Chapter 08

An offshore wind blew across two lover�s backs. Sand was spasmodically beginning to form little piles across their towels and clothes. Oblivious to the wind, the sand and the onlookers the two lay kissing. The day�s light was short and afternoon shadows reached over the backs of the two, but the coolness of the wind, shadows and the time of day couldn�t dull the heat being generated by them.

A new romance was starting to bloom once again, on the sands of Manly beach. Two people�s lives had crossed; this time it was right. Free of hang-ups, having matured through the molding of past relationships, and the lessons learnt from them, they gave to each other. As time passed, the memories left hopes and dreams turned into reality and a relationship that had waited for this time, burst to life.

"I�ve had my eye on you for a long time Loran. I am so happy to have met you again." Mike said.

"You�re so sweet. So honest. You take me by surprise. I�m glad we didn�t do anything when I offered to a year ago." Loran said looking down at the man beneath her, brushing the sand from his forehead, and stroking his windswept hair. "It would have wrecked this."

"It certainly would have."

"You know. I respected you so much for turning me down. I knew you were trustworthy then. It may have sounded like a joke, but I meant it. But after you said "No", I was so impressed I couldn�t believe it. I only wanted you more then!"

"Well we don�t have to worry about the past now." he said cupping one of her soft cheeks in his hand and stroking her face as it lay on his chest. "We�re together now, and we have some good times ahead; I�m sure" Her body lay exquisitely on his, her chest rising and falling against him. He could feel all of her weight, at all of the junctions down his body. Her body fitted his, so snug, that even though it was heavy; he didn�t seem to mind. His thoughts were somewhere else. "So do you reckon we would be pretty good together eh?"

Loran raised her head, her eyes meeting his and said, "I reckon we might." and gave him a peck on the lips.

He went to hold her to him to kiss her, but she pulled away laughing. "You�ve had enough for this afternoon." With that; she stood up and ran to the water. He felt like a kid as he ran after her. She ran splashing through the shallow water and diving as a lifesaver does. Before long they were both approaching some fairly large waves. As one began to break she turned and with a couple of fast strokes caught it. Too late, Mike just dived under the wave, and continued to swim.

The force of the wave, with its size and velocity, tore her bikini top off exposing her breasts. As she looked around in the shoulder deep water for her top, Mike caught a wave and rode it past. She couldn�t find her top, so she swam out again, hoping the next wave wouldn�t steal her bottom. She waited, treading water. Mike swam up to her. As his chest met her exposed breasts, he paused; a strange look came over his face as it dawned on him, that her breasts were uncovered.

"What happened? Is that what you were wandering around looking for?"

"Yeah, I lost my top. The force of the water must have pulled it off." Loran said.

"We�ll have to get you a one piece. You�re a pretty decent body surfer though. Where did you learn?"

"My brothers, I suppose. We spent a lot of time in the water when growing up at Narrabeen. Once you learn, you never forget."

"Well here comes another one, let�s catch it!"

"The two of them caught the wave together. They spent a good deal of time and energy before they returned to the beach. Mike hurried up the beach and got a towel, then ran back to cover her. As he wrapped the towel around her shoulders he said.

"I�ve always wanted a girlfriend that surfed."

"I�ve always wanted you Mike, ever since I set eyes on you. Yet I must admit I have a confession." Her head dipped, her voice lowered.

"What" Mike asked, worried, seeing the expression on her face and the change in her tone.

"Well," she started slowly, her head still bowed. She gathered her towel around her, lifting his arm from her shoulders. "I want you more now!" her eyes lit up and she ran up the beach turning to say "Got Cha"

He ran after her and tackled her. They fell and lay panting on the beach. She was in a fit of giggles, her hair across her face. Mike�s chest heaved as he lay there laughing. He wanted her too.

 

*******

 

"I wonder where Tony is?" Slater asked, concern in his voice. He liked Tony.

Colin saw Slater was concerned. He was an honorable guy Slater, and well meaning. As he looked up at him, he thought that a little more was bothering him, than just Tony.

"What�s the matter Slater?"

"I�m a little worried about what Cyril is going to do. I�m not looking forward to going in there tomorrow. He�s going to be angry with those two going to jail. He�s going to want to take it out on someone�s hide. I feel. He�s lost two money earners, so he�ll be furious. I hate this you know, I hate him."

