hospital only a week after the incident, and although he was doing a bit better, Squall thought that something had happened to Kenny. The petite youth had changed some after that "accident" happened. He wasn't as energetic or spunky as he used to be, and he moved so much slower. The small youth turned when he heard Squall coming up behind him. Squall smiled weakly and Kenny did the same.
"Hey, Squall, what's up?" Kenny said, emphasizing the last words. It was a joke between the dancers, and it was funny how they could always find some reason to make a joke or laugh despite all of the sadness and misery around them.
Squall smiled with a bit more enthusiasm this time and locked arms with the other youth. "Do you have to ask? How do you feel?" he said.
Kenny sighed and chewed at his blue lacquered nails. "Alright." he said. "I'm a little tired, but Cid's being an asshole." he said.
Squall nodded. "When is he not an asshole? Fucking bastard." he said. Kenny laughed and Squall smiled while squeezing the tiny youth a little harder.
"Limp - dick bastard. I can't stand him." Kenny said. "Oh! Hey, I heard you got your tattoo!"
Squall nodded. "Yeah, I had a little extra money." he said.
"Well, let me see, let me see!" Kenny said.
Squall turned and lifted the white shirt. He heard Kenny gasp. He winced slightly when the other youth grabbed his waist.
"God, I LOVE IT." Kenny said. "Nida said it was awesome."
Squall lowered his shirt and turned back around. "It still hurts." he said.
"But it looks damn good, and Nida said the tattoo guy was hot." Kenny said.
Squall sucked his teeth and sneered. "He was an asshole. He was drooling all over me the entire time, but then he was too scared or too stupid to ask me for a fuck. Fucking idiot, but he gave me a deal, so whatever." he said.
"Nida said he was an idiot, but aren't they all?" Kenny replied.
Squall chuckled, and then both youths were quiet as they watched Nida dance. Nida, "The Slave", was on stage performing for the small audience, but he was just about finished with his set. A Perfect Circle's "Judas" boomed loudly over the speakers, and Nida's nude body gyrated and spun to the music, intoxicating everyone who watched. Squall admired Nida's sweat - covered body and wondered why he continued to stick to his policy of never fucking around with anyone he worked with. Nida was just too sexy for his own good, but the young man just had too many issues. Nida finished the show with a particularly raunchy move - one that made the two boys watching smile - as the music came to a close. It really was amazing what some of them could do with that pole. The lights above the stage dimmed as the music ended, and Nida grabbed his clothing and his tips and hurried backstage.
"How's the crowd?" Squall said.
Nida shrugged as he raked a hand through his damp, dark hair. He slipped back into the black hot pants and slashed, black tank decorated with chains that made up his costume. "Eh, same slugs as always, but there's this guy out there who looks like he might have some real money. Ugly as hell, but he looks like he's loaded. I'm going to go see if he wants a lap dance." he said.
"Don't be greedy, slut. Make sure you save a little for me." Kenny said.
"Believe me, I think he has enough to go around." Nida said.
Kenny laughed.
"We'll chat later, dahlings. I've got a dick to suck." Nida said. He winked and hurried down the steps toward the main room.
Then it was Kenny's turn to dance, and Squall watched and waited in the shadows for his turn at the stage. As Squall watched and waited, Cid came up from the main room into the cramped passageway, filling it with his foul - smelling cologne. He held a cigar in one hand and a filthy grin spread across his pasty face. Squall noted the portly man's presence, but didn't acknowledge it, and he quickly turned away. He felt smothered for a moment, like he couldn't breathe and he willed Kenny to hurry and finish so he could go on stage. Squall hated Cid. He loathed Cid so much it made him shake whenever he was around the man.
Cid was a man who made his money trading flesh; the pretty mouths, arms, legs, and bodies of broken, but still youthful, boys, and like any seasoned task master, Cid knew what had to be done to keep these "little sluts" in line, but more importantly he knew how to make the most of the hatred they felt for themselves. He was a sick bastard, and more than using fear to just dominate the cattle, he got off on it, and even got off on the hatred he inspired. Still, Cid had to be extra careful with Squall though. Squall wasn't always as easy to handle as some of the others, but there were always ways around that. He would avoid physically hurting the merchandise if he could, but sometimes there was just no other way.
"Say Squall, got a few things coming up." Cid said as he walked up to the shivering young man. The many gold chains around his thick neck glimmered in the dim light, much like the cheap fabric of his salmon colored polyester suit.
"Whatever." was Squall's only reply. He kept his eyes focused on the stage.
