WHERE THE BOYS ARE.....(part 2).

So many boys came and went during my time at Brett's boys.  Many I have forgotten but to complete the picture there are two other boys who particularly stand out - others I will mention as part of my story in other blogs.

Aaron was perhaps the most unlikely of all the boys I worked with.  Tall, bronzed, good looking and with a muscle toned body.  He only worked on Friday and Saturday nights but due to his 'look' made a fortune every week.  He was studying at university and this was his way of paying for his studies.  He neither took drugs or got involved in our many outings to Oxford St, but got along with everyone and always made sure that things ran smoothly if the occasional client caused trouble with any of the boys.

Peter, or Israel (his working name) was there for the duration.  He was the typical straight looking, muscular boy who would have looked equally at home on a construction site as in a parlor.  He was a lovely, easy going guy who looked after us all and was liked by everyone.  That was unless he was drunk.  Which unfortunately was his downfall.  He was always a 'friendly' drunk but often he would arrive for work so drunk that he would spend his shift asleep or partying out the back.  We often had to hide him when clients arrived as he was loud and boisterous.

Sadly after almost 3 years we parted company and not on a good note.  He arrived one afternoon totally paralytic, still clutching a whiskey bottle and collapsed onto the lounge.  Within minutes he was doubled over and groaning.  Before our eyes we watched his stomach suddenly start to extend, like a scene from the movie Alien. It was Aaron who realised his liver was malfunctioning and got us to remove his belt and trousers and then got me to call an ambulance.

Israel was taken to hospital and from there placed into a detox centre for 2 weeks to dry out.  When he came out he returned looking to kill me as he blamed me for being put into re-hab.  Thankfully our new boss was there and while the other boys got me away she calmed him down.  Things between us were never the same and a few weeks later he failed to show up and we didn't see him again.

Graham also ran a 'Tranny Parlor' called 'Diamond Lil's'.  This was in a building in the street behind us but could be reached from Brett's via a narrow back lane way.  This was the place where we would spend much of our day time shifts as it was quiet and we could get as stoned as we wanted as Graham rarely visited.

Diamond Lil's served two functions.  Firstly this was where the drag queens worked, using the upstairs and downstairs large front bedrooms.  The other 3 rooms upstairs were sold at $5 per half hour to any street workers who would bring their clients there.  This was where most of the money came from with street workers coming and going non stop from 9am till after midnight every day of the week.

Here we had the best of times.  The queens were wonderful.  Not your glamorous show girl types but a variety of cross - dressers, transexuals and sex-changes.  Some were to become my best friends for 3 years.

Donielle (Yeti - we all had pet names) was a drag whom I had first met in Adelaide where she worked in a straight strip club.  With silicon breasts and a good tuck job none of the straight clientele ever tricked that she was a man.  Anytime you walked in Yeti was always ready with a long fingernail full of speed for you to suck on and spend hours having fun with the street girls and their clients as  they passed through.

Linda was the 'girl' I was closest too. Very similar in personality to myself, petite and pretty.  She was taking hormones and although small breasted her angular blonde looks were always a hit with the clients.  Not only that but she was very hospitable when servicing clients so had a long line of regulars.

Then there was Monique.  Monique should have been born a girl.  Even before hormone treatment she passed in the streets as a girl.  She had had a pretty tough upbringing in the rough suburbs of Wellington in New Zealand before escaping to Australia and living her dream of being a woman.  She became one of the first 'girls' to undergo a full sex change operation in Australia.

She was so physically feminine that she was given the operation after only one visit to the psychiatrist.  Usually it was a full year process of analysis with several different psychiatrists before the operation was allowed.  After her operation she was even featured on 'A Current Affair', the most watched news program in Australia at that time.

Claudia was a lovely, friendly but tragic girl.  She had been physically and sexually abused throughout her childhood and this was obvious not only in her subdued personality, but by the fact that she was one of the few girls willing to do 'submissive' work with the clients.  Constantly on one type of pill or another she was happy to get one or two jobs a day and spend the rest of her time with 'the family' - which was of course us, the only people who were kind and loving to her.

Of all the girls (and others I will mention in later stories) the most amazing and successful was Christie.  Christie was over 6 foot tall, with distinctively rugged and angular features.  When she started she looked the least like a girl of many of the queens I was to meet.  Another of the few who didn't touch drugs of any kind except hormones and lived a healthy lifestyle which she rigorously followed out of women's magazines.

