CHANGING DAZE.....(part 2).

Just when everything seemed to be coming together for me it suddenly started all falling apart.

My family were not only re-united but extended.  My older sister had married and had two infant daughters and my second sister was now married to a 'nice guy' and had begun to re-connect with my father, even if it was only in small visits every few months.

My mother was planning her second trip back to England (she had been once before since taking me) and this time she was planning not only to spend her holiday with her family, but also to take a two week trip to Portugal with her sister.  It would be her first real holiday since taking me in 1976.

A day after she flew out of Sydney my older sister rang me with the news that my father had suffered a massive heart attack and was in the Intensive Care Unit after undergoing a triple heart by-pass.  Her immediate plan was to call my mother in England and get her to return.

I was against this. Firstly because I didn't want her to ruin her holiday and lose her hard earned savings by returning when there was literally nothing she could do.  Secondly because for the time being I would be able to spend every day visiting my father and was happy to look after him when he got out of hospital.

My sister grudgingly agreed that we could wait, but if things began looking serious then we had to contact my mother.  With the best care in the hospital and daily visits from me, my father soon recovered and was released with two weeks left before my mother's return.

I spoke with my father and he was happy for me to return home until mum came back.  It was only to be 4 nights a week (I had arranged with Graham and the other receptionists to work 5 straight shifts from Friday night to Monday morning) and my sister agreed to pop in on the weekends to look after him.

So, I was attending college 5 days a week.  On 4 days I would catch the train home (1.5 hours travel) and look after the house and my dad.  Cleaning, cooking, watering the garden and doing the laundry.  Matty would arrive each evening around 6.30pm.

Dinner was served and generally my father retired to his bed not long after.  Matty and I would clean the dishes and then go downstairs to the rumpus room where we slept.  We'd get stoned, always after Dad had gone to sleep and after a final check on Dad we'd sleep.  Each morning I prepared fresh fruit salad for Dad's breakfast and made sandwiches for him before Matty and I would leave for the day.

On Thursday's I would spend at least 2 hours cooking dinners and making sandwiches so that Dad had enough to eat over the next few days.  My sister lived only one suburb away but never once came to visit during the two weekends (it would be friendly neighbours who not only told me this but who also stepped in to visit and help Dad out on the weekends).

It was a hectic time for me, but after the stress I had caused my family, and my guilty conscience regarding my hidden lifestyle, I felt that finally I was doing something positive for my family and re-paying some of the hurt I had caused them.

I was shocked when after my mother returned I received a phone call from her.  I was accused of all sorts of crimes.  Using my father because I didn't have a home at the time, pushing my 'lifestyle' in his face because I had let Matty stay over, smoking drugs (okay so that one was true) and even using his money to support myself.  That was definitely not true!  Not only had Matty and I used our own money to buy groceries for us and my father but we had also stocked the kitchen with a week's supply of food before my mother returned.  Apparently my sister 'was witness' to all of this!

There was nothing I could do or say to change their opinions.  With everyone against me there didn't seem to be a point.  I was hurt beyond imagination and it would be 3 months before I even spoke to anyone in my family again....and only because my mother left a begging request on my answering machine to contact her.

29 years later and I finally found out what lay behind all of this. My Aunt recently visited me and she gave away some secrets which made it all much clearer to me.  After years of disharmony (and with encouragement from me) my mother had arrived in England with as many of her belongings as she could pack.  She announced to my Aunt that she had 'left Danny for good'.  Obviously it didn't take long for dad do realize  that she had left him and this is what brought about the heart attack,

As for the accusations.  Well, I believe my mother felt guilty at what she had caused, my sister also felt guilty for showing as little interest in Dad as possible and my father was willing to go along with whatever anyone said - after all he had his wife back and a daughter with grandchildren.  Why did he need his homosexual, drug addicted, non-skilled son?  Someone needed to be blamed and I was the obvious scape-goat.

A few weeks later the biggest change of the year would occur.  Strangely enough I had had a premonition about this.  I was still doing Graham's weekly house-cleaning and since his opening of his 'girls parlor' in the suburbs I had noticed some obvious changes about him.

Firstly he almost stopped visiting Brett's.  Leaving the running of the establishment up to me with occasional visits from Tony to see if we needed anything.  Secondly every time I saw him he seemed to be more and more out of it on cocaine, and thirdly he had become very nervous.  Not only in his physical reactions to things  like the phone ringing or the door bell going, but also getting his house installed with a security system which included front and back cameras, steel security doors and barring the windows.  I put this down to his growing dependence on cocaine.

I remember one evening, sitting in our new house (which I now shared with Matty and Betty) and as we were chatting and bonging I had a strange feeling that I needed to ring Graham.  I was due there the next morning so used that as my excuse to call. I was going to say I would be running late but would be there......I didn't need to make any excuses.  Tony answered the phone and promptly told me I didn't need to come in as Graham wasn't feeling well and didn't want to be disturbed.

