In the mid-nineties, AIDS is not the death sentence it used to be, but Javi’s friend Casey needs medicine he can’t afford. Javi needs to make some cash fast to help him out, but there aren’t many options for gay college dropouts. Javi can’t even sell his blood plasma because he has had sex with men before.
But he learns of someone who will buy blood, even if the donor is gay. Javi is already skeptical, then the doctor at the clinic claims to be a vampire who prefers to drink from men who are sexually stimulated.
The whole situation seems suspicious and scary, but the pay is good and Javi does find the situation a little hot. Is it worth the money? Or will Javi need to flee before he is seduced to the vampire’s will?
It was almost immediately obvious that this place was a gay brothel of some sort. Aside from the very distinct scent that brought back memories of frantic drunken encounters in bar bathrooms and the pin-up posters of naked men covering much of the wall space behind what was likely the service desk, there was a sign on the other wall that listed general prices for different services. However, that sign was almost lost among the flyers surrounding it promoting sexual health and proper condom use. They might as well have stuck with a single giant poster that said Got AIDS? Get out!
Javi nearly turned around and left. The nurse clearly hadn’t sent him here to sell blood; he thought Javi was better off selling his body instead. Javi didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. He chose to be trusting instead. The nurse had seemed serious about this, despite all the secrecy and haste. Javi walked up to the desk that was empty except for a punch bowl full of condoms and a pamphlet rack with more information about sexual health. Maybe this place really is a clinic. Might be where guys come to check if they’re infected, and if they’re not they celebrate by hiring a boy toy. There was only one way to learn what this place truly was. Javi dinged the bell on the desk’s counter.
“Be right there!” came the response from behind a door Javi had barely noticed due to the full-scale black and white poster of a leather daddy on it. Javi hoped he hadn’t interrupted someone in the middle of work with a client. However, when the door opened, out came a middle-aged man wiping what was clearly barbecue sauce off his fingers. “Sorry,” he said. “Lunch.”
Javi nodded. Although this guy had a decently receded hairline and a bit of a paunch, he didn’t otherwise strike Javi as the kind of person he might spot sneaking through the beaded curtain at a video store. And despite the button-up polo shirt, there was enough muscle definition in his arms to suggest he could hold his own in a fight if he wanted. Some kind of combination desk clerk and bouncer, Javi thought.
“Hey, um ...” Javi wasn’t sure how to breech this conversation so he handed over the piece of paper. That had been the second half the instructions. The nurse had doodled some kind of signature at the bottom, which Javi figured would let the guy at the desk know that he had been sent here and didn’t just wander in out of curiosity. “I’m uh ... here to donate -- er, sell, I’m here to sell some blood plasma?” No point in going all this way only to accidentally give his blood away for free.
The clerk’s customer service smile faded. He swallowed and wrung the napkin in his hands. “Ah,” he said. “You’ll have to speak to the boss directly then. Hold on a moment, please.” He was halfway through the door when he called over his shoulder. “Feel free to have a seat.”
Javi didn’t trust any surface in this place, especially not the chairs. His second thoughts were back, mostly telling him, Run before you end up on the news as another Asian boy who got kidnapped and turned into someone’s sex slave. But then his thoughts went to poor Casey, with bags under his eyes big enough to hold bowling balls and a hopeless expression as he scoured the Help Wanted ads in the newspaper. Javi stayed within bolting distance of the door, but he stayed.
Right as Javi was kicking himself for not lying on the first clinic’s questionnaire, the clerk returned with another man following behind him. Javi’s initial impression of the newcomer was that maybe he was the oldest of the male prostitutes in this place. His short brown hair was shot through with silver like ripples of moonlight on water. He had faint crow’s feet in the corners of his steel grey eyes, but otherwise his skin was smooth and pale. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was taller than Javi, which wasn’t saying much considering that Javi himself was only five and a half feet tall. Even without the white coat he was wearing, the guy had the air of a doctor around him, a bit aloof and analytical, but with a smile that would have put Javi at ease if his nerves weren’t so deeply on edge. The main thing Javi noticed about that smile was that the guy’s front teeth were kinda small and it made his canines look long by comparison.
“Hello there,” the man said. “I’m Dr. Hadley. I hear you were referred here?”
