Chapter 09

The girls dressed Joanne in some jeans and a loose fitting top, Sharon wearing again the clothes from the beach.

"You�re a stunner Sharon, you know that?" Jo said.

"Ah shucks. You�ve embarrassed me." Sharon laughed.

"You are. You�re absolutely gorgeous." Jo continued.

"You�re a bit of a spunk yourself girl. I wouldn�t be so lavish with your praise; cause if I�m pretty good then you�ve just got it all." Sharon replied.

"Look at this body." Jo said as she pirouetted on the floor.

Sharon reached over and slapped Joanne on the bottom. "You�re crazy!"

"Takes one to know one."

"Come here and give me a hug." The girls embraced and stood silently for a time.

The girls had seen a little bit more of life then other girls in there twenties. Sure they could dwell on it, and become hypochondriacs or just get on with it. They�d seen life and seen death. They played around. And from time to time did positively crazy things. But then, they were living, and that was a testament to their spirits. Men had hurt them, mother�s had betrayed there motherly roles to nurture and protect, but the girls went on. So they had heroin each day, and yes they continued to sleep with men for all the wrong reasons, but they were still someone�s daughter, and whilst they were still breathing, they were living life the best way they could manage.

And Sharon and Joanne had seen many worse then themselves. They were always ready with a hand, to help in some way if it was in their power. They were friendly and cheerful, spreading humour amongst the other workers. But at the end of the day�s work they retired together, alone. They knew sorrow. They knew grief. And they�d seen literally thousands of girl�s come to the streets and leave on a stretcher. Every day brought the news of another overdose, or simply a disappearance. That was commonplace on the streets of Kings Cross. They�d seen happy young girls turned into the walking dead, devoid of a spirit and with no hope to wake up to another day.

They knew a lot of overdoses weren�t a mistake, but suicide. And they knew many overdoses weren�t an accident, but murder in disguise. For this reason, they kept close; they never worked in exclusive brothels, and never went out of their way to pursue the high fliers. No the streets were a safe haven, dealing with the common folk, away from the brokers, the pushers, the politics and controlling influences that brought quick demises. The streets and the heroin disgusted these men and that disgust kept them safe.

After the embrace, the girls collected their bags and set out into the street. Within five minutes they reached Sharon�s apartment. Tony opened the door smiling, as they were trying to unlock the door, with the key halfway in the lock.

"Hi Tony, how�s your day been?" Joanne asked.

"It�s been pretty good." Tony replied. "I�d like you to meet Tracy, my girlfriend."

Sharon walked into her lounge room and greeted young Tracy. "Well, you�re certainly an attractive girl." Tracy blushed and was silent. "How long have you had your eyes on Tony?"

"Oh, ever since he arrived last week."

"So is he the smooth mover we think he is?"

Tracy looked over at Tony and smiled, then said. "No, actually I made the first move."

Tony didn�t know what was worse. Him being a fast mover, or having a woman saying that she�d won on to him. But it didn�t matter what he thought now, as he saw Sharon put her arm around Tracy.

"I like this girl. A woman of the nineties. Sees what she wants and takes it. Why should the men have a monopoly on asking the girls out?" Sharon said.

Tracy smiled. It was the kind of smile that said �That�s telling ya!� Tony just laughed and took a seat on the sofa. He was happy to see the girls get on together.

"I�m glad to see you two getting on. I don�t mind who asked whom out. I am just glad Tracy�s my girl and I love her for it."

A silence came over the room. Mouths opened in astonishment. Here was a guy who had been successfully put on his backfoot, put in a position that called for fighting for his pride, yet he comes back with a compliment. A short while passed, as what Tony had just said, hung in the air.

"Well Tony, you really are a sweet boy. I believe any girl should be proud to have you." Joanne said.

The four of them sat down and watched the box. Sharon looked over at the young couple. It warmed her heart. She knew what Tony had gone through and she was happy for him. The young lady on his arm obviously loved him. The way she just looked at him made that obvious. After a while, Tracy got up and went into the spare bedroom. The three of them watched her.

"Look what we bought today!" she said returning.

"They look great! Give us a closer look." Sharon said.

Tracy gave the clothes she�d bought Tony to Sharon and Joanne and the three of them started chatting about them. They chatted about the combinations. They chatted about how they all suited Tony. They chatted about...

Tony looked on bemused. He couldn�t believe it. They were clothes. So what! The girls went on and on. He laughed to himself at these typical women and watched television.

"So do you two want to come with us to the Hard Rock Cafe?" Sharon asked.

"Or do you want a big steak at the Bourbon and Beefsteak?" Joanne asked.

Tony looked at Tracy and she said "Anywhere�s fine by me."

So he said, "I feel like a steak."

"Okay." Sharon said, "Let�s get ready and go."

*******

 

"So, how have you been Christine?"

"Flat out Dave. This morning we had a murder. This afternoon an attempted robbery at McDonalds. It just goes on and on. It never seems to stop. It�s really getting to me you know."

"I can imagine it." Dave said, brushing his long blonde hair with one of his hands. Dave had hair passed his shoulders, silken and bleached by the sun.

"I don�t know if I can handle it. I don�t even seem to be making a dint in it. The more I fix, the more goes wrong. People just live and die down here. There seems to be nothing good coming out of this place. No hope, just hurts, desperation and death."