Colin sat there worrying. He wondered if the fat guy would have enough for his little boys. He knew Cyril fancied him. He didn�t want to give Cyril what Slater had.

 

*******

 

Tony and Tracy walked slowly form the station to Sharon�s apartment. Hand in hand they were together, and spent from a full day. Tony had his new clothes in a bag, and he looked forward to a quite night with his girl and the company of Sharon. He knew Tracy had warmed to him living with this girl, and he was glad. With the sun setting in the West, shadows caused car�s brake lights to splash red across the road. As they rounded Bayswater road they saw a few street kids in the park. Some had smokes, whilst others shouted stories and the occasional profanity carried with the wind to their ears. One waved, and Tony returned the gesture and as he did he felt a sharp tinge of pain foe Tracy, who had to return tonight. It reminded him of the plight they had, and he was disgusted.

He ignored the opportunity to go over to talk as street traffic had banked up and horns were blasting, as impatient motorists abused each other. The lights on the corner seemed to cause a build up of pedestrians as well as cars. That�s how it was in the Cross. The best way to get around was by foot or public transport. Half of the cars that were traveling through the Cross were tourists, who were not in any rush as they crawled down Bayswater Road taking in the sights. Kings Cross, is the famous Red Light District of Sydney, famous all over Australia. For tourists, driving through it during the day or night in a traffic jam, this was the least of their worries.

Some people visited Kings Cross as a tourist destination. Like a circus, with everything up in lights, they looked for the performers, took the time to gaze, to ponder and to stare. These visitors who rode through in their cars got a cosmetic glimpse of the place. Seeing Tony and Tracy at the lights, they would assume they had just seen two young kids holding hands; not a fifteen year old boy who had been brutally raped, and a girl of sixteen who sells her body to the politicians, police and judges of Sydney.

But at dusk, Kings Cross hasn�t even begun to rock. It�s safer to visit; to be sure, and a good time to see the transition from a normal suburb to one of filth, and the less risky option. But, later in the evening is a time for a more comprehensive glimpse of the place. It had personality; similar to the third world with its depravity and destitute living and co-existing together in its melting pot.

Everything is for sale in the Cross. Like most places full of desperate people, even a person�s soul was for sale. For life in the Cross, is a life built around doing what it takes to survive. If that means fondling an old man, or sleeping with three, little girls and boys are available. If you have sick feelings and desires you can live and breathe them with the help of Kings Cross� residents.

The coping mechanisms are available too. A person with the right approach, or right contacts can score any drug they fancy. Hero in Kings Cross is heroin. The big one; heaven in a needle, a little smack to the senses. The lady heroin keeps plenty employed and plenty living off her reach. She runs the clubs, the employees; puts cash in the pockets of the dealers, pimps and suppliers. The lady doesn�t discriminate. She is a seducer, stealing even the wealthiest men�s hearts. A good weight suppressant, a good friend to have around. She�s a woman of taste, a big spender with an appetite for money.

Of course, there is speed. That can keep you rocking for days on end. There�s cheep speed and base. Depending on your cash-flow and contacts, you can slowly poison your system or do it a lot faster. It�s shot up, or smoked in a cone with dope and it will get you jumpin'. Used by strippers it gives energy, keeps them dancing and earning for their employers all night, who gladly sell it to them for a cut. Cause it doesn�t dull the pain, remove the fingers that penetrate them and keep the leers from making them fell dirty. It�s good for a while, but it�s not going to give the floating, comfortable numbness of putting the Hero in.

And away from the strip, in the Trendy cafes and restaurants the designer drugs are on the menu. Its patrons snort, smoke and ingest in tablet form. They dance, make deals, chase sex and fame, close enough to the main streets of the Cross to feel hip, but far enough away not to feel the emptiness that exists there. Many of these if not completely satisfied with their evening will pop into the Cross for an after dinner treat, taking a boy or girl, woman or man home to bed for company.

It�s a place of records too. It has more suicides, more murder, more overdoses, more street kids, more sex, more AIDS, more disease, more fantasies, more broken lives, more distress, more ideas, more reality, more comradeship, more fights, more drugs, more pain, more losers, more addicts, more social workers, more aid volunteers. These are all there, as well as, less love, less answers, less compassion, less families, less restrictions, less laws kept, less direction, less vision and less hope.

