High School Whore House (New Writers Welcome)
- Thread starter IRP2011
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Rpkitten
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2010
- Posts
- 455
Nickie Sloan; Walking home from school...
Nickie always preferred walking home instead of catching a ride (or, heavens forbid, taking the bus!). After being locked up in a big concrete prison all day, it was a welcome change to feel the sun kiss her face and the way her skirt gently brushed against her slim thighs as it was caught by the afternoon breeze. Most of all she enjoyed the alone time... a brief pause between her hectic classwork and homework. Of course the solitude wasn't entirely optional anymore... not since her world got turned upside down back in March.
Everything was great before then. She was happy! She was a cheerleader and popular! She had more friends than she knew and always could find a lift home or to the mall or wherever else she wanted to go. And dating? Not a problem -- the boys were practically standing in line for their turn.
Of course that was then, and this is now.
Now she was practically a social pariah! And all because of Tommy Jenkins and his friend, what-his-name. His skinny little nerd friend. Nickie never paid much attention to the pimply-faced kid... not that she had anything against him, just that he wasn't exactly relevant to her life. Neither was Tommy for that matter before they ruined her life!
Anything and everything can be found on the internet these days. There are no more secrets. So Nickie shouldn't have been too surprised that day after school when the pair of boys approached her. Showed her an interesting video they had stumbled upon ... a nearly twenty year old video of her mother fucking two guys! Nickie was well aware of her mother's history as an adult film star, mom had always been open and honest about that, and it was just that -- history. She had quit the business shortly after Nickie's birth to focus on a more legitimate life as a real estate agent. They both thought that life was behind them, but then came the goddamn internet and ruined everything.
The boys had demanded blowjobs or they'd tell everyone about it. Really?? Like I'm some kind of whore?? Besides, who was the school going to listen to -- the popular, honor role co-captain of the cheerleading squad, or a couple pervy dorks like them? Much to her surprise, they sided with the dorks. And ever since then she might as well be wearing a scarlet letter and damned for her mother's mistakes almost twenty years ago! Guilt by association, as they say. And ever since then it's been nothing but 'whore!' taunted from hallway crowds, boys expecting (at times demanding) her to be a loose, easy lay, and none of her old friends wanting anything to do with a 'whore' like her.
She didn't think it could get any worse... which, of course, meant it was about to.
As she turned the corner into her neighborhood, Nickie immediately noticed the blue and red spinning lights of a police car parked in front of her house! She took a few slow steps as she tried to make sense of the sight, her mind trying to rationalize it as anything but the worst news possible. She watched helpless as her mother stepped from the door, a single tear glistening from her right cheek and cuffed hands behind her back. "Mom!" Nickie yelled and ran to her but was stopped by a burly cop who was escorting her mother to the squad car.
"Don't worry, baby," her mother told her as the cop placed his hand to the back of her head and pushed her down into the back seat of the car. "Everything's going to be okay..." That's what she said, but the look on her face told a different story.
"Your mom's under arrest," the cop said and slammed the door close.
"Arrest?? W~what for?"
"Prostitution, to start." Nickie's heart sank and when she looked into the back seat of the squad car, and her mother glancing away, she knew it was true. "And we have reliable leads that she's involved in a lot worse... but all we're charging her with for now is prostitution."
Just then she heard a noise echoing from inside the house. "We have a search warrant," the cop explained and Nickie took off for the house before he could finish that statement. Inside, the place was a mess -- furniture moved from the walls and cardboard boxes full of file folders stacked up at the doorway.
"Those are my mom's real estate records!" She heard footsteps coming down the stairs and another cop with his hands full. "Hey! That's my computer! You can't take--"
"It's evidence now, kid," the ass with a badge said and carried it away.
In a panic Nickie bolted up the stairs. She glanced in her mom's room and found it picked clean by the vultures, then darted to her room to find a third cop standing in front of her dresser and "inspecting" one of her thongs. "Like mother, like daughter?" he laughed.
"Fuck you," she spat back with venom.
"No thanks.... I don't pay for my pussy," he sneered as he pushed his way past her.
A half hour later their cars were packed and they were gone, leaving Nickie all alone in a house that had never felt so large or empty. She walked room-to-room surveying the damage and stopped in her mom's room. They had cleaned it out, but Nickie couldn't help but look around anyway. She struggled to lift the mattress back onto her mother's bed and tried not to think about how many men she had serviced there. She sighed and walked with slumped shoulders to the closet. Clothes were strewn about, their pockets checked and then tossed aside. She began cleaning the mess, gathering up as much as she could when she notices a tiny little glitter from the edge of one of the closet's wooden panels. She leaned in closer and saw how it had been worn down from frequent use -- someone pulling it and pushing back into place. With nervous fingers Nickie touched the panel and pulled it free! The whole panel came away and cast light into a narrow space hidden behind the closet. Boxes rested on the floor with more clothes handing from a rod. She opened the boxes and the hanging clothes; a tiny leather skirt and fishnet stockings were all she saw before breaking down in tears. Then the next box: an array of dildos, stringed beads, and some kind of leather contraption she had no clue what was for. And really didn't want to!
