CandiCame
Rocket Grunt
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2011
- Posts
- 26,765
So... a lot of people have asked me why I'm not an escort anymore; or "OMG< are you really an escort" which leads me to say, "No, not anymore,"...
But I was thinking of writing a story on Lit about what happened, but I don't know what to change/keep/ect. Some of this shit could get me in big trouble if it was found out. So here's what actually happened, and I'd really like some feedback on what I should change...
The names HAVEN'T been changed yet, BTW, because I don't know what to change them to. I didn't include any last names, though.
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So, I was dressed as Sailor Moon. I had made the costume myself, as well as a Tuxedo Mask- the one I had wanted to wear- but hits on the pictures on my profile; the ones that I uploaded with every costume I had ever made, showed my audience had a far greater affinity for this one. On this particular night, I was dressed as Sailor Moon, because I was working as a model for a company trying to sign a video game advertising contact- what the fuck that had to do with Sailor Moon was beyond me- I think that the client just picked something that reminded him of Japan.
I had a corset under the outfit pinning my sides into a more feminine shape- my dark hair pulled under my wig (that would have looked fine, had I been allowed to go as Tuxedo Mask) and my cock tucked via techniques I had learned from Ru Paul's Drag Race. I had one of my lady friends do my make-up; she was as obsessed with Serena as I was, and did a wonderful job- she also did some of the adjustments on my wig.
So... it's not really cross-dressing if it's cosplay, right? That was the assumption I was working on- especially having seen to many female Marths, Links, and even the Mighty Monarch- and far to many male Feys, Asukas, and, that's right, Sailor Scouts, to harbor many fears anymore. It wasn't my first con, or my first night with the agency.
I wasn't the only model there, but it was such an eclectic crowd. I should've gone as Link. Link would have made sense. Sailor Moon made no sense at all- but neither did half the characters he had hired- Ikari, Spike, Vash, and a few game staples, the Street Fighter 2 crowd, the obligatory Team Rocket (fuck, I coulda done James to) but he got his contract. As we were leaving, my bodyguard, aptly named Pierce, called me to the side.
“You wanna make some extra cash, V?” he asked, snickered out the side of his mouth and added, “You look so cute in a mini-skirt. Really caught the show, to- SS, right?”
“Yeah, actually. Didn't know you watched.” I smiled up at him- he was a good head taller then I was an at least 3 times as wide; all muscle. He would have been perfect for Jet- or Gannondorf.
“Anyway- $300 an hour. Same guy.” he motioned his head toward the man who had paid us for the model gig.
“$300 an hour?” I asked, skeptical, “What do I have to do?”
“Guy seems lonely. I told him that you don't do anal- which is a crime, by-the-way- in that tiny skirt; he said that he'd give you the $300 I asked for just to dance, cuddle, and maybe give head. Might get head- I don't know. I'm always amazed how many of these guys just want to suck someone off. That's not hard to do without having to pay for it... Might be hard to get a cute little guy in cosplay, though.” he shrugged his shoulders then, looking at the table added, “They never have any vegan shit at these things. How many models do you think are vegetarians?”
“Tell him,” I blushed, like I always did when I accepted a job, “That I'll do it, I guess. You'll be waiting on me, right?”
“I'll have the phone in my hand.” he smiled, then added, “Because I'll be watching Trigun.”
He moved to speak with the man- Pierce was right, he should be able to suck cock without having to pay for it- he didn't look bad for a guy his age- not in great shape, but not bad. He wasn't terribly overweight, like a lot of guys, his hair was beginning to gray, but in that dignified way, around the temples, and the lines on his face were etched with precision, obviously a businessman. Guy probably had a wife- back wherever he came from, and just didn't want to admit that he wanted cock- wanted someone he would never see again.
I sighed- this was before I was able to even admit to myself that I liked giving head- it was an ordeal every time; but I really needed the money- my parents... I had no desire to stay in that situation, as I pulled the glove back over the shrapnel in my arm- I was saving for a tattoo to cover it- but those trigger-happy motherfuckers had no place in my life- weren't an option, so I was on my own, 18- no skills, no experience, and a month left before school started back- probably two months before I got any financial aid. I needed the fucking money.
Pierce came back, put an arm around me, and sat down to eat.
“Alright, V, you ready?” he asked.
“Whatever- let's just get it over with.”
“I'll be right behind you. Keep your phone on you.” He warned.
“This guy looks harmless.” I shrugged, “I'm young and fast- he wouldn't stand a chance.”
Pierce laughed, “Yeah, but you're little. And so fucking cute. And you won't do anal.”
“I'm not gay,” I shrugged my shoulders.
“You're dressed like Sailor Moon.”
I shrugged again. Whatever.
The man joined us.
“Nice work,” he smiled, at Pierce, then at me, “So, what did you say your name was?”
“I'm Vince,” I replied, smiling.
“Your drag name, honey,” Pierce rolled his eyes at me.
“Oh,” I did the animie, put an arm behind my head thing, “I've been going by Candi.”
“You made this yourself?” He asked.
“Yeah, I make all my costumes myself,” I smiled that fake smile, hidden behind the mask the make-up always created, psychologically for me, “I love the show- especially Tuxedo Mask- loved the games, the comics. I think that most cosplayers make their own shit.”
“Yeah, I do,” Pierce replied.
“Well,” the gentleman pressed, putting a hand on my knee under the table, “It looks amazing. My name is John.”
I rolled my eyes without thinking about it.
“No joke,” he smiled.
“That's pretty awesome,” I laughed- it was- it might've been his real name for all I knew, “You're not from here, are ya'?”
“hm?” he asked.
“You've got no draw- a norther accent.” I moved to face him- he slid his hand farther up my thigh.
“Oh, no- I'm not. I was just here to talk with the city- my ad firm is actually up north;” he told me where, but I forgot as quickly- I needed the money. I needed to pay for my apartment... and as embarrassed as I am to admit it, I needed to get some L10s and some alcohol; not necessarily in that order.
We made small talk as we ate, and when we pulled out, it was nice to look behind and see Pierce following us in his big black pick-up. He was actually staying at a nice hotel, but most of them usually did. Pierce parked, discretely, and John didn't seem to notice him- there were a million other trucks exactly like that one, all over the town. Why single out one of them?
When we had settled into his room, John offered me a drink.
“Um... I dunno, whatever you've got,” I shrugged.
