A/N: So glad you like it! Here’s the next installment! I forgot to warn that there would be some M/M content (slash) but I figured you’d probably expect it from a story about a MALE whore, since it is usually men that pick up prostitutes anyways. Please continue reviewing!!

Part 2: Sex Kitty

Benvenuto was sitting on the curb, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do. Looking across the street, he saw three hookers, two female and one male. They were overly made up, dressed extremely sluttily and a little thin, but healthy looking enough.

A man pulled up in an old Buick and started talking to the male one. After a moment, he got in the car and the car pulled off.

Benvenuto smiled. I could do that. He thought. I could so do that.

It did not take too long for him to get picked up. A dirty compact car pulled to the side of the road, and a man in his mid fifties rolled down the window. “Hey kid.” Benvenuto narrowed his eyes cautiously. “You workin’?” Ben nodded slowly. “Not a talkative one, are you kid?” It was a rhetorical question, not requiring an answer. “C’mon sweetheart, get in the car.” He opened the door expectantly.

Benvenuto took a deep breath. His eyes flicked back to the two hookers still on the street corner. If they could do it, so could he. He clambered into the car and spoke for the first time. “What is it you are wanting me to do?” He asked in his best English.

“Bend over.” The man grunted. Benvenuto complied, pulling down his pants. He had been raped by his father before, so he had a rudimentary idea of what sex was. This wasn’t nearly as bad as that had been, but it was still not fun. When the man had finished, he stuffed a wad of cash into Ben’s hand.

Benvenuto leapt fluidly from the car. “You have a future in this business, kid.” Ben nodded curtly as the car drove away. He thumbed through the money in his hand. He glanced down at the dirty rags that were his clothes. If this was going to be his job, he would need a new look.

He walked into the nearest Wal-Mart. The shopkeepers were eyeing him rather closely, but he didn’t blame them. He looked the type to shoplift. This was the Wal-Mart on the bad side of town however, so the shopkeepers probably did as much shoplifting as the customers.

He had no idea what to look for. He headed over to the clothing aisles, where a girl wearing barely anything was leaning against one of the racks. Like Benvenuto, she was also Hispanic. “You look rather lost.” She said in a bored voice. “I guess it’s kind of my job to help you.” Indeed, she had a ‘Hello, my name is’ tag stuck to the scant amount of fabric covering her chest.

“I, uh…” Benvenuto started, but the girl held up and hand to stop him.

“Wait, you’re new in the business, right?”

“I am not understanding.” Benvenuto answered, puzzled.

“The prostitute business.” The girl smiled, knowing she was right.

Ben cocked his head. “How are you knowing?”

She laughed. “You can’t speak English so well, can you? I’m one too, I suppose that’s how I know.” He still had a confused look on his face. “Oh, do you not know that word? A prostitute is someone who gets picked up in cars to have sex with people for money.” She repeated her explanation in imperfect Spanish to make sure he understood.

He nodded. “You is being correct.”

“And you don’t know what to wear, right?”

He nodded again.

“I’d love to help you.” She took him through the store, helping him with his new look. On the way, she taught him how to apply makeup, the ins and outs of the business, appropriate prices to charge, and some English slang vocabulary he would need. She seemed to really be enjoying herself. When they were finished, he promised he’d visit her later and left the store.

He snuck into a public pool to have a shower, and organized his new things. He was hungry, but food could wait until after he got picked up again. He applied heavy black eyeliner and mascara around his cat-like orange eyes, which Annette (the girl from Wal-Mart) had said were his best feature. He ran his hands through his beautiful sable hair. Annette said every prostitute needed a trademark, some way clients could recognize them instantly. Something no other hooker would have. Hers was combat boots. She had never seen another hooker wear combat boots.

He pulled out a bottle of bright orange hair dye. He didn’t think any other prostitutes would have florescent orange hair.

Benvenuto looked at himself in the dirty mirror. He was wearing tight, black low-rise jeans and a pair of high-heeled ankle boots. Annette had advised against underwear. It was unnecessary and took to long to take off, she had said, you want undressing to be as easy as possible. A black fishnet shirt clung to his ribs. Annette had also suggested saving up for a tounge piercing. She got one and it really increased business.

He carefully painted his nails orange, to match his freshly dyed hair, and let them dry before venturing out on the street.

That was the beginning of Benvenuto’s career. A year later, at the age of fourteen, he was one of the most successful male whores in the city. In the top ten, anyways. That was when he decided he needed a pimp.