Babylon (babylonya) wrote in darkcarnivale, @ 2011-09-01 00:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | aidan sayers |
Who: Babylon (oneshot, solo)
What: Short backstory intro post.
When: Backdated a few weeks, before the Carnivale came to town
Where: Twin Falls, Idaho
Rating: G/PG
Status: Completed
"Mommy, is that a boy or a girl?" an obnoxious little she-rugrat asked at the top of her lungs. The midget-like creature was staring at Aidan while tugging insistently on her mother's sleeve. The woman tutted at her daughter, as if ready to scold her. But then she saw Aidan standing there, and her face hardened. She looked at him in all his androgynous glory, and her mouth twisted in disgust. Clearly she didn't think Aidan merited an apology of any sort. In fact, the woman turned positively belligerent. Her tone implied that Aidan should be ashamed of him or herself, whatever he or she was.
"Well? You wanna tell my little girl, darling?" the woman said acidly. "Which one are you, then? A boy, or a girl?"
Aidan looked the woman straight in the eye and answered in a perfect sultry deadpan. "Yes." He then made a big show of tossing his long mane of red hair. The nerve of some people, he thought. It was beyond annoying, the way everybody seemed to want to make Aidan choose. As if he had purposely and willfully been born with both genitalia, just to vex them all. At least this one had been shocked into silence. Aidan's fiery temper and snappy answers had gotten him in trouble too many times to count.
Just then, his date arrived, who had gone to fetch the car. The man who had hired him tonight looked like any other businessman in town for the big convention might. Aidan's enigmatic smile was more sincere than usual. As an intersexed escort, his clientele ran the gamut of undesirables, sometimes. To some he was little more than a curiosity, a modern day sideshow freak. They just wanted to see for themselves what a hermaphrodite looked like in the flesh, as it were. (Aidan didn't love that word, but he'd made his peace with it long ago.) Most people assumed he was a transsexual in between surgeries. Aidan no longer tried to correct them. He would shrug and say close enough and call it a day, telling them whatever they wanted to hear. Those were usually the harmless ones, after all. Aidan had had his share of scary customers. But best not to dwell on them.
"What was that all about?" the man asked, watching the woman and the little girl storm off in a huff as he walked around the car to open the door for Aidan.
"I wouldn't loan her my mascara," Aidan said with a smug smirk and a flirty wink. He was wearing makeup tonight, as requested. It was one of his preferred looks, so it was no hardship; smoky eyes with a touch of Urban Decay lilac and the barest hint of clear lip gloss, framed by his inhumanly high cheekbones and flaming red hair. He wore a faux-Kamali iridescent parachute hoodie jacket that looked champagne or lilac depending on the light over a satin halter top and tuxedo pants.
His john had been devouring Aidan with his eyes ever since he'd met him at his hotel lobby. Somehow Aidan knew this one wouldn't be content with merely looking or having him touch himself. It was just as well, since Aidan needed to feed. Feeling wanted was a lovely appetizer. Aidan was soaking up those heated looks as he turned up the charm, while reminding himself not to overdo it. He had learned through harsh experience that his touch could be addictive, which wasn't nearly as much fun as it sounded. He had left a long trail of obsessed "admirers" and stalkers, one messy swath of heartache in his path.
He liked this one, so he'd be extra careful with the incubus mojo. Brad here, obviously not his real name, seemed nice. He had been generous and a gentleman so far, and had even tipped him in advance. But experience had taught Aidan not to let his guard down. He would reserve judgment until after whatever happened in the bedroom. In fact, he'd reserve judgment until he got home safe after the date. The downside of not having a pimp was the lack of proper protection from the more unsavory johns. Thankfully, the internet was a wonderful thing. Pretending to be an agency allowed him to weed out the more obvious freaks before risking face-to-face meets. It was hardly foolproof, but it beat standing on corners and getting into whatever car picked one up. Score one for modern technology.
"Your mascara," not-Brad replied, chortling under his breath and grinning at Aidan as he held the passenger door open. "You're too much."
Aidan cocked a shoulder playfully. "I know," he chirped happily, getting into the car. It felt nice to have someone treat him like a human being, for once. Dinner and a show? Lately Aidan was lucky if his dates bought their own condoms. This was definitely a treat. "Thank you," he told not-Brad with a warm smile. The man had earned that much. He really hoped not-Brad wouldn't turn out to be a sick monster in the boudoir. Looks could be deceiving. But for now, Aidan would enjoy what was given, and relish it. He could always hang on to the nice part of the evening later while licking his wounds if this thing went south.
Sometimes Aidan just wished he could run off and join the circus, except for the little fact that the type of circus one could merely run off and join was sadly a thing of the past. Or so he would think, until the Dark Carnivale brought him back out to Twin Falls at the end of August. A whole new world would open up before him then, and a chance for a new life.