"You helped me, didn�t you? I mean, look at me. I was a drunk, homosexual, unemployed and suicidal when you met me."

"I know, but you�re probably the only success I�ve had."

"You know that isn�t true, Chris."

"It seems like I�m fighting a losing battle. No one in the force seems to care; they�re just nine to five workers. When the time is up they think the work is finished. With all the corruption going on at the station, the bribes from the illegal casinos, strip clubs and brothels, it�s getting hard to do my job as a detective. I have to turn a blind eye. There�s no choice. By being obedient to my superiors, I�m being unjust to the victims. Just last week we had a hit done down here. You go to investigate and your sergeant says to leave it alone. I mean, you go to ask why and you�re met with a frown to let it go."

"Why can�t you complain? I mean can�t you go above his head? What about the ICAC?"

"Just a fancy name. It boils down to the same, cops look after their own."

"Surely that�s not right Chris?"

"That�s the Police Force Dave. Crimes are committed all over the place. Kids get bashed and abused sexually and end up here, a victim of injustice. Our society spits them out. Yet, once they end up here, it only gets worse. The pedophiles are happy to use them, and prostitution feeds off them. The drug trade that we are trying to stamp out increases, as these kids try and find solace. Stoned out of their wits, they rob houses, creating more victims. Yet the people that prey on the kids, the brothel owners, the drug pushers and those involved in organised crime, get immunity.

It�s just a big facade. The government has a lot to answer for. They make big claims about breaking the corruption and stamping out drugs, yet their watchdogs (per see) are amongst the biggest perpetrators. All power has a source. Cut the source and the power goes. Politicians need support. But that support comes with a price, an obligation. To keep the power, they have to overlook certain things. They agree to overlook what the police are doing, the police overlook the crime.

The crime flourishes. In this town that�s pornography, blatant sexual acts in a public place, strippers who let themselves be fondled on stage and have sex in front of an audience. There�s underage prostitution. Sometimes twelve and thirteen year olds. You give a bloke a fifteen-year-old in a dark brothel, and make sure no one is around to accuse him of breaking the law and he gets more then tempted Better still, let him see a young one strip on stage, and be fondled off stage in her performance, and you have a man who wants to book her in private.

Soon enough this man loves them young, and suddenly his ten-year-old daughter is looking attractive. With her pubescent breasts forming, her periods coming on, he can�t help himself. He has a few beers and takes what he thinks is his. But she never was. Not in a sexual way. And while ever young girls are here starting the addictions, there will always be fathers, be they natural or stepfathers, going that one step further at home.

"That�s horrific Christine. I�ve never heard you talking like this. I�ve never heard this stuff."

"No one has Dave. No one has," she repeated shaking her head. "But you know what�s worse. That�s not where it ends. That isn�t the full story. It�s not just that it goes on here. It�s what happens in a man's head that counts. He sees it freely available here. He sees it being allowed and going on week after week without being punished. And he thinks to himself. If they can do it, and it is ignored maybe it�s all right if I do it at home.

It�s just like drugs. Every youth knows it is illegal. But everyone does it. Why even the government gives out free needles to addicts. Illegal is when you are caught. But while you keep it in moderation and keep to yourself it�s fine. This fine line suddenly becomes grey in a youth�s mind.

Given enough examples a youth becomes a man who has no respect for the law. Especially when the administrators of that law set a bad example. If he is given the opportunity to sleep with a young girl, he will take it if he wants to. If he likes it, he will come back for seconds.

But it�s like a drug in other ways too. It�s addictive. One taste isn�t enough. Soon he is searching for a bigger high. Some leave it with a taste. Just like some youth try dope and leave it there. But others want more. They search for the rush. The chance to taste another, then another. Soon doped out prostitutes aren�t fresh enough. They�re easy pickings. There�s a rush, but no challenge.

If it�s an addiction, a man will feed it between hits. He�ll order in pornography, he�ll watch young girls act out the sexual act. He has seen that in the Cross already, but now it�s at home. Some will leave it there, whilst others will pursue it. These will soon me ordering videos with young girls whom have been kidnapped or lured under false pretences and raped on camera. The innocence, the fighting and the struggle pump a man with adrenaline. This stuff isn�t legal, but he doesn�t care about the law now. It�s entertaining. It�s real and it�s available.

Now some can watch and laugh. While others watch and learn. Some stay with the videos, some feel they want to make a video of their own. So a man with medium intelligence looks for the prey. And that�s what it is. It�s a hunt. They are the predators. The animals are the little girls, and the man wants his own victim.

Given a life of television, a man knows how to hunt. A lion will pick out a vulnerable target. With a Lion, this will be a young animal, or one that is hurt and damaged. So too, with the human hunt. The young vulnerable child will most often have a single mother, who has to be absent to provide for the child, or else vulnerable herself with a need for a man in her life. Or the predator will pick a sick victim, whose father has already abused her, or some other male has made her into the town bike. It�s simple, it�s nature and the hunt has all the adventure of a safari without leaving home.

