End of Innocence
Most young kids have normal summers; they either holiday with their parent's in some grotty Butlin's caravan in Skegness or, when they reach that mature grand old age of 16, they head off to the Mecca of all underage teenagers: Ibiza. In my 16th summer I was paid for sex. OK, this ain't some embittered "I had such an unfortunate childhood and now look at me" beef, it's more of an irreverent reflection on my weird and, let's say, alternative childhood.
Well, I had just turned 16, and had a year before I discovered the joys of alcohol, or more precisely, cider in the park. Having moved on since then to the more 'hardcore' contents of my father's drinks cabinet, I was able to get a little bit of dutch courage before venturing out into the world of night clubs and townie bars in the North for the first time. Not being stupid enough to cruise into the streets of Leeds on my own, mostly for fear of being accosted by sad old singletons, a few days before, I arranged to meet a friend from school. This would be my birthday celebration with my trusty schoolmates.
Having tarted myself up from head to foot in designer gear (it was fashionable in those days) I set off across the Pennines to meet said friend at a pre-arranged place. Little to my knowledge then, this would be one of those times when a friend on the arm may have saved my soul from the ravages of the town - but that would have made this account boring. So, true to all predictions, my friend never turned up, and I was left, slightly drunk after several of my dad's brandies (I was 16!) standing in a bus station, looking a little bit lost. Being a rebellious, hedonistic chap I wouldn't let a minor blip like this spoil my virginal night on the town, and so, a little tipsy, I began to wonder around, searching aimlessly for a friendly bar to frequent. And yes, I did find such a place, in the form of "Queens Arcade" in the centre of this wonderful city. The "Queens" was a busy place with many young faces and so I stumbled over to the bar, apprehensively and ordered the first thing I saw on the board. "Can I have a TVR - oh, by the way, what is it?" By this time I had attracted the eye of a man who had also made his way over to the bar with a few friends of his. I could feel my hands becoming a little sweaty under the attention of the man so I downed my drink and as soon as I knew it, found myself ordering another. "Hey, how you doing?" Said person had by this time taken it upon himself to introduce him and his friends to me. Naturally, I was flattered by the attention, but this poor man was just a little too old for my liking and so I accepted the cursory drink, which he of course had bought me and sauntered off to the other side of the bar. I noticed, however, that I had attracted the attention of another, younger, better looking fellow. Now, let's just clear a few things up. Firstly, I was not out on the pull, nor did I intend for what was consequently to happen to happen at all, I didn't think it ever could. I was that nice young kid who went on holiday with their parents every year and played in the sand eating fit ice creams all day long. But, like all good things, my innocence had to come to its end at some point.
Said guy had by this time come up to my ear and began telling me something, pointing into the distance. I couldn't hear what he was saying and asked him to repeat himself. "You see that guy over there?" I nodded, slightly perplexed. "Would you sleep with him?" Sirens started to flash inside my head and I made moves to edge away from the unusual stranger. A series of questions began to follow: "Do you think he's fit... do you think I'm fit? Would you sleep with me?" I have to say that an ambivalence pervaded all my answers to his questions and I really didn't know what to do.
"How much would it take for you to sleep with both of us?"
"About 6 pints" I jokingly responded
"No. How much?"
We looked at each other, a mutual understanding across both of our faces. He looked deadly serious. I looked scared. I didn't know how much! How long is a piece of string? What's the shortest distance between two lines? I don't know! It wasn't so much negotiation which ensued, but a common awareness of what was inevitably going to happen. Let's just say that I came out of our little experience two hundred pounds richer. Hey, I was 16 and it was near to Christmas; two hundred quid was a lot for me then.
13th Feb 2003