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Re: Sasuke App. Part VII.
Third Person

Sasuke hates this place. It has the stale sex smell of whoever was in there before them. Why they always choose this motel is beyond him. Maybe it’s some sort of child porn ring set-up, with even the front desk clerk in on it. He wouldn’t doubt it, that guy’s really shady. Sasuke’s been coming here with different guys since he was fourteen, and the guy hasn’t said a word. He’s either blind, or he doesn’t care. Sasuke has yet to meet anyone who even gives him a suspicious look, though, so he’s starting to think Americans in general don’t care. If it wasn’t for the constant press and rampant legal attacks on the subject, he would really believe they’re all child molesters.

The guy is setting up the camera, some dinky home video thing, and Sasuke sits on the edge of the springy mattress with the cheap, paisley comforter and waits, hands in his lap and shoulders slightly slouched. He’s just turned sixteen today, so it’s prime time for a movie. Of course, he could lie about turning that age any day, but he guesses some of the guys get a kick out of the realism. So instead of having birthday cake and a party, he’s going to strip naked and have sex with this guy – who looks to be about forty, forty-five. He’s not thin, not fat; just an average guy. Sasuke hopes he’s not hairy. The hairy ones make him want to throw up.

Come to think of it, he’s never had a birthday party. Maybe too much trouble for the adults. Encourages the neighbors to come over, and if there’s anything the adults don’t like, it’s the pesky neighbors.

He’s had cake, though. Pretty much every birthday he can remember. Not on the actual day, and maybe not even a week or two after it, but eventually Max comes with cake – or cupcakes – in hand and passes them out to all the kids. Sasuke’s getting too old for this cake thing, but he still waits and hopes every year that the bastard won’t forget. He knows the year he does spells something really bad. He recognizes this pathetic need for acknowledgement, but can’t shake it anyway.

He doesn’t realize the camera is on and rolling until the guy is asking questions.

“So, today’s your birthday.”

Sasuke keeps himself from rolling his eyes at the opener. “Yeah.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“What’s your sign?” The man smirks.

Sasuke furrows his brows, not sure what that means. The guy chuckles.

“You know. Libra, Scorpio, that sort of thing. … Nevermind,” he finishes, when Sasuke just stares blankly. “Go ahead and take off your shirt.”

Sasuke complies, slipping off the black sweatshirt over his head, tossing it aside.

“I notice you’ve got a couple piercings in your ear. Any others? Any tats?”

Sasuke sticks his tongue out to show off the black and red koosh barbell, closing his mouth after. “It vibrates,” he says, shooting a well-placed smirk at the camera.

The guy’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas. “Hot. We’re going to make good use of that later.”

As the guy tells him to take off his clothes, and then start touching himself, Sasuke complies, guessing what little bit of conversation they had was over. He lies back on the bed, staring at the ceiling (the camera’s not going to be on his face, anyway), and places himself somewhere else like always, thinking about birthdays and getting older, the possibility of outgrowing this market. He’s had a dream that when he turns eighteen everything will change, and he can take all the money he’s made in this dirty business and somehow become a citizen and live as a real person in the U.S. He’s already researched it, he knows it’s unlikely, but going back to Japan seems even scarier now. The place isn’t home to him anymore. Then again, nowhere is.

If he’s lucky, this will be the only guy he has to deal with today. Then maybe he can take the younger kids out to the playground at the park. If it doesn’t rain.