I took in a breath, and felt the sharp intake of air lifting away some of my anxieties. I knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately and I entered the hotel room.
I was cruising in one of the toilets in the university hostel where I was staying when Shun first saw me. Right away, my sight was on him, this handsome and darkly tanned man, muscular in an athletic way. My lust went into high alert instantly, mounting all my senses into full force. Of course, I had seen him around on campus; it was hard not to notice him, with his clean-cut good looks, which no doubt attracted attention from women and men alike. Well, gay men, in any case.
Being in such close proximity with him, in the toilet, I grabbed my chance. I tried to arouse his attention with an obvious look of lust and longing.
He was washing his hands, but I could tell he was aware that I was looking hard at him, getting his attention. He glanced in my direction and caught my lingering stare, my intentional body signals. He did not look surprised or puzzled by my actions, nor did he walk away with an unhidden disgust, as some would when faced with people like me in the public toilets or changing rooms. Instead, he walked over to me in a fume.
“What are you looking at?” he asked angrily. He stood inches away from my heated face, his words coming at me with unbridled force. I looked away guiltily, cursing inwardly for trying to hook the wrong guy. But Shun pressed on, his angry words building up to a crescendo.
“You make me sick! All day long, hanging around in public toilets, in school, at the pools, anywhere, waiting with that cock-hungry look, eager to suck on any cock that comes along the way. You pathetic fuckers — get a life!” His words came out in a torrent while his intense gaze continued to remain on me. My body began to tremble visibly, as my own words choked in my throat. I wanted to say something, anything, in return, but I did not. I was scared somehow. I did not want to be caught like this and the shame of being trapped in this awkward situation only ate at me relentlessly, building up to an unbearable degree.
I quickly gathered up the courage to walk briskly away and head for the exit. But Shun stopped me abruptly on my way out and demanded to have my details. “Give me your hostel room number; if not, I’ll report you to the dean,” he threatened. In the heat of being caught, exposed and threatened, I did as he told me. I gave him my hostel room number without a second thought and left the toilet hurriedly.
That night, Shun knocked on door and I let him in. He fucked me without saying a word and I became his secret friend.
Naturally, I wanted to ask him about his outburst during our first meeting in the toilet. But I kept quiet as I was afraid of upsetting him and did not want to appear too forward, lest he drop me after a few fucks. Basically, I had to acknowledge he was a great fuck and there were not many like him around, at least not in the university. The weekend sex in town always seemed so far away, especially with my schoolwork and projects with looming deadlines; to have Shun nearby for a quick fuck was more than I could ask for.
So after that first night he fucked me, and the night that followed, I let him have his way with me, whichever way he wanted me. And he came every night for the whole week, always around eight, when my roommate was in the library poring through his school texts or assignments till late at night.
Shun kept absolutely quiet throughout the fucking. And I followed his lead and kept quiet. I did not want to spoil anything between us at this stage.
“Sometimes you really make me sick. Always hanging around some pathetic toilet, waiting for some cock to appear.”
We had agreed to meet for lunch at the canteen after our lectures. Shun majored in Mechanical Engineering in National Technological University, where he was in his final year, while I was in my second year in the same engineering faculty, taking Computer Sciences.
Shun was in a good mood that day, going through his litany of complaints about me. This was four months after we first met in my hostel toilet.
“You can never stop, can you?” Shun asked in a tone that preempted any reply from me. Not that I had anything to say in return. All that he had said was true, in some sense. I cruised for sex and I sucked cocks. It was simple as that, and Shun knew and was able to exploit it. It was hard to change one’s nature, and Shun knew this well.
And he knew where he stood in the gay food chain and wanted to remain there, among those in the upper echelon, feasting and preying on those below him. A vicious cycle of man-eating-man within the gay world.
And he knew how to make the most of his looks to give him what he wanted, in any circumstance. He refused to be the product of his circumstances, a fate and state that he abhorred, because, to him, “… it rules out the possibility — or certainty — of free will and the stupid choices that made us who we are.” And so he stuck to his self-made logic and beliefs.
“Since you are always so cock-hungry, then learn to make use of this desire for your own advantage, to gain something for yourself, not just swallow what comes along the way.”
I gave him a blank look and a disgusted cluck of the tongue. Shun saw my look of contempt but ignored it completely and continued, “What I’m saying is this: since you are still young, only twenty-three and not bad-looking, you can use these god-given attributes and your superb cock-sucking skill for some gains, to reap the benefits of your youth, so to speak. To keep it simple: Let sex and money go hand in hand, that’s what I’m saying.” I was not surprised by his suggestion since I had known for some time that Shun had been a rent boy for a while — since his junior college days, in fact. While Shun did not spell out exactly what he was doing, he had dropped strong hints about this “freelance job” he had which allowed him to pay for his school fees and some “small luxuries.” From what I could gather from our conversations and see with my own eyes, he was being way too humble about how lucrative this job could be. He was earning tons from his so-called freelance work, as far as I could tell. Shun did not hesitate to pay for the meals we had, the movies, the clothes and bags that I wanted, my school fees, my allowance. He relished being “the provider,” he told me once after we had sex, “unlike my father, who ran away with his mistress, leaving nothing for me and my mother.” When I tried to inquire more about his family background, he grew very still and quiet, lying like a stranger beside me in the dark. And that was when I knew never to ask him again about his family. I would let him tell me what he wanted to reveal, if he chose to, but I could never ask him for details or any questions of that sort.
“So you want me to be like you?” I said mockingly, enunciating each word slowly.
“Yes, and I’ll be your mentor or something. Your daddy pimp, so to speak.”
“You? So what’s in it for you? What will you gain?”
“Fifty-fifty for the first few times. After that, seventy-thirty, you seventy, me thirty. How’s that?”
“Sounds fair. But how are you going to find the clients?”
“That’s for me to worry about.” Shun smiled at me disarmingly, as if hoarding a common secret of which I had no knowledge, and I was briefly agitated by his cocksure attitude.
“In case you are so blind and haven’t noticed, living in that little world of yours,” he pointed to my head with wry off-handedness, “there are plenty of rich old faggots around who’re dying for some companionship and a quick fuck now and then. And we’ll give them just that, a good fuck. Their money for the sex we give. A fair transaction.”
While I disagreed with Shun on many occasions, what he had just said made plenty of good sense. In a way, he dared to put into words what went on in his head and was able to justify his actions with his own concocted motives and convictions. I would have failed to see — or maybe refused to acknowledge — these basic human needs of love and sex. Clear knowledge was not something I wanted to hold onto, I found it too cumbersome, a burden. But the fact that we are all lonely and always craving for some form of companionship, to the extent of being willing to pay anything for someone to love, to hold even for a short while, all these rang true to me.
I did not answer him; what could I say to what he had just told me? How much of it was true, how much of it was fabricated by him? I did not know. I had never paid for sex nor had I been paid for sex. Most of the sex I ever had up to then had been the anonymous, cruising-in-the-toilet kind. Of course, I was vaguely aware that there was a dark, seedy side to the sex trade, but I was never that curious to find out more. But Shun knew that world well and was willing to share his knowledge with me. He wanted to be my friend and pimp.
So I listened to him like a young protege learning the ways of the world.
Shun kept his word and let me keep the money I earned, after the fifth time he introduced me to a new