And on top of that box was a small, black book. Nickie took it and sat on the floor. Inside were records of names, dozens of them, with phone numbers and a dollar figure penciled in next to them. They were all obviously aliases... things like Bulldog and Maestro. And scribbled beneath many in her mother's handwriting was some kind of code with stars. FP, BJ, AF, and so on. She was bright enough to follow what BJ must stand for, but as she pondered the others her cell phone rang.
"Hello? .... Mom! Mom, are you.......... Ye~yes I.......... no, well I have a little......" She fell silent as her mother tried to make the most of her brief call -- speaking quickly and reminding her everything would be alright, but she wouldn't be able to come home soon.
"I~I'll get you a lawyer, a good one, and..................... mom, I know.... I know they're expensive, but we have.......... what do you mean they froze the accounts? They can't do that! That's................... I know..........." As she listened to her mother, Nickie continued flipping through the book her eyes falling on entries like Miss Winter and Ace Dawg. "Mom, I'll find the money. I'll get a job, and....." Her voice fell silent at the sounds of her mother crying from across the phone. She turned one more page in the little black book, to an entry for Mister M., who apparently was a regular judging by the eraser marks under his account and a very surprising note reading, ***Nickie's Clothes***. She paused... did her mother dress up like her for her, ummm, clients? Maybe a few even fantasized about....
"Mom, don't worry," she said and closed the book. "I can get the money. I'm sure I'll think of something."
OOC: Hi everyone! Sorry to be so long-winded... I promise I'm not always like this! I just needed to ramble to set up Nickie's situation. If anyone would like to partner on a story, please feel free to PM me! Thanks!!
Nickie always preferred walking home instead of catching a ride (or, heavens forbid, taking the bus!). After being locked up in a big concrete prison all day, it was a welcome change to feel the sun kiss her face and the way her skirt gently brushed against her slim thighs as it was caught by the afternoon breeze. Most of all she enjoyed the alone time... a brief pause between her hectic classwork and homework. Of course the solitude wasn't entirely optional anymore... not since her world got turned upside down back in March.
Everything was great before then. She was happy! She was a cheerleader and popular! She had more friends than she knew and always could find a lift home or to the mall or wherever else she wanted to go. And dating? Not a problem -- the boys were practically standing in line for their turn.
Of course that was then, and this is now.
Now she was practically a social pariah! And all because of Tommy Jenkins and his friend, what-his-name. His skinny little nerd friend. Nickie never paid much attention to the pimply-faced kid... not that she had anything against him, just that he wasn't exactly relevant to her life. Neither was Tommy for that matter before they ruined her life!
Anything and everything can be found on the internet these days. There are no more secrets. So Nickie shouldn't have been too surprised that day after school when the pair of boys approached her. Showed her an interesting video they had stumbled upon ... a nearly twenty year old video of her mother fucking two guys! Nickie was well aware of her mother's history as an adult film star, mom had always been open and honest about that, and it was just that -- history. She had quit the business shortly after Nickie's birth to focus on a more legitimate life as a real estate agent. They both thought that life was behind them, but then came the goddamn internet and ruined everything.
The boys had demanded blowjobs or they'd tell everyone about it. Really?? Like I'm some kind of whore?? Besides, who was the school going to listen to -- the popular, honor role co-captain of the cheerleading squad, or a couple pervy dorks like them? Much to her surprise, they sided with the dorks. And ever since then she might as well be wearing a scarlet letter and damned for her mother's mistakes almost twenty years ago! Guilt by association, as they say. And ever since then it's been nothing but 'whore!' taunted from hallway crowds, boys expecting (at times demanding) her to be a loose, easy lay, and none of her old friends wanting anything to do with a 'whore' like her.
She didn't think it could get any worse... which, of course, meant it was about to.
As she turned the corner into her neighborhood, Nickie immediately noticed the blue and red spinning lights of a police car parked in front of her house! She took a few slow steps as she tried to make sense of the sight, her mind trying to rationalize it as anything but the worst news possible. She watched helpless as her mother stepped from the door, a single tear glistening from her right cheek and cuffed hands behind her back. "Mom!" Nickie yelled and ran to her but was stopped by a burly cop who was escorting her mother to the squad car.