All night I had a nagging feeling that something was not quite right.  So before 7am the next morning I arrived at Brett's even though it wasn't my shift.  Already there and awake Michael told me something terrible had happened and that Tony had just rung to say he would be coming over to explain.

Graham had apparently overdosed on heroin the previous evening and died.  Tony explained to us that in his suicide note Graham had left the Parlour to Michael, Colin and Myself and that all other assets he had left to Tony.

Through all the shock I had enough sense to know that nothing was as clear cut as Tony was making it sound.

Firstly I had known Graham for nearly two years and never once known him to use heroin.  He didn't even inject cocaine and I had certainly never once found any evidence of syringes at Graham's house.  Secondly I realised that a suicide note was not a will and that our inheriting the business was a nice gesture but one which would likely not happen.  Thirdly I also knew that Tony had obviously known the evening before which is why he had not only not let me talk with Graham but had told me not to bother coming around the following day.

We ran the parlour for the next two days, waiting for Tony to return with further news.  We never saw him again.  On the third day a friend of Graham's, Marcia (another sex change) arrived at Brett's to say that Tony had apparently run off with all of the cash and drugs in Graham's house and the girls parlour and most of Graham's antiques were also missing.

With her came two very large and scary looking stand-over guys.  Marcia calmly announced that Graham had promised her the parlour and she was taking over.  We could stay and continue in the same positions or leave.

Colin and I chose to stay.  Michael chose another route and within a few days had poached half the boys and started running his own version of 'Brett's Boys' from his home.  We had nothing to worry about in that respect.  Brett's was still operating with the same address and contact numbers and only a few of our regular clients even knew that Graham had died.

Our biggest worry was the change in routine.  Marcia promptly installed her stand-over guys in the house and they watched over our every move.  She forbade any drug taking and her guys made sure it was enforced.

it was easy for the boys as they only had to duck around to Diamond Lil's for a quick smoke or snort.  For me it was different.  I had to be available all shift and my only opportunity to get stoned was by hiding a bong and mull bowl in the laundry where for the next two weeks I would duck out and smoke a couple of bongs while putting the laundry in the washer or dryer.

Thankfully this didn't last for long.  I received a phone call from a lady named Louise who I had met at Graham's on three or four occasions.  Louise ran a really popular brothel in King's Cross called 'The Pink Flamingo'.  It was a straight parlour and at the time probably one of the best known in Sydney.  Louise wanted to meet me for coffee......

Over coffee Louise explained to me that not only was she convinced that both Tony and Marcia had been responsible for Graham's death and theft of all his money, but also that the local police were not going to let Brett's continue with Marcia controlling it.  I knew enough about the way the police worked to realise that this was most likely true.  I also knew that Louise had much more money, power and allies behind  her than Marcia.

Louise calmly told me that she knew I was one of the few people Graham trusted and she was willing to do the same if I allied with her.  She mentioned that the property would have to change as Graham's family were contesting the estate and would get possession but she had another premises available and she was going to pay for the phone numbers to be retained (this meant laying landlines, at considerable expense, to the new premises) and already had advertising ready to print once the change occurred.

All she wanted was for me to keep quiet and wait for her to 'turn up' the following Friday evening making sure that I had gotten Marcia there early in the evening.  I was promised full control of running the business and assured that as long as we were discreet (we always were) that smoking pot or snorting speed or cocaine wouldn't be an issue with her.  I was also promised an extra $100 per week wages.  I was in!

CHANGING DAZE.....

I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
and every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet

1986 would be a year of big changes for me.

To backtrack a little, I had gotten back in contact with my 'runaway' sister.  Or rather she had contacted me.  This was in late 1985 and over the course of a few phone calls we had finally met up.  By now she had divorced her original husband and was dating a lovely guy whom she planned to marry.

This was kept secret from my family as she was still unsure of their feelings towards her.  Eventually I persuaded her to ring Mum at work.  She did and suddenly I was the darling of my family.  My sister still held a bitter resentment towards my father and although on talking terms, she asked me give her away at her wedding.  A tough choice for me as I knew it would upset my father but I got his consent and over the course of a few months my mother, my older sister and myself came together with Debbie to organize the wedding.

It was hard to play the role my father should have played, especially with him sitting there, but he gave nothing away during the wedding and the day was a great success.  After nearly 10 years our family was re-united and it was all because of me.

Back at Brett's Boys things were booming.  I was enjoying my position and Graham had increased my wages (along with my responsibilities).  Matty and I seemed to be the perfect couple, at least when everyone was around.  At home we would go days without sex but in all other aspects were a couple.

I mentioned earlier that Colin (the receptionist) would play some very mean tricks on me, at the time I had no idea and being my naive and trusting self assumed that his friendliness towards me was genuine.

After my attack by the client, I was told that I would be contacted by the police to appear at court to give evidence. Months went by and nothing happened.  Then one morning I received a call from the police demanding to know why I hadn't appeared at court that morning.  I was totally shocked as I had not received any summons.