Now this is also true of little boys. The vulnerable one will have a single mother, and the sick one will be a little boy craving a man's affection. A lion can see the weakness in a target's eye, in the way the animal holds itself. So too the pedophile learns the signs, the look in the eye, the way the boy holds himself. The Lion will use the wind and grass to avoid detection. So too, the pedophile approaches in disguise and is tearing the victim�s clothes off before the mother has even detected the danger. Sadly this puts a wedge between mother and child as the child realizes mother has let them down, or in her ignorance somehow approves.

"This is terrible Christine. It�s disgusting. How did you find this all out?"

"I talked to a guy who had faced this temptation in his own life. He went through the process. He knew the weak. He planned the method. But he never did it. �Takes one to know one,� he�d said. He�d done a lot of reading. Been abused himself. Then was repulsed by his own desire to abuse."

"Have I met him?"

"No. And not many that meet him would even know he possesses the knowledge he does. He said pornography was the key. Without it the desires weren�t kept alive. He said it was dangerous for him to have around. You think this is scary and sick. You should have heard him. He was scary. But he got on top of it. He never abused. He used a lot of prostitutes though. But now he hasn�t touched them for over a year. Pretty exciting testimony he has."

"He�s a Christian?"

"Yes. He is. But he said the struggle is hard even with faith."

"Amazing."

"Do you mind listening. I mean it helps for me to see the reason I�m here. But if this is too much�"

"No go on," Dave encouraged.

Well getting back to the young girls who end up here. These girls end up getting stoned, speeding or injecting heroin. Some of them are puppets with pimps and brothel owners pulling the strings. They have to work to get money to pay for the drug, that keeps them going. And with heroin the agony of withdrawal is profoundly worse than a sore vagina or hurt feelings. The girls lose their looks; they lose their life and innocence. The abuser is constantly looking for fresh meat. Fresh lively game to catch and penetrate.

Now if you�re connected, you�ll get the best. Like meat you�ll get the export quality youth. Prime, young pubescent and innocent and fresh from daddies paws. Every few days a new one arrives in the Cross. Some take time to lure. But there is plenty to choose from. A few co-incidental wealthy clients, then they write the rest themselves. She�s shown big bucks and speed, cocaine and dope and suddenly her new abusers are paying a lot more then daddy ever did. She�s hit the big time. But the big time only lasts as long as her youth and her innocence. As soon as the drugs ruin her skin, or the men�s sick perversions screw her head up, her life in the big time is finished.

She�s re-cycled to a lesser brothel, or the streets. But that�s okay, because on the streets, or as a stripper she�ll turn more daddies on. Those daddies will go home and abuse some fresh fodder. It�s a cycle and it works.

And there�s big money in it. Fifty percent of their income at a thousand dollars a night. Give her two nights off and you have two and a half thousand a week. You don�t pay for her, you don�t pay her way, and you can get a fresh one whenever one wears out. Ten girls working and you have a million a year. Then out of her two and a half thousand, there�s board. There's the money she gives you to buy her drugs. When she leaves your stable, she continues to buy. She loses her innocence, her looks, her life, and after she�s gone her heroin abuse will keep earning you a few hundred profit a week.

"But can�t something be done."

"Our world works on money. The more you have, the better you are. While ever there is money in prostitution and drugs it won�t go. While ever there are votes and support from these people, the politicians will continue to brush it under the carpet. While there is pornography, underage prostitution and stripping there will be sexual abuse. �For what a man thinketh' on, so shall he become,� to quote the scriptures.

"That�s a strange place to bring the Bible into it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Give a man something to think about that is perverted. Something he can do when he is alone, and in private. Let him think about it long enough and begin to fantasize. Soon, he�ll want to take action. You see. I know. I work here.

"Some say pornography is good. It�s healthy. And I�m just a Christian who is too fundamental and has closed eyes. But I�ve heard the stories. I have prostitutes weep at my feet. I have the abused call me by name. A cop.

I know. My sort isn�t popular with the powers at be. Either was Jesus. But he had the sick and molested and hurting follow him. He said that he didn�t come for the righteous but for the sick and the hurting. Healthy people don�t need answers, but the sick need a cure."

"So what�s the answer Chris?"

"More of the truth I suppose. Yet, that becomes hard because the truth doesn�t seem to be newsworthy these days." Christine�s normally radiant features were missing tonight. Dave put his hand on hers.

"I think you need a little help Christine! I�ve sat back too long. I�m going to approach the minister at my church and see if I can organise to preach one day. I�ll see if we can help in some way."

"Thanks Dave. I�m sorry. No one hears the real struggle. You�re a friend. It gets me down. I�m up against it and no one wants to hear. Yeah, I could leave. But then what hope do these kids have? She looked away with tears forming in her eyes.

A waitress came up then, her apron bearing an emblem of the Bourbon and Beefsteak; "Do you want to order your main course now?"

"Yes please! The lady will have the Reef Fish, in a lemon butter sauce and I�ll have the Rump medium rare with the Mexican hot pepper sauce."

"Do you want roast potatoes with your vegetables, or chips?"

"I�ll have roast potatoes" and looking over to Christine he paused "and the lady will have chips."

"Can I get you any more drinks?"

"No, we�re fine for the moment thank you."

It�s been quite a while since you�ve been to dinner with me hasn�t it?"

"Yes, it has. Must be about two months now."