“I've got anything you could want,” he smiled, “Captain Morgan's, Absolute, Gold-”
Oh, a drink drink!
“Rum & coke!” I blurted out, far to enthusiastically, not only on being offered alcohol, but upon being offered pirate alcohol- Pierce would be driving, it wouldn't matter; and I couldn't buy my own, and it was free. Any man who turns down a free drink is just stupid. Being tipsy would probably help me get over my initial 'ick' factor- the one I was still struggling desperately to convince myself I had.
He handed it to me, and I took a sip- it burned! Fuck yeah! I took another drink- trying to nurse it; I'm a little guy, and it was really easy for me to get completely shitfaced pretty fast- staggering, throwing-up shitfaced; unable to hold myself together enough to give him any kind of 'fun'.
“So, Candi,” he asked, “How old are you?”
“18” I replied- it was true to, I had turned 18 a few weeks earlier- wouldn't have been able to apply at the agency if I wasn't. He looked skeptical.
“Really?”
“Yeah- 1991” I replied, quickly.
“You got a driver's license?” he asked, still skeptical.
I had my bag from the show thrown carelessly over a chair. I fished out my wallet, found my license, and handed it to him. It was still side-ways, showing in a glance that I couldn't buy alcohol, but the date read, “08/10/1991”. I wasn't worried about him finding my address, it was still the address of my mom's house- two houses ago. No need to keep getting a new one, and paying the $30 or whatever, every time she moved.
“Why is it sideways?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
“To show that I'm under 21,” I sighed- he had to know that.
“Really?”
“Yeah- ask anyone.” What the hell? It was ok for him to pay me to blow him, but not if I was 17?
“You look so much younger,” he ran a hand down my chest.
I laughed, “How old did you think I was?”
“16 at the oldest.” he pushed up past my skirt.
“I'll be 16- I don't care,” I took another drink, and laid back against the pillows, my head resting on the headboard.
“hmm...” he suddenly cupped my balls and I stiffened. I was still tucked.
“You um... uh... knew that I'm a guy, right?” I asked, as he held his hand there- he could fondle, or he could, very easily, try and hurt me. Pierce was right- he was bigger then I was.
He laughed, “Yes- I know- your friend told me. Said you had some unsatisfied customers before.”
“Only once they tried to grope me,” I took another drink. The world was finally beginning to get fuzzy.
“Is that your real hair?” he asked.
I laughed- everything was starting to get funny, “No, this is a wig I made to mimic Serena's hair.”
“Well, it's... extreme- why don't you take it off.”
I sighed- it was a pain in the ass to get back on- my hair was pulled into a bun and it was clipped in various places, but I undid them and tossed it, carefully, to the chair with my bag. I pulled the band from my hair and ran my fingers through it- jet black, perfectly strait, not-quite shoulder-length- chin length, a little shorter in the back, and now sticking up at impossible angles because it had been confined.
“Do you have a brush?” I asked- it always bothered me when my hair was fucked-up.
He ran his fingers through his own hair- ridiculously short, not cropped, but certainly not enough to require a brush. I had one in my bag, but I didn't want to go and get it. He was massaging my balls again, and I thought it would be rude. Maybe Pierce was right and he just wanted to suck me off- I loved those calls- so much better then the ones where I had to do all the work. I was starting to stand as he did- and I was coming un-tucked.
“There we go,” He smiled, “finish your drink- enjoy yourself.”
'Finish' it?- there was still half a glass.
I took another drink anyway- my cock was rising, and he suddenly moved to it, straitening it so that it was pushed out the top of- well, I was wearing a pair of Hello-Kitty panties- I figured, if you were gonna go cosplay, go full out. Tell me Usagi wouldn't wear Hello-Kitty undies. He left it there, sticking out of the elastic, and slid the other arm around my back. He smiled when he felt the corset.
“What are you wearing under there?” he asked.
I took another drink, and sat it down, the glass just a little under half-empty, and pulled my dress up. Underneath was the Hello-Kitty underwear, with my cock still sticking obscenely out the top, and a white corset that cinched my waist for the feminine appearance. A lot of people dislike corsets, but I actually really like that constrictive feeling, it braces my back, makes moving easier... I always thought that if someone was in good shape, had real ab muscles, it was like wearing an internal corset.
“How cute,” he laughed, running his hands down the smooth fabric.
“I know- I love it!”
He used the hand behind my back to pull me closer, bent down, and kissed my neck; then bit-sucked; I prayed he wouldn't bruise me and leave a mark. After a second, he stopped, moved down, used the hand that wasn't supporting me to tweak one nipple while he bit into the other. I moaned and put my hands around his head.
He pulled me closer, biting, pinching, and pressing against me, until he had almost pulled me into his lap. He slapped my ass with the hand he had been using to support me, while gently stroking my cock with the other.
“Have you ever had a dick in your mouth, Candi?” He asked. The way he asked it made me nervous.
“Um...” I couldn't read which answer he wanted. I had- but I didn't know if that's what he wanted to hear.
“No?” He asked and I shook my head. “Well, why don't you get on your knees and we'll try it out.”
He readjusted until he was sitting on the side of the bed; I did as I was told and got onto the floor, on my knees in the knee-high red boots. He wrapped a hand through my messy hair and brought me forward, I knew I would have difficulty getting his pants off with those white gloves on, so I went to take them off.
“No,” he interrupted, “Leave the gloves on- I want to feel them while you pump me.”
Fine- whatever. It did make unzipping him a lot harder, but I undid the clasp, and he wiggled free from his dress-pants, and plain boxers in one motion. He had them hanging from one leg when I went to work on him.
His cock was already hardening up, pretty good size, at least 6 and half inches- but impressive girth, couple inches at least; as I licked. He kept pulling me down- until his cock was resting on the side of my face, ending up near my forehead. Shit. He wanted me to suck his balls...
Alright, we'll do this. I tentatively stuck my tongue out- he could've fucking shaved first. Oh well, whatcha gonna do? At least he was relativity clean- all that was down there was whatever sweat he had accumulated in his well-aired boxers and light dress pants; he was obviously an avid showerier, and probably took good care of himself.
