Kurt groaned and rolled over, thankful that time was up. He looked down at the middle aged man lying spread eagle over the dingy mattress and felt that familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. He turned away quickly and rescued his clothes from their spot on the stained, boiled-carrot colored carpet.  He pulled them on quickly; as quickly as one can pull on skin tight jeans with strategic tearing in all the right paces, a tight mesh tank top, and a black bondage style jacket; and bolted from the room, staying only a moment longer to collect his money from the dresser. 

It was nights like these he hated himself the most. Sometimes, when he was lucky, he got cute, young, blushing boys who said 'please' and 'thank you' and treated him like he was a person.  Tonight it had been an old, balding man with a beer belly and a wife and kids who had taken him to one of those motels that charged by the hour. He'd shoved him to the floor as soon as the door was latched and forced himself down Kurt's throat, he'd wrapped his thick, sweaty fingers around his long, pale neck as he face fucked him and when tears rolled down Kurt's cheeks, and his gag reflex was triggered and he threw up around his cock, the old man had only laughed cruelly and pushed him back onto the floor and called him a dirty whore. 

When Kurt was younger he had been quite the romantic. He'd seen sweet little kisses and "I love you"s in his future.  He'd never in a million years thought that this would be his life. Never thought he'd have to half-run home through the seediest part of town in 'come hither' clothes fearful of being mugged or raped or killed.  He'd once blushed at even the most vague mentions of sex, He never thought that one day he'd become the person he'd become. He was a whore, a hooker, a- a prostitute.  There was the stirring in his stomach again, the stirring that came when he'd just let someone completely undesireable fuck him raw, the stirring that came when he thought about just how much he hated himself and what he had become. He stopped and ducked into an alleyway to vomit into a dumpster.  When he thought he heard whispers and the shadows began to shift, he broke into a sprint and ran the last couple blocks to his apartment building.

He climbed the seven flights of stairs up to his and Rachel's apartment slowly, he felt just a little bit safer inside the building, but safe enough to take his time. He heard a baby crying through the thin walls of the building and wondered to himself who would bring a child into this horrible world.

When he finally stumbled through the door of their apartment he found Rachel lounging on their couch, she was wearing the black fishnets and silver hot pants that she'd worn for work, under an oversized sweater that she was wearing because it was always cold in the apartment. She was smoking a cigarette and singing along to the movie she was watching between drags.

She looked up when she heard the door close, "Kurt, baby, come watch Moulin Rouge with me!" 

He slumped down on the couch beside her.  Moulin Rouge and Pretty Woman were their two favorite movies because they gave them hope that maybe people like them could still find love. Well, they gave Rachel hope, Kurt just obliged her, He'd given up a long time ago, after only his third ever client, who'd had some of the nastiest kinks he'd dealt with since. People that let other people do that sort of thing to them for money couldn't be loved.

Ewan Mcgreggor and Nicole Kidman started singing 'come what may' on the screen and Kurt felt his stomach turn. He bolted up from his seat, Rachel gave him a strange look, "I um- I have to shower. The uh- the client tonight was just disgusting and he kept insisting on coming in my hair and in my ears and stuff. I just need a good scrubbing." 

"You're ear? I'm sorry, sweetie. The pervs are the worst." 

He disapeared into their little bathroom and peeled his clothes off. He had the urge, as he did after every job, to burn the awful things but resisted, as he always did, and folded them carefully and put them aside.  He stepped into the shower, set the water to a scalding temperature, and slid down against the wall to curl up in the bathtub, he pulled his knees up to his chest and thought about his life and the decisions he had made, and just as he did every other night, he let the hot water beat down on him and he cried.