It had been a slow night, even with that trust fund kid that paid for more than just a blow job.  Of course, Kurt wasn't in the habit of giving more than what was negotiated for to begin with and that kid definitely struck him as someone who didn't know the going price for street love anyhow.  

Kurt fingered the bills in his pocket as he sat on the subway, ignoring the few other bodies around him as he let the train take him to Brownsville.  It was a good bit of travel from his corner to the place he stayed at, but that way he didn't have to compete with all the other hookers and he didn't get hit up when he was walking from the station to the house.

He and Quinn had hitchhiked their way to New York from Lima a couple years ago, right after graduation.  They both needed to escape their hometown for different reasons, and did what they needed to in order to get away, even when it meant selling their bodies for cash and crack.

Kurt knew he had envisioned his escape to New York as a little more glorified than what it had become, and was sure Quinn felt the same way.  They were trapped now however, part of the seedy underworld that required them to live on favours and debts in order to get by.  

As he stepped in the house, Cole immediately intercepted him, and without hesitation, Kurt placed all his cash into the man's hand.  Quinn and he had been working for Cole almost since they got into New York.  He was their pimp, dealer, and landlord.  They got to stay in the basement so long as they gave him what they earned, entertained his suppliers, and only bought from him.  

When they got into New York City, both Kurt and Quinn had pledged to get clean and get regular jobs.  That didn't happen though obviously.  It was like Cole, with his Beiber inspired mop of black hair and dimples could smell them coming.  They were his within a week.

“The fuck is this?  Only seventy?  What were you doing all night?”

Kurt shrugged his shoulders up, looking away.  “I tried.  It was cold out.  People didn't want to go out.”

“You're just fucking lucky Big G is going to be in this afternoon.  Make yourself smell less like piss and be ready when he's here.”  Cole spat as he walked off.

Kurt sighed and walked down the old steps that brought him down into the basement.  Really, it was more like a storage room that kept the water heater and furnace and a small pile of his and Quinn's stuff.  Quinn was already there, curled up in a blanket on the concrete floor.  He could see her pink and blonde tufts popping out from the way she had caterpillared herself inside the old comforter.  He grabbed his blanket and did the same, not bothering to change since he knew he'd have to wash up once he got up anyhow and huddled against her.  The furnace might have been down here, but it didn't mean it warmed up the area.

“Big G's coming this afternoon.” He murmured to her, cuddling up.

“M'know… he only likes you anyhow…” She replied, snuggling back.

“He always brings others though.”

“Whatever.  Sleep.”

And sleep he did.  Dreams of his dad and mom, dreams of a good high, dreams of the hopes he'd long ago abandoned, interspaced with nightmares about the things he'd done in the past couple years.

Quinn had to yell at him to get him to wake up.

“Fuck.  You're such a baby when you sleep.  Get up and get ready.”

Kurt obliged, making sure Cole wasn't using the main floor bathroom before ducking into it for a short shower.  He wasn't supposed to spend more than five minutes a day in the bathroom according to Cole.  He always pushed that rule.  

Then he had to pull himself into his cleanest pair of pants, knowing that he'd be pulled out of them anyhow.  A tight black T-shirt followed, and then his make-up - black eyeliner that would double this afternoon as black lipstick.  He noted in the cracked mirror that his hair was fading and a new pack of kool-aid would be needed soon to bring out the pink he had sported since Quinn had taken him under her wing in high school.

“Fucking hottie.”  Quinn mused when he came out and then laughed.  She was always saying that if he had been straight, she would have scooped him up as her own long ago.  Kurt always said that it was a shame she didn't have a dick.  If it wasn't for her being around, all Kurt would have would be the drugs.

He hadn't meant to get addicted.  Hell, he had always been one of those pristine kids that thought he was above the stuff.  It wasn't until the bullying got so bad he hid in the bleachers to avoid Karofsky and his crew that Quinn had adopted him along with the other skanks.  At first, he was just posing.  He wore the clothes and the make-up and adopted the ‘don't give a shit' attitude just to scare off the bullies with his she-skanks at his back.  Then his dad had the heart attack, and the only ones there for them were his skanks, especially Quinn.  She was the one who medicated his pain with some marijuana.  When his dad came out of the coma, Kurt was already hooked.  It caused a bigger rift between them than already existed.  The posing he had been doing quickly became his reality, and the marijuana became a gateway for drinking and cocaine.

It was the cocaine that had been the final straw with his dad.

They tried to get him into rehabilitation when his grades dropped off and he stopped being the kid he had been before completely.  He was too old to have to comply though and as soon as he got through the mandatory classes, he stopped showing up entirely to school.  Oh, he was at school - just under the bleachers where he and the other skanks would just smoke and drink and yell at anyone who had the nerve to pass by them.