Still- I HATE body hair- girls and guys, I shave everything; not just my genitals (including my balls and ass) but my legs, armpits- arms, face, chest, everything. But I really needed the money. I took a deep breath and slowly took his left nut into my mouth. I sucked gently and massaged with my tongue until I heard him moaning, and felt his cock tighten up even more on the side of my face. Then, I switched to the other nut, first licking (my least favorite part) and then moved on to sucking, kneading with my tongue, flicking it back and forth-
He pulled me back, “mmm... good boy- see if you can do both at once.”
um... k...
So I put my hands on his legs to brace myself, and took both balls into my mouth. It was a stretch, but far from being hurt (which is what I thought would happen) he seemed to get off on it- pre-cum leaking down my face; his dick tightening and hardening against my head- I closed my eyes to avoid it. I'm sad to say that by now, my own cock was starting to leak a little, down the front of my undies...
After a few minutes, he used the grip on my hair to pull me back, so I was sitting on my feet instead of standing on my knees. So far it actually wasn't so bad. I mean, once you get past the taste.
“Alright- good boy.” I was starting to like that phrase- every time he said it, my cock would twitch, “Now, come here and get to the main event.”
He pushed me forward again, sliding my head over his cock; I opened my mouth to take him in, used a gloved hand to massage his balls the way he had massaged mine, figuring that he must like it, since he used it on me, and wrapped the other around the base of his cock.
“mm...” he moaned, “Good boy! That's why I wanted to keep the gloves on.”
“mm-hmm,” I agreed, my eyes closed as I tongued his piss hole, wrapped around to the little bundle of nerves under the head, and started building a rhythm, as I pumped, up and down. I didn't know how to deep throat, and hoped that I wouldn't have to. As it was, I could get about half his cock down my throat before I hit the back, and used my hand to jerk what I couldn't get in off.
I looked up. In the hand that wasn't attached to my hair, he had my drink- finishing it off for me. Damn it, I was gonna use that to get the taste of cum out of my mouth. Eh, fuck it. I need the money. I repeated it like a mantra as I sat there with another man's cock in my mouth- I need the money- I need the money- I need the money- I am gonna get so fucking fucked-up after this- I need the money. And I suddenly realized that my entire body was rocking to that mantra,
I need
up- cock down my throat
The money
down, until just the head remained, sucking for all I was worth, hollowing out my cheeks
Rocking on my knees, my entire body swaying, I decided to try to get a little deeper with each thrust- to see how far I could go without gagging myself.
up- almost pull out-
down- swallow as it hits the back of my throat- don't gag- don't gag...
It really wasn't so bad, once you got past the taste- Reznor (Resnor?) was right.
In fact... I was leaking pre-cum... Suddenly it dawned on me that I really didn't want cum-stains on my costume; I had worked for months on this thing- planning, cutting, sewing, creating! That shit was hard to get out; I'd ruined many a set of bedsheets that way- I was going to have to swallow...
If I could get him off- how long had I been pumping like this? I glanced up- he was beyond drinking now, he had the one hand tearing out my hair, and the other behind him, balled up, crinkling the bedsheets- his eyes tightly closed, his head flung back- well, that was a good sign. His breathing was labored.
Mmm... it really wasn't bad... at all.
Suddenly, both hands were on my head, one on each side, digging into my hair and pulling it into make-shift pigtails!
“mmm.. good girl!” he hissed.
Girl?
Whatever- it was the costume-
“Ready?” he asked, hissing through clenched teeth.
“mmmm?”
He tightened his grip, literally pulling out hair this time, and slammed my head against his pelvis, grinding his hips until he lifted himself from the bed. I screamed in alarm, but it was muffled as he shoved his cock down my throat- I fought to keep my breathing under control- I tried to swallow but I couldn't- my gag reflex was fighting me and I wanted so badly to push him away; instead I grabbed the sheets beside him and held on for dear life; hoping desperately that I wouldn't choke to death on his cock- goddamn that would be a fucking shitty way to die- people would fucking find out-
But I couldn't breath! I was convulsing, my body fighting itself, as the world around me started to lose it's edges and blur- as my body began to tingle...
Whow... that actually felt really good. I relaxed a little; the tingling spread from my brain throughout my entire body; I was starting to lose feeling in my fingers- it was a floating sensation, like really amazing weed- I was still spasmodic, I couldn't control it, but I didn't care! I can't describe how good it felt; I was hovering-disconnected from my body- pure euphoria; I lost the feeling in my throat, lost all feeling or thought and began to fade toward a comfortable numbness that I wanted to envelop me- to control me.
And he pulled out.
Reality hit me at once; the pain in the back of my throat, rubbed raw- the clothes against my skin, the air returning to my lungs, the salty taste coating my mouth- I fell backwards onto the floor, still convulsing, as feeling returned to my body- everything, after that euphoria, was all to real- the light was to bright, the carpet was to itchy, the clothes- the fabric I had picked myself was to constricting... or not constricting enough- I couldn't decide, but certainly to fucking hot- I was suddenly burning up.
Huh- my erection was gone... my cock was still stuck in my elastic, but it was flaccid- I went to move it, because the pain had returned with the pressure- and realized that my corset was covered in cum... My cum. What the fuck? Did I just cum from giving head? That... no, it was from choking. Lots of people cum from being choked, right? That... that made sense...
“Good boy,” he smiled and reached down to ruffle my hair- now completely fucked up while I coughed and convulsed, trying to get my breath back, “Seems like you had fun to.”
Goddamn it- it took me forever to get my breath back- when I did, I realized that he had gone to the bathroom, and I pressed myself up against the bed. That was... fucked up is what that was. I had cum all over myself- fucking expensive corset, to- but it had to be the choking- that was amazing... If I'm ever murdered, I want someone to choke me- kill me with their own hands, and let me fade away like that.
I want a drink.
He seemed to read my mind.
“Something to wash the taste out?” he asked, as he made me another one.
“Um... sure,” my voice was harsh- my throat really had been rubbed raw.
“Pretty good, actually.” he handed it down to me, “Until you choked.”
“Yeah...” I inhaled and it hurt, I took a drink, “Sorry about that.”
“Thought you were going to pass out on me.”
“Me to,” I agreed, and took a drink that could only be described as a swig.
“Ready for round two?”
“huh?” Round two? There's no way he could be hard again so fast- I'm 18 and it takes me a couple of minutes.
“So, you drink.” It wasn't a question, “What else do you do?”
“What else you got?” I had given up on the feminine persona- I had to breath.