3 years later she had transformed into the most beautiful girl you could imagine.  Even with her height she looked and moved like a Brazilian model.  Eventually Christie would go on to be one of Sydney's premier drag artists with her own troop of male and 'female' dancers, even getting to take her revues around Australia and eventually to do a stint in Las Vegas.

So, amongst others, that was my family for three years.  There are many more who will get mentioned later, including my best friend and my boyfriend who would quickly become my worst nightmare.......

WHERE THE BOYS ARE.....(part 1).

Where the boys are, some one waits for me.
A smiling face, a warm embrace
Two arms to hold me tenderly.....

A romantic song I know, but one which perfectly fits our 'family' at Brett's Boys.  Over the 3 or so years I spent there I would meet many boys.  Some would stay a few days or weeks while others were there from the day I started until the day I finished.  But we were a family and as the words say no matter how low we felt, how hard times were, we were there for each other.

Graham, the owner, was nothing like the stand over stereo-type pimp most of us imagine.  He was a gentle guy, friendly and caring and although he didn't spend a lot of time with us, he seemed to know us all personally.  If we were in trouble or needed a reference (to rent a flat) he provided any assistance we needed.  However he was a ruthless businessman and we knew that he had his hands in many other illegal businesses and also knew exactly what went on in all of them.  None of us tried to cheat him as we were all sure of the consequences.

There were 3 Receptionists.

Tony, who was Graham's right hand man.  He ran the business, the bookwork, staff rosters, hiring and occasionally firing and was always on call when needed.  I spent most of my time working on Tony's shifts and got to know him really well.  He was a 'leather queen' and used to delight in telling new boys about his sexual perversions.  He and his partner (who was a pharmacist) were into body piercing during sex.  His stories didn't bother me, it was only one day when he left me his laundry to do and I started putting his bed sheets into the machine that I noticed they were all covered in tiny pin pricks of blood.  That was a bit much for me as the stories suddenly became reality and quite sickened me.

Michael, was a beautiful guy.  In his late 30's and had never quite evolved from the hippy era. Working with him was always fun and we were all constantly stoned on his shifts. He always brought in home baked goods to share with us.  He was the mother figure that none of us had.

Colin was a different kettle of fish altogether.  He was an ex worker and was fat, pretentious and extremely lazy.  He chose his favourites among the boys and regardless of the clients requests he would always try and sell his 'friends' first.  We never really got along and he would be the cause of serious trouble for me twice during my time there.

As for the boys themselves, well they came and went.  They were from all backgrounds, most like me were simply middle class suburban gay boys who wanted to escape their boring environments and live the good life.  Selling yourself was not a good way to get sexual gratification, but it ensured you could live well and life the lifestyle you wanted.

A few came from welfare backgrounds, the type of families my mother would have shunned.  Some were simply poor families, but most came from dysfunctional families where drug and alcohol abuse was common.  One boy had even spent half his life in and out of boys homes - his father was a petty thief and would hide stolen goods in the boys room.  When caught his father would deny all knowledge and as the stolen property was found in the boys room he was the one arrested.

Another boy was a really sad case.  He was angelic looking but had such low self esteem that he was willing to do anything with the clients no matter how base their fantasies were. One day we got stoned together and slept in bed that night.  Just chatting and cuddling each other while he told me that his father had repeatedly raped not only him but also his 3 younger brothers for as long as he could remember.  His father was then currently in jail for this offense, his mother a heroin addict and his only choice was to live on the streets or work in  a brothel.  His brothers, all being under age had been fostered and he had no knowledge of what had happened to them once he left home.

Then there was the gorgeous Peter.  We all knew that he was under-age but Graham had no issue with hiring him (or being caught out as he was paying off the police, proof of which I will detail later).  Anyway he was a lovely boy who still lived at home with his single mother. I felt sorry for him and very often would invite him to my apartment for a home cooked meal and a sleep over after work.  Even though he was keen to have sex, I had certain morals, and as much as I would have liked to have sex with him his age prevented me from taking advantage...you can choose to believe that or not.

Anyhow he was just a kid who needed tender, loving, care.  He was a smart kid in many ways, able to look after himself, cope with the not always enjoyable aspects of the job and hold his own amongst boys much older and world wise than him.

To end this section of my story I will relate an incident which happened one evening.  Most of us rarely talked about our former families, but on this night about 6 or 7 of us were sitting in the back room.  It was a quiet mid-week evening and we were all smoking grass.  One of us would put a 'stick' in the bowl and mull up and the bong would get passed around until the bowl was empty.  Then some one else would do the same and so the evening progressed until the early hours of the morning.

