Chapter Text
Shane got off the U-Bahn in West Berlin and walked the short distance to the parlor. The sun was setting quickly and the air smelled like dry leaves and humidity; it was 6pm on Thursday, October 18, 2012.
He read through the German and Turkish names on the doorbell until he found "MASSAGE" and pressed the button. The place didn't have a name, just an address: Wolfvogelstrasse 84.
"Hallo. Dritte Stock," the hausdame replied in a heavy Eastern European accent.
Shane took a deep breath to ground himself. Today was going to be his first day.
There hadn't been much of an interview process besides emailing the owner a few pictures, but he'd been given a short tour of the rooms when he'd come in to check out the place two days prior, so he knew what to expect. The space was a bit cramped and dark – the only window in the common room where the men lounged in between appointments – but it seemed clean enough. The other guys had glanced up at him briefly before going back to their phones, looking bored but not especially unfriendly.
Shane had been in Berlin for a few months. He'd arrived on his 21st birthday, on the 10th of May, having moved from Hannover where he'd grown up with his single mother, a Vietnamese first generation immigrant. His German father was not in the picture.
After graduating high school, he'd sort of stalled. He'd stayed home, helped his mom at the nail salon, played video games. He'd never been particularly sociable, and he didn't have any career aspirations; the days blurred together and he felt numb.
Then Hanno, his best and only friend, had moved to Berlin to try and make it as a DJ, and he'd slowly managed to convince Shane to follow him. Now they shared a two-room apartment in Neukölln for less than 500€ a month.
Shane had spent the past half year being dragged from club to club by Hanno (Tresor, Kater Blau, Sysyphos, the infamous Berghain...) and going from job to job – mostly restaurants and bars, since he wasn't qualified to do much else.
He never managed to go past the trial week at any of them. He could tolerate and even enjoy clubs (with the aid of copious amounts of ketamine that Hanno kept in a nose spray for easy access), but he hated working in loud places. Having to yell at people to be heard, people yelling in his ears in turn - it was hell.
Then, one night, at one of Hanno's gigs as DJ Hayden, he'd met Rosa – a girl from Austria. They'd hit it off immediately, which was rare for Shane, being generally quite awkward and reserved, and thanks to her insistence they'd become good friends.
Rosa was a sex worker, and after hearing about Shane's trouble keeping a regular job, she suggested he try working at an erotic massage parlor.
"It's just handjobs, and you can decide whether to do blowjobs too, although technically it's illegal – something about different licenses for brothels and massage parlors..." she'd said, "obviously some people do full service on the side but you don't have to, unless you want to," she'd continued as she fixed herself a line of speed on her glass coffee table.
"Full service?" Shane had said.
"Penetration." Rose had replied, exhaling after snorting her line.
"Ohh. No, I don't think i wanna do that," Shane had said, "P-penetration, I mean."
"Yeah babe, that's why I'm suggesting a massage parlor and not a brothel."
"Right."
She'd sent him a few options, recommended by a gay friend of hers, and Shane had emailed the place with the better reviews. And here he was today, approaching his first shift.
The truth was, Shane had never slept with anyone before. He knew he was gay, there was no doubt about that, but he'd never dated anyone, never hooked up with anyone. But doing it for the first time as a transaction didn't matter to him, he didn't feel ceremonious about it at all.
Petra, the Ukrainian hausdame, welcomed him in and walked him through the details in choppy, practical German. "Here you make the oil warm," she said, gesturing towards the bottle heater, "Every time you go to the room, you bring warm oil bottle for massage and something to drink for client. Understand?"
Shane nodded and continued following her.
"Here is the shower," Petra said, drawing a curtain that revealed a small shower box to the side of the common room.
"This is for quick showers, for more privacy there is bathroom at the end of the corridor. With bidet. Alles klar?"
She showed him how to set up the room and where to bring the used towels at the end of each booking, then she pointed to a locker and told him he could store his stuff there, but he needed to bring his own lock.
Shane nodded and stuffed his backpack into it, then sat down on a chair. A few of the other guys had arrived and were taking their clothes off, facing the opposite direction.
"Boys, say hi to..." she turned towards Shane and gestured to him to introduce himself.
"Ehm," Shane hadn't really picked a work name, so he went with the first thing that came to mind, "S-Sven. I'm Sven."
In that moment, the door burst open and a tall, broad-shouldered man with curly hair stormed in, followed by three other guys. They were laughing loudly about something.