“I've gotta get a jump-start,” he was sitting at the table, and I pulled myself up onto the other chair, literally had to pull myself- I shouldn't be that exhausted, to see what he was doing.
White powder. Oxies, Loris, or coke. He offered it to me, I couldn't taste it because of the gloves.
“What is it?” I asked, trying to sound naive
He thought for a minute, and decided that there was nothing I could do to him, “It's cocain.”
“Coke?” my eyes grew wide, “Not crack-coke?”
“Yup,” he smiled, and poured a little bit of the powder out onto a mirror he had produced from his suitcase, and lined it up with what I suddenly realized was my driver's license. My wallet was still laying on the dresser. I thought I had put it away.
“Like, rich-people coke?” I arched an eyebrow.
“You know what they say in the after-school specials, don't you?” he asked, pulling a $100 bill out of his wallet and rolling it into a tube, “First one's always free.”
And he went down the line. Then he screamed, but not a normal scream, an enthusiastic, “Wooo!”
And handed me the money.
I took a deep breath, let it out, put the paper to the mirror, and inhaled sharply.
Motherfuck, it burns. It always burns, but then it hits you. And suddenly, I was so fucking focused. There was no goal that I couldn't accomplish- nothing I couldn't do. The world was my oyster, and I suddenly had all my problems solved- this apartment bullshit, I had one, I just had to make the money to keep it, which was only about $400- I would get $300 tonight, $100 of which would go to Pierce, so if I could get one more night lined up, I would have enough to pay until I got my financial aid. Why was I so worried about that?
These fucking gloves were really bugging me.
So was the carpet in that room. I hated that room. I wanted to get out of there.
“Ready for round 2?” he asked again- his cock sticking strait up- I suddenly realized that he was still wearing his dress shirt- which struck me as odd, and really bugged me.
“Ready for anything!” I answered; I actually had energy to burn.
He smiled mischievously, what he must've thought was sexily, and then, in one, smooth motion, grabbed my by my hair again- and slammed me down on the bed, face-down. You don't suck cock face down. I realized this irrationally fast, propped myself up on one arm and began to flip myself around.
“Look, Johnny, I'm really sorry- Pierce was supposed to tell you, but I don't do anal.”
I couldn't turn- he was on top of me, holding me down- his tie loosened, his shirt half-unbuttoned, “Well baby,” he smiled, “There's a first time for everything.”
“Dude, where the fuck were you in sex-ed? No means no.” I struggled to squirm out from under him, but he had fuck- probably 50 pounds or more on me.
“Oh, come on, are you gonna do this?” he asked, his shirt unbuttoned, as he leaned over me, pinning my arms.
“Uh, yeah- I told you- I don't do anal. I'm not gay.” I hadn't meant to add that last part.
He laughed, “Yeah bitch, you are.”
“No, I'm not. I'm poor.” I narrowed my eyes- he had me pinned. Fuck. Pierce was downstairs- I had to call him.
“You're wearing a mini-skirt, you just came from giving head. Good head, by the way- you impressive little fag.” He smiled down at me.
“Dude, you are fucking coked out,” I accused, still struggling- but it was getting me nowhere, I had to think of something else to do- with him pinning my arms and legs like that, I wasn't going to get away, “Dude, we can't have sex... You can't do that- you filled up my entire throat- there's no way it's gonna fit- even if I was gay, you couldn't be the first guy- there's no way.”
“You'd be amazed.” He moved my arms so that he could pin them with one hand, high above my head, still sitting across my legs, I managed to get my upper body away while he had, but he grabbed me, and pinned me back, “Stop struggling.”
“No! Dude, you are acting fucking crazy!”
“And stop saying 'dude'! It's getting fucking annoying, you prissy little fag!”
Had I said it that much? Wait- I don't care- fuck him!
“Come on, let me up,” I was begging now and I knew it, “I'll give you another blow job- I promise I won't choke this time.”
“If you don't stop struggling- I'm not going to use any lube,” he threatened.
Pierce! Goddamn it, you're supposed to be my back-up plan. What could I do? Logic wasn't working. Trying to get away wasn't working. He was twice my size, so fighting probably wasn't going to work. I couldn't fight, flee, or reason. I was out of fucking options.
“You're right! I lied about my age!” I was grasping at straws, “Please don't do this! I'm only 16- I've never done anything like this before! If you let me go, I promise that I'll never do it again! Don't do this!”
“That would be a real shame, wouldn't it?” He asked- he was getting off on my panic, his cock leaking pre-cum down my chest.
I took a deep breath, watched it rise and fall, narrowed my eyes. He wanted a victim I'm not a fucking victim. I narrowed my eyes.
“Get the fuck off me, right FUCKING NOW!” I demanded, losing all traces of femininity
He laughed, “Aw... look whose getting some base in his voice. If I wanted to fuck a girl I would've picked one of the girls.”
“Get the fuck off me!” I screamed again, “I swear to god when I get out of here- I'm going strait to the fucking cops and telling them you raped me! I'm a teenager! You'll be fucked! My friend has your license plate- we have your room number- we'll fucking find you! You won't get away with this, motherfucker!”
“Right- you'll go to the cops and tell them that I raped you in a fucking mini-skirt. On coke. While drunk. Your ass can't even pass a breathalyzer, let alone testify in court. You've fucked yourself, little fag.” he laughed.
“Stop calling me a fucking fag!” I hissed and bucked as hard as I could. It didn't shake him.
He laughed again- goddamn it was getting annoying.
“What are you going to do? Fucking sit on me all night? You know that as soon as you get off me, I'm running, right? You know that my friend's gonna come looking for me!” I was fucking mad- and freaking out.
“I gave him the wrong room number.” He smiled, and brought his face close to mine, “And if you try to run, I'll beat the living shit out of you.”
“Not like it would be the first beating I ever fucking got!” I spat back.
“Don't be such a dick,” he laughed, “Lie back- enjoy it; take it like a man!”
“Get the fuck off me!” I yelled again, hoping that someone, anyone would hear- maybe in the next room or the hall- why was no one helping me?
And he slapped me- hard. Didn't punch me; slapped me- like you do to someone who's hysterical. My face burned. My hands were suddenly free, he was leaning up with his on either side of me. I pushed myself up, he still had my legs pinned.
“Please,” I heaved a sigh, “Get off of me.”
“Much better.” He smiled. “If I let you up, are you going to run?”
“No.” I was lieing, he had to know.