After a lot of threats from the court officials I managed to contact the 'summoning officer' who told me he had given the summons to the receptionist at Brett's a week earlier.....Colin, when confronted, pretended he had just forgotten to pass the letter on as it had been a busy shift and he had been away with friends the following few days.

A week later I appeared in court to give evidence of the assault.  My attacker failed to show up and although he was given a 'suspended 2 year sentence' I was told by the judge that I would receive no compensation for my injuries or for any anxiety that had been caused. 'It's a natural occupational hazard in your game'!

Then one afternoon a friend of Graham's arrived at Brett's Boys.  Tiffany was a sex change who had worked for Graham previously and had just returned from a year in Melbourne.  Waiting for Graham to arrive we spent the afternoon chatting and she seemed like a really nice person.  Colin arrived to take over the night shift and was all praise for Tiffany.  He even asked me if I would let her spend a few nights at my house until she got herself sorted.

When Matty arrived, he also fell under her spell and was more than happy for her to come home with us and take the spare bedroom for as long as she needed.

It had only been a month in our new house in Surry Hills but I had managed to not only re-furnish but also to buy two new TV's, a stereo system, a washing machine and electrical appliances for the kitchen.  On the first evening Tiffany moved in we returned to find all the kitchen appliances stolen.  Tiffany had an alibi that she had been out working 'The Lane' (a small lane-way off William St in Kings Cross where the Trannies plied their trade).

The following day Matty and I went grocery shopping.  Getting out of the taxi with our groceries we saw Tiffany, looking distressed, coming towards us carrying one of my TV's.  She explained she had just returned to find 'two guys' robbing the house and she had chased them down the street where they eventually dropped the TV.......she was so convincing that we actually believed her story.  Going inside we found that our new stereo and the other TV had been stolen.

Later that evening at Brett's I was telling Graham about what had happened.  He told me that I was an idiot and that Tiffany was a well known junkie thief who had a reputation for befriending people, moving in with them and then stealing anything she could get her hands on in order to support her habit.

I felt like a fool.  I felt used. I was also for the first time really upset that any number of the workers at Brett's could have told me this on the first day but no-one chose to.  In a little over 3 days I had lost everything of value and probably around $1500 in money value (that was the average monthly wage back then).

The next day, with little of value to steal, Matty and I set Tiffany up.  We spent an hour or so getting stoned with her and pretending that we trusted her completely.  I eventually got up and said to Matty that I was going to my room and hiding my remaining $50.  After I returned Tiffany took less than 5 minutes to say she was going upstairs to have a rest.  Matty and  I said we would be going out and even made  a pretence of leaving the house.  Going out the front door and then quietly slipping back inside through the back door.

Upstairs the $50 note had already disappeared. Matty and I confronted Tiffany who denied everything.  I totally lost it with her.  I started punching her over and over again.  All the while Matty was egging me on and rifling her room.  We found nothing but I was still so enraged that I just kept hitting her.  Eventually we physically threw her down the stairs and then kicked her out onto the street.

30 minutes later and the police arrived.  They totally believed that she had taken not only the money but also stolen the other goods (she was apparently well known  by them) but as they could find neither the money or the goods could do nothing about it.  I was told that I could be up for assault charges if Tiffany decided to press them, but they would encourage her not  to do so.

The following morning as I walked to work up Oxford St my main worries were that Graham and the other workers would be angry with me for attacking Tiffany.  I was shocked when the two police officers appeared out of nowhere and told me that Tiffany was in no condition to press charges.  Apparently I had beaten her so badly that she was admitted to hospital a few hours later. Two weeks later I heard that she had never left the hospital and had died from complications  to the liver.  To this day I do not know if I was responsible for her death, or if my attack had just hastened the inevitable.
 
A week after that Brett moved in and life was back to it's usual fun time.  Brett and I painted the flat, bought new items to replace the stolen ones and everything was fabulous.

A few weeks later we received a letter from our real estate telling us that the house was being sold and that we had to move out within two weeks.  Aside from the fact that we still had 3 months  of our contract  left, the hassle of moving again was not what we needed.  We contacted the Rental Bond Bond Board to find out if we had any legal standing as we still were on contract.

Unfortunately, at that time, the rights of tenants were severely limited and as we were paying less than $320 rent we legally had no rights to contest.  Betty and I did a bit of investigation and found out that the house was being sold to a 'Chinese Businessman' who wanted to use the house as a girls parlour.

That was our weapon.  We confronted the estate agent and proposed that we were happy to move out in the given time frame but due to the short notice and inconvenience we were not prepared  to move unless we received our full bond back and were given $500 'inconvenience money'.  Amazingly a few hours later the estate agent called and said the buyer had agreed to our terms.

On the due date I arrived at the estate agent who promptly began writing out a cheque for the whole amount.  I told him that I didn't trust his cheque any more than I trusted his contract and wanted the full payment in cash by 4pm that afternoon.  I said I have 3 people in the house ready to lock down if the money isn't here when I return.