"Good morning, girls!" the man chimed.
"It's 6pm, Roz," someone replied in German.
"This is morning to me!" The man said, also in German, as he greeted Petra by kissing her three times on the cheeks.
"Hallo Schatzi," she said, "your 6:30 regular is confirmed."
"Sweet, thank you Petra," he replied. The exchange continued in what sounded like Russian.
"And what do we have here? New hire?" the man said, noticing Shane.
He was handsome. All the men in the room were handsome, actually, but he was something else. He had a pronounced Cupid's bow and a sharp jawline, and his nose had a small bump along the bridge, dipping gently before turning up at the tip. His eyes were hazel and his smile mischievous.
"I'm Roz," he said with a smirk, and offered him his hand.
"Sh–Sven," Shane stuttered. The man's hand was warm and strong.
"Everyone, please introduce yourself to our new friend," Roz said in English.
"Hello, I'm Hunter," the man closest to him said in German, offering him a warm smile.
"Don't be fooled, Hunter doesn't speak a word of German despite having been here for like twenty years. Nobody knows how he passed his citizenship test."
Hunter laughed. "I'm from New York."
Shane gave him a quick nod.
"This is Haze," Roz said, gesturing toward a younger man to his right, "He's the only Berliner here."
"Nice to meet you," Haze said in German as he shook his hand.
"Then we have Troy, he's Canadian, nobody knows what the fuck he's doing here but we like him."
Laughter went around the room.
"Where is J.J.?" Roz asked the others.
"Home, he was on the morning shift," said a short man with dark hair and a beard.
"Right, guess you'll meet him tomorrow. He's French-Algerian," Roz said. "Well, and this is Marly, our token straight man—allegedly."
Everyone laughed.
"Shush – we have a saying in Italy," Marly said in a thick accent, "In times of famine, every hole is a trench!"
Roz burst out laughing, while Haze cringed a little but ultimately laughed too.
"Welcome to Wolfvogelstraße, Sven, hope you'll like it here," Roz said with a smirk. Then he walked to his locker and began taking off his clothes.
"Nice to meet you, guys," Shane said with a weak smile, then turned his gaze to his feet. He didn't want to be caught staring at Roz's muscular back.
Everyone got into jocks and robes. Shane didn't know he was supposed to bring a robe so he stayed fully clothed. He felt his anxiety rise but tried not to show it.
"No need to look so scared," Roz said, "If anyone hurts you, Petra will shoot them in the knees."
"Don't start terrorizing the young man, Roz," Hunter said.
"Shut up, Hunter, you're only nice because he's not competing for your niche," Roz sneered.
"And what would be my niche?" Hunter asked dryly.
"Old men!" Haze and Roz chorused.
"Shut up, Hazy, you're literally a child. You shouldn't even be allowed to work here!" Hunter scoffed. "And what would be your niche, Roz, assholes?"
"My niche is most attractive man in the parlor," Roz said, puffing out his chest.
Was Roz calling Shane attractive by implying they were competing within the same niche? Shane didn't feel very attractive. Everyone looked like they went to the gym a lot – he felt a little self-conscious.
"Rozy, 6:30pm is here. He wants a glass of sekt and to see the new hire," Petra said. "Sven, get undressed and go to Room 4 to introduce yourself. This client likes to book a double with Roz and a different guy every time. Are you ok with doubles?"
"I—yes. Ok," Shane said as he quickly pulled down his pants.
"Follow me, Sven," Roz said, winking.
Roz entered the room and greeted the client warmly, handing him a glass of sparkling wine. He was a German man in his fifties, he looked like every German man in his fifties.
"Mmmh, you look good," the man said as Shane shook his hand.
"Let Petra know what you decide, I'll be back in a few minutes," Roz said, then he opened the door and gestured for Shane to follow him.
"He doesn't want massage, he wants us to make out and jerk each other off while he jerks himself off. He pays double for all extras. Are you ok with this?" Roz said matter-of-factly as they stepped back into the corridor.
Shane had to fight to maintain eye contact. He could feel his ears burning.
"Y-yes, ok."
"It's going to be fine, it's easy client. Don't stress," Roz said.
They walked back into the common room and Petra reappeared a few minutes later and handed them both their rate in cash. "He likes you," she said to Shane, "hurry up!"
Shane's ears started ringing. He felt dizzy. He was scared.