"Don't worry, baby," her mother told her as the cop placed his hand to the back of her head and pushed her down into the back seat of the car. "Everything's going to be okay..." That's what she said, but the look on her face told a different story.
"Your mom's under arrest," the cop said and slammed the door close.
"Arrest?? W~what for?"
"Prostitution, to start." Nickie's heart sank and when she looked into the back seat of the squad car, and her mother glancing away, she knew it was true. "And we have reliable leads that she's involved in a lot worse... but all we're charging her with for now is prostitution."
Just then she heard a noise echoing from inside the house. "We have a search warrant," the cop explained and Nickie took off for the house before he could finish that statement. Inside, the place was a mess -- furniture moved from the walls and cardboard boxes full of file folders stacked up at the doorway.
"Those are my mom's real estate records!" She heard footsteps coming down the stairs and another cop with his hands full. "Hey! That's my computer! You can't take--"
"It's evidence now, kid," the ass with a badge said and carried it away.
In a panic Nickie bolted up the stairs. She glanced in her mom's room and found it picked clean by the vultures, then darted to her room to find a third cop standing in front of her dresser and "inspecting" one of her thongs. "Like mother, like daughter?" he laughed.
"Fuck you," she spat back with venom.
"No thanks.... I don't pay for my pussy," he sneered as he pushed his way past her.
A half hour later their cars were packed and they were gone, leaving Nickie all alone in a house that had never felt so large or empty. She walked room-to-room surveying the damage and stopped in her mom's room. They had cleaned it out, but Nickie couldn't help but look around anyway. She struggled to lift the mattress back onto her mother's bed and tried not to think about how many men she had serviced there. She sighed and walked with slumped shoulders to the closet. Clothes were strewn about, their pockets checked and then tossed aside. She began cleaning the mess, gathering up as much as she could when she notices a tiny little glitter from the edge of one of the closet's wooden panels. She leaned in closer and saw how it had been worn down from frequent use -- someone pulling it and pushing back into place. With nervous fingers Nickie touched the panel and pulled it free! The whole panel came away and cast light into a narrow space hidden behind the closet. Boxes rested on the floor with more clothes handing from a rod. She opened the boxes and the hanging clothes; a tiny leather skirt and fishnet stockings were all she saw before breaking down in tears. Then the next box: an array of dildos, stringed beads, and some kind of leather contraption she had no clue what was for. And really didn't want to!
And on top of that box was a small, black book. Nickie took it and sat on the floor. Inside were records of names, dozens of them, with phone numbers and a dollar figure penciled in next to them. They were all obviously aliases... things like Bulldog and Maestro. And scribbled beneath many in her mother's handwriting was some kind of code with stars. FP, BJ, AF, and so on. She was bright enough to follow what BJ must stand for, but as she pondered the others her cell phone rang.
"Hello? .... Mom! Mom, are you.......... Ye~yes I.......... no, well I have a little......" She fell silent as her mother tried to make the most of her brief call -- speaking quickly and reminding her everything would be alright, but she wouldn't be able to come home soon.
"I~I'll get you a lawyer, a good one, and..................... mom, I know.... I know they're expensive, but we have.......... what do you mean they froze the accounts? They can't do that! That's................... I know..........." As she listened to her mother, Nickie continued flipping through the book her eyes falling on entries like Miss Winter and Ace Dawg. "Mom, I'll find the money. I'll get a job, and....." Her voice fell silent at the sounds of her mother crying from across the phone. She turned one more page in the little black book, to an entry for Mister M., who apparently was a regular judging by the eraser marks under his account and a very surprising note reading, ***Nickie's Clothes***. She paused... did her mother dress up like her for her, ummm, clients? Maybe a few even fantasized about....
"Mom, don't worry," she said and closed the book. "I can get the money. I'm sure I'll think of something."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OOC: Hi everyone! Sorry to be so long-winded... I promise I'm not always like this! I just needed to ramble to set up Nickie's situation. If anyone would like to partner on a story, please feel free to PM me! Thanks!!
Last edited:
(OOC -- I am "god moding" a bit here. Hope Kitten doesn't mind.)
Nickie Sloan's Home, the next day:
She was sitting at the kitchen table, still looking at the black book of her mother's customers, when a light buzzing sound mixed with the sounds of the birds singing just beyond the window the Cops had accidentally broken during their search of the home the previous day.
Nickie perked up, listening; the buzzing was close, and it only took a moment for her to realize it was a phone on silent mode. Nickie's own cell was sitting on the table near her, still as a rock in the forest; and the Cops had stripped the house the day before, taking all of the electronics, from her mother's cell phone to Nickie lap top to ... god knows what else.
