I go about my work restocking the fridge and cleaning, when I feel a set of hands softly and timidly patting my lower back. I struggle to turn in the narrow space, and I find myself face to face with the youngest client of the night, a blind 17-year-old gypsy boy. He’s been sitting quietly at a table behind his older brother drinking Coke after Coke and now he’s groping his way to the bathroom.
I laugh his hands off my buttocks and point him to the bathroom door. When he fumbles to open it, I take his sweaty small hand and place it on the handle. He opens the door and before stepping in his body gives me an unexpected shove. We both land in the middle of the toilette with him about to lock the door behind us. I react instantly—planting my hands on his chest, I push him hard out of my way. He lands on top of the bathroom wastebasket, a basket case, and I leap out to find a small crowd at a standstill. Every set of eyes is partaking in this sexual coming of age of a blind boy. I now solved the brothers’ puzzle; big brother took small one out for some action, he coached him then sat back on his bar stool to watch the boy become a man. Not with me, he won’t!