DARKEST DAZE....(part 2).

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

There are times in your life which are forever burned into your memory.  That night would be one of them.  After the beating and humiliation I had to sit there all night with Matty, following his every order like a dog.  Surprisingly we had a good night client wise and for every client that came in Matty would order me to mull up another stick, go down to the bottle shop and buy a bottle of whiskey and order a pizza delivery.


Any money we made that night was either smoked, drunk or eaten and that was including our partners profits.  

Around 10.30pm Matty was so off his face that he went upstairs to bed.  I took the opportunity of taking the dog out for a short walk and when I returned the 'boy' who had comforted me was sitting in the kitchen with another bowl of marijuana which he offered to share with me.  I remember bursting into tears and the boy telling me that I was a fool.  That Matty didn't love me and that he was wrecking the business.

Around 11.30pm our partner arrived.  This was unusual and I immediately realised that he hadn't come for a social visit.  He asked the boys to go home and then asked my about my bruising.  When I told him I had fallen down the stairs he grabbed me and said 'don't lie to me'...Then he looked at the books and asked for his share of the night's takings.  Before I could even think of a response he told me to go and wake Matty up and bring him downstairs.

Long story short, he calmly sat us down and said he knew that we had not only been spending the profits on drugs but he also knew that Matty had been physically beating me.  In his defence I finally explained to him that Matty had been diagnosed as HIV and that his actions were a result of his trying to cope.

Steven (our partner) put it clear and simple.  There would be no more drugs left on the premises.  He would visit twice a day and sell drugs to the boys and Matty and I were not allowed to buy any drugs until we had paid back the money we owed.  He also gave Matty a warning that he wasn't to physically touch me again.

Matty accepted full responsibility for his wrong-doings.  He apologized to Steven and promised that he would not harm me ever again.  He even cried and told Steven that he 'couldn't cope with his illness' and he 'couldn't understand why he abused me when he got upset'.  Steven left convinced that Matty would be true to his word.  

Without saying anything to me Matty then went upstairs to his room.  I was terrified.  I had seen the look in Matty's face and knew that he blamed me totally for the night's actions.  The 'boy' had left me about half a bowl of marijuana in the 'outside shed'.  I waited for a while and then went upstairs to my room to smoke it.  I had a big heavy 1930's armchair in the room which I pushed against the door to prevent Matty from coming in.

So I sat in my room, terrified, humiliated and wondering what had happened to the boy who could face anything the world threw at him.  I had been the victim of school yard bullying, domestic violence, physical violence and rape. I had always stood up to my bullies or found a way to compensate and at the same time keep my sense of self worth.

I had stood shoulder to shoulder with some of Sydney's toughest underworld figures and commanded respect from nearly every boy in the game.  Now I was a dejected, pitiful person totally dependant upon the whims of the boy I thought I was in love with.  

At around 4am, the drugs finished and me beginning to doze off, there was a loud banging on my door.  I thought I was safe.  The chair was too heavy to push and I had the option escaping via the balcony and running to god knows where.

What I had forgotten was that I had left my dog downstairs.  Matty quietly informed me that if I didn't open the door that he would kill my dog.  I believed him.  I opened the door to find Matty holding my dog in a stranglehold, the dog was quivering in terror.  The next few hours would be the lowest in my life.

I was punched repeatedly in the stomach, my darling dog rushing to protect me, was kicked down the stairs.  At this point I gave up and let Matty do whatever he wanted.  Verbally abused, blamed for ruining his life, he dragged me by the hair downstairs and threw me onto the bathroom floor before kicking me countless times in the stomach.

Unable to move or barely breathe he then pulled me up by the hair and demanded that I begin scrubbing the bathroom tiles with my toothbrush.  In shock and possibly with a little bit of 'fighting spirit' in me I refused.  Only to be smashed into the wall and held there while Matty lit a cigarette and began to push the burning end of the cigarette onto my stomach and chest.  After the first few burns I stopped feeling anything.  I was numb with pain and senselessly allowed him to continue.  This was even more frustrating for him and it was then that he again threatened to kill my dog.

I remember blindly apologizing to him over and over again and starting to scrub the tiles.  For the first five minutes he yelled and abused me for not working fast enough.  He punched me again and again in the kidneys.  I worked faster and faster.

Eventually he left me with a warning that if the bathroom wasn't spotless by the time he woke up he would kill both me and my dog.  I carried on, like an Auschwitz worker, terrified, tortured and numb for at least an hour before I could take no more. 

I couldn't take my dog with me, I had only one place to go, to Steven's.  I didn't have enough money for a taxi and had to walk over a kilometre to Central Bus Station to get a bus there.  I realised that I had to take the chance - it was either my dog's life of mine.  So bruised, battered, burnt and totally in numb shock I literally crawled through the early morning light and eventually got on a bus to take me to Steven's.......

DARKEST DAZE...(part 1).

Where lies your heart?
It's not there in the buckskin, baby.
It's not there in the gin
That makes you laugh long and loud.