At 4pm I walked out of the estate agent with nearly $1000 cash in my hand.  The next few days we would all spend at Bretts, with our furniture stored in the now disused sauna room while we looked for a new house to rent.

A year of change indeed.  Over the next month some dramatic events would occur which would see me rising to the top of my 'profession' but once again lose the trust of my family.  Strangely one of them I had a premonition about but the other would strike me totally unawares and leave me wondering what had happened.  It would be 29 years before I finally found out  the truth.......

LOVE DAZE....(part 2).

Ooooh I don't want anybody else.
When I think about you I touch myself.....

Summer 1985 and I was in my element.  I had found the perfect partner and had the perfect job.  The boys all looked up to me for not only support but also for the nurturing they all desperately lacked.  Graham was becoming more and more dependent on my abilities and as a result I was becoming more aware of the realities of Sydney's underworld.

I come across as a hedonistic, sex mad and drug addicted loser.   It's probably a precise description of me but I always had another side.  The intellectual, want to be somebody and do something with my life person.  I wanted to feel not only recognition but eventually have the choices to make something of myself.

I enrolled in a Secretarial Course at East Sydney Technical College at the start of 1986.  This is the same complex whose outer boundary forms part of 'the wall'.  The decision was based upon my relationship with Graham and my abilities to multi-task.  I had dreams of one day becoming a PA to some rich gay client.

The course ran 5 days a week.  From 9am till 3pm, Monday to Friday. It was perfect for me. Close to both home and work and aside from the cost of text books was a free course.  I relished in the surroundings of such a historically important building complex and in the skills being taught.  When I originally enrolled I was one of only 5 boys out of 100 students.  By the end of the first week I was the only boy left.  The teachers, all female, petted me and gave me all the help I needed.  The other students were all young, precocious and rich but below average girls from Sydney's elite Eastern suburbs.

With Matty and I now a permanent couple life was satisfying but my depleted income and the fact that he wasn't working meant I had to start economising.  We were both by now smoking $20 - $40 per day in marijuana, I had rent to pay, food and bills and Matty would only occasionally contribute if it looked like the grass was running out.

I had also inherited my first dog.  A beautiful cocker spaniel puppy who was given to me by one of the girls from college.  Her family had moved into rented premises and weren't allowed to keep pets. 'Nelson' would be the first in a line of dogs for the rest of my life.

Matty would spend most of the day at home and would walk Nelson in the Park.  On my shifts at Brett's, Nelson and Matty would come with me. It was all the family I needed.  A gorgeous, attentive boyfriend and a loyal and loving dog.

Sometime after Easter my landlord sent a letter stating that not only would the rent on the apartment be increasing by a massive $50 per week but that also he would be undertaking major exterior redecoration....faced with building work, noise and a rent that would really stretch me I decided it was time to look for another place.

I had recently re-met an old friend from my 'menswear store' days.  Paul had been the hairdresser in the shop opposite mine and we had been good friends for a couple of years in the early days.  I hadn't seen him for over a year and was really delighted to meet up with him again.

It was to be my first mistake of the year.  He was living in a terrace house in Surry Hills and had just split up with his boyfriend.  He invited Matty and I to move in with him.  Seemed like the perfect idea.  So we moved......

We spent 3 months there listening to him complain about us 'bonging all night long' while he quietly downed two flagons of cheap wine every night and kept rubbing the point in that he was a 'qualified hair designer' while I was just a brothel receptionist and Matty was a 'dole bludger'.

On top of that, even though his small terrace house had an empty dining room he refused to let me put my furniture there as it 'wasn't in keeping' with his very tasteless glass and chrome 1980's style.  I had to keep my furniture outside under the overhanging bedroom.  After a few weeks I returned home to find that his Great Dane dog had eaten my 'Dunlop designer 1960's modular lounge and chewed his way through two coffee tables!

The only good thing to come out of this was that Matty and I became closer and started enjoying regular and satisfying sex.  Paul had played a big part in this, playing up to Matty's need for gratification and like Daisy, telling him that I was a good person who wouldn't use or hurt him - words which will later become very ironic indeed.

We lasted 3 months with Paul before eventually deciding to move out on our own.  Matty had started working for a customs company and with a regular income had bought a second hand car.  We could now afford to live together without the hassle of an extra person clamping our style.

The only difficulty was with the dog.  Very few estate agents had properties where dogs were allowed.  Eventually we settled on a small, run down, Victorian Terrace in Commonwealth St Surry Hills.  This was an area that was close to Central Train Station.  A mix of run down residential terrace housing, failing factories and crumbling warehouses.  Our neighbours were an illicit Chinese Gambling Den, a house full of arguing Lesbians, a Mosque (which was one of the few of it's day in Sydney - so had the 'call to prayer' 5 times a day) and a brewery.

My second big mistake of that year would happen on the day we moved in.  Not having much furniture left after having half of it eaten by the Great Dane, Matty and I drove into Newtown (then still a low class migrant ghetto full of second hand stores) to buy a bed and such like.  After choosing Matty then proceeded to buy a second mattress....

