By the time Kurt woke up that evening, Quinn had already left and Cole was passed out on the couch upstairs.  He stole a bag of chips and a pack of cigarettes and went on his own way back to his corner in rich man's land.

He had happened upon his spot by chance.  Wandering around town aimlessly, catching train after train, just to get a feel for New York.  Most of the busy places had been long since claimed, and once the local whores had his plan figured out, he was quickly chased away.

This spot though, was vacant for blocks all around.  He had yet to meet another prostitute that wandered into this area.  Part of it was that most whores dressed the part and cops had them figured out quickly.  Kurt though was dressed just like some punk kid with nothing better to do than hang out.  The cops didn't see him as a problem and left him alone - especially in such a ritzy area.  He was pretty sure when they did pass by that they assumed he was just a kid rebelling against his rich parents.

It had taken awhile because of that image though to build up some regular customers.  Most of his regulars now were guys that had driven past a few times initially to make sure he was the real deal.  Unlike most of the gay sluts in this town, he wasn't dressed up like some doll or like a woman.  He didn't have many clothes to begin with and he certainly wasn't going to cut them up to look more like something he really didn't want to be.  

Kurt attracted two kinds of men.

The first one, his preferred client, was the married man type who just needed to get his kinks out on the side.  These guys paid well and didn't want anything special.  Occasionally they'd expect Kurt to top which meant that Kurt had to force himself to get it up.  Yes, he was attracted to men, but no, he was not attracted to old, sleazy guys cheating on their wives with a whore.  He figured out though how to fantasize and that got the job done.

Kurt's other clients were guys who knew they were gay and pissed off about it.  They were mad they had been born a certain way and used Kurt not only to get their sexual frustration out on, but to get their aggression out on.  They didn't pay as well, figuring that Kurt must somehow like being used as a whipping post, and were always tops - and brutally so.  Those guys from the last weekend were all that way.  Like a self-hating gay club they had been.  They had each taken a turn with him and then beat him to get their money back since they argued that they hadn't really wanted it anyhow and he should just enjoy it because he was ‘really' gay compared to them.  

Assholes.

Cole had been really pissed off at him when he came through the door that morning, bleeding still and bruised and puffy.  He had no money to show for it and wasn't able to go out for a few days afterwards because of how bad he looked.  Cole had added a few punches just to make sure Kurt knew how mad he was and then let Quinn take care of him.

Between scolding him for being so stupid to get into that mess to begin with, she cried.  “I'm sorry… I'm sorry….”

Kurt didn't know what she was apologizing for, and was too in and out of it anyhow to try and figure it out.  It was a miracle he had the peace of mind to get from trust fund kid's apartment back to the house with his brain hurting like it had been.  What that kid had been thinking - Kurt had no idea, but he knew that had their places been swapped, he certainly wouldn't have taken in some street trash so easily.

When Kurt wasn't working, he just stayed in the basement and spent most of the time sleeping.   It was the best thing to do when trying to avoid both Cole and his withdrawal.  Quinn would bring him a little bit of food and help him mend his clothes, but that was the most he would see of her aside from sleeping.  Kurt knew that Quinn probably distracted Cole with her own body to keep him from coming downstairs and taking out his anger over having a non-working whore in his house, and he was grateful.

Kurt only wished he had a way to show how grateful he was to her.

Quinn mothered him as much as she could - making sure he ate even when his body told him he wasn't hungry - a side effect of the drugs, she helped him do his make-up after dealing with rough clients, and had become good enough at shoplifting to supply him with new boxers when his clients inevitably tore his.

He didn't do enough to ever make it up to her and Kurt wasn't sure why she did it all in the first place.  Maybe it was because they only had one another, but lately she had been doing it more and become more sullen in the process.  She had him worried, and he didn't like being worried.

It was going to be another slow night.  He could tell.  Few cars were driving by and those that did had no one looking his way.  He leaned up against the building and lit up his first cigarette of the night, waiting for someone to take notice of him.  Waiting…

It took an hour.

“How much for a whole night?”

Kurt narrowed his eyes and squinted suspiciously at the trust fund kid, what was his name….

“I mean… I did some math… thirty for about fifteen minutes would mean one twenty for an hour… but I know you don't book solid… and….”

Was this kid for real?

“You don't have enough and your mommy wouldn't like it anyhow.” Kurt snapped and looked back to the street, flicking the ashes off the end of his cigarette as he did.

The kid cleared his throat, “I live with my sister and she's not home tonight anyhow.  So how much?”

Kurt watched the street for a minute, devoid of cars, and then thought about how much closer he could get to another fix if he made enough money to make Cole happy.

“How much you got kid?”

“Four hundred.”