" And now with all this I�ve said. You must be wondering," Christine said wiping her eyes.

"Yes I am. I think you should have a break. Something has to give. You�re not in a good condition. You worry me."

"I agree. I�m tired. But we should all get together more frequently." Christine suggested.

"Well, if I�m going to help you a little, we will see a lot more of each other, won�t we?"

Dave had grown up all right. A man about town. He looked smart in a designer suit, bright tie, and hair flowing down. His face had 'a surfy� image. A lot of his taste in clothes and dressing was still the same today, as in the Dave she had met when he was gay. Yet, the price of the clothes and jewelry that hung from his neck and wrists today was a lot more expensive.

"Just looking at you, I�m so proud of you!" Christine said, looking into his hazel eyes.

Dave blushed, "I�m getting on okay."

"I saw your centre spread in �Vogue for Living� last month. You�re getting quite a reputation, you know for all that creative talent that lay hidden all those years."

"It was good, wasn�t it? I can�t believe how it all happened. I did a job for an agent. Apparently, he had a Book Launch in his house and a lot of the rich and famous turned out. It caught the eye of someone who talked to someone else and the next week I received a phone call saying they wanted to do an article on me. One day, you�re just a pretty creative designer, the next day everyone wants you to do work for them."

"It�s good to see your success." Christine smiled.

"What do you mean my success, if it wasn�t for you I would be a drunk, or overdosed like Adam."

The front door of the restaurant opened. A couple moved to sit down at the table next to Dave and Christine. As the girl sat down, her red dress and figure caught Dave�s eye. He looked up at her face to check her out completely. She returned his gaze while tugging at her partner to make him look as well. Mike looked over at Dave and a smile came to his face.

"Dave is that you?"

"Sure is, Mike." Dave stood to his feet and did the introductions, as Mike introduced Loran.

"How have you been? I haven�t seen you for ages." Mike spoke warmly as he shook Dave�s hand. I was just talkin about you yesterday. And now"

"Better than ever." he replied. "Yeah coincidences happen." He looked at Mike, up and down. He certainly looked chic tonight and Loran was a knockout. He was amazed at what a year had done to them.

"You look like you�ve done well for yourself." Mike said, grabbing one of Dave�s lapels and stroking it. "Pretty fine threads mate! It�s a bit different to the boardshorts you used to wear to the beach."

"Sure! Cost a little more too," he said with a smile, not at all pretentious. "I still look the same in my boardies though. Still the same Dave. Just made some modifications that�s all."

"So you�ve still surfing?" Mike asked.

"Every morning, if the swells right, or else I just go for a swim."

Mike looked him over. Dave�s body certainly showed the evidence of that. For a businessman, he didn�t have the belly that so many of them did. "So where�s your businessman�s belly?" Mike asked, playfully patting his stomach.

"I don�t drink. I don�t smoke. I eat right although, I still have a fetish for chocolate and cheese but I exercise enough to keep any weight from going on."

"I heard you got religious, went searching for some answers?"

Both Loran and Christine leant forward in their seats to hear the answer. Christine, being a Christian herself, wanted to hear Dave�s declaration of his faith, and Loran was curious to see if it was true.

"Yeah Mike, I go to church now. And yes, I found the answers I was looking for. I used to be gay: now I�m not. I used to be a drunk: now I have no compulsion to drink. I used to hate myself: now I love myself. I�m happy and Christ has a lot to do with my change."

"He did all that for you?"

"I don�t want to preach to you Mike, but yes, he did. If you ever want to ask me about it, feel free and we�ll talk."

Loran sat transfixed. A statement Dave had said had her shaking her head. He�d said he used to be gay. Well they knew that. Yet he continued with the fact that he isn�t any more. That puzzled her. She�d never heard of a guy being gay, then being straight. It didn�t happen. Well, that�s what she�d believed.

Mike couldn�t believe Dave�s admission. Here was a bloke, a fellow surfer who in front of the lovely woman he was dining with, and in front of Loran and more importantly in front of himself, another male, admitting he used to be gay. Admitting also that he was a drunk.

"So what have you been doing Mike? Besides taking this beautiful girl out."

"This and that. I�ve been doing a bit of subcontract work. Yet the economy hasn�t been that good lately in the building game."

"I need an extension done on a house I�m working on. It�s handy I�ve met you really. Maybe you could give me a quote." Dave looked at Mike. He really was looking good. Cleanly shaven, and smart. He had a composed look; a little different to the last time they�d met.

"That would be great. I need a little work. Maybe we can catch up with what�s been happening with you" Mike said. He was curious as to how Dave had changed and the fact he wasn�t preaching at him. It was funny, he�d only just asked about Dave the day before.

The two girls seemed to be chatting fairly well, about the food mainly, from what Mike could hear. He turned to Dave and asked "So where have you been surfing?"

"Mostly on the Northern beaches, Dee Why, North Narrabeen, sometimes Coogee, yet the swell has to be fairly large to get a good wave there."

"How come you don�t surf at Manly, you used to be a local?"

