A/N: I'm so sorry, this chapter is incredibly messy. I couldn't bring myself to write it in a normal state and now I'm incredibly tired. I'll update the next part as soon as possible, it gets easier to write the further I get into the story.

This new life was exciting. Jeremiah found himself dressing up and going to glamorous parties and fancy dinners all the time. Mark had been right, he was a favourite, men were going mad over his intense blue eyes. He was earning money at last, not as much as Simon would make some nights, but definitely enough to keep him going. Sure, none of his other clients were like Adrian, who he now met once a week for social events, but no one had treated him badly. A lot of his clients were men in their 50s who wanted to show off their latest trophies. At these meetings he had met several other guys from his agency, which they all laughed about if any of them met up outside of work.

Tonight was a strange one though. Both Jeremiah and Simon would be working at the same party, but with different clients. It wasn't meant to happen but Alex had backed out the same morning and Jeremiah had to step in and save the day. So here they were, in front of the same mirror, both aware of the other's occupation but for the first time about to see them at work.

"This is so awkward," Simon complained, pulling on a forest green knitted sweater and black skinny jeans.

"Is that seriously what you wear all the time? I feel like I have a different wardrobe for different clients," Jeremiah groaned, adjusting the collar of his silvery-gray shirt and approving of the way it accentuated his eyes, which were definitely his best features.

"I'm a certain type," Simon answered, spinning around to show off his long, thin body. "I rock the heroin chic look, people request it. You, however, are a classic blonde male model. They can dress you up however they like and you look fantastic. Enjoy that you can pull off any style, it gives you more clients to choose from."

Jeremiah nodded. Being so versatile did have his advantages. He could have his own personal style at home and then dress up into one of his many characters before going out and that way keep himself separated from his work.

"Well, I've got to go and meet my client at home first, but I'll see you at the party… stranger" Simon squeaked happily before bouncing out of the door, obviously trying to pretend that seeing his best friend work as an escort wasn't going to be that bad, even though he had just whinged about the awkwardness minutes before.

Jeremiah just sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Yep, this was going to be a strange one.

It wasn't that bad, Jeremiah told himself. He had managed to avoid Simon for most of the actual party, until the end when Juan, Simon's client announced he would be having a small gathering at his place. Jeremiah's client Neil was of course invited and he was quick to accept the offer and stuff a wad of cash into his escort's pocket to pay for the "overtime". Mark had warned him that this sometimes happened and he pretty much had to accept it as Neil was one of their top clients.

So now Jeremiah found himself in a huge apartment trying to keep focused despite music blaring, shots being racked up and cocaine being passed around. Simon's client seemed to be the source of the cocaine and Jeremiah realised that this must be the wealthy regular who gave Simon a free fix once a week.

Jeremiah stared, fascinated, as his friend expertly chopped out a line on the glass coffee table and inhaled it all in one go. He tilted his head back in an expression of complete, relaxed bliss, letting the chemicals enter his bloodstream. After a second he snapped out of it, grinning and letting out a satisfied gasp. Juan whispered something in his ear and Simon pretended to look shocked and hit him playfully while letting out a high-pitched squeak.

His persona was hypnotising. Jeremiah had only ever seen the real Simon, kind but brutally honest, warm and laid back. This person was more like… Well, like that stupid friend of Blaine's. He was touchy, bubbly and feminine and although he held the room's attention, he was completely submissive in a way.

An elbow nudged Jeremiah's ribs gently. He jumped and shot a charming smile as he realised it was only Neil. The older man pointed at a line of cocaine on the table and Jeremiah beamed gratefully. He leaned over and snorted it slowly, in two goes, to make sure he got it all. By the time he lifted his head again, Simon was pinned against the couch, groaning underneath the Columbian drug dealer.

Now it was weird, Jeremiah thought. Neil handed him a bottle of tequila without saying a word, this man really wasn't talkative. Jeremiah took it and poured it down his throat until he felt the burn. He set it down on the table and suddenly Neil had attached himself to his lips. Well, ok. The night couldn't get much weirder.

Mark was worried. He couldn't believe he had sent Jeremiah out on that kind of job. The parties always got out of hand and he never should have sent such an inexperienced boy. He was so young. Simon wouldn't be looking out for him, by this time he'd be climbing the walls between round one and two with Juan. His phone lit up and started shaking across the table. Reading Jeremiah's name on the screen he snatched the phone up and held it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"It's Jay," the boy slurred, he was obviously drunk and high. In any other situation, Mark would be shouting right now about being sloppy, but with certain clients it was understandable. Maybe if Mark had started a business in another state, say New York, he could pick his clients. Ohio didn't really leave much choice so he couldn't blacklist anyone who paid this well.

"What's up, kid?" he knew very well what was coming and drew in a deep breath, preparing himself to be a bad guy.

"Neil wants to fuck me." Well, that was blunt, Mark thought. He expected Jeremiah to be the kind to sugar coat it a little.

"You got the money?" he hated this part, hated the snapping, the business of it all. Jeremiah muttered a yes, sounding a little confused.

"Then you're his." Mark screwed his eyes shut. He had gotten into this because he wanted to be the agent he wished he had when he was younger. If these boys were going to turn to prostitution anyway, they needed someone to look after them properly. Lately he had gotten better at turning his feelings off though, they had no place in this business. He had managed to recruit new boys when business was slow, so now he had to man up and tell them what their life was going to be like.

"Look," Mark interrupted Jeremiah's confused questions. "You are a whore, ok? You rent yourself out to strangers on a daily basis, did you honestly think it was going to be all fancy dinners and fun parties? You got yourself into this, kid and you'd better man up right now and get back out there. That's one of our best clients and if he wants to fuck you, you're going to let him."

It just gets more difficult, Mark thought as he hung up. He knew he shouldn't have told Jeremiah that he wouldn't have to do the sexual stuff and sure, it had worked out in the beginning. But it couldn't last, it never did.

"I'll call you a cab," Neil offered, sitting on the side of the bed.
"No worries," Jeremiah managed a smile. "It's not too far, I'll walk." The older man took Jeremiah's hand in both of his.
"I had a great night," he said.

So that was it. He was now a whore and there was no turning back. Jeremiah walked through the dark night, unaware of the people around him, of the rain falling on him. All he could feel was a kind of emptiness inside him, the drugs leaving his system and a dull pain from being fucked too hard. For some reason he didn't quite understand himself, he turned left into an alleyway, walking right into a guy he recognised from the agency.

"Jeremiah, right?" he asked, staring right through him.
"Yeah, you're Toby, aren't you?" The other man nodded and leaned against a wall.

"How do you do it?" Jeremiah sighed, holding his head in his hands. Toby reached into his pocket and brought out a small plastic bag containing some kind of powder. It wasn't white, like cocaine, but the colour wasn't quite determinable in the dark either.

"Sit," he ordered. Jeremiah complied, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Toby was holding a syringe in front of him.

"Do you want to try it?" Jeremiah nodded. He had nothing to lose now, he figured and held out his left arm, rolling up his sleeve.

It hit him instantly. There was no rush, like with cocaine, but it was numbing like it. No, not like it, there was nothing like this. Nothing mattered, the pain didn't matter, the dirt didn't matter. Toby had vanished but Jeremiah couldn't care about that either. He just sat there in an alley, riding on the soft waves of the drug, letting them carry him further into the comforting darkness.