You're a coward, James.
You're running away from humanity.
You're running away from reality.
It won't be funny when they rat-a-tat-tat you down.

Our period of profitability and good times lasted no longer than 3 months.  Matty, after his initial illness, seemed to recover quickly but nevertheless gave up his job and went on sickness benefits.  He refused to do any driving jobs and his only source of income was his fortnightly sickness benefits.

On top of that he spent up to 12 hours a day in his room sleeping.  He would go to bed before midnight and refuse to leave his room before midday.  Even this was only because our partner generally arrived around 1pm to spend a few hours going over the takings and getting stoned with us.  Generally he would fill the first bowl and then we would take turns buying off him to keep the party going.

We were making reasonable money but with Matty now on a lower pay and refusing to do any driving jobs our share of the profits was rapidly diminishing.  Instead of changing his lifestyle and following the doctors advice he seemed intent on doing everything he could to make his health even worse.  During his waking hours he insisted the mull bowl be constantly full.  He began drinking and started popping pills (downers) constantly.  This was on top of the medication he was prescribed.

Consequently he began to have rapid mood swings.  The slightest thing would set him into a rage.  Mostly this was aimed at me, but quite often at the workers.  We had to be on tenterhooks from the moment he went to bed till the moment he woke up. No longer could I wake up at 7am and start cleaning the house or put the washing on, the few times I did he came down and physically assaulted me regardless of who was there.

Generally he would grab me around the throat and push me against the wall, verbally abusing and threatening me, but occasionally he would lash out and punch me.  The fear and humiliation became a daily phobia, never knowing what to expect from him and never knowing how to act as it seemed no matter how hard I tried to follow his orders he would tell me that I had yet again failed and the beatings and verbal abuse would start again.

My only solace was the early mornings.  I would wake early and quietly do as much cleaning as I could.  At the time one of the drag queens was staying with us, sleeping on the lounge.  She wasn't a marijuana smoker but would always buy a 'stick' so that I could have a quiet smoke each morning.  Then I would take my beautiful dog out for a walk enjoying the peace and solitude of the amazing suburb we lived in.

One morning I returned and Matty had woken up early.  Seeing the half full mull bowl he accused me of stealing profits from him.  When Tamara (the drag queen) tried to tell him that she had paid for the grass and shared it with me he smacked her in the face sending her across the room.  Then he laid into me, with each punch telling me how pathetic I was getting people to lie to protect me.

Tamara left that day...I never saw her again, but she was quick to pass the word around and from that day we never had another queen apply for a job.  Matty's anger left as quickly as it came.  He sat and smoked the remaining grass while he 'made me' finish the house cleaning.

At this point I am sure many of you are wondering why I didn't just walk out?  I was in love with Matty.  I was dependent on drugs.  I was on a good behaviour bond.  Matty was constantly threatening me that he would inform the police, that he would tell my parents what I was doing (they had no idea that I was running a brothel), that he would harm my parents, that he would kill my dog.  At the same time he was constantly re-enforcing his belief that he only hit me because I was doing the wrong thing - that I wasn't following his orders. 

I was in constant fear not only of his violence but of the consequences that might follow.  I could be thrown in jail.  My parents would be harmed or simply cut me out of their lives.  My beautiful and loyal dog would be harmed.  I would be out on the streets with no money and even worse no drugs! 

After any violent session he would be all full of apologies (while insisting that I only had to do what he asked to stop him from getting angry) and follow it up with a night of romance and love making.  I was hooked in more ways than one.

When the owner of our rented house turned up one morning and told us that he knew we were operating a brothel and demanded we pay him double the original rental price we were stunned.  He had every right as our lease was strictly for 'residential purposes' and as we were running a business he could legally give us one week's notice.

$150 a week was not an issue with our partner.  He was still making a profit on top of the drugs he was selling to our workers.  For us it was a calamity.  We were already living from day to day and an extra $75 a week was almost two days without smoking.  Our partner had already made it clear that he would not accept credit so any drugs we smoked had to be paid for on the spot.

With Matty's insatiable demand for drugs and refusal to do any driving jobs, I was forced into a corner.  I was working as a prostitute, which didn't make the other boys particularly happy, and often rigging the books and sharing the takings with the boys.  Never knowing if our partner would walk in and find out.  He was a nice guy, but definitely not someone you wanted to cross.  I was in constant fear of being caught out by him or not providing for Matty and getting a beating.

Then Matty started drinking more and more.  A bottle of whiskey a day which at that time cost around $20.  When he was drunk he would get even more abusive and want to smoke more and more.  We started dipping into our partner's profits to keep smoking, all the while I was desperately afraid of being caught out by our partner.  So I began to rig the books even more.  The boys would get $40 and I would get $10 and nothing would be recorded.

When the drink and marijuana wasn't enough for Matty he started on 'downers'.  Back at Brett's Boys they had been easily available.  All the drag queens had a constant supply.  We had no queens working for us and so Matty would send me out to the doctors to get a prescription. This worked for a while, until one day after visiting 3 different doctors who all refused me, the fourth not only refused me but threatened to call the police and also to inform all the doctors in the area about me.