When we got home and started unpacking he chose to tell me that he 'would be taking the second bedroom' - he wasn't gay after all and didn't feel comfortable sharing the same room with me.  What he was really saying was 'thanks for the free ride and I'll hang in as long as you are stupid enough to let me'!

I was devastated.  I felt betrayed, stupid, gullible and used.  But incredibly enough I believed that if I let him stay then things would eventually work out.  I should have told him then and there to get lost.  I was so in love with him, or the idea of being in love with him that I was prepared to accept any sort of chance to stay with him.

To rub salt into the wounds, a few days later he told me that he had invited two work colleagues home for dinner the following Friday night. He even had the gall to tell me that one was a young girl who he was thinking of dating.

Like an idiot I spent hours cleaning the house, preparing dinner and getting ready to play the gracious hostess.  They arrived and not only were they two of the most boring people I had ever met, the girl wasn't even remotely pretty - I felt doubly betrayed and my self esteem took a nose dive.

I got through most of the evening as graciously as my mother had taught me.  Meal over, plates cleared and the talk revolved around their work of which I had not the slightest idea or interest.  I took the opportunity to wash the dishes, clean the kitchen and then quietly retire to my bedroom and leave them to enjoy themselves.

Upstairs in my bedroom I read, smoked dope and read some more.  I fell asleep and sometime around midnight awoke to the crashing sound of my door being kicked in and hitting the wall.

Matty was like a deranged, rabid dog.  Drunk, red faced with anger and hurling abuse at me!?  I had been rude to his friends, I deliberately ignored them, I was a snob.  With no time for explanations he was across the room and dragging me out of bed.  Hitting me over and over again.  Dragging me across the room and out onto the small balcony which overhung the street.

I can still recall his screaming rage as he repeatedly reinforced how rude and obvious I had been with every punch.  Not satisfied he hauled me, by now screaming, to the railing and held me by the throat as he proceeded to lift me off my feet and try and thrown me over the balcony.

Only my terrified grip on the rails and the intervention of the girls next door saved me from being impaled on the wrought iron railings below which formed our front fence.  With the threat from the girls of calling the police Matty eventually released me.  I staggered back into my room only to see him coming towards me with his arms outstretched.  Fearing the worst I instinctively grabbed the first thing at hand.

This was my treasured 'Nigger Lady' art deco lamp.  I had bought it as one of my first buys at Paddington Markets.  It was beautiful, classic, expensive at the time and had lasted me through 3 relationships.  With a defensive scream I picked it up and swung it at him with all my force, knocking him unconscious.

If only for a few minutes it was enough to bring him to his dazed senses.  Emotionally and physically drained we both sat there in stunned silence trying to work out what had just happened.

He should have gone to hospital but insisted  he was all right.  He was all apologies and tears.  He didn't know what got into him, it would never happen again, he loved me.......I told him if he ever touched me again like that it would be over.  After years of beltings from my father and the boys at school I had finally hit back - and it felt good.

We slept together that night and he moved back into my room.  Sex wasn't every night but we were a pair.  He admitted that he still wanted to see the girl from work but would only see her at her place once a week.  I was stupidly accepting of that.  I had made a promise to myself that as long as he didn't hurt me again physically then I could accept his choices.

Was it blind love?  Was it vanity? Was it my fear of being alone?  Was it my need to have a strong person in my life?  Maybe it was all these reasons.  At any time I could have told him to leave.  Any number of the boys from Brett's would have happily moved in with me.  I only wanted to be with Matty.

It would be nearly 12 months before he would assault me again.  But by then I was so infatuated with him and so dependant upon my need for drugs that my earlier promise went out the window....but many other things would happen in the time between.

LOVE DAZE.....(part 1)

I walk into an empty room
and suddenly my heart goes boom.
There's an orchestra of angels
Playing with my heart....

 Rewind a few months.  I'm still a working boy and it's early August 1985. I'd done the Friday night shift and slept over, ready to do the Saturday shift. I remember it had been a busy and late night and we hadn't got to sleep until at least around 2am.

Sometime just after 6.30am Tony and I are awoken by the sounds of loud laughter and talk from downstairs.  Coming down we are greeted by Graham and the most gorgeous boy I'd ever seen.

It is as if it were yesterday.  Graham wired to the eyeballs in the kitchen and this beautiful young boy sitting there.  Blonde hair, and eyes as blue as the bright blue jumper he was wearing.  Graham was showing off his latest pick up.  A boy he had picked up at the 'wall' the previous night.

The 'wall' is a section of Daringhurst Rd just as it meets Oxford St.  Defined by the sandstone 3 metre high convict built  wall built in the 1830's as the colonies early jail.  It was the place where dubious, mainly drug addicted street boys plied their trade late at night.  The jail is still there and at the time had been turned into a technical college - where not long after I would enrol.

Graham was in his element.  Showing off his 'new boy', wired to the max and unusually for him happy to dole out cocaine and allow us to sit outside smoking grass.  It was early morning so there was not much chance of any clients ringing the doorbell.