Cid stood beside Squall and eyed the youth lecherously, looking him up and down and uttering a grunt of satisfaction.
"Lookin' damn good, Squall, damn good." Cid said as he chewed on the end of his cigar.
"I know. Now leave me alone so I can make my damn money." Squall said.
Cid laughed. He moved closer to get a better look at Squall's rounded bottom.
Squall shivered slightly with revulsion.
"Got someone looking for a couple of you boys to do another movie or two." Cid said casually, cigar on his lips and hands in his pocket.
Squall's mind and heart rebelled, and it was all he could do to keep from running from the club and never coming back, but where would he go? What else could a little fat, ugly whore like him do but except what was happening to him? He had no one to go to? Squall thought of Seifer for a moment, but still he said nothing at all to the man next to him, and so his silence was just as good as saying yes, but Cid still didn't like the look he saw on Squall's face.
"Not gonna make too much money tonight with that face, Squall." Cid said. He chuckled, eyes narrowed.
Squall leaned against the wall and just stared out at the stage.
Cid chuckled again. "You enjoyed yourself last time, didn't you? And you got plenty of money. That sure put a smile on your face. Just wave a few dollars and round and you should see how fast you sluts move. Heh. Besides, you still owe me for bailing you out. I had to bother a lot of well - known people to get you out of that little fix you had gotten yourself in. You'd be rotting in jail if I hadn't gone out of my way to help you, you little cunt. Right? Right. We understand each other."
Squall said nothing, but railed against the man in his mind, even going so far as to imagine slitting Cid's throat. Later, as always, Squall and some of the others would laugh at Cid, make fun of his size, the fact that he needed Viagra to get his rocks off, and the fact that he used others to do his dirty work, but not a one of them would ever challenge him to his face. That incident had not been his fault. He had been there, only because that's where the "John" had taken him.
"Right then, and I've got a friend coming down in a few days, wants to take a few of you on up to his place down here. You remember Richardson, don't you?" Cid said.
Squall remembered. Richardson, the guy who liked to cut boys and hurt them and see them bleed.
"He asked for you, so be ready. I'll call you when he gets in." Cid said. He slipped a heavy hand on the curve of Squall's bottom and squeezed. A few moments later he went down the steps and back into the main room. Squall let out a heavy sigh and nearly collapsed against the wall.
By the time Kenny, the little "Nurse", had gathered up his money and clothing and left the stage, Squall had managed to pull what little of himself he could together. The lights on the stage went off and Squall hurried into his position then waited for the DJ to announce him. Then it was "Showtime". The yellow lights over the stage went back on, and the show began. A song began to blast out of the speakers, and then all eyes were on the sable - haired youth as he "entertained".
Squall spun and danced to the music as he began to remove the skimpy garments of his costume, and soon he was lost in the song and the dance. Squall liked to dance, and he liked the song, and he had always found it easier to dance - to make a shame and spectacle of himself - to songs he liked. Squall never paid much attention to the lyrics, but he liked the music, the dark sounding energy that came from the song, and he could perform to it. He could make himself pretend that he - like the filthy freaks that watched and waited - also enjoyed the show, and then of course the encore that usually came after.
The nastier he was the more they liked it, and Squall gave them whatever they wanted. He slowly peeled the tight hot - pants from his body and turned and bent over so the men could see between his legs. No one could ever say he didn't work hard for his money, and he always put on a good show. For a moment, as he danced, as he worked his slim hips and spun to the music, Squall felt regret, something he hadn't let himself feel in a long time because it was too painful an emotion. What did he have to regret anyway? What else could he be but a disgusting little whore? He should be happy that he could take care of himself and didn't have to live on the streets.
As the music neared its conclusion, Squall moved into position for the finale. He gripped the pole and spun around the steel bar until he got enough momentum to lift his feet and legs. He spread his legs again and slid slowly down the pole, legs open, and asshole visible to all who wanted to see it. A man sitting at one of the front tables near the stage pulled his small, wrinkled cock out of his pants and Squall looked away in disgust. He concentrated on the music, on the dancing. He didn't know why he should suddenly feel so disgusted when he had seen and done much worse in his life. He just wanted to go home and get it over with. He would do a few lap dances so he wouldn't get any shit from Cid, and then he was going home. He would get some sleep and everything would be fine tomorrow.