I had no choice but to return home with no pills, all the while hoping that we had made some money from clients and could pay for marijuana and another bottle of whiskey to keep Matty happy and me both relaxed and safe from another bashing.

Of course when I returned we had had no clients and Matty was furious.  In front of the boys he grabbed me around the throat and slammed my head into the wall.  Despite the boys trying to stop him, he easily pushed them aside and then kneed me in the stomach. I fell to the floor where he kicked me in the ribs and then did a knee drop onto my face.  Only the utter humiliation of being so helpless in front of the boys who had once held me in such high esteem stopped me from feeling the pain of my cheek bones splintering.

Once done it was over as quickly as it had started.  I was left to crawl to the bathroom and tend to my wounds while Matty waited for me to come out and 'mull up' for him.  We had no money to pay for it but I wasn't going to argue.  I was much happier to face our partner than go through another beating.  My only solace was that one of the boys came and sat with us (the other boys hid in the lounge) and bought a stick to throw into the bowl.

While we sat and smoked, pretending that nothing had happened, the boy all the while kept his leg (under the table) against mine in silent support.  I don't even remember his name now but I can still picture him and am forever thankful to him for being there for me.

Later that night life would change yet again.....

DARK DAZE / CHANGING DAZE

When I'm stuck with a day that's grey and lonely
I just stick up my chin and grin and say oh

The sun will come out tomorrow
So you got to hang on 'til tomorrow, come what may!
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow
You're only a day away

I guess that's how I'd always lived my life and thankfully I always would.  With Matty facing a death sentence and me facing a prison sentence how else could I cope?  Yes, drugs got me through, but underlying all the calamities was a sense that something better was waiting.

 

 

Matty was continuously sick and after a month of his HIV diagnosis gave up his job.  This didn't make it any easier for me as he offered no help with running the business, only caring that there were drugs in the bowl whenever he wanted them.

So I was left to run the business.  Answer the phone calls, clean the house, do the washing, walk the dog, do the shopping, cook the dinner and ensure that drugs were always on hand. I started seeing clients again in order to earn extra cash, quite often aware that whilst I was upstairs doing the business, Matty would be downstairs letting the phone ring out.  It was only when our partner/drug dealer was there that Matty would get active and give the impression that he was working.

 

 

My trial date was fast approaching and I honestly don't know how I kept myself together.  My very expensive solicitor was telling me that at best I could look forward to was two years in prison, but I would be put in a protection wing.  That really didn't offer much comfort.

Eventually the big day arrived.  We drove down to Canberra in the morning with my parents following behind.  On the way I popped two Mogadon and we smoked two joints - there was no way I could face the reality of what was about to happen.

Strangely arriving at the Supreme Court of Australia, I was met by the prosecuting police officer who told me to be positive and things wouldn't be as bad as I had expected.  This was the last person I though would offer me comfort.

 

 

Even more strange was that when my convictions were read out the amount of drugs I had originally been charged with possessing had dropped from 27 grams to 11 grams!  The block of hash was still included and constituted the most damning part of my charges.  In a haze I stood and listened as the charges were read out, the police gave their statements and I was asked if I still pleaded guilty to the charges.

When I answered in the affirmative the judge sentenced me to two years hard labour at Berrima Correction Centre.  I was in a daze and didn't hear the rest of his decision.  It wasn't until my mother hugged me that I realized that somehow I had been given a reprieve.  The sentence had been re-imposed with a one year good behaviour bond!  Apparently this was largely due to the letter of recommendation from my mother's friend (still at that time one of the leading ministers in parliament) and the fact that Matty had submitted his medical records and a letter stating that I was his sole carer.

I had no conditions other than that I be of good behaviour for twelve months or otherwise the original sentence would be put into effect immediately.  The sun had come out!

 

Unexpectedly the sun came out in more ways than one.  In the weeks after my trial the demolition work on the neighbouring houses stopped and the rebuilding began.  Luckily for us the workers started at our end and moved from house to house so gradually the construction noise grew less and less.  Then our 'deranged' neighbours on the other side of us were evicted.  Admittedly in the first week they moved out we were inundated with hoards of mice, rats, cockroaches and fleas which we had to deal with by calling in the fumigators and closing down for a day.

 

This coincided with a sudden influx of 'new' boys wanting jobs.  Actually none of them were new - they were all ex Brett's Boys workers and friends.  I don't exactly know what happened but as I had expected with Colin in charge the place had started falling apart and the boys were desperate both for work and to get away from Brett's.

Even better was that quite a few of them came armed with phone lists of regular clients, something which I hadn't had the opportunity of getting and business started booming.  It was still mainly outcalls and weekend work but we were suddenly and happily beginning to make a profit and I had some support from my friends who were only too happy to pitch in and help with the running of the business. 