“Liar,” he teased and kissed my forehead.
“You really are cute, you know.” He leered over me with that smile, “If you don't like anal sex, you'd better make damn sure that the cops don't find your coked-up whore ass tonight. You go to jail and you'll have all the hot man-on-man action you can dream about.”
I sighed. He was right. I couldn't go to the cops. I wasn't supposed to be drinking. I wasn't supposed to be on coke. I wasn't supposed to be taking money for sex. He was fucking right. I was just going to have to take it- FUCK- I was completely out of options.
“This isn't the first time you've done this, is it?” I asked, staring up at him.
“Oh no.” he smiled down at me, “You're adorable, but you aren't that special. There have been others. You won't be the last one.”
“Condoms?” I asked, pretty sure I knew the answer.
“Good boys get condoms,” he said, “You've been a very bad boy. You're not even getting lubed up before I pound that sweet virgin ass- I'm going to fucking rip you open,” he moved to get my license, which was still sitting with the coke, “Vincent- what do your friends call you- your real friends?”
“V,” I sighed.
“Really?” He asked, “They're that fucking lazy?”
“Vince, sometimes... like from the Mighty Boosh,” I sighed.
“Yeah, I like that- you look more like a Vince.” he reached to put the license back, and suddenly, an idea came to me.
I grabbed his shirt, the shirt that was still hanging, opened and unbuttoned, and twisted it until it was over his head and around his neck. In the confusion, he had temporarily lost his balance, which was enough for me to twist the fabric- this man obviously knew nothing about fabric, and pull- I didn't have to be strong, just had to have the right angle.
He was frantic, tearing as his lungs fought valiantly- and I was, momentarily, jealous. But I kept at it. His will to live was stronger then mine- suddenly, he found me, and ripped at my arms, both at once, sending me flying over his head and on his lap.
FUCK!
Wait, I was on top now- I could run, or at the very least, make it to a phone! I stood, stammered as he tried to put his shirt on, fell, reached for my bag- where's the phone- where's the FUCKING PHONE! Oh, thank god- my phone! Opened it- and felt a sharp blow to the back of my head.
Motherfuck!
Hit the down button for contact- hit “p”.
He grabbed that wrist-
“Drop it!” he commanded- I hit the down arrow, glancing through the names- Parry; Percy; Pierce, Pizza Hut- I had Pizza Hut on speed dial? I'm thinking about this now?
He snatched the phone from me and tossed it onto the dresser with my wallet- he had a death drip around my wrist.
I moved to elbow him with my free hand, but he wrapped around me and held me. I struggled, kicked, because he had pinned my arms to my sides.
“Calm down, Vince!” he commanded.
“I can't calm down!” I screamed, “WHY is NO ONE HELPING ME!?”
“Would you shut the fuck up?” he hissed, “There's a pile of fucking coke on the table.”
“Dude, I really don't give a shit! Not my coke!” I tried to kick him and he picked me up, sat me back down, dodging expertly.
“Stop it!” he commanded.
Why did he think that just by saying that over and over I magically would?
“Stop it or I snap your fucking neck!” he threatened. He was lieing. But freaking out was only tiring myself out- it wasn't helping my cause any. I had to find another way.
“We both know that you aren't going to kill me. Nobody's that stupid.” I slammed back against him one last time, for good measure, and stopped, breathing deeply, trying to calm down.
“Stop making such a huge thing about this, Vinny,” He moved one hand to run it down my face- to move my hair so he could kiss my neck.
“Don't fucking call me 'Vinny'!” I snapped, “My mom calls me Vinny! No one else! That's not fucking cool- ok- even if I give in, you don't fucking call me Vinny!”
“Fine- I wouldn't want to scar you, Vince.” he bit into my neck- hard, “Now,” he whispered, “I don't want to tie you up, but I will. There's no reason for you to be fighting this hard- but it's good for you. I've not had to work this hard to take one down before; if you're gonna suck for money, why not fuck for it?”
“Because I don't-” I hissed, my eyes narrowed, “And if I did I wouldn't want my first one to be for money, you know?” I sighed, then, in what was a much more desperate then I meant voice, “Come on, man, just let me go. There are a hundred kids in this town like me who do anal- I'll set you up, I know some of them.”
“I'd like to Vinny-Vince,” he corrected himself, “But you see- part of the reason I wanted you, is because you haven't done this before. I want to rip you open. Do you know why?”
“I really don't. I never got the fucking virgin thing. Even with chicks, I never really wanted to fuck a virgin- dude, do you really have to hold me this tight- what the fuck am I gonna do? I can't get away!” he loosened his grip a little, “I wouldn't kick her outta bed for being a virgin, but no, I don't get the appeal.”
“Because your hot little ass is going to be so tight that it's going to adjust to my cock,” he explained, “And you're going to be stretching and maybe ripping-” I sighed again, “So hard that you're gonna squirm; and that's gonna make it even better.”
“Won't you hurt us both if you go in dry?” he had sat down on the bed- I was sitting in his lap as he still held my arms to my sides.
“Maybe a little,” he shrugged; I felt it, “But I'll go slow.” he paused as if considering something, “At first.”
“Can I have another drink?” I sighed.
“We tried that- you can't be trusted, remember?”
“I swear to god, I won't run.” There was a desperation in my voice that told him I was telling the truth. He let me go and shoved me to the bed- pocketing my phone as he walked by the dresser.
Fuck!
“Please... it really is my first time...” I was not going to cry about this, “I don't want to do this... But if I have to, can we please use some lube? And a condom?”
“Vince,” he warned.
I held my head in my hands. He had my phone. Maybe I could get outside. I looked at the door. He saw me.
“Vincent!”
I snapped, turned my attention back to him. He was holding a Browning 9mm. Where the fuck did that come from? That was a military gun. He shouldn't have that. I want that. Wait- did that motherfucker just pull a gun on me?
“Holy shit!” I smiled.
“Holy shit indeed.” his grin was back, but I was ignoring him.
“Is that a Browning?” I asked, the enthusiasm leaking through my voice.
“What?” He seemed puzzled.
“Is that a Browning GP?” I asked again, “You know, invented by that Belgian guy, used in over 50 different countries military? How did you get one?”
“That's not cool kid,” he smiled, “You're the first person to get excited with a gun aimed at them.”
“Seriously- that's an awesome piece of metal! I thought you had to be in the FBI or some shit- that's not real, is it?” The thought just occurred to me.
