***.

His eyes opened, the room he fell asleep in still there, the blankets swimming around his body, the room warm from the midday sun. Isa had had an uninterrupted sleep and woke feeling as awake as he had ever been, that’s what a good night was like.

He swung his legs out of the bed, what was this place? Hopefully there will be people to tell him, Shortie had left without telling him anything other than he will have a job to do. Oh well, he was used to doing household chores at home, running the house, caring for the kids. He got to his feet, still in the clothes he’d been in for ages, his stuff stolen. The worst night of his life.

A knock at the door startled him, was it Shortie, coming to tell him what was going on? No. A large man, bald, stood at the door, a piece of paper in his hands.

“This is for you to fill out,” His voice and stature very formal, he held out the paper for him to take. “Hand it back to me when it’s completed.”

Isa took the sheet of paper and the man walked away. He looked at the large letters at the top of the page, “APPLICATION FORM” in quotation marks stood out in bold. Questions ran down the side of the page, space to answer next to them. Name, date of birth, the usual, until further on. Sexual orientation and sexual experience popped up, what the fuck is this? Why do they need to know his orientation to wash the dishes? He found a pen by walking down the hall and knocking on a door, a young woman with wavy brown hair and large eyes answered.

“Yeah, what?”

“Umm, do you have a pen so I can fill this in please?” He showed her the paper, this small girl was kind of scary.

“A new one, nice to have more boys in this place. Here you go,” the corners of her mouth rose as she handed him the pen. She grabbed his hand. “I’m Mila, who are you?”

“Isa,” he didn’t have a last name anymore.

“Hello Isa,” She winked at him and closed the door behind her as she swept past him and walked down the stairs.

The realization came after he noticed a couple more girls leave their rooms, all dressed the same. Like the prostitutes he’d seen out at night. That’s the point of those bloody personal questions. Shit, did Shortie expect him to be a male whore? He was a virgin for Christ sakes. Sort of. Thoughts ran through his head, he had a place to stay if he chose to work in this place, but having a job like that? He was seventeen.

Isa walked back to his room, lying on the bed staring up at the pale ceiling, thinking, going through the pros and cons. Sleeping on the street again was at the top of the cons column. It took a full hour for him to start on the form, filling in all the details, but leaving the sexual experience one blank, he’d done nothing. Decided no one would ever know someone else had done something to him though. If he had any say.

He re-read his answers over again before he went to look for the bald man. He reached the bottom of the stairs, noticing again the welcoming vibe the room was giving him. He went to the closest door and knocked on it, no answer. It wasn’t locked and he walked in, it was a kitchen, the same theme as the rest of the house, but filled with food, not whores. How was he going to find the man? Then the obvious came to mind. Ask. Which he did, a small boy sitting in a secluded area of the downstairs room gave him the information he needed, though with hesitation talking to a new face.

Isa found the man quickly, in what looked like an office or
something through another of the many doors. The man looked up at him from some other papers and gave him a smile, which made him look even scarier.

“I finished filling it in,” Isa didn’t know what to call him, Sir? Boss?

“Thank you…Isa,” He read the first line. “I’ll give this to Shortie when she gets here, you’ll need to talk to her about a few of these answers, ok you can go.”

“Thanks,” people around here didn’t like a conversation did they? and by late afternoon they were mostly gone, he knew where, up the street stopping where they had every night since they started working most probably.

Isa found some food in the kitchen, hoping he wasn’t caught, he didn’t know the rules here yet, hurry the fuck up Shortie. Then spent five minutes locating a bathroom, which by some luck contained a shower.

He undressed carefully, peeling back layers of sweaty clothes. He opened his eyes and cringed at the bruises he had obtained over the past week, his slender body slightly grey from the grime of the city. Hot water shot onto his face, running over his bare skin, warming it up. He found soap which he used to wash every inch of him, focusing hard on his problem area. The stink of Frank had to go. He shut his eyes and let the water rush over his ears, blocking out any outside noise, leaving the sound of rushing water in his head.

A few minutes later he decided he was done, Goosebumps rose as he stepped out of the steaming water into cold air, hairs standing on end. Isa dried with a small black towel and got dressed in his scummy clothes once more. That dirty feeling returning. He made it back to his room as it was becoming dark and he lay down and closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths. He was safe now, until he had to go back out there, to the streets.