Then one of those nights that stay with you forever happened. Clive and I had been working together for almost six months. We got careless. We each took a trick at the same time. Up to this point, I had had maybe half a dozen close calls, times where the johns were stronger than me, tried to get more than a hand job. Luckily, either Clive or someone else had been within calling range, or I was able to get to my switchblade in time to stop anything from really happening. But this time… I don’t know what happened that didn’t set off that warning bell in my head. Maybe I was just a bit too tweaked to be on my game that night. I just remember there suddenly being three guys there instead of the one. One guy on each arm, pushing me and holding me against the brick wall of the alley. The third guy talking about my being a tease with just hand jobs, telling me how he was going to show what he thought of some little street fag being a tease. He ripped open my jacket and sweatshirt, started to pull up my shirt. Saw my abs, and then started to go for my pants. My trying to scream, but nothing coming out behind one of the other guy’s hand over my mouth. The guy in front talking about how it looked like my package was as scrawny as the rest of me. Him pulling my pants down, then my underwear. And then that moment. It seemed to last a lifetime. The three of them freezing, silent as they took in the lack of a package down there. The guy in front scoffing a bit, slowing raising my shirt the rest of the way to reveal two small pert little breasts. Another lifetime moment of staring. And me thinking my life was now over, too scared at that moment to take advantage of their shock and squirm out of their grips.

The three of them starting to laugh, the two on my arms starting to push me to the ground, still holding me down. I fought them, and they got in several punches and kicks to stop my movement. My trying once again to scream, getting off a cry with nothing covering my mouth. The third guy starting to mount me, as a single tear finally started to fall down my face. Then the man froze, then went limp, falling on me. Hearing a scuffle, the other two guys letting me go to deal with what just came into play, one immediately dropping as well, the third getting a few punches in before Clive slashed him with his blade. The third guy backing off, shouting at what a freak I was, then running off and out of the alley. My just lying there in the filth of the alley, pants around my ankles, shirt around my neck. Another moment of eternity. Then Clive leaning out, trying to comfort me as I shrank away from him. Suddenly no more tears. Walls shooting up around me. I pulled my pants up, smoothed down my shirt. I pushed myself against the wall, and pulled my sweatshirt and jacket around me tightly. Clive slid down the wall next to me as we sat there, not moving for who knows how long. My occasionally spitting blood out from the split lip one of their punches gave me. For once in the time that I’ve known Clive, he did just what I needed. He didn’t try to touch or comfort me, he didn’t say anything, he was just there, sitting next to me. He did crack a joke several hours afterwards about how pissed his john must have been, he ran off when he heard me scream and left this guy standing in another alley with a huge hard-on.