“Of course it's fucking real, you little shit!” he hissed, “You're just the first one to actually appreciate it- most people get FUCKING SCARED when you point a gun at them! They don't sit and fucking analyze it! Now lie back down or get your fucking head blown off!”
“Bullshit,” it didn't occur to me how powerful, how stupid that word was until I had already said it. Fucking coke.
“Lie down!” he commanded, walking closer, the gun pointed at me.
“That's not loaded,” I said it with no malice, just a simple fact.
“Of course it is,” he seemed really upset with my attitude. What had he expected me to do, pull out something amazing like that and have me not drool over it.
“Let me see the clip!” I was so excited- but he narrowed his eyes at me, “You'll still have the one in the chamber if I try anything,” I reminded him.
He shrugged and popped the clip. OK- I was wrong, it was loaded.
Motherfucker pulled a gun on me. The disbelief washed over me. I hate that shit. I ran my hands over my arms, my thoughts drifting back to the scene that left the scar there as my father screamed at me, rifle in hand, warned me not to leave. I left. A loud bang.
Fuck that shit- that motherfucker was not going to fucking shoot me! The rage I felt, at my father, at the world, at my situation, at this MOTHERFUCKER for PULLING A FUCKING GUN ON ME, boiled over, and I lunged forward, faster then I would have ever thought possible. I grabbed his wrist that held the gun and pulled it behind me, his body toward me. It was so fast and startling, that he didn't have time to react before I kneed him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him and FINALLY causing him to drop the gun. It didn't discharge. The safety had been on the entire time. I reached behind me in one smooth motion and scooped it up as I jumped off the bed.
I can't believe that fucking worked. I stood there like Shadow Link on a sword, completely unable to process what had just happened. That fucking WORKED! How the fuck did that work? I had the gun- I had the fucking gun. I held it in my right hand and slid the safety to the off position and moved back the bar- it was cocked. I held it steady in my right hand, my right wrist with my left at eye level, staring down the sights, just as I had been instructed to do.
He stood to his knees and put his hands up.
“Vincent,” his tone was still harsh, in command.
Fuck that shit.
“Give me my motherfucking phone,” I said it in as calm a tone as I could muster.
“Look, kid, you need to calm down- you are tripping really hard right now-”
“Shut the FUCK up!” I screamed, “You weren't going to shoot me! This this is not cocked 'n locked anymore- give me my fucking phone! You had a fucking life to risk- I don't. I swear to god, I will kill you, you crazy fuck! I could do it to- look through my wallet if you don't believe me- there are gun-club memberships, NRA cards- give me my motherfucking phone.”
He pulled it out, I held up my hand and he tossed it to me.
I hit the down button 3 times from memory.
“V?” Pierce asked, “Something wrong, buddy?”
“Get up here right fucking now before I shoot this motherfucker!” I yelled.
“Goddamn it, V!” I heard him getting up, getting ready, heard the door close.
“You've got the wrong number,” I hissed, my eyes never leaving the sights and the sights never leaving John, but turned the conversation back to him, “Johnny, what room are we in?” he was silent, “All I have to do is squeeze, motherfucker!” I hissed.
He told me. I told Pierce. Pierce clicked off- he was on his way.
“You don't want to do this, think. You'll go to jail.”
“For what?” I asked, “I was never fucking here! You fucked some teenage whore, he left, you got high and shot yourself.” I started laughing, I had no idea why, but the idea was suddenly so plausible I could do it. I could kill him. All I had to do was squeeze my finger... And he would be fucking dead. Why, why couldn't I have ever done it before?
“Keep the gloves on,” I mimicked him, “You stupid fuck! Your coke, your gun, your out-of-state hotel. This fucking writes itself! Holy shit- I could kill you! I could kill you and get away with it! Maybe I should... it would be so easy.”
There was a knock at the door.
“V?”
Pierce. I stepped backwards, never dropping my sights. I let him in.
“V?” he asked timidly, “What are you doing, honey?”
He had his .38 special drawn, but was pointing it downward, like someone who wasn't a psychopath.
“This motherfucker pulled a gun on me!” I screamed.
He stepped inside and closed the door, “OK, V, let's talk about it quietly, ok.” I nodded, “That's cocked.” I nodded, “And loaded?” I nodded. “Alright baby, I'm here, so what I need you to do is lower that, ok? He's not gonna jump you.”
“I could fucking kill him, Pierce. Right now. This motherfucker pulled a gun on me- just like my fucking dad!”
“Listen to my voice, Vince,” Pierce spoke smoothly, calmly, “Listen to me, ok? I really need you to lower that so I can figure out what to do. You're really excited right now. Do this for me, because we're friends, ok? I know I can trust you Vince, but I really need you to show me that you trust me.”
I took a deep breath. He was right. I lowered the gun.
“OK. Good.” Pierce went on, in his soothing voice, “Now that everyone is calm and collected, I want you, V, to tell me what happened.”
“I gave him head. He wanted to fuck me. I told him no. He tried, so I tried to call you. He took my phone. He pulled a gun on me, so I took it from him.” short, simple, my mind had chopped the story.
“Alright,” Pierce had the most soothing voice, “What about that shit, over there? Is that coke or pills?”
“Coke.” I was still staring at John, the john.
“Are you on coke, V?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, baby,” he sighed, “You've never done coke before, have you?”
I shook my head.
“OK. I really need you to do something for me, OK, Vince? While I talk to Johnny, I need you to go over there, go through his stuff, get that bag of coke, the money from his wallet, and anything else that looks expensive or cool. We're gonna take it with us. Because Mr. Johnny here wasn't respectful to my friend. OK, Vince? Can you do that?”
I took a deep breath. Pierce was here. I trusted him... yes. I turned the safety back on (why?) and put the gun down next to the pile of coke. I licked my license, and put it back in my wallet. I put the wallet back in my bag, and brought it, opened, to the table. I sealed up the bag of coke and dropped it inside, pushing it to the bottom. I went through his wallet, pulled out several more hundreds and other bills- when I counted it later, it would be over $700. I opened his suitcase- there were expensive-looking clothes, Pierce would be to big and I would be to little. Cool watch- I took it. Nothing really that good in there.
The empty gun-case was still inside with a box of bullets. I took the bullets. Then, I took the clip, emptied it, and put it back. I popped the one in the barrel
“I want this fucking gun, Pierce.”