 

Our partner was delighted - not only was he making money after 6 months but he was also getting his former profits by selling marijuana tothe new boys. With no neighbours on either side of us we put up a tin covered extension at the back of the bathroom where we could not only smoke without the clients knowing but where we could also hear the phone ringing and door bell. It was almost like the old (new) Brett's Boys.

This period of profit and 'back to the good old days' was only to last for another 3 months.  Matty's sickness and coping strategies, combined with our landlord finding out that we were running a brothel would lead to the inevitable and traumatic crunch that always seemed to find me when I was 'at the top'.......

DARK DAZE...(part 4).

Out of hospital and six weeks before the cast on my hand was removed.  Thankfully I was eligible for 'sickness benefits' which allowed us to continue paying the rent on our house and buy food but not much more.

During that time I began searching for a new rental which we could use as our new business.  With Matty working and my drug dealer 'leaving it up to me' to choose the right premises I spent nearly every day visiting real estate agents and combing the classifieds for the 'right place'.

Eventually I found it, or at least I thought I had.  A beautiful late Victorian detached house located in the suburb of Summer Hill, about 6km away from the city.  It was everything we had been looking for.  The first/last house in the street, with 3 downstairs reception rooms and kitchen plus 3 upstairs bathrooms and bathroom.

To add to it's suitability it was hedged on both sides providing total privacy from the neighbours and directly opposite was a warehouse which fronted the adjoining street.  A driveway led from the front to a garage which had been turned into a 'rumpus room' complete with a toilet and shower - the perfect place for the workers to hang out and for us to smoke without the clients being aware.  The only downside was the location - still considered some distance from the 'gay scene' and the fact that the downstairs rooms were an abomination of period styles which clashed in every room.

At that time the 'gay scene' was still considered to be happening only in the eastern suburbs which was true for clubs and partying, but both Brett's and the only other gay brothel were both in nearby suburbs west of the city.

Matty was happy with the place but our partner (drug dealer) was not.  He wanted something closer to the city.  It was impossible to convince him that not only was the place perfect in terms of privacy and potential, but also that at least half of Brett's regular clients were living in the area, plus a great many lived even further west so this was an ideal location.  He didn't say no but he was adamant that we keep looking for a closer to the city location.

So we submitted an application form and with a promise of being notified of within a week we continued looking at dozens of houses. Maybe things would have been different if it hadn't been for my damaged hand, still in a cast, which started getting painful a few days later.

Strangely enough it was not where the tendons had been torn and repaired but in my fingers.  After a few days not only was the pain becoming unbearable but an awful smell was emanating from my hand.  On Friday morning I returned to the doctors only to be told that the cast had been fitted without 'spacers' between my fingers.  This had caused my fingers to push together and with no air space I had developed gangrene between my fingers.  Eeeeuuuw!

I was immediately put back into the hospital and on an antibiotic drip after being examined by the doctors. Being the weekend, my attending doctor was not returning to work until Monday and so I stayed, alone and unvisited by Matty until lunchtime on Monday, where the doctor assured me the gangrene was arrested and my cast was removed.

On returning home I had to wait until 6pm before Mattty returned from work with the news that he and my drug dealer had signed a lease on a house in Glebe and that we could visit the following morning.  I was really anxious about  setting up a parlour in Glebe - the same suburb as Brett's Boys.  After my 'home invasion' by Louise I had no desire to upset her anymore.

That evening my dealer arrived and assured me that the place was perfect and that he would have no problems dealing with Louise if the need arose.  I had no doubt that he was capable and began looking forward to our following day's visit.

I had misgivings from the moment we drove into the street.  Not only was the house in the poorer area of the suburb, where half the residents were in public housing, but the building itself was tiny and run-down and offered no client privacy at all.

The houses fronted the street with only a metre between the footpath and the front door.  Inside the house was a typical victorian working cottage - 2 up and 2 down as they call them.  The front door opened directly into the lounge dining area which was no more than 4 metres wide by 5 metres long and separated by a staircase which lead to the upstairs rooms.  At the rear of the house was a tiny kitchen leading through to the tacked on bathroom.  The rooms upstairs were equally tiny and offered no noise protection either from the neighbours or other rooms in the house.

Clients would have to walk in directly off the street in full view of all the neighbours and as the downstairs area was so small, the reception area would have to be the middle bedroom upstairs - it was so small that a double bed wouldn't have fitted in.  As for using the bathroom, clients would then have to walk back downstairs and through the kitchen in full view of both the workers and anyone in the kitchen - which became the only room where we could smoke dope.

With no option we went ahead and started advertising to clients and also for workers.  I came up with the idea of offering the workers a 60/40 cut instead of the usual 50/50 cut and we had a flood of boys and trannies within the first week.

The clients too were also interested.  Our first week was unbelievably busy with both in calls and out calls.  Then reality hit.  The downstairs rooms had sea-grass matting as floor coverings which were infested with fleas.  The clients could be heard grunting and groaning and even worse our neighbours were a family on welfare who had mental issues and spent their waking hours screaming at each other which could  be heard throughout the house.