"Too much of the past there buddy. That�s where all the blokes live whom I either drank or slept with. It just isn�t good to push temptation. Each beach has its locals. They don�t know that I used to be gay at the other beaches. They�ve all known, from the start that I don�t drink, because I�m an alcoholic, so if we go to a hotel they don�t hassle. I needed to make a clean break from the people I used to mix with, to allow change to work. As he said it, he could see the concern on Mike�s face. "Don�t get me wrong Mike, it was hard mate, I missed you all." Dave faulted, they had spent so much time together in the past and remembering the sacrifice of friendships he had to make, caused him to be a little emotional.

Mike reached over and put a hand on Dave�s shoulder "It�s okay mate. I understand. A lot of gays get down there. I can understand it would have been hard for you. I�m proud of you Dave and I have really missed you mate."

It was a sight to see as Loran watched her man. She saw daily in Mike the things that she really appreciated in a guy. He was a real friend to Dave, she could see that. It would be good for both of them to spend time together.

Chris too was watching the scene and recognised the maturity and assertiveness in Dave. A man of convictions. A success in the true sense of the word. She looked over at Loran who was staring at her man and hoped one day Dave could also have an attractive girl at his side.

Dave took out his pen and wrote down Mike�s address and phone number on the back of his own business card. He gave a second business card to Mike and politely excused himself to join Christine.

When Mike sat down, Christine watched for Loran�s reaction. Loran whispered something into Mike�s ear, to which he turned and gave her a passionate kiss.

"So what were we saying?" Dave asked, happy to continue their conversation.

"Oh I was just complaining about work. It doesn�t matter."

"That�s right, I was talking about bringing it before my church leadership team. He took out another business card and wrote a note of it, to remind himself.

The front door opened again and Sharon, Joanne, Tony and Tracy came through the door. As they made their way to the back of the restaurant Mike noticed Sharon and Joanne. Both the girls noticed him also, yet neither knew that the other had seen him naked in bed. What they did notice however, was the stunning blond he was having dinner with.

"Sharon, do you know how I told you a client gave me some heroin that was bad?" Joanne asked.

"Yes, the other day."

"Well he�s still alive! He was that bloke with the blond."

"What Mike, that blue eyed hunk, with muscles and the hairy chest."

Yeah." Joanne said, not really paying attention as she watched astonished, and her mouth open, as the guy she was speaking about approached the table.

"Can I have a seat for a minute. I won�t be long!"

"Sure" Sharon said, eagerly pulling the chair out. Interested to know what he wanted to say, yet not really caring, as her eyes ran over the man in her presence."

"You�ve got a bloody hide!" Joanne screeched.

Sharon sat back in her seat perplexed. Surely it wasn�t Mike who gave her the bad smack. He put his hands in the air, like a policeman stopping traffic. He was trying to stop the talk and direct the attention so he could have time to explain. Sharon reached over and grabbed Joanne�s hand. Tony and Tracy had stopped looking for stars in each other�s eyes and turned their attention to the scene unfolding before them.

Mike started "Do you know when I gave you that heroin..."

"Yes!" Joanne replied holding her rage back.

"It was bad. I was sent to give it to you."

Joanne lost control and tried to grab Mike around the neck. Sharon intruded and told Joanne to go outside. She�d come and get her when he had done his explaining. Joanne relented and walked out of the restaurant, giving Mike and evil penetrating glare as she went.

"Like I was saying Sharon. It�s been bugging me for days. I saw Joanne to give her that heroin. It was to make her groggy. And old man hired me to do it. I�m�"

"An elderly man?" Sharon asked cutting him off, her own rage beginning to rise.

"Yes." Mike answered his eyes bowed.

"You bastard!" Sharon cursed "And to think I actually liked you. You sick perverted bastard. That was her stepfather that hired you, then he went and raped my friend last night while you were being so bloody nice to me. You prick! How could you?"

"Wait a sec, right! Just listen. I don�t expect you to like me. You may want to kill me. But I think this stepfather is very dangerous. He wanted me to check you out also. I don�t think he�s finished. I think he may try to do a lot worse than that. I just want to warn you. I feel sick with myself for what I did, but I�d feel worse if I didn�t tell you. I�m sorry!"

Sharon saw the concern in his eyes. She could see his guilt and knew he didn�t have to come up here and tell her. Even with her rage, she could see she was blaming the wrong person. It was Peter who had raped Joanne. "Right, I don�t think you should provoke Joanne by staying here any longer. We have come here for dinner. It�s ruined now. But it isn�t going to have a hope of improving, if Joanne knows you�re still here. Get your girlfriend and leave! Thanks for the warning. Now get lost before I kick your ass myself and rip your girlfriends hair out..."

Mike turned and left without a word.

Sharon saw him leave shortly after. His companion seemed understanding. She must have known the background of it all, as she wasn�t complaining.

Sharon went out to get Joanne. As she stepped outside Joanne was talking to a guy, and then he left with a card in his hand.

"Joanne!"

"Did you tell him to leave Sharon?"

"Yes, I told him it would be best. Come on I�ll tell you about it later. Remember that Tony was raped last night too! And he has a little girl in there madly in love with him. Let�s show them a good time hey?"

"Fuckin' bastards got a hide."

"I know. I know. Come on. Can�t change the past. Forget him."

"Forget him! Who the fuck are you Sharon? My friend or what. This guy picks me up, gives me bad heroin on purpose so my dad can rape me. Can�t change the past. You say. Fuck man. What is that shit comin' out your mouth."