Kings Cross is colourful but you have to go past the glitter and the outward signs that flash, to really know the Cross. Knowing the people living there give you more of an insight into the town itself. From the wealthy politicians to the penniless street kids, from the victims of sexual abuse to the voyeurs that frequents it, Kings Cross has character. Stories of shame, unhappiness and drug addiction are commonplace here.

Tony was a runaway, and Kings Cross was to be his home for the present. As he entered his apartment building, he winked at the security guard before taking the lift.

To call the Cross home, can mean a host of things, and yet to be at home in the Cross is something different entirely. To feel comfortable living and breathing the air in the Cross, with it�s diversity of people, points to where you are coming from psychologically. It�s the hub of life when life hasn�t got many choices left.

The physically, emotionally, and sexually abused will find a home in the streets of Kings Cross. People that have things in common with them, will become their mates. Some survive the ravages of the Cross and move on, whilst others remain trapped in it�s cycle of death, and those that do remain, become The Fallen Ones.

The day closes with an awesome sunset spreading a blood red array of paint across the famous Sydney Harbour Bridge. Not far away, from that bridge, the Cross starts to put away the clothes of the day, with it�s suits and ties, and the night workers, the true shakers of the Cross, wipe the sleep from their eyes to prepare for the day that they know.

 

*******

 

Joanne was first to wake. She rolled over, gave Sharon a kiss on the cheek and rose. The satin sheets were a mess, and Sharon�s naked body stretched out to make use of the new space. She moved to her vanity and picked up a brush, and strolled out to her balcony.

The evening was upon the city. The lights of the city building began to twinkle, the ferries travelling up and down the Harbour throwing lights across the water. A warm breeze lifted her hair, as Joanne took careful strokes with her brush. Her hair was healthy and clean. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, returned to the bar once more and removed another bottle of wine and a glass.

She opened the bottle, poured herself a glass and took a sip. She turned her head to the side, as she sat down and placed her glass and bottle on a side table. With long determined strokes she groomed her hair until she was satisfied. To a voyeur with binoculars it would be a rewarding sight to see. Fully matured women, naked, with no inhibitions, brushing her hair carefully like a young girl.

And that was who she really was. A young teenager caught in the body of a mature female. A young girl who had continued to grow and mature whose emotional clock had stopped at the first molestation. Indeed, life had gone on, and the outward motions had continued, but a little girl remained inside a cocoon built to block the world out. She used to sit naked and brush her hair in her room when she was a girl. It was innocent back then, and she was comfortable. Now she brushed her hair in her own space, still naked and things hadn�t changed that much.

It was hard sometimes living in the place where she did business. This balcony was part of the ritual of seducing the male. Many men took her clothes off here, and few took her over the balcony railing. To them it was a turn on, to Joanne it was comforting having the breath of the wind caressing her whilst she gave herself over to the client.

But no one got all of Joanne. Sure, she used her own name. The same as Sharon did. This was unusual in the profession. Most girls used a name for the act, even strippers. They put it on like the clothes, and wore the name like a shield of armor. What happened to the worker didn't happen to the real girl. But at the end of the day, the real girl was the one with the torn vagina, with the money left in the hands and the memories. She could see the point. And she used to do it too, until she met Sharon. Sharon never used a name. Her clients got what she chose to give them. If that was a touch of the real girl inside, that was her choice.

Since then, Joanne had changed. She became a little more happy and contented. She drew her resources together and gave her best to the nicer guys. The men she didn�t like, she gave them a below average time, so they wouldn�t return. She kissed some men on the lips, and the occasional guy would swear she made love better then any girl he�d known. Joanne always laughed inwardly when she heard that. It didn�t say much about the average women out there.

As she finished brushing her hair she felt Sharon�s hands caress her shoulders.

"Mmm that�s�"

"Nice hey"

"So nice�ahh�"Joanne gave way to her touch.

Sharon�s hands dug into her shoulders and massaged them. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

"Just thinking."

"Yeah. It�s good night for that. How are you?"

"As good as you can expect I suppose. The bastard got in you know."

"I know mate. I know."

"It shouldn�t be allowed. It shouldn�t happen Sharon."

"I know Jo. It shouldn�t. But whilst men walk this planet, there will always be men like Peter. Like my father. Like some of the clients we have."

"It hurts so bad," Joanne said as she took Sharon�s arms and brought her hands down to her chest. Sharon crouched and hugged her friend and put her head in the nape of her neck. They held each other tightly and shared their warmth once again. The subject was over, the men dismissed from the conversation and the two survivors took a couple of jumps against the current in the river of life.