As she looked about her, her gaze fell upon Mona Lisa. The art work had been created from anything and every thing Nickie and her mother had be able to scrounge up from around the house; the items were held together via glue, tape, and string, and the masterpiece even included half a dozen old, faded Polaroids of the pair of girls working on it. Nickie, then four years old, had named it Mona Lisa -- not after Leonardo's own masterpiece, but after the dog next door, who Nickie played with more than its own owner -- and it had been on the wall in the kitchen hallway ever since.
She stood and walked to it, staring at it. The entire work seemed to be lightly shivering with each audible vibration, but it was the Juice Box that seemed to be the center of activity. She checked it carefully, realized the top flap had been cut with something sharp, and lifted it; inside she found a vibrating cell phone, now silent and still.
And on the screen was the Caller ID for the missed phone call: Mister M.
Nickie Sloan's Home, the next day:
She was sitting at the kitchen table, still looking at the black book of her mother's customers, when a light buzzing sound mixed with the sounds of the birds singing just beyond the window the Cops had accidentally broken during their search of the home the previous day.
Nickie perked up, listening; the buzzing was close, and it only took a moment for her to realize it was a phone on silent mode. Nickie's own cell was sitting on the table near her, still as a rock in the forest; and the Cops had stripped the house the day before, taking all of the electronics, from her mother's cell phone to Nickie lap top to ... god knows what else.
As she looked about her, her gaze fell upon Mona Lisa. The art work had been created from anything and every thing Nickie and her mother had be able to scrounge up from around the house; the items were held together via glue, tape, and string, and the masterpiece even included half a dozen old, faded Polaroids of the pair of girls working on it. Nickie, then four years old, had named it Mona Lisa -- not after Leonardo's own masterpiece, but after the dog next door, who Nickie played with more than its own owner -- and it had been on the wall in the kitchen hallway ever since.
She stood and walked to it, staring at it. The entire work seemed to be lightly shivering with each audible vibration, but it was the Juice Box that seemed to be the center of activity. She checked it carefully, realized the top flap had been cut with something sharp, and lifted it; inside she found a vibrating cell phone, now silent and still.
And on the screen was the Caller ID for the missed phone call: Mister M.
(OOC -- The whore below is as of yet unnamed and unclaimed; first person to jump in makes money.)
Sunday Night (Day 5 of our RP, before Jake begins organizing):
"The Hideout" bar and grill:
The man had been staring at the tumbler full of bourbon since she'd entered. Gesturing Bill down to her, she nodded her head toward him in a familiar gesture.
"Don't know," the bartender and owner of the whore hang out responded, "He didn't seem ready to chit chat when he came in, so I let him be. But ... I'll find out."
He pulled out a glass, filled it with her usual poison, and turned to greet the man at the far end of the counter. Slowing, waiting for the man to look up at him, Bill asked with a light tone in his voice, "Tell me your story...?"
"Where do I start...?" the man responded, laughing. He made the usual comments about life and how it can suck sometimes, particularly when you've been dumped; he looked back to the glass before him again, saying, "That's her drink ... not mine. I'm a beer man."
Bill smiled and reached into the wall cooler behind him, pulling out a Ninkasa and popping the top. "Try this one. It's from Oregon ... little brewery ... but getting bigger."
The man drew from the bottle, giving a pleased expression.
The two chatted for a few minutes about this and that, before Bill extended his hand, saying, "Bill Barrett ... owner, manager, bartender, cook, janitor, and book keeper. Oh, and personal psychic to the stars."
The man laughed again, taking the bartender's hand. "Jeffrey Peters. Jeff. Um ... stock broker, former. Teacher once, too ... Community College."
"Why are you here, Jeff," Bill asked pointedly.
The man hefted the beer celebratory like. "Have a beer! Get a buzz! Forget!"
Bill gave him a doubtful look, then tapped a stirring spoon on the edge of the liquor tumbler. He repeated meaningfully, "Why are you here, Jeff."
Jeff's expression shifted, becoming more somber as he stared at the glass. He said softly, "Like I said ... to forget."
Bill leaned in closer. And for almost twenty minutes, Jeffrey Peters unloaded all about his Ex and the break up and the peripheral shit that comes with failed relationships.
"How's long's it been, Jeff?"
The man looked at him with a slightly oblivious expression. "How long...? Since what?"
Bill answered bluntly, "Since you got laid."
Jeff bellowed with laughter, and after a long moment leaned in close and whispered, "Since Bush was President ... Papa Bush, I think."
