Julian was perfectly capable of acting down to earth, and he managed to fit in socially with his fellow prostitutes, almost all of whom were working either because they had no other income or were nurturing serious drug habits. But his ability to get any client he wanted wound up creating a lot of tension and resentment on the scene. I sensed that more than he did, and I started urging him to think about getting off the street, but Julian was a very confident, obsessive boy, and it took getting beaten up pretty badly one night by three jealous hustlers to make him finally quit. By then, Julian had gathered a few very well-to-do regulars, so he continued seeing them and some other men they recommended for a while. He also performed in a few now obscure porn films. Still, without the danger and excitement that came with hustling on the street, he gradually lost interest. He'd always had a huge sex drive, so even with all the put-outs he'd had to do on the job, our own rather rambunctious sex life had never suffered. But when Julian decided he'd basically had his hustling experience and was ready to concentrate on his music, I was relieved for a number of reasons. In fact, without the distraction of Selma Avenue, our relationship became even more far reaching, as the love for promiscuity that he'd been relegating to his prostitution work became incorporated into our sex life, resulting in crazy experimentation, a blur of three-ways and four-ways, and, well, you name it.