As the weeks went by our in calls became fewer and fewer and most of our jobs were out calls which happened in the evenings.  We ripped up the flooring and polished the floor boards.  We put up bookshelves to separate the lounge area so clients could walk through without having to see all the workers, we painted the walls and did everything we could to make the place more welcoming and private.

All the while we were spending our days in the kitchen smoking ourselves senseless to alleviate the boredom and both Matty and I and the workers began running up credit with our dealer.  While we were busy it didn't pose a problem with him but as we grew quieter and quieter he began limiting credit to only Matty and I.  The workers soon realised that they could get better money at the other parlours and so began a cycle of new workers who lasted for a few weeks before moving onto other parlours where better money could be had.

It was a total failure,  Even more so when the adjoining terrace houses to our left were bought by the government and earmarked for 'public housing'.  Within 3 months of starting the business we were in the middle of a gigantic demolition and reconstruction project which made daytime work practically impossible due to both the construction noise and the constant cat calls from the workers whenever any of our staff left the house.  The clients began avoiding us in droves.

3 months in and we were going nowhere.  Louise didn't have to do anything except sit back and laugh.  Our workers were desperate and looked like it and half our clients would walk in and straight back out after seeing what we had to offer.  I'm sure that we actually helped Louise and Brett's boys as it was only 10 minutes walk away and our clients most likely headed straight there..

We were still optimistic and in our drug filled haze we truly believed we could make a go of it.  That all started to change dramatically when Matty began having sick days from work and at my urging went to the doctors.

5 months before I had caught him shooting up at Brett's Boys and knew then that something bad was going to happen as a result.  Matty returned from the doctors saying they had given him an HIV test and the results would be back within a fortnight...both of us knew what the tests would reveal.

Sure enough, two weeks later, Matty's results showed that he was HIV positive and had been so for around 6 months. Stupidly I reminded him of the 'shooting up incident' and his response was to beat me senseless - until I apologised.  Given his traumatic circumstances I believed that I had deserved his violent reaction and was soon consoling him and promising to stay with him and look after him, no matter what it took.

I would soon regret those words. Life for both of us would change in a way I could never imagine.....

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

McArthur Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet green icing flowing down.
I don't think that I can take it
Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again.....

Nothing would be the same again. I consciously made a decision that my past life was my past life.  I had to convince the Federal court that I was a 'decent' person who had made a mistake and for this reason I rejected both Louise's offer of  work and another offer of working at the only remaining boy's parlour in Sydney.

Matty who had given up his customs job a few months previously, made one phone call to his previous employers and they immediately re-hired him.  That was part of his charisma.  Not just on me but on everybody he met.  I, on the other hand was left to endlessly search for jobs in the 'classifieds' which left me feeling unwanted and unskilled.

My secretarial certificate was a joke as I wasn't a girl.  My past experience in retail and kitchen work were over 3 years old and nobody wanted to look at me.  In the end I took a job with a furniture restorer!

Initially he told me that I was not only unqualified, but also to old to qualify for the apprenticeship position that was offered.  In the end, my ability to classify furniture styles and name tools (my father had been a carpenter), and his inability to find anyone else, got me the job.

it was hard work and poor pay.  I spent my days applying paint thinner to old furniture and sanding them down.  The fumes were suffocating, as was working in a tin shed. I was earning a mere $140 a week ( less than I had been earning per day at Brett's) and working my fingers to the bone (literally).  The only high lights were the occassional visit to clients where we would spend the day in million dollar houses while we sat and delicately polished antiques for hour after hour after hour.

I was so poor that I couldn't even afford the bus fares to get to work (or forgo buying my now diminished supply of marijuana) and had to ride a bicycle through the narrow and busy streets of inner city Sydney.

My only break came when we visited a clients house during my second week of work.  He turned out to be a regular client of Brett's and when he got me aside and asked my why I was no longer there he then offered to visit me once a week at home.  His weekly visits and extra $50 made the difference between maintaining  both my drug habit and our beautiful rented house.

Six short weeks later it ended abruptly.  On Saturday morning after I had finished the house cleaning Matty and I sat down to enjoy our now rationed marijuana supply ( we were down to one stick a day).  Having used up our 'morning half' Matty insisted I mull up the remaining stick.  We got into an argument because I knew that if we smoked the rest of the stick we would have nothing left for the evening.....

Matty wouldn't take no for an answer, and I stupidly (even now I can't accept the fact that I was in the right), not only refused but picked up the drugs and went and hid them in my bedroom.  Matty's response was to drag me back from the room and smash my head on the coffee table.  In defence I put my hands out to stop my head from hitting the table.  I don't really remember feeling anything but the next thing I knew was that both me and the table were on the floor and I had blood shooting out from my right wrist.

My hand had hit the ceramic bong and as we crashed to the floor it smashed cutting my 'mound of venus' and wrist deeply. Blood was spurting everywhere.  I didn't feel any pain, only shock.  Matty was telling my it was my fault and even refused to call an ambulance, which after I had wrapped a towel around my hand to try and stem the bleeding I did.