Sharon responded with tears. Joanne�s heart broken is in pieces, her friend in real need and all she can do is be patronizing. Her tears turned to sobs and she turned away from her friend. �How could I have been so rude. So stupid. It�s that bloody Mike, he got to me. Shit,� she thought. I sounded like one of those blasted Christian groups on Saturday nights. Full of shit.�

By now Joanne was crying too and shaking. Sharon turned and saw her friend�s pain. She didn�t have any resource to give from left. The pain her friend had experienced had drained her of all emotion and words. She wiped her eyes and hugged Joanne.

A visitor to the streets of Kings Cross might see the hug. If they spent a lot of time on the main drag they would have seen Tony and Tracy hug too. But seldom would they realize they were seeing the last few days in one of the people�s lives. Seldom would they see the pain and desperation in those embraces. But even the lowest scum our society chews out and rejects can find the hope to live a few more hours from them.

The girls wept and held each other. Some people looked on, regulars to the streets hardly noticed. This was commonplace here. In a few minutes Joanne looked up, smiled and said, "Let�s go check out the little lovers."

As they entered the restaurant the pain hadn�t left Joanne. No, it was just put away in a place reserved for it in her heart. She�d deal with it later. Sure she�d get over it. One day it would be in the past. But she wouldn�t forget Mike. Never forget and never forgive.

They closed the door and moved toward the back of the restaurant Sharon glanced toward the empty seat as a waitress was resetting the table. As her eyes swept back she saw Christine and recognised her as the cop she�d witnessed this morning.

"Wait a sec Joe. You go back and order, I want to chat to this policewoman."

"Excuse me Officer." Can I have a minute of your time?" Sharon asked politely.

"Sure, excuse me Dave." Chris said. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Well, I picked up a young boy off the streets today. He is about 14 years old. Can I come and talk to you about it. And sort something out."

"Sure, what�s your name?" Chris asked.

"Sharon"

Dave looked up and winked at Sharon. She caught his eye and smiled in response. Chris returned to her seat with Dave, as Sharon rejoined her new little family. As the others had already placed their orders, Sharon decided on a Barramundi Fillet with lemon and chives with vegetables.

For a little family, they looked pretty good. Three attractive women to dote over a handsome little flirt. The meals arrived and the talking slowed a little, as the four of them ate silently. Tony looked overwhelmed with eagerness as he hungrily attacked the steak. It did Sharon�s heart good to see such a simple thing impressing a child so much. Funny, even she, who had little hope in life, could give hope to someone else. Sharon�s face lit up into a big grin as she saw the last of the steak disappear into Tony�s mouth.

"So you did it hey?" Sharon stated.

"Yep!" Tony replied, still chewing.

"I�m proud of ya!" Joanne commented.

"How�s your crepe going Tracy?

"Fine." she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "It�s absolutely divine. I haven�t had food this good for a long while, since..."she stopped mid sentence. Tony put his arm around her. They all knew. They all had skeletons.

"It�s a good thing to see a guy of your age put away a dinner of those proportions. That meal is well deserved after what you went through last night." Joanne said, changing the subject and leaving Tracy with time to regain her composure.

Tony sat there silently. It wasn�t a nice thing to have a fresh memory of a rape, especially if it included sodomy. The more disgusting the rape in its brutality and method, the harder it was to deal with. Flashes of memory, triggered by anything, sub-consciously flicked on to the screen of your mind. No choice, the memories are there before you know it. There you are, larger than life itself, up on the big screen, with the entire color and sound, of a real movie. Although in this movie, you are one of the lead actors.

You remembered the face and expression of the fat man. The happy grin of anticipation as the came towards you. You saw it change to a scowl, as you�d backed away. Your retreat is short lived as he backs you into a corner and then slap, he hits you. A flinch of pain thunders up and down from your brain.

He�s hit you in the face but you feel it in your toes. Then he�s telling you how good looking you are as he strokes the redness forming on your face. So tenderly the stroke is, and so repulsive.

Bile rises in your throat. Your mouth fills and you choke as you try and swallow it. Taking it like a man has a new dimension.

Who can blame you as you instinctively back away? Instinct overrides logic. It�s a habit a natural behavior, but foolish to do when a man like this wants his way with you.

You feel another thundering hit and you feel your jaw wobble from side to side. Suddenly things are slow motion. What a perfect thing to have a body do when you are to be tortured.

Slow down and make it last longer for your memory to chew over for years.

You smell the alcohol on the breath, you feel the rough hands pulling at your jeans and you try to be man and not cry. Mustn�t let him know you are week. Mustn�t show emotion. Have to be a man, be strong. Put on a brave face for him. Accept it willingly and say thanks.

He smirks and groans in satisfaction when he sees your small arse and grabs your penis in his hands. You stand as he hungrily pulls your clothes off, but you trip backwards on your jeans as once again you foolishly back away. A bang rattles through your head, a steam train of pain just plows through your mind. You�ve hurt yourself, almost given yourself concussion in your fear.