Kurt nearly choked on the smoke in his lungs and looked at the kid again, “What?”

“Five hundred then?”

Oh fuck, this kid was not real.

“Five hundred…. “

The kid nodded, his curls bouncing along with his head, and then pulled a wallet out of the pocket of his coat, “Two fifty now and two fifty when you go?”

Kurt's eyes were locked on the bills being handed to him, trying his best not to let his eyes bug out of his head and keep his hand steady as he took them and quickly shoved them into his back pocket.  “Fine.  Lead the way Romeo.”

“Blaine.”

Right.  That was his name.

Kurt followed him up into the apartment, which had to be three times the size of Cole's shitty little house.  Kurt did all his work in the backseats of cars or between buildings, so as he stood in the entrance of the apartment, he hesitated, what the hell was he supposed to do in here?  And for all night?  What kind of kinky shit was this kid into that he needed the whole night with Kurt?

“You want a drink?  Tea?  Coffee?” The boy offered, walking into the large, open kitchen that was off the the right of the entrance.

“Uh… coffee I guess.”  Kurt looked down at his boots.  They were a bitch to put on and take off, but somehow he figured he was going to have to suck it up and take them off.

“Oh no… don't worry about your shoes… boots I mean.  The housekeeper will take care of any dirt you might have on them.” The boy said as he saw Kurt leaning over to remove them.  Of course there was a housekeeper.

A cup of coffee was handed to Kurt and he held onto it tightly with both hands, savouring the warmth  before taking a small sip.  God, it was good.  Cole only bought the shitty stuff and Kurt only got some when it was already lukewarm.

Blaine watched as Kurt drank the liquid.  To say it put Kurt ill at ease was an understatement.   He was sure this was a mistake now.

When the cup was empty, and that didn't take long, Kurt looked at Blaine, “So… where you want to do this shit?”  Setting the empty cup down on a shelf, he went to undo the button on his pants.  May as well get this over with.

“No.”  Blaine put a hand to Kurt's and Kurt looked back up at him and paused.  “I… not yet.”

“Fuck kid.  You paid for a whole night.  I don't know what you're expecting but I don't peddle in singing lullabies and reading bedtimes stories.”

The hand retreated, “I know…”

“Then what the fuck you want me to do here?”

“Just… stay safe.”

Kurt eyebrows both went up and he stared at the kid, who was definitely now a kid in Kurt's mind.  “Stay safe?  You brought me up here to stay safe?  You're paying me five hundred to stay safe?  Are you dumb or just slow?”

Blaine frowned and shook his head, “Please.. just… humor me.  I am paying after all.”

“Fuck.”  Kurt was definitely out of his element now.  He followed Blaine as he walked over to the couch and sat down.  Kurt waited a moment, just to make sure Blaine was being real and didn't expect Kurt to drop his head between his legs before Kurt took up a space on the opposite side of the couch, spreading out his own legs and enjoying the cushioning that Cole's couch was woefully low on.

“What is your name?”

Kurt looked over, “I don't generally give it out.”

“I'd like to think you might seeing as how we keep crossing paths anyhow…”

Kurt sighed.  Of course.  This kid saw him as being somehow involved in his fate.  “What do you think my name is then?”

Blaine shrugged, looking Kurt up and down, “Do I have to pay you for your name too?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and tipped his head back, “Fuck… It's Kurt.”

“Kurt.”  The kid hummed thoughtfully, mouthing the name and nodding to himself as if he had figured out some monumental kind of problem.  “Good German name…”

Kurt was tired of this already.  He crawled himself forward on the couch and palmed at Blaine's crotch, which responded almost instantly to his movements, “I'm a good German fuck too.”

Blaine's yelp, combined with the way he scurried back away from Kurt did nothing to alleviate Kurt's concern over this whole situation.  He sat there, confused as hell, as Blaine stood back up and looked down at him, “I'm not… I mean… I… I've never done anything like this Kurt.”

“I figured that much out stud.” Kurt said, his eyes rolling once again.

“I mean sex… I never….”

Oh.  A virgin.  Well that all made a shitload more sense now.  Kurt let a smile creep over his face and chuckled softly, “Well then… I'll have to ask why you picked a prostitute.  I'm sure a cute little tart like yourself could get any ass you wanted.”

The kid went beet red, and even Kurt had to admit it was kind of cute.  “I just… I didn't… oh god… what am I doing?”

Before Kurt, Blaine began pacing back and forth, and then the rambling started, “I just saw you outside and I didn't want you to get hurt again and I know you need to make your living so I just went out and I didn't even think about this at all and if Rachel or my parents find out they're going to kill me and I haven't even worried about sex or anything because I'm so busy with school and making sure I do well and I don't know what -”

Kurt wasn't good with dealing with rambling, freaking out kids.  He decided to stop it the only way he knew how, and that was grabbing the boy by the waist of his pants and drawing him back to him.  “Shut the fuck up kid.”