We somehow got onto the topic of families and one of us was talking about their mother.  Peter, innocently said, 'you know when you suck your mothers tit.....?'  There were a lot of puzzled gazes amongst us before some one said, 'you mean when your were a baby?'.. 'No' said Peter, 'like when you sit on your mum's lap and she lets you suck on her tit'.  It suddenly dawned upon as all that he was talking in the present!  His mother was obviously interfering with him sexually and probably had done so for many years.......

PARLOR DAZE.....(part 2).

The thousand dreams I dreamed
The splendid things I planned
I always built alas on weak and shifting sand
I lived by night and shunned the naked light of day
And only now I see how the years all ran away.....

Brett's Boys was to become my life for the next three and a half years. In reality it would affect my life for much longer than that.  I would meet friends with whom I would share my life, re-build my self esteem, indulge in my insatiable desire for sex and drugs, meet the boy who would have the most disastrous impact upon my life and face death on more than one occasion.

Initially I had it all planned out.  I would work for as long as it took me to save enough money to return to England and if necessary work in London as a prostitute before finding a real job and living in the city where it was all happening.  England was my mecca, the music, the fashion and the yearning for my 'homeland' were calling me.

It worked well for nearly a month.  I stayed as apart as I could from the other workers, trying not to get too involved in their seemingly aimless lifestyle.  I worked my shifts and returned to my apartment where I would spend my time alone - stoned and happy.

Not only was I a 'new boy', but my look, far from discouraging customers, seemed to have an appeal that many clients wanted.  Not only did I look much younger than I was but my 'new wave' style attracted many clients of all ages.  I was popular, polite, and above all possibly more intelligent than the other boys so I could hold a conversation with the clients when needed.  I was also keen to show that I cared about the business and quickly took a part in helping the receptionist with cleaning and answering phone calls, which didn't go unnoticed by my boss.

The only downside in the early days was that Graham (the owner) was adamant that no drug taking went on at the parlor.  This did not apply to what went on in the rooms with clients, but outside of the rooms we were not allowed to partake in drugs.  Not that we followed this rule.  Graham only came for a few hours each day and again in the evenings.  When he was not there then we would all sit in the back courtyard smoking bongs.  The sound of a key in the front door was an alarm that Graham was back and then it would be a mad rush to hide the drugs and bong amongst the pot plants and for us all to pretend that we were innocently enjoying the sunshine and chatting.

It was ironic actually, because later I would spend a lot of time at Graham's house where I soon learned that he was dealing heavily in cocaine and speed.  But he was a sensible businessman and knew that having drugs on the premises could cause him trouble.  I don't believe that running a brother was strictly legal in 1985, but keeping on the good side of the police (and certainly paying some money into the right hands) was the way to ensure that his business was tolerated.
 
There are a thousand and one stories to tell about my days in Brett's Boys.  To detail them would be an enormous and expansive task.  So in coming blogs I will probably deal with them in themes and chronologically when detailing my life.

But Brett's boys was my new home for over 3 years.  The establishment was a far cry from Belvoir Boys where I had first worked.  Unlike the run-down Victorian working class two up - two down terrace, Brett's was in a beautiful, double-fronted Edwardian Terrace in Paddington.  The downstairs rooms, including the front 'boys room' were all immaculately furnished and looked straight out of the pages of a Laura Ashley catalogue.  

 Upstairs there were 4 bedrooms.  The Zebra room, with it's jungle print wallpaper, zebra striped bedding, leopard skin rug and a selection of wooden African artifacts.  The Blue room, tastefully adorned with saphire blue chintz curtains and matching bedding, and a blue and green persian carpet.  The Red room, with red faux velvet flocked wallpaper, a dark wood four poster bed with red velvet drapes and a chinese style carpet.  The fourth room was smaller and simply decorated and was only used when we were extremely busy.  The bathroom was outrageous - marbled floor and wall tiles, gold swan taps in the bath and sink and a floor to ceiling stained glass window along the back wall.

The house was filled with beautiful paintings and Victorian wooden plant stands with ornate ceramic planters and pot plants. The custom made kitchen at the rear of the house had an adjoining dining area, which looked out through huge bay windows to the landscaped back courtyard.  This was where we would spend most of our time.  I had arrived......