“Traceable,” he warned.
“God, I know...” I stared at it. Should I take it? Probably not. It would be a bad decision. I set it, now empty, back in the gun-case and zipped it up.
“Alright,” Pierce was speaking to John, “Now, we're gonna go. You're gonna stay here, and count to 30 before you do anything. If you call the cops and send them after us, you'll be fucked. What are you going to tell them, that the teenage boy you paid for sex stole your shit? But if you call the cops- you'll find me. And nothing will come of it. Except, my little friend here will take a shower, put on some mens' clothes, and explain to them why your DNA is all over him- why he has bruises, and why he was drugged. I've dealt with these cops before. We should call them right now, but I'm going to be nice. I'm going to let you decide how to handle this situation.”
“Ready, V?” he asked me, his voice never angering, never faltering, “Make sure you get everything, because we ain't coming back.”
“Yeah,” I threw my wig over my shoulder by the pigtails, the bag over one shoulder, the wig restrained by that hand, the bottle of rum, for good measure, in the other.
We walked out the door- I heard it click closed behind us. Pierce was very calm. We stepped into the elevator and headed down. My make-up was fucked, my real hair was out and sticking everywhere, and I was still in a Sailor Moon costume. I was shaking. Everyone in the elevator was staring at me- or as Pierce put it when he was telling the story, at us.
“What?” he finally asked, “You never see a fag and his boy-toy before?”
He lit a cigarette. I laughed. No one called him on it as we walked outside, where he was actually allowed to smoke.
“So that was fucked up,” he said as he unlocked the doors.
“Yes. Yes it was.” I agreed.
“You are fucked up.” he added, “You don't need to do coke.”
“Yeah.” I agreed.
“Hyper?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Wanna tell me all about what happened up there?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, you're gonna stay with us tonight- because you are a crazy little fucker.” he smiled, and shifted the manual transmission as the truck started to move, “I don't trust you alone. And you're gonna tell us all about this. And we're gonna watch you. And then, once we see how good it is, I'm going to do some of this coke. And then, we're gonna sell the rest. You really don't need anymore. Coke is a once-a-year thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, V.” he turned to look at me, “It is.” he chuckled, “Crazy fucking kid. You know that, right? That you're crazy? I'm not trying to joke or be mean, just- as your friend- you need to see a shrink; you're crazy.”
“Yeah... I think I will, actually. Being away from home has taught me that the rest of the world doesn't work the way I thought it did... the way everything has always worked.” I looked up at the stars through his windshield.
“Crazy fucking shit,” Pierce sighed.
And we pulled out of the parking lot. We never saw any police, or any sign of John ever again. I really hope that he learned his lesson that night.
__________________
But I was thinking of writing a story on Lit about what happened, but I don't know what to change/keep/ect. Some of this shit could get me in big trouble if it was found out. So here's what actually happened, and I'd really like some feedback on what I should change...
The names HAVEN'T been changed yet, BTW, because I don't know what to change them to. I didn't include any last names, though.
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So, I was dressed as Sailor Moon. I had made the costume myself, as well as a Tuxedo Mask- the one I had wanted to wear- but hits on the pictures on my profile; the ones that I uploaded with every costume I had ever made, showed my audience had a far greater affinity for this one. On this particular night, I was dressed as Sailor Moon, because I was working as a model for a company trying to sign a video game advertising contact- what the fuck that had to do with Sailor Moon was beyond me- I think that the client just picked something that reminded him of Japan.
I had a corset under the outfit pinning my sides into a more feminine shape- my dark hair pulled under my wig (that would have looked fine, had I been allowed to go as Tuxedo Mask) and my cock tucked via techniques I had learned from Ru Paul's Drag Race. I had one of my lady friends do my make-up; she was as obsessed with Serena as I was, and did a wonderful job- she also did some of the adjustments on my wig.
So... it's not really cross-dressing if it's cosplay, right? That was the assumption I was working on- especially having seen to many female Marths, Links, and even the Mighty Monarch- and far to many male Feys, Asukas, and, that's right, Sailor Scouts, to harbor many fears anymore. It wasn't my first con, or my first night with the agency.
I wasn't the only model there, but it was such an eclectic crowd. I should've gone as Link. Link would have made sense. Sailor Moon made no sense at all- but neither did half the characters he had hired- Ikari, Spike, Vash, and a few game staples, the Street Fighter 2 crowd, the obligatory Team Rocket (fuck, I coulda done James to) but he got his contract. As we were leaving, my bodyguard, aptly named Pierce, called me to the side.
“You wanna make some extra cash, V?” he asked, snickered out the side of his mouth and added, “You look so cute in a mini-skirt. Really caught the show, to- SS, right?”
“Yeah, actually. Didn't know you watched.” I smiled up at him- he was a good head taller then I was an at least 3 times as wide; all muscle. He would have been perfect for Jet- or Gannondorf.
“Anyway- $300 an hour. Same guy.” he motioned his head toward the man who had paid us for the model gig.
“$300 an hour?” I asked, skeptical, “What do I have to do?”
“Guy seems lonely. I told him that you don't do anal- which is a crime, by-the-way- in that tiny skirt; he said that he'd give you the $300 I asked for just to dance, cuddle, and maybe give head. Might get head- I don't know. I'm always amazed how many of these guys just want to suck someone off. That's not hard to do without having to pay for it... Might be hard to get a cute little guy in cosplay, though.” he shrugged his shoulders then, looking at the table added, “They never have any vegan shit at these things. How many models do you think are vegetarians?”
“Tell him,” I blushed, like I always did when I accepted a job, “That I'll do it, I guess. You'll be waiting on me, right?”
“I'll have the phone in my hand.” he smiled, then added, “Because I'll be watching Trigun.”
He moved to speak with the man- Pierce was right, he should be able to suck cock without having to pay for it- he didn't look bad for a guy his age- not in great shape, but not bad. He wasn't terribly overweight, like a lot of guys, his hair was beginning to gray, but in that dignified way, around the temples, and the lines on his face were etched with precision, obviously a businessman. Guy probably had a wife- back wherever he came from, and just didn't want to admit that he wanted cock- wanted someone he would never see again.