Then I tried to ring my parents.  Matty just lunged at me, hitting me in the face as I desperately pleaded for him to stop and somehow managed to hold onto the phone and let my parents know I needed help.

The ambulance arrived and rushed me to the nearest hospital.  Here I told them that I had been cleaning out the garden shed and tripped over while carrying a box of bottles.  Whether or not they believed me I don't know but that was the story I kept to.  After finally getting to see the doctor where I was poked and prodded ('does it hurt' they asked. 'Only when you stick your fingers in'. I replied) They announced that I had severed two tendons and would transfer me to Royal Prince Alfred Hospital where a surgeon was available to re-attach my severed tendons.

I remember my father arriving at the hospital just before they anaesthetised me and sent me to surgery.  I stuck to my story of falling onto a box of bottles but I'm sure he didn't believe me.  All I know was that again, after a childhood of anger, violence and humiliation, my father had again stood by me.

Matty didn't visit me until the next day.  Even then he came with my drug dealer and his wife who brought me chocolate, flowers and two joints.  Contrary to popular belief that marijuana is a pain reliever, I actually found that it increased my pain levels and only smoked the first joint before succumbing to waves of excruciating pain and spending the rest of the night begging the nurses for pain relief.

It was during this visit that my drug dealer suggested that he would be willing to finance the opening of a new boys parlour if I was willing to run it for him.  With little option of working in a job for months (at least until my damaged hand had healed) and at Matty's enthusiastic urging I agreed......

To move away from the story of my life I want to let my readers know that the next (I don't know how many chapters) are dedicated to the victims of domestic violence.  We all associate domestic violence with the traditional images of men abusing their wives or girlfriends.  However in my experience, and I'm sure I am not alone, domestic violence frequently occurs in gay relationships.

How do you justify letting some one (especially someone who apparently loves you) abuse you both physically and mentally? How do you find yourself believing that not only are you the victim, but the cause of the abuse?  How do you change from being a confident, happy go lucky, ready to take on the world individual to a scared, humiliated and terrified of everything and everyone personality and allow yourself to be trapped in a nightmare world of abuse and torture?

Hopefully the following chapters will give you an insight into not only how it happened to me, but how it happens to millions of people. Love (or the incorrect interpretation of love), dependence (in my case on drugs and the fear of living in poverty) and emotional blackmail are just some of the reasons why victims put up with the violence and are too terrified to take the initial step to get out

I dedicate the next chapters to all of us who have been in this position and urge anyone who is currently suffering in an abusive situation to take the plunge and walk away.   I was to scared and dependant to for nearly 6 years....but almost 30 years on I am still here.  The physical scars are still visible and a daily reminder of my torment, but the emotional scars haunt me to this very day.  What happened to me changed my personality, changed my beliefs in human nature and set me on a course of life-long dependency on both drugs and the need to be appreciated and recognized.

You will be surprised, perhaps even scornful, to know that even today I still think of Matty as my one true love....this was the power he managed to have on me.

CHANGING DAZE...(part 1)

A goddess on a mountain top
Was burning like a silver flame,
The summit of beauty and love,
And Venus was her name.
She's got it,
Yeah, baby, she's got it.

Well I had it and in a few short minutes I lost it all.  I lost my position, power, financial security & lifestyle.  More importantly I had lost my friends and my sense of personal security not to mention my sense of trust.

For 3 days after my bashing I was a nervous wreck.  Jumping at every noise, every car door slamming and even jumping when the phone rang.  Matty was scathing in his response to my fear and poor Betty was torn between her guilt at having played a part in what had happened to me and having to keep her position at Brett's.

I probably made it worse for her as I stoically insisted that I didn't blame her for what had happened and understood that Louise had given her no option but to collude in the event.  So both Betty and Matty continued to work at Brett's while I tried to get myself together and decide on my next step.

I didn't only have the decision of a new career to make but I had to cope with the fact that in six months I would be in court and possibly in prison.  My stupid pride led me to believe that all would be forgiven and forgotten within a few weeks.  I really believed that Louise would realise how essential I had been in the success of Brett's Boys and would re - instate me.  So for nearly two weeks I lived in a drug filled haze where my world revolved around my house and garden and my dog.

Sure enough within a fortnight Louise rang me and asked to meet me for coffee.  Confident that Louise couldn't do without me (she had already shut down the second parlour) I met her and was determined to return only if she offered me my previous position.

Her revelations and offer were not what I had expected, but looking back I understand how I had cornered myself and played into everyone's hands.  Firstly she apologized for what she had had done to me but informed me that that was the only option she had.

According to her 'investigation' with the boys (and I assume it was mainly Colin and the other boy who fabricated the story) I was accused of running a hit squad amongst the workers and using force and blackmail to sell drugs.  Apparently my 'heavies' had forced the boys to buy drugs and only boys who were good buyers were given the priority shifts.  That I had fallen hook line and sinker into taking action by using violence in front of Louise was all the evidence she needed to confirm these totally false accusations - my own worst enemy!

