Date: Wed, 29 Oct 2008 09:08:29 +0100
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: Neither Angel nor Hustler 02/11 (encounters)

----------------------------

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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In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to
read them, the URL is

http://andrejkoymasky.com

If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English
translations, so that I can put on-line more of my  stories in English
please e-mail at

andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

---------------------------