He peals your jeans off. Your shoes. In another world, in an another time, this would be romantic. Your socks are pulled off and rolled in a ball, just as your stomach cramps in one of it�s own. You�re not a tough guy. You know you are a wimp underneath. The world has no use for an emotional guy. You�re letting someone rape you and you aren�t fighting. Yeah, how could someone love me? I�m so pathetic.

You smell a strong odor. You have smelt that before, and you look up momentarily to see a vial put under your nose. It catches you unaware, but you pull away from it and begin to push air out of your nose in terror wondering how much you have inhaled. It doesn�t take long as a haze slips over you. Not too much, maybe even not enough and you wonder to yourself if you want more or less.

Then it starts. His hands are rubbing you. You get disgusted at your erection. Can�t even be paralyzed in fear. Stupid bastard you are. He throws you round like you weigh nothing and suddenly you are on your hands and knees, panting like a dog, as he shoves a man size penis straight up your arse.

Bolts of liquid lightening crack from your arse right through your spinal chord up through every vital organ in your body and an involuntary thunderous shout leaves your mouth. Again the lightening strikes and another louder burst of thunder leaves your lips, before the last one has died down. Lightening strikes, thunder shouts and suddenly the rain bursts out of your eyes.

The pain is like someone running a knife up your insides. Blood start to pour as the instrument is forcibly jabbed into you without mercy. There is no mercy for the weak, and your stupidity has made sure there is know escape from this punishment. The sides of your anus begin to rip and you can feel them, you can feel the friction. You can feel the force.

You�re there. It�s real; this storm has no shelter and no place to hide under.

Something in you makes you buck. Once again your mind hasn�t been involved. It�s instinct and you push desperately on your hands and knees to remove the offence that is hurting you. You didn�t mean it. You wouldn�t have if you had a choice, but know that is irrelevant as you feel your head begin to give way to some blunt object that has hit you. You loose your composure, what was left of it as your bodies knees and hands can�t withstand the force of the blow. You lay on the floor; you can�t hear yourself think now as your wails turn to a mini type of a seizure as you loose control of thought and your mouth starts to express itself anyway it wants.

In the midst of this you take a few precious ticks of a second hand to lay down and relax a little on the floor. The view isn�t so bad, the pain in your head is very distracting, but there�s a blessing in pain. Only the strongest one gets the attention, and you marvel at how you can�t feel your arse anymore. It�s a strange sensation. But seconds aren�t really near enough of a rest. Hands pull your limpness up and throw you across a table like a tablecloth.

You go sprawling across the table with no dignity. You knock vase off a table with your left cheek, and if it were a stunt you�d pulled at a party it would have had your mates in hysterics. But as you dive headfirst at the floor, you dismiss that fantasy. Your mates just set you up.

Again you find yourself lying on the table. An erotic scene on a video, but with your arse in the air, you aren�t mildly aroused. You lay down as your head throb starts to subside just in time for the new assault. You are looking at the clock on the wall as you feel the instrument of torture enters you again and you suddenly lose interest in knowing the time.

Your brain is assaulted, your mind exploding from the multiple choices and tasks it is being presented. Your mouth opens to release another shout of thunder but your core within you lets go a flow of lava from your stomach. Out of your eyes comes steam, and your mouth is spewing your liquid corruption all over the place. The forces in your stomach, your spinal chord the artery to you brain are vibrating, and plates are shifting in your soul and your body once again takes on a metaphor of nature and purges itself like a volcano.

This isn�t a memory you can just lock away. Not if you are designed to be sweet and

innocent. Girls would like you a little more if you were tough. Yes girls like emotion, but men like the toughness. Being strong equals manhood and like a girl you lie down and take it like a woman. You have always wondered why men are attracted to you. And as you lie to yourself you accept the world�s popular knowledge that you may be gay.

But pain is one thing. The guilt is another. Where do you get advice on the streets? How do you find protection, and how can be yourself at this table? What can you say as you look up at three smiling faces. You�ve just lost a few seconds and dropped out. And now you smile a weak smile, hoping their pity doesn�t pry into your real weakness. Hoping these other people won�t ask you to be a man for them for a day or two.

Tony was lost in a sea of memory. Memories fresh, but nothing new to the company he was keeping.

Sharon sees the pain in his eyes, and in those of Tracy and Joanne. She suggests that they go home and watch some telly. They walked across the road and as they did, Joanne piped up and asked, "Who wants a McDonald�s sundae?" A smile came across Tony�s face to which Sharon commented "You couldn�t fit a sundae in after that enormous steak you just ate, could you?"

"Yeah, I reckon I could" Tony replied swallowing his memory.

"Ah well once again, yep, let�s go." Sharon said with a soft lilt in her voice. Her joyful singing tone had a psychological effect on her company.

To Tony personally, her inflection was as medicine to a gaping wound, with more effect than any words of wisdom. His observations of Sharon although brief were rapidly expanding. He realised that her actions often outspoke her words, as she seemed to have a platform of love and acceptance to speak from. Her love was an expressed love; just like two starving alcoholics will share a crusty loaf of bread that one of them has acquired.