Louise offered me a receptionist position at her girls parlour in Kings Cross. Even though she assured me this would only be for a few months and eventually I could return to my former role at Brett's I was too proud to accept.

I had done nothing wrong to her.  I had only ever tried my best to make Bretts the best parlour in Sydney and had done my utmost to ensure all the boys were treated equally and fairly - as much as the client requirements allowed.  I had even been accused of giving Matty the lions share of the driving jobs. Again this was untrue.  Matty had always been the 'second' driver and only given jobs when our regular driver, who had been with us since the Paddington days, was unavailable.

I felt betrayed by everyone.  All the boys who I had mothered and loved.  The boys who I had happily offered credit when they wanted drugs but couldn't pay for at the time.  I never once pushed for repayment, and often had to wait weeks to get my money back.  The only limits I had put was that I wouldn't let any of  the boys go over $100 in credit. This was not for my benefit, but rather for the benefit of the boys. I figured if they weren't making money then I shouldn't allow them to in-debt themselves to a point where they were financially 'in the shit'.  I had even given some of the boys free drugs when they were in this position.

Mostly I felt betrayed by Louise.  Without my loyalty and hard work her take-over of Brett's would not have been the windfall that it turned out to be.  My stubborn pride refused to see that she was also in a position where she had to act in a certain way.  Taking me back would have undermined the boys accusations and possibly led to a mass walk out with Colin leading the way.  She was a business women after all.

Here she was offering me a lifeline and quietly intimating that my lowered status would only be temporary.  In the back of my mind though were the words of my mother's friend who, only a few short months before had read my tarot cards. 'Beware of a tall dark haired woman and a fair headed man'.  In my eyes this was Louise and her husband.

Probably I was correct in assuming that the tall dark haired woman was Louise.  Looking back I know I was totally wrong in believing the fair headed man to be her husband. Combined with this prophesy and my own stubborn pride I politely refused Louise's offer and that was the last time I saw her.

Within a few short weeks Matty was told his driving position was no longer needed.  He came home and bashed the hell out of me.  This was the first time in nearly 3 years that he had hit me.  Foolishly, although stunned, bruised and battered, I accepted his apology, Later in the evening when he took me in his arms and led me to his bedroom I allowed him to make love to me and foolishly believed that we were again a couple in the true sense of the word.

With our money running out it came as a total shock when Betty announced that he would be returning to Queensland and his family.  I don't know whether it was his sense of guilt seeing me every day - by this time I was running out of both money and drugs- or that he was being given a hard time at Brett's by Colin who had taken total control of the business. 

So not only had Betty betrayed me and been an accomplice to my punishment but now my best friend was also deserting me when I was most in need of a friend.  I didn't take it well and Betty left without either of us saying goodbye.

A week later I received a phone call from his mother.  Betty had committed suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills. My gorgeous, full of fun, best friend and only confidant was gone.  I blamed myself totally.  Two lives changed and one beautiful life gone for ever all because of my actions.  It couldn't get worse.......

DARK DAZE.....(part 3)

You had the grace to hold yourself
While those around you crawled
They crawled out of the woodwork
And they whispered into your brain
They set you on the treadmill
And they made you change your name
And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in

And that's how it seemed in the months following my arrest.  While only Matty and Betty knew what had happened neither of them were  there for me when I really needed them.

Matty would get angry when I fell into depression and tried to explain my fears for my future.  I guess he felt guilty and didn't want to be reminded that it was his actions that had gotten me into  the situation.  Likewise with Betty.  Not only that but one of the reasons I loved Betty so much was because of his optimism and happy go lucky nature.  When I really needed someone to sympathise with me and hold me, Betty would laugh it off and in his typical, outback Australian style say 'it'll be right love'!

My only solace and time for reflection was when I was out alone with my beautiful cocker spaniel.  We would walk for miles around Iron Cove - one of the bays in Sydney Harbour which my suburb fronted onto.  Here I could think, breathe and enjoy both the solitude of our long walks through the parks and along the water and pretend that I was a 'normal person'.  My dog Toby was my only truly faithful companion who never left my side or hurt me.

I was working harder and longer hours than ever before.  Covering 8 shifts and also doing most of the running for the new parlour.  I was organizing the rosters and staff for there and on busy nights constantly juggling boys and drivers between parlours.  I also had their laundry to do as although Colin was supposed to bring it back with him on his shifts at Brett's, he always managed to bring it on the day when I took over from him claiming that he had been too busy to get it done.

I was smoking marijuana and taking cocaine in outrageous quantities.  I look back and don't know how I did it.  Here I was facing a two year stint in prison yet managing not only to run the busiest gay brothel in Sydney but also to maintain a professional manner which was recognized by clients not only in Sydney but from around the world.  All the time I was terrified and living in a drug induced haze.