He followed Roz back to Room 4. Before going in, Roz turned around and briefly squeezed Shane's forearm. "Ok?"
"Ok," Shane replied.
When they opened the door, the man was already lying on his back with his pants down and his dick in his hand.
"There he is," Roz said. "Have you missed me, Markus?"
"Oh yeah, I have," the man groaned as he stroked himself frantically.
"Slow down, darling, you're gonna cum before we've even started," Roz teased.
The man did not slow down.
"What would you like to see today?" Roz asked.
Roz's voice was deep – it was hot. Shane felt embarrassed by how aroused it immediately made him.
"Kiss each other, please," the man said, his breath shuddering.
Roz looked at Shane. Shane nodded. Then Roz raised his right hand and gently traced Shane's jawline with his index finger as he stepped closer, running a thumb over his cheek. Shane closed his eyes and leaned in.
Roz kissed him tentatively at first, approaching his top lip with what felt like soft, little nibbles that he soon added a slip of tongue to. Shane's breath hitched. He kissed back, deeper, with his whole mouth.
Roz's hand moved to the back of his neck as the kiss grew in intensity. Shane grabbed Roz's hip and pulled him closer.
Roz broke the kiss to check on the client and Shane almost lost his balance. He'd forgotten the client was even there, jerking himself off furiously.
"Did you enjoy that, Markus?"
"God, yes..." the man moaned. "Now touch each other. Please."
Roz looked at Shane again. His cheeks were flushed, his pupils wide. Shane looked down and saw his cock fully hard in his jocks, then looked back up at him again. Roz nodded and Shane reached out to touch him through the fabric. Fuck.
Roz pulled down his jocks, then hooked his fingers into Shane's. "May I?"
"Yes," Shane said under his breath as he grabbed Roz's cock. Roz grabbed Shane's in turn.
"Fuck," Shane muttered. Roz took his mouth again as he began stroking.
"Oh yes, oh my god," the client moaned.
"Do you want me to make Sven cum, Markus?"
"Yes, please—oh yes," the client muttered.
Roz cupped Shane's balls with his left hand and started stroking faster. Shane kept stroking Roz but was struggling to keep a steady rhythm. Roz was staring at him in the eye, his breath warm and sweet on Shane's face.
"Will you cum for me, Sven?"
Shane let out a low moan. "Don't stop," he whispered.
Roz kissed him again, breathing unevenly, and Shane burst into his hand, panting. Some of the cum hit Roz's stomach, some hit the floor, Shane's legs felt like they were about to give out.
Surprisingly, the client was still going. "Now make him cum," he ordered Shane.
Roz was sweaty and puffed, his cheeks red and his forehead glistening.
Shane kissed him again, deep, as he steadied the rhythm of his hand. Roz groaned, his breath hitched, and within seconds he was coming into Shane's hand.
Shane didn't stop kissing him, as if he wanted to swallow the orgasm out of his mouth.
He felt wobbly. He felt good.
Then he heard the client grunt and curse and was pulled out of the haze of his and Roz's orgasm.
"I can tell that you enjoyed that, Markus," Roz said with a smirk as he broke the kiss, catching his breath. "Let me get you a washcloth."
"Thank you guys, that was really hot," the client said as he wiped his stomach, already stumbling to his feet.
"See you next Thursday, honey," Roz said, smoothing out the sheets. Then he winked at Shane as he headed out of the room.
"B-bye," Shane said awkwardly to the client.
"See? That was chill," Roz said as they stepped into the corridor.
"Yeah, I guess," Shane said. Chill wasn't exactly the word Shane would have used to describe what had just happened.
The night had barely started and Shane already felt all over the place.
Petra immediately thrust a drink into Roz's hand and hauled him into a different room. "You can shower while the next client showers," she said, "hurry up, busy night for you."
Shane walked back into the common room. Thankfully, all the other guys except for Troy – who smiled at him and went back to playing with his Switch – were in bookings, so he could let himself come down from the way touching Roz had made him feel without having to worry about making conversation.
His mind felt scrambled and his nose kept catching the smell of Roz's saliva that had dried around his mouth. It made his dick twitch. He grabbed a towel from the stack near the shower and drew back the curtain separating the stall from the rest of the room, wondering why the fuck the shower had to be in the common area.
The phone rang several times and Petra answered by reciting the names of everyone on shift. It sounded like a poem, or a shopping list.