A stranger would not see the heartache in this little group. A stranger would only see four attractive young people, seemingly happy, crossing the busy road. The street was awash with headlights and cars passing, honking and watching. A couple of other pros greeted them as they walked up the street toward McDonalds. Winks and leers came from some men on the lookout for game in their weekly, monthly or yearly hunting season. A regular of Sharon�s winked at her and propositioned her. She excused herself and walked over to him. He nodded and walked away. Sharon returned and they all entered McDonalds and join the queue. A regular pit stop for most junkies who needed quick caffeine hit. Tonight was no exception.

Sharon often thought it would be an education working at McDonalds. The kids employed would probably learn more about economics, politics, and mathematics, English, psychology, language and sex education than they would have in their schools.

As they approached the head of the queue, Sharon took their orders, two chocolates, one strawberry and a caramel for herself.

Sharon recalled that it was only 12 earlier that her and Joanne had been sitting in Joey�s enjoying a coffee and croissant. Such a lot had happened in that time. Now the four of them were sitting down and eating while looking out at the street watching the passerby�s.

Across the road, one of the bouncers, come salesperson; was trying to entice ten blokes to come into his strip club. Whatever he said must have worked. They were ushered into the club, led by the salesman, eagerly going forward to present his catch to the management. A couple of girls smoked and talked near a pole, in front of the club. He watched guys approach the girls, talk briefly then go into the club

It intrigued Tony as he watched. He reasoned that if they were prostitutes, they would just say goodbye to their mates and disappear with their next trick. Maybe they were having a night off, but that didn�t explain how they were dressed. Some of the guys, after talking to the girls, didn�t leave but went into the strip club. He watched and ate and it seemed that the two girls were good for the strip club�s business. He saw more guys voluntarily go into the strip club after talking to the girls, than he did when the bouncers themselves gave their spiel to entice customers. He asked Sharon, his curiosity getting the better of him "Who are those girls?"

She said "Oh those two?" and pointed.

"Yeah." Tony nodded his head.

"Ah, that�s Melanie and Natalie." Seeing his confusion she added, "They�re strippers."

"Oh," Tony sighed. That explained it. He laughed to himself.

 

*******

 

Over the years, Dave had become like a brother to Christine and the relationship had blossomed. Nathaniel, Chris�s husband was often out of town on business, yet tonight Nathaniel was home with the children. Dave was 26 now and quite a good-looking bloke with smile lines around his eyes. Christine had called on resources she never knew existed, to help Dave and through her constant encouragement, Dave had grown into of well-balanced young man.

"Who was that Chris?" Dave spoke after Sharon had left the restaurant.

"I�ve seen her around she�s a prostitute. Keeps to herself. Quite attractive isn�t she?" Chris replied.

"Certainly is." Dave commented. "Pity."

"What Dave?" Chris asked.

"Pity she�s a prostitute. She seems so nice, it�s truly a shame" he added.

"Listen to you, as though you haven�t been through as much as she!"

"Yeah, I know. But it hurts to see it all again. Right in front of your eyes. I see myself in them. I love them Chris. They are special to me. I wish someone could help them." Dave said.

"We can you know." Chris commented. "But it takes time to help someone through their hurts, as you are well aware of." Chris said.

"Yeah, I know. Look at the mass of time people have invested in me. It�s been eighteen months since I stopped sleeping with guys and still everyday I�m learning more. I couldn�t help her. I�m still getting on my own feet. It�s a big decision to help, isn�t it Chris?"

"It sure is Dave." She commented, convincing herself with the encouragement her ears needed to hear at the moment. "But you are the best person to help. You have been down a similar road to her. She�d respect your history. It�s inspiring. Only an abused person can really fully understand another abused person. Only they gain the real deep respect."

"Why is that?"

"Because we all like to think we get advice from someone who knows. You can�t say I know what you mean, when you haven�t experienced similar pain. Some abused are abused sadly just for that reason."

"What?"

"People like you can�t be argued with Dave. For once you couldn�t live without a daily drink and a man in your bed, now you�re clearly attracted to women and not in the least affected by any lack of alcohol in your system. They can�t argue. They can theorize all they like but the fact remains. You were once a gay, drunkard with no hope, with scars of beatings and molestation from your father. Now you are happy, single, sober and willing to help a child. Actions speak louder then words. A dose of real life experience, beats all my theory hands down.."

"What will happen to the kid?"

"I don�t know yet. Maybe he�ll be all right in her care. He�s already on the streets, which means he�ll probably run away again, if we put him in a home or foster care. He probably won�t tell us where his parents are and probably hasn�t got any I.D. If Sharon is happy to keep him and he�s happy to stay, it might be best in the short term to leave him in her care."

"But can she look after him?"

"Well he will stay alive won�t he? Hopefully, he won�t have to go into prostitution. Anyway if he stays with Sharon and is happy, who am I to dictate what would be better for him?"

"I must admit, while we�re on the subject, she�s fantastic looking. I gave her a wink as she left."

"Did you?" Chris inquired.

"Yeah."

"So, did she respond?" Chris asked with curiosity.

"Ah well, she smiled back as she left." Dave said.

"Do you want to see her again?" Christine asked smiling.

"I suppose so. Why? What have you in mind?"

"You can come to the interview tomorrow morning. It would be good for Tony to have you

there. You can also see what you may be getting into with street kids."

"Deal" he responded.

They chatted a little while longer and Christine left him to go home to her husband. Dave strolled lazily home, just a little way.