The life - changing event came, just like everything seemed to in my life, when I was feeling 'on top of the world'.  It was a busy Saturday night.  I had been working since 4pm Friday afternoon and probably had less than 3 hours sleep.  Both parlours were flat out and in the middle of it all I get a phone call from Colin saying that he needed Matty to drive one of the boys to an out call in a suburb about 30 kms away.

It was about two hours later, in the busiest of times that night, and I started to get phone  calls from the boy I had thrown out for sharing a needle with Matty.  He was still working at the other parlour and I knew that he still had it in for me.  So when he started to tell me that Matty was there with Louise having sex with her I initially laughed it off.  Not that Matty wouldn't have said no, but I just thought the boy was trying to make me jealous.  Everyone knew how much I loved Matty and how jealous I was of anyone trying to make a pass at him - and god knows they did.

The calls continued on and off for the next 2 hours.  When the phone rang I never knew if it was a client or the boy again trying to upset me. By this time Matty had been away for over 4 hours and I started having suspicions.  I was flat out with clients and phone calls and the last thing I needed was the annoyance of this boy trying to upset me.  I rang Colin to complain and he calmly told me that Louise and Matty were both drunk and in one of the rooms together.

This was the last straw.  Betty was there and was goading me to go over and sort out the issue.  One of the other boys was also happy to go with me and help out.  By this time I had decided that both the boy and Colin were lying but was so furious that I wanted to teach them a lesson.  I had a key for the parlour, so with one of the boys I grabbed a taxi and we headed over.

The parlour was on a busy main road above a set of shops with a street entrance door and a long, steep flight of stairs leading the upstairs rooms.  No -one heard me coming.  I walked into the reception room only to find a group of boys, including Matty and Louise sitting calmly chatting and drinking whiskey.  I remember it was whiskey because it was this bottle which I picked up by it's neck, and after saying 'excuse me' to Louise swung it into the boys head and knocked him unconscious.

The shock in the room was stunning.  Nobody knew what to say or do, until I again swung the bottle, this time at Colin.  It was then that one of the bigger boys grabbed me and stopped me.  I managed to calm down and explain to Louise what had been happening all night and that not only was I upset about the allegations but I was also angry that the two boys had done their utmost to interrupt the parlour.  

Louise was cool and understanding.  While the other boys tended to the now conscious boy, who had a large cut on the side of his head, Louise took me aside and said she totally understood my reaction but that it was obviously not the best thing to do.  She asked me if I wanted to go home and let Betty finish my shift but I said no.  So I went back to Brett's, feeling a whole lot better. Got really stoned with the young boy who had come to back me up and we had really wild sex.

The following day was quiet and although everyone knew what had happened, very little was said.  In fact all the boys went out of their way to keep off the topic, everyone bought grass for me, and I even had a phone call from Colin apologizing.  Like a fool I accepted his apology and even apologized back for trying to hit him.

I finished my shift and went home.  Betty was doing reception at Brett's that night and around 7pm rang me to see if Matty was free to do a driving job.  Matty left and I was alone watching TV and smoking a bong when I heard a car pull into our driveway.  When I heard not one but two doors closing I immediately became suspicious and walked up the hallway to check who was coming.

My bedroom door was open and as I neared the front door, I could see through my bedroom window 3 large shadowy figures moving quietly across the front porch.  I knew what was coming.  BANG!  The front door flew open and three enormous Maori thugs burst in and one of them pinned me against the wall.

They wanted to know if I was Ricky.  I told them that my name was Brett and that Ricky was out.  One of them hit me across the face and then they dragged me through the house checking every room.  Finding no - one they again asked me if I was Ricky.  Again I told them that Ricky had gone out and if they didn't believe me they could check the car-port and see that the car wasn't there.

This seemed to satisfy them and with one more hard slap across my face they left.  Shaking with fear but more concerned for my dog who was in the back yard barking wildly I headed out to comfort him.  BANG! The door flew open again and this time I had no escape.

The three 'thugs' were very professional.  First they told me that they knew I was Ricky as Louise was waiting outside in the car and confirmed my identity from their description.  Secondly they told me that although I had been very clever they were there to give me a beating.  One of them held a long plastic zip pull in his hand - the type that was used for starting lawn mowers.  It was made of hard plastic and had serrated teeth all along it.  When they went to grab me I told them that they didn't need to hold me.  I stood there and let them whip me across the face. Once, twice, three times.  It hurt like hell and I could feel the blood already starting to run down my face.

But I was to proud to show either fear or pain.  This probably saved me from a much worse beating and possibly life long disfigurement on my beautiful face.  After the third strike one of them asked if I had learnt my lesson.  'You've got guts' he said.  Ironically enough they even apologized for 'doing their job'!

They left as quickly as they came.  I was a total mess.  Panic stricken, in shock and immense pain.  My face had three jagged, bleeding cuts and my cheek was already beginning to swell and bruise from where they had slapped me.  It would be two long and terrifying hours before Matty returned.  By this time I had bathed myself and iced my bruises.  I had also smoked two mull bowls of marijuana and taken I don't know how many of Betty's Serapax.

I would never see Brett's again.  One life had already changed and two more were about to......