When the song finally ended, Squall hurriedly grabbed his money and clothing and hurried off of the stage, even before the lights went off. He went back into the dressing room, sat down in one of the chairs and rested against the wooden shelf, his head on his arms. Several minutes later, he got up, wiped his face and then went into the little bathroom in the dressing room and freshened up. He went back to the mirror, touched up some of his make - up and changed into a pair of sparkling black shorts and a tight blue tank top. He left the dressing room, went down the stairs and into the main room. Several of the other dancers were already there working the tables, and Squall could see Nida and some of the other dancers gathered around one particular table where a "high - roller" was sitting. They were fawning all over the well - dressed man, and although Squall saw the potential to make some decent money, he didn't particularly feel like competing with the others tonight. A large, bearded man at a table waved a few dollars at Squall, and the youth smiled prettily as he sauntered over to the beastly man. He stripped and danced for the disgusting pig, and luckily he was able to make plenty of cash without having to do more than bend over and act like he loved it while the man fondled him.
A couple of hours later, Squall decided that he was ready to go home, although home was in many ways just as bad as work, but at least at home he had a space to himself, he had his clothes, his toys, and he could rest and do things he liked to do for a few hours. Squall didn't feel like bothering with a "John" tonight although several men pleaded with him for a little of his time. Cid wouldn't be angry as long as the money was right, and so Squall did a few extra lap dances and a few hand jobs to make sure that everything was even. It would have been easier to make the money on his back for an hour, and he pissed off a few of the other dancers as well by moving in on their space, but he just didn't feel like spending any time with some bald - headed pervert who was too scared to tell his wife that he really liked boys. When Squall had all the money he needed, he went up to Cid's office and handed over most of what he had earned to the old man. Cid smiled appreciatively at the handful of cash, rubbing his hands together before snatching the money from Squall's hand.
"Leaving so soon?" Cid said.
"I'm sick." Squall said.
Cid chuckled. "You sluts are always pulling that sick shit, but since it's all here, I'll let you go." he said.
Squall was silent.
"You coming in tomorrow?" Cid said as he turned slightly to put the money in the open safe behind him. Cid knew not to turn his back on anyone, especially not one of his "little sluts".
"I was off tomorrow." Squall said, pouting slightly.
"Yeah, but you come in if I call, right?" Cid said, the tone of his voice a warning against any arguments.
Squall sighed and turned to leave.
"That's right." Cid said.
Squall took his $75 dollars and headed back to the dressing rooms. He was exhausted and could barely get out of his costume and into his street clothes, but he managed. He slipped back into his black, leather pants, and put on a black tank made of a fishnet material. He took his costume and hung it up neatly on the rack. The white shirt he had been wearing earlier had the creamy medicine the tattoo artist had given him all over it, so he just stuffed into his plastic back pack with his other things. Before he grabbed his coat he looked once more at the work on his back and decided he better put a little more medicine on it. It was still a little tender, but it didn't hurt as badly as it had only a few hours ago. He had a pretty high tolerance for pain anyway.
As Squall continued to examine the beautiful black design on his back he thought of the tattoo artist again, and it made his heart ache. As Squall fretted over the swirling, black lines he considered going back to the tattoo parlor to see Seifer. Seifer had said that Squall could come see him anytime, and it would be easy to make up an excuse to go back. He could say that he was dissatisfied with the work, or that he wanted another tattoo. Maybe he could say he wanted another piercing. Squall chewed on his lip as he wondered if the blonde would really want to see him. Squall sucked his teeth and sighed. The young man had probably already forgotten him, and what could a guy like that want with a fat whore anyway? Squall turned from the mirror and started to shove more of his things into his bag.
"Where the fuck are you going? Are you leaving me, bitch?" Nida said as he came into the dressing room.
"I'm just tired." Squall said.
"You just got started." Nida said.
"I just don't feel well." Squall said as he continued to pack up his things.
Nida made a cooing sound. He looked into Squall's blue eyes and pressed his hand to Squall's forehead. "Poor baby, well go home then, more money for me you greedy slut." he said.
Squall smiled. "I can wait for you if you want, but I won't go back out there." he said.
"No, go home. I can go home with Kenny." Nida said. "Or you could come with us. We've got a couple of college boys waiting outside." He was excited, and Squall would have been too, usually, but he just wasn't feeling well.
"No, I'll just go home." Squall said.
"You sure you're okay?" Nida said.
Squall shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine." he said.
Nida looked at him strangely, sneering slightly, but then he just shrugged. "Fine. I don't care. See you later then." he said.
Squall nodded. Nida looked at him again for several minutes then slipped out of the room. A few minutes later Squall slipped into his Monster fur coat, grabbed his backpack, and left the room as well.