The two men laughed together, Bill lifting his chimney glass of cranberry juice to clink against Jeff's beer as his customer told him that truthfully it hadn't been that long but sometimes it sure as hell felt like it.
Jeff caught Bill's gaze shift a bit to his right, just before a smile crossed his lips and he nodded his head knowingly. Jeff turned to follow his gaze ... and saw her. She was beautiful, and sexy, and too young to be in a bar he was sure. They shared a long gaze, then a friendly smile. Jeff turned back to the bartender, only to find him already moving to the end of the bar and -- Jeff realized -- to the only other patron in the bar and grill except him and the chick in the booth.
Sunday Night (Day 5 of our RP, before Jake begins organizing):
"The Hideout" bar and grill:
The man had been staring at the tumbler full of bourbon since she'd entered. Gesturing Bill down to her, she nodded her head toward him in a familiar gesture.
"Don't know," the bartender and owner of the whore hang out responded, "He didn't seem ready to chit chat when he came in, so I let him be. But ... I'll find out."
He pulled out a glass, filled it with her usual poison, and turned to greet the man at the far end of the counter. Slowing, waiting for the man to look up at him, Bill asked with a light tone in his voice, "Tell me your story...?"
"Where do I start...?" the man responded, laughing. He made the usual comments about life and how it can suck sometimes, particularly when you've been dumped; he looked back to the glass before him again, saying, "That's her drink ... not mine. I'm a beer man."
Bill smiled and reached into the wall cooler behind him, pulling out a Ninkasa and popping the top. "Try this one. It's from Oregon ... little brewery ... but getting bigger."
The man drew from the bottle, giving a pleased expression.
The two chatted for a few minutes about this and that, before Bill extended his hand, saying, "Bill Barrett ... owner, manager, bartender, cook, janitor, and book keeper. Oh, and personal psychic to the stars."
The man laughed again, taking the bartender's hand. "Jeffrey Peters. Jeff. Um ... stock broker, former. Teacher once, too ... Community College."
"Why are you here, Jeff," Bill asked pointedly.
The man hefted the beer celebratory like. "Have a beer! Get a buzz! Forget!"
Bill gave him a doubtful look, then tapped a stirring spoon on the edge of the liquor tumbler. He repeated meaningfully, "Why are you here, Jeff."
Jeff's expression shifted, becoming more somber as he stared at the glass. He said softly, "Like I said ... to forget."
Bill leaned in closer. And for almost twenty minutes, Jeffrey Peters unloaded all about his Ex and the break up and the peripheral shit that comes with failed relationships.
"How's long's it been, Jeff?"
The man looked at him with a slightly oblivious expression. "How long...? Since what?"
Bill answered bluntly, "Since you got laid."
Jeff bellowed with laughter, and after a long moment leaned in close and whispered, "Since Bush was President ... Papa Bush, I think."
The two men laughed together, Bill lifting his chimney glass of cranberry juice to clink against Jeff's beer as his customer told him that truthfully it hadn't been that long but sometimes it sure as hell felt like it.
Jeff caught Bill's gaze shift a bit to his right, just before a smile crossed his lips and he nodded his head knowingly. Jeff turned to follow his gaze ... and saw her. She was beautiful, and sexy, and too young to be in a bar he was sure. They shared a long gaze, then a friendly smile. Jeff turned back to the bartender, only to find him already moving to the end of the bar and -- Jeff realized -- to the only other patron in the bar and grill except him and the chick in the booth.
Rpkitten
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2010
- Posts
- 455
Nickie's Home, After School:
Nickie stared curiously down at at the phone -- what an odd place to hide something? Obviously it had worked... the one thing even these asshole cops wouldn't mess with was a little kid's arts and crafts! But why would her mother hide a cell phone? And who would have its number? Everything made sense when she flipped open its face and read the display. Mister M.
Her heart skipped.
What should she do?? She couldn't answer it, right? Whoever this Mister M was he was either expecting her mother or had heard the news and was curious to just see what would happen if he called. To be honest, Nickie was curious too!
After the fifth ring she swallows hard and steels a little courage before thumbing the little green answer button. "Umm.... Hello?"
Nickie stared curiously down at at the phone -- what an odd place to hide something? Obviously it had worked... the one thing even these asshole cops wouldn't mess with was a little kid's arts and crafts! But why would her mother hide a cell phone? And who would have its number? Everything made sense when she flipped open its face and read the display. Mister M.
Her heart skipped.
What should she do?? She couldn't answer it, right? Whoever this Mister M was he was either expecting her mother or had heard the news and was curious to just see what would happen if he called. To be honest, Nickie was curious too!
After the fifth ring she swallows hard and steels a little courage before thumbing the little green answer button. "Umm.... Hello?"