I have never believed in love  at first sight, but for me it was definitely a case of 'lust at first sight'. From the reactions of the boy, he had the same feelings towards me.  Tall, well built, blonde, innocent and handsome we seemed to hit it off straight away.  So much so that after an hour and a half Graham packed me off to open Diamond Lil's. I had no doubts that it was to get me away from this boy.

That would be the last I see of him I thought.   2 hours later and he suddenly appeared at Diamond Lil's. Keen to carry on our conversation, get stoned and spend the next few hours chatting with me.

It turned out that  he had just arrived from New Zealand and was living in a backpackers hostel in Kings Cross.  He told me that he wasn't gay but occasionally worked at the wall to earn living money.   Eventually I was called back to see a client at Brett's and we left each other with the promise of meeting up later that evening at Patch's nightclub.

I was infatuated with him from the moment I saw him.  I was on tenter hooks all day waiting to meet up with him later that evening.  I went, I waited and waited some more... by 3am it was clear I had been stood up so I decided to go back home.  I was still living in my Rushcutter's Bay apartment so the quickest and straightest route was to walk up Oxford St and along Darlinghurst Rd.

I had barely turned the corner when this boy appeared out of the shadows. It took me quite a bit of convincing to get him to come home with me as he was adamant that he was only 'gay for pay'.   I didn't care I was happy to have him back to my place and continue the evening getting stoned and whatever happened would happen. 

So we spent the night together, getting stoned, listening to music, talking and it was obvious (at least to me) that we could be at least good friends, if nothing more.  We slept together but didn't have sex.  One thing he did tell me was that he found me attractive, but just wasn't sure about his sexuality.  The other thing he told me was that he was 18, turning 19 in December.

We spent the following day together.  I cooked breakfast, we walked in the park, went back to the apartment and got stoned and then stopped at a restaurant in Kings Cross for lunch (all at my expense) before I walked him back to his hostel.

He had my phone number.  I worked on Sunday night and Monday day and Monday evening he was calling me.  I invited him around later in the evening, promising that one of my girlfriends was also coming so he needn't feel obligated.  I cooked us a delicious dinner and the three of partied late into the evening.  My friend Daisy Crocket (she was a Malcolm Mclaren fan and wore 'Buffalo Gal' style clothing, complete with a coonskin cap) slept on the couch and Matty and I again slept together, platonically.

This pattern continued for about two weeks until Daisy convinced him that I was a 'decent' person and the best option for him would be to move in with me, get out of the hostel, and have not only a friend but also someone who wasn't out to seduce him....not exactly true but I was entranced enough not to let that be an obstacle for the time being.

Matty was everything I was looking for.  Although younger than me, he was bigger, stronger, beautiful and charming.  Everyone loved him, but no one more than I.  He moved into my life, my apartment and my circle of friends.  Everyone was jealous and everyone was charmed by him.

The first night we had sex is still entrenched into my mind.  It was the same night I had been attacked and nearly killed by the client.  After returning to Brett's Boys he was there waiting for me.  In front of everyone he grabbed me, held me close and then gave me a long, securing, passionate kiss.  We went home and tentatively clung to each other......he undressed and said it was okay......I can still recall how nervous he was.  Shaking at my every touch, eventually calming and responding to my every desire and need.

He was to become my Knight in shining armour....he was to become my nightmare......

PARLOR DAZE.....(part 3).

This is the happy house
and we're happy here in our happy house.
We've come to play in our happy house.
And waste a day in our happy house.
We're all quite sane.....

So much happened in such a short time period.  Through good days and bad days, busy days and quiet days we lived in our own world of sex and drugs, but  above all friendship.

After my 'incident' with the client Graham gave me an extra job.  Every Friday I would start work at 8am cleaning the Tranny Parlor and then walk around to his private house and spend another 3 hours cleaning and ironing for him.

It was here that I got to know Graham  really well.  His lifestyle, his other 'businesses' and his vulnerability.  He was a weak man living in a tough world.  My shift at his house was always the same.  I would arrive to find him cutting up his weekly shipment of cocaine (of which he would promptly give me 2 or 3 lines) and then start with the ironing, the dusting, the vacuuming and then clean the bathroom.  Every week was the same and every week Tony would be with him - Tony was the strong man in the business.

The house had secret caches of drugs hidden everywhere.  I could easily have helped myself to any of these but never did.  I knew Graham was trying to look after me so I made sure I did the right thing by him.

So I was amazed one afternoon, high as a kite, when a truckload of police arrived at Graham's with a search warrant for drugs.  I denied any knowledge of Graham dealing in drugs and was really amused when the police 'searched' the house and returned with the remains of a joint which they said they found in Graham's bedroom.  Graham never smoked grass but having been tipped off the DEA had to return some evidence.  Graham was paying the right people!

I also started to get given more responsibilities at Brett's Boys.  Often Tony would be busy with Graham and I would take over all or part of his reception shift.  On other days I would be called in on my days off to be the receptionist at Diamond Lil's.