Blaine shuddered and looked down at Kurt, such wide and worried brown eyes that Kurt knew this kid couldn't lie even if he tried - he was so open, and Kurt also knew then that this kid really was in way over his head - even if way over this kid's head was only toe deep for Kurt.  

“You want me to give you a good fuck, I'll give you a good fuck.  You want me to suck you off, then I'll suck you off.  You want me to just sit on my ass all night, then I'll do that... but for fuck's sake, just stop freaking out.”

Blaine nodded, and then reached out to gently draw his fingers over Kurt's cheek, “Okay….”

Kurt sighed, letting himself be the object of the kid's fantasy for the moment and letting himself be touched - though he shut his eyes.  After a minute the fingers retreated and Kurt felt the cushions beside him sag as Blaine sat himself down.  Kurt reopened his eyes and looked over.

“I think… just… maybe rest.  I meant it.  I want you to be safe.”

Kurt nodded.  The kid was paying him after all.  Kurt figured he could handle getting paid to sit on his ass - it's what so many people seemed to do anyhow.

“You got any food here?”

The boy nodded quickly, “Sure.  What do you want to eat?”

Kurt shrugged.  He wasn't really hungry - but then he never really was.  The only thing he ever craved anymore was the high.  He knew he needed to eat though and figured if the kid was willing, he might as well take advantage.

Blaine went back into the kitchen, letting Kurt lay back on the couch.  It was new.  Not the one he had bled on.  The kid and his sister must really have cash if they could afford to replace a couch just because of a little blood.  Cole would have, and had, simply flipped the cushion over.

When Blaine returned, he had a platter (of course), filled with everything from doughnuts to salad to noodles.  Kurt looked at him suspiciously as the platter was set before him on the coffee table.  “How the fuck much do you think I eat?”

“Not enough.”

Again Kurt's eye's rolled.  At least Quinn would approve.

He snacked over the next couple hours, letting the boy watch whatever he wanted to beside him.  First it was some basketball game Kurt was sure his dad would have approved of, and then a reality T.V. show.  When Blaine asked him what Kurt liked to watch, Kurt thought his answer of, “The navel's of my clients.” was hilarious but only garnered a frown from the kid beside him.

After awhile though, there was too much silence and even Kurt was getting uncomfortable with it.  “So what're you studying?  Let me guess… A major in earning cash and a minor in being pretentious?”

That earned Kurt a small smile but the boy shook his head, “No… much as my parents would like that.  I'm just in general studies right now.  I don't know what I want to do.”

“And what about your sister?  Major in prissiness with a minor in bitchiness?”

That got him a laugh, “Close.  She's at NYADA and also working on Broadway.”

Kurt sucked in his lower lip and bit down gently.  There had been a time that that had been his dream.

“You might have heard of her…” Blaine continued, “Rachel Anderberry… in Funny Girl.”

Oh Kurt had, as he had made note of all Broadway stars.  He knew it was a stupid way to use his brain cells, seeing as how he'd never be on stage with them, but even after all this time, and putting away his own dreams, he still couldn't help but pick up on the things that used to make him happy.

Blaine looked over at Kurt then, since Kurt hadn't replied, and caught him.  “Sorry… did she kick some puddle water at you or something?  She is rather full of herself.”

Kurt shook his head, “No.  Just didn't figure I'd end up invited to the home of a Broadway star by her brother.”

Blaine smiled over, “If it makes you feel any better, I never figured I'd invite up a… uhm… what's the preferred lingo for what you do?”

“Whore? Slut?  Prostitute?  I don't know.  This isn't L.A.  I know they like sex trade worker there.  I'm good with whatever.”

Blaine looked away and nodded, “Right… anyhow… I didn't figure I ever would have…”

“Well, as if it's any kind of shock, I never figured I'd be having to tell someone that I'm a slut for a living either.”  Kurt admitted as he leaned back in his spot.

“I somehow never thought anyone got into your line of work because they grew up wanting to.”

“It was never something I wrote in after those ‘When I Grow up I want to' writing assignments… no.”

They chuckled, and then continued as they had been - Blaine watched T.V. until he dozed off and Kurt snacking and looking around at his opulent surroundings until, he too, dozed off.  In the morning, Blaine paid out the rest of the cash, just as he said he would, and Kurt boarded his train without a crick in his jaw or a pain up his ass and with more cash than he usually made in a week.

Cole let him have some blow that morning.