Quinn had gotten in with the skanks after Beth.  Beth had been taken away from Quinn by social services after Quinn and Noah Puckerman, the baby's daddy, had fought to the point of having too many worried parties calling on behalf of the child.  Kurt didn't know the whole story.  He just knew that Beth was now solely in the custody of Puckerman and Quinn had basically gone full bitch after it.  During high school she still had tons of cash though, cash that she used to make sure everyone in the skanks felt good via the drugs and alcohol.  

They had graduated, the both of them, with their basic courses, and it was at the ceremony that both sets of their parents had given them ultimatums - Clean yourselves up or get out.

They had gotten out.

But without any steady cash flow, they had resorted to making money with the world's oldest job - prostituting themselves.

First it had just been the truckers, demanding handjobs or blowjobs in exchange for driving them so far.  Quinn was the one who complied, given that she was the less virginal of the two and the one that the guys were more interested in.

Then, when there wasn't anymore willing truckers, they had to figure out how to make some real cash.  That was when things got really rough for them.

They were both in withdrawal by that point, stuck in the middle of nowhere at some shitty truck stop the last guy had dropped them off at, and sleeping on the ground.  Some guy had spotted them, huddled against one another in the morning, and held out several twenties.  He said that all he wanted was a quick fuck.  Quinn had been the one to get up, ready to help them both out, but the guy shook his head and pointed at Kurt.

Kurt had bit his lip so hard that morning that he still had the scar on the inside of his bottom lip from it.

But it was enough money to get them on a train to New York, where they thought they'd be free finally.

They were never more trapped.

“Well there's your prize Cole.” Kurt heard as he entered the living room.

Big G, was, true to his name, huge.  The man was tall, and broad.  All muscles.  He had about twenty years on Kurt and the black in his hair was mottled by grey.  He wasn't a bad looking man, just old, and fucking scary.  This was the guy that Cole would talk to if one of his girls couldn't be found, and Big G would find them… or at least report back on how the police had found what was left of them.  

Kurt had never figured out his real name, but Quinn was sure the G stood for Ginormous.  

Big G also supplied Cole with his best crack, stuff that he always let Kurt have some of when he paid a visit.  It was well worth what Kurt had to do to get it.

Cole glanced from Big G, over at Kurt, the ‘prize' referred to and smirked.  Kurt was pretty sure Cole put up with him if only because Big G seemed to like him and was more willing to do business with Cole if Kurt was there.  

“Go take care of our guest Kurt.”

Kurt didn't pause or hesitate as he went to Big G and knelt down between his legs, sliding his pants down and taking care of the brute of a man not unlike he had taken care of the trust fund kid the night before.  In his mind, he was anywhere else, only coming back again when he was coughing and choking back the man's orgasm.

His hair was ruffled, like he was a pet dog, and Big G pulled up his pants and then pulled a little package out of his breast pocket and handed it to Kurt, “Here.  Have it now.   It's good.”

Kurt could have been starving and ignored a full feast in favour of the small baggie, emptying the white powder onto the coffee table and ignoring the fact that Quinn was doing to Cole what he had just been doing to Big G.  He carefully made it into a line and then sniffed it up, bit by bit and knelt back against Big G as the euphoria came over him.  Nothing felt this good.  Absolutely nothing.  There was no comparison, and people that didn't use it surely couldn't understand it.  He endured all the beatings and abuse on the streets just for this.  This… this made everything worthwhile.

Big G didn't just give it to him as a gift though, nor as a payment for the blowjob.  Kurt was bent over the table not long after and while he was still blissfully out of it, Big G was using him again, and Kurt just didn't care.  It didn't matter.  Everything felt good.

The only problem was though, that as quickly as the high seemed to come, it also just as quickly went away, leaving him moody and angry and wanting more.  Big G found his pleading for more entertaining, treating him like a spoiled pet as he would get Kurt to get him drinks and strip down in front of him - tricks for treats.  Quinn was also getting her fix, though Kurt knew that Cole would give her less and expect more from her.  It always had been that way though.  Since that guy who paid for their train ride to New York, to Big G now.

He wished Big G would just make Cole a deal and let Kurt live with him.  Then he'd have the constant high he needed and only have to give himself over to one guy.

But Big G only seemed interested in the occasional visit to Kurt, and Kurt didn't know what more he could do to try and entice Big G into wanting more, so he lived in a shitty basement, travelled to a rich neighbourhood every night, and bargained with guys who were more interested in beating Kurt than fucking him, all for these moments.  

When it was all over, Kurt and Quinn would retreat back downstairs, sleep for a couple hours, and not talk.  They could laugh and talk about most things, but these kinds of days, when they both had to coexist being used, they found they could never talk to one another.  It was a blend of shame and humility and sadness that kept them quiet, just holding onto one another as they slept and hoping they would just wake up and find out it was all a dream.  

But it never was.  They would wake up and go their separate ways for the evening, repeating the cycle of being used and abused for someone else's benefit until they died or were cast away.