Words were few as the girls stood and drank in the scenery before them. Sydney Harbour at dusk was simply the best sight in the world. The Opera House stood proud, it�s sails erect, making a statement on photos around the globe. Yes this city built since convicts days had grown up all right. It�s beauty adored by many a visitor from abroad. The Harbour was the pride of a country who�s determination showed. It was the starting point for Australia�s civilization, which now boasted the best rugby league team in the world, the best cricketers and hockey players. The Harbour was just a short way from where the girls worked a place where other records were set.

Sharon sipped some wine from Joanne�s bottle, and as it trickled slowly down her throat the refreshing liquid caused her taste buds to awaken. The warmth of the evening breeze flowing around them as they held each other seemed to accentuate the affinity that was between them.

"What do you want to do for dinner?" Joanne asked.

Sharon replied "We�d better go and check on Tony, see what he�s up to. Perhaps we�ll all go out together somewhere eh?"

"Sounds great, I�d almost forgotten him."

The lights across the bridge came on and reflected in the darkening water. The outline shadows of large ships could be seen at anchor and a brilliantly lit Manly Ferry cut its way into Circular Quay.

 

*******

 

"Are you ready?"

"Almost. Be patient young man." Loran replied from her bedroom.

Loran came out from her bedroom into the lounge room. She had on a red dress that hugged her body and flowed to just below her knees, the low cut back showing her tanned skin. Her makeup was perfect, her long hair worn to the side of her face, partially covering her right eye. The glint in her eyes made the lady completely alluring and Mike was transfixed.

A year ago he probably wouldn�t of coped with a girl this beautiful at his side, but tonight his chest expanded with pride as he took her hand. "You are, absolutely, the most gorgeous date I�ve ever had. Please come this way my lady," he said, as he opened the front door.

"You�re looking pretty sexy yourself!" she said smiling, as she looked over his body clothed in fine tailored pants, hugging a slim waist and a bright open necked shirt that showed off his large hairy chest. As he turned to lock the door, she withdrew her hand to cup one of his small rounded buttocks, then lightly pinch it. She took his arm, as they left her apartment, leaving the porch light on as they went down to the car.

 

*******

 

A fat grubby old man sat in his armchair. On the screen of his television, flashed a pornographic video. Grown men were showing their love to young boys. As he watched he couldn�t keep his mind from wandering to the youngster he�d shown his love to last night. Memories of the fright on young Tony�s face, his terror and pleading swept before him. The whole experience had been such a high.

He liked that young guy. He was so young. He was so in need of an elder man�s guidance. He needed a provider. Someone to share his affection. To show him the way, like a father. The kid was fresh. He had innocence; he hadn�t hardened in the Cross. God, he was sweet.

The little kids that sold their bodies weren�t the same. They were just prostitutes, not much of a thrill, just worn out bits of flesh. Tony was different.

The video flicked. It was all staged, all boring, just actors screaming. It did nothing for him. He needed some company and he needed it tonight. He thought about an abduction and carried away by the thought, gathered himself up, his rolls of fat grotesquely flowing all over his lap, and with an effort, he managed to get out of his chair.

 

*******

 

A mother waved goodbye to her young teenage boy, "I�ll see you after the movie. Don�t spend all your money in the pinball parlour."

"No mum." he mumbled, embarrassed, as she kissed him outside the video parlour opposite the pictures in George Street. She left, and crossed the road.

Next to the curb a dark red Celica was parked and as the kid waved goodbye to his mother and began to turn to go into the shop, Cyril called out to him,

"Hey kid!"

He looked over toward the voice and saw the man in the car "Yeah you, Hey can you help me out?"

The kid walked over "What�s your problem?"

"Take a look at this, I just bought this car tonight and it�s got one of those fancy new stereos. I don�t suppose you know how it works? I reckon you young kids are pretty good with this modern technology."

"Give me a look." He said as he leaned through the window."

"Thanks."

He couldn�t really reach it and the old man stayed silent.

"I�ll get in the other side and get a little closer to it."

"Okay." Cyril relented and reached for the door."

The boy got in unaware of the danger. As he reached over to adjust the stereo Cyril reached over and put a cloth under his nose. The boy struggled and then slumped as Cyril put his foot down and pulled out into the Sunday night traffic.