The rest of the night went by slowly; Shane did a few introductions but none of the clients picked him. The others kept commenting on how dead it was for a Thursday, but Roz seemed to be busy the entire time. Shane barely saw him after their double, he only ever came into the common room to shower quickly and grab a drink for his next client. When Shane left, at midnight, Roz was still in a booking.
He decided to get back to Neukölln via Ringbahn rather than switch from the U1 to the U8, he didn't feel like being under the ground. The S-Bahn station was farther away and he wanted to take a walk to clear his head and feel his body against the fresh air; he felt clammy and drowsy after spending six hours in that small room.
The nights were already cold and Berlin's streets were poorly lit, but Shane didn't mind. Berlin wasn't a pretty city; apartment blocks repeated themselves in washed-out mustard tones, aseptic blues and greens, off-putting reds. The windows of the newer buildings were so small he wondered if those rooms even got any light.
Now that he thought about it, he could barely remember Hannover's architecture. He'd never paid attention. Hannover simply was.
How many things in his life simply were? When was the last time something had demanded his full attention?
Someone on the S-Bahn platform barked something at him. He ignored it and stepped onto the train.
Hanno was still up when he got home. "How was the new job?" he asked, popping an ear out of his bulky headphones.
"G-good. The restaurant is chill, the shift was okay," he lied.
"Cool! Maybe I'll come around for dinner sometime," Hanno said.
Shane knew that wasn't gonna happen, Hanno never really ventured that side of town.
He turned down a joint and headed to bed but it took him a long time to fall asleep.
±±±
Ilya pulled his white 2012 Porsche Boxster Spyder into the parking lot at the back of the parlor. He was one hour late but Petra wouldn't mind, his 6pm client had canceled so he'd decided to take it easy.
He'd barely slept. He was at the parlor till past midnight, and after that he'd taken two private bookings that kept extending. He'd walked the last tweaked out man to the ATM three times.
He sat for a moment in the car, letting his mind wander back to the evening before.
The new guy, Sven, had taken him by surprise. Ilya had fucked hundreds of people at this point, but chemistry like that was rare. They'd only kissed and fooled around for a few minutes, but Ilya couldn't help but notice the... potential.
He knew nothing about him; the man had stuttered out his name and laughed softly at some of the banter but hadn't even told anyone where he was from. His accent sounded native, that much he could tell, but who was Sven? And why did kissing him feel like kissing someone he hadn't known he missed?
Ilya shuddered at the sappiness of the thought and stepped out of his car to grab a kebab from the kiosk at the corner before starting his shift.
Once upstairs, he recognized Sven's sneakers under a chair, but he seemed to be already in a booking. Petra caught him up on which other clients had confirmed, which ones had canceled.
"How's the new guy?" Ilya asked in Russian.
"He's doing well. Last night he looked a little like a ram at the new gates but he's already on his second client today."
"Good," Ilya said.
He sat down and finished his kebab, then took off his hoodie and headed to the sink to brush his teeth.
"Schatzi, no brushing teeth in the kitchen sink," Petra scolded him in a mix of German and Russian.
"I would argue that there shouldn't be a shower in the kitchen either, but here we are," Ilya replied.
"Oh c'mon," Petra huffed, nudging him out of the way with her hip. "Off you go to the bathroom."
"I guess I'm gonna have to brush my teeth while someone douches next to me," Ilya scoffed, heading out of the room shirtless.
As he opened the door, he bumped into Sven, who was coming back from his booking, greasy with oil and sweat.
"Oh, hey," Sven said.
"H'oy," Ilya replied, with his toothbrush in his mouth.
Sven went in for a German little hug, but Ilya mistook it for him trying to get past and stepped aside, realizing what had just happened just a beat too late.
He felt briefly embarrassed about the awkwardness of the interaction but quickly shook it off. Though seeing Sven's pretty freckles up close again stirred something else in him that he couldn’t dismiss as easily.
The evening proceeded as usual. Rushing from client to client, the lingering smell of poppers in the rooms, his phone buzzing with calls from his brother demanding more money for their father's care – money that was really was going up his brother's nose.
He wished Alexei would stop hassling him and support his own habit by selling ass just like Ilya had done back when he was still using. But he felt guilty for not being there for his father, and sending money back to Russia was how he coped.
Every time Ilya stepped back into the common room for a quick shower, he could feel Sven's gaze burning into the back of his skull.
Ilya didn't dare make eye contact; if that was what being looked at by Sven felt like, he wasn't sure he could handle looking back.