I was part of a big happy family.  Here I would meet my best friend Brett who would become my closest companion.   A vibrant optimistic and loyal country boy from the outback.  We became a team.  Betty and Constance!  In the times ahead we would share many fun times, comfort each other at other times and end up running the whole show (that will come later).

One night Michael, the receptionist, came in really stoned and plonked himself down on the glass top coffee table. Crash!  He went right through it and ended up on the floor in a pile of broken glass.  Betty and I used two broomsticks to hold him still while one of the other boys swept up the glass before we could get him standing and attend to his thankfully minor cuts.

Another night one of the boys crashed back into the parlour after a 3 hour session with a client which had obviously involved lots of alcohol and drugs.  The poor boy made it to the back courtyard before passing out. One of the drags decided to undress him, place his hand onto his cock and blob yoghurt in a trail up his stomach and chest........he was still in the same position at 10am the following morning when he woke up - with a cheering crowd of us laughing and taking polaroids.

Working the tranny parlour was always fun.  The drags always had the best drugs which they would share in abundance.  The street girls and their clients were always a good source of amusement too.  Each room had an intercom so we could buzz them when their time was up.

Most of the girls were junkies and their clients were often drunk so there were many occasions when we would find either the girl or the client passed out in the room - sometimes both.  Then it was always a dare for one of us to go upstairs and throw a jug of water over them....and run back downstairs like hell!  The girls or clients would eventually come down dazed and demanding to know what had happened.   Dripping wet, we would all sit there and deny all knowledge. Often having the temerity to demand an extra $5 for going overtime - this would become our 'grass money' which we would save and then  buy another stick to smoke during the night.

On many occasions we would have to drag some passed out street girl down the back lane and dump them on the street corner a few houses away.  There were a few occasions when we were pretty sure the girl (or  boy) had overdosed then we would make an anonymous phone call to the emergency services and hope the ambulance arrived  in time....

One of the funniest events was when I answered the door to find the police holding one of our boys.  They were explaining to me that the boy had stolen a car and crashed it and that as he was under age and had given our address as his home address where his parents were (I'm quite sure they knew it was a brothel).  Before I could even think of an answer, Betty came running down the hall and loudly told the police officer 'Never seen him in my life before Sergeant'! Then abruptly slammed the door shut in the police  officers face.

We never saw the boy or the police again.

Over time, both Graham's and Tony's involvement in the business lessened to the point where most of our contact was little more than 10 minutes a day when Graham or Tony would come to collect the daily takings.  One day Graham announced that he had bought a 'girls parlour' out in the suburbs and that Tony would be running it.  To my surprise, I was not only offered the full time position of receptionist, but given Tony's shifts.  This actually meant that I had the full running of the parlour.  From rostering shifts and employing new boys to being in charge of the daily takings which I would take to Graham's house once or twice a day depending on the amount of money.  I was even given a key to let myself in and deposit the money into his safe.....

Life was taking on a new turn.

DEATHLY DAZE.....(part 2)

Although my days at Brett's Boys were some of the best times of my life, there were a few times that they became my worst.

As I related earlier, I would make a near fatal mistake in 'reading' a client and it was only my sheer determination to live, combined with a few other factors, which ultimately saved me from an early death.

Graham had sent me on an out call.  The client lived in the Sydney beach suburb of Manly, or rather had an apartment there which I felt certain was used only for his dalliances with boys.  Being a Saturday night I went with one of our drivers, rather than taking a taxi.  Arriving at the apartment which was located on the 10th floor of the building I was greeted by a very drunk and very large middle aged man.

As per custom we always rang in as soon as we had arrived at the clients place.  This was for both safety and timing reasons.  The client was not particularly pleased with me as he had asked for a 'straight looking, muscular boy'.  Graham, as usual, had sent me and told me to 'act the part'.  I apologised to the client and explained that it wasn't my fault but would be happy to return provided he paid the money for the driver.  The client softened at this and decided to keep me, told me to ring back and say that he would have me for 2 hours.

Cleverly I asked for the money in advance, which he gave me, and we spent the next two hours drinking whiskey, getting naked (and not much more) and then when the whiskey ran out, walking down to the nearest liquor store to buy another bottle.  When the time was up I rang the parlour to let them know I was ready and they beeped the driver who was waiting outside for me.  Graham asked me to remind the client that he still owed $200 for a previous call and that I was to bring that money with me.

When I asked the client for this money he suddenly went into a blind rage.  Before I knew what was happening he had punched me in the face, knocking me back  down onto the bed, then jumped on top of me and started to strangle me.

I managed to bring my knee up hard into his testicles and jump from under him.  I was desperately trying to reach the door, but he caught up with me and pushed me down the small flight of stairs leading from the bedroom to the lounge / kitchen area.  Then he pulled me up and pushed me straight towards the balcony sliding doors.  It was a small 'juliet balcony' less than a metre wide.  He was going to throw me over the edge!  

How I managed to stop him, I really don't know.  I remember desperately holding onto the wall and the side of the glass door as he repeatedly screamed and tried to push me out and over the balcony.  I guess being so drunk he was not as in control as he thought and I managed to push back against him, loosening his hold on me.  I hit the floor and crawled between his legs, again making a dash for the door but he was behind me in a flash.

The next few minutes were like a scene from a Charlie Chaplin movie.  Me running into the small kitchenette and leaping over the breakfast bar with him behind me.  I managed to do this 3 or 4 times before he stopped and double backed on me again pushing me down onto the ground.

On the wall he had an ornamental curved sword which he grabbed for and started swinging at me.  Using my legs I kept kicking him, trying to keep him and the sword away from me.  Finally I managed again to get a good blow to his balls and ran for the stairs.  He was on me in a flash, the sword swinging closer and closer with every stroke as I desperately tried to push him back using my legs.

Two miracles happened.  I heard the driver outside banging on the door and calling my name.  By this time I was screaming wildly, death by sword was inches away.  Then with an almighty crash the driver kicked the door open, pushed the client over the top of me and grabbed me by my shirt collar and dragged me out the door.

We went straight to the local police station where I spent the next hour telling a not very interested police officer my story.  It would only be later when Graham rang the police that they would press charges against the client.  For the first time ever, Graham, not only admitted his mistake in sending me, but also gave me a mogadon pill and let me sit out the back of the parlour with the other boys and get stoned.

The second time I felt sure I was about to be killed actually happened with one of the boys.  Funnily enough this was one of the boys I was closest too.  He was a big, muscular, rough looking boy but with a heart of gold or so I thought.  At the time he was probably one of my closest friends and constant smoking partner.  He used to call me 'little buddy'.

I was on the phone talking to a client (at this stage I had been promoted to receptionist by Graham) when the door  bell rang and down the hallway came the boy.  Whatever drugs he had taken had turned him into a raging lunatic.  He was yelling and punching the walls as he stumbled his way into the kitchen where our phones were.

Because it was him, I thought I would be able to calm him down.  With my hand over the receiver I abruptly and loudly said ' Allen, shut up, I'm on the phone to a client'.  Allen lunged at me and with all his force grabbed my head and smashed it into the side of the counter. Not once, not twice, but three times.  I was dazed and bleeding profusely.

It took 3 other boys to pull him off me but he was still screaming at me and trying to get at me.  I managed to run through the back door and jump the fence into the lane way where I headed for Diamond Lil's, screaming at my friend Brett to lock the door as I ran inside.  

Brett locked and bolted the door but the next thing we knew Allen kicked the door in with one almighty crash, he was holding a kitchen knife in his hand!  I made a rush up the hallway for the front door but was not quick enough.  As I reached the door Allen had me by the hair with one hand and as he swung his other hand back with the knife, unbelievably Brett grabbed the knife from him.

Allen didn't even register this and just swung at me.  I instinctively ducked and Allen's fist went straight through one of the door panels.  With Brett bravely trying to hold Allen back, I squeezed myself through the jagged opening in the door, my shoulders getting raked by splinters, blood everywhere and made it out onto the street.  Amazingly there was a taxi in the street which I managed to flag down and jump into.

I went straight back to my new terrace house.  Shock and horror etched all over me.  I even pushed the fridge against the front door, terrified that Allen would come after me.  I spent the next few hours absolutely terrified and getting stoned in between bouts of uncontrollable shaking and sobbing.

Later in the day, Graham rang me and asked me to come back to the parlour as Allen had 'recovered' and was mortified at what he had tried to do to his 'little buddy'!   It wasn't easy to do it, but with all the boys and Graham assuring me that Allen was truly sorry I approached him in the room alone.  He was crying and trying to apologize.......eventually we fell into each others arms.  Until the day he left he looked after me, brought me grass to smoke and wouldn't let any
one say a bad word against me.

The third time was so unreal that it was actually funny.  Graham had asked Brett and I to go over to Diamond Lil's (the Tranny Parlour) as both girls had been called away on an out call.  Brett was sitting at the back reception area, where the street girls and their clients paid there $5 room hire, and I was in the front room cleaning.  The trannies were notoriously lazy when it came to cleaning so I decided to give the place a good going over.

Over the noise of the vacuum cleaner I heard the door bell ring.  This was unusual as most clients came through the back entrance.  By the time I had switched the vacuum off and opened the front door, Brett was already halfway up the hallway.

Standing at the door was a very desperate looking junky guy holding a gun.  He had it pointed straight at me and said something along the lines of 'give me your money'.....(with the street girls calling all day, plus the tranny clients, it wasn't unusual to have quite a few hundred dollars in the 'till' at any time.  I totally froze and the next thing I know Brett pushes past me, tells the guy to 'fuck off' and with one hand slams the door shut and with the other hand pushes me and himself onto the floor.  BANG!  The bullet goes straight through the door and down the hallway where we eventually found it embedded in the back wall of the kitchen.

My next encounters with near death would come both unexpectedly and from the person I least expected.