I sighed- this was before I was able to even admit to myself that I liked giving head- it was an ordeal every time; but I really needed the money- my parents... I had no desire to stay in that situation, as I pulled the glove back over the shrapnel in my arm- I was saving for a tattoo to cover it- but those trigger-happy motherfuckers had no place in my life- weren't an option, so I was on my own, 18- no skills, no experience, and a month left before school started back- probably two months before I got any financial aid. I needed the fucking money.
Pierce came back, put an arm around me, and sat down to eat.
“Alright, V, you ready?” he asked.
“Whatever- let's just get it over with.”
“I'll be right behind you. Keep your phone on you.” He warned.
“This guy looks harmless.” I shrugged, “I'm young and fast- he wouldn't stand a chance.”
Pierce laughed, “Yeah, but you're little. And so fucking cute. And you won't do anal.”
“I'm not gay,” I shrugged my shoulders.
“You're dressed like Sailor Moon.”
I shrugged again. Whatever.
The man joined us.
“Nice work,” he smiled, at Pierce, then at me, “So, what did you say your name was?”
“I'm Vince,” I replied, smiling.
“Your drag name, honey,” Pierce rolled his eyes at me.
“Oh,” I did the animie, put an arm behind my head thing, “I've been going by Candi.”
“You made this yourself?” He asked.
“Yeah, I make all my costumes myself,” I smiled that fake smile, hidden behind the mask the make-up always created, psychologically for me, “I love the show- especially Tuxedo Mask- loved the games, the comics. I think that most cosplayers make their own shit.”
“Yeah, I do,” Pierce replied.
“Well,” the gentleman pressed, putting a hand on my knee under the table, “It looks amazing. My name is John.”
I rolled my eyes without thinking about it.
“No joke,” he smiled.
“That's pretty awesome,” I laughed- it was- it might've been his real name for all I knew, “You're not from here, are ya'?”
“hm?” he asked.
“You've got no draw- a norther accent.” I moved to face him- he slid his hand farther up my thigh.
“Oh, no- I'm not. I was just here to talk with the city- my ad firm is actually up north;” he told me where, but I forgot as quickly- I needed the money. I needed to pay for my apartment... and as embarrassed as I am to admit it, I needed to get some L10s and some alcohol; not necessarily in that order.
We made small talk as we ate, and when we pulled out, it was nice to look behind and see Pierce following us in his big black pick-up. He was actually staying at a nice hotel, but most of them usually did. Pierce parked, discretely, and John didn't seem to notice him- there were a million other trucks exactly like that one, all over the town. Why single out one of them?
When we had settled into his room, John offered me a drink.
“Um... I dunno, whatever you've got,” I shrugged.
“I've got anything you could want,” he smiled, “Captain Morgan's, Absolute, Gold-”
Oh, a drink drink!
“Rum & coke!” I blurted out, far to enthusiastically, not only on being offered alcohol, but upon being offered pirate alcohol- Pierce would be driving, it wouldn't matter; and I couldn't buy my own, and it was free. Any man who turns down a free drink is just stupid. Being tipsy would probably help me get over my initial 'ick' factor- the one I was still struggling desperately to convince myself I had.
He handed it to me, and I took a sip- it burned! Fuck yeah! I took another drink- trying to nurse it; I'm a little guy, and it was really easy for me to get completely shitfaced pretty fast- staggering, throwing-up shitfaced; unable to hold myself together enough to give him any kind of 'fun'.
“So, Candi,” he asked, “How old are you?”
“18” I replied- it was true to, I had turned 18 a few weeks earlier- wouldn't have been able to apply at the agency if I wasn't. He looked skeptical.
“Really?”
“Yeah- 1991” I replied, quickly.
“You got a driver's license?” he asked, still skeptical.
I had my bag from the show thrown carelessly over a chair. I fished out my wallet, found my license, and handed it to him. It was still side-ways, showing in a glance that I couldn't buy alcohol, but the date read, “08/10/1991”. I wasn't worried about him finding my address, it was still the address of my mom's house- two houses ago. No need to keep getting a new one, and paying the $30 or whatever, every time she moved.
“Why is it sideways?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
“To show that I'm under 21,” I sighed- he had to know that.
“Really?”
“Yeah- ask anyone.” What the hell? It was ok for him to pay me to blow him, but not if I was 17?
“You look so much younger,” he ran a hand down my chest.
I laughed, “How old did you think I was?”
“16 at the oldest.” he pushed up past my skirt.
“I'll be 16- I don't care,” I took another drink, and laid back against the pillows, my head resting on the headboard.
“hmm...” he suddenly cupped my balls and I stiffened. I was still tucked.
“You um... uh... knew that I'm a guy, right?” I asked, as he held his hand there- he could fondle, or he could, very easily, try and hurt me. Pierce was right- he was bigger then I was.
He laughed, “Yes- I know- your friend told me. Said you had some unsatisfied customers before.”
“Only once they tried to grope me,” I took another drink. The world was finally beginning to get fuzzy.
“Is that your real hair?” he asked.
I laughed- everything was starting to get funny, “No, this is a wig I made to mimic Serena's hair.”
“Well, it's... extreme- why don't you take it off.”
I sighed- it was a pain in the ass to get back on- my hair was pulled into a bun and it was clipped in various places, but I undid them and tossed it, carefully, to the chair with my bag. I pulled the band from my hair and ran my fingers through it- jet black, perfectly strait, not-quite shoulder-length- chin length, a little shorter in the back, and now sticking up at impossible angles because it had been confined.
“Do you have a brush?” I asked- it always bothered me when my hair was fucked-up.
He ran his fingers through his own hair- ridiculously short, not cropped, but certainly not enough to require a brush. I had one in my bag, but I didn't want to go and get it. He was massaging my balls again, and I thought it would be rude. Maybe Pierce was right and he just wanted to suck me off- I loved those calls- so much better then the ones where I had to do all the work. I was starting to stand as he did- and I was coming un-tucked.
“There we go,” He smiled, “finish your drink- enjoy yourself.”
'Finish' it?- there was still half a glass.
I took another drink anyway- my cock was rising, and he suddenly moved to it, straitening it so that it was pushed out the top of- well, I was wearing a pair of Hello-Kitty panties- I figured, if you were gonna go cosplay, go full out. Tell me Usagi wouldn't wear Hello-Kitty undies. He left it there, sticking out of the elastic, and slid the other arm around my back. He smiled when he felt the corset.
“What are you wearing under there?” he asked.
I took another drink, and sat it down, the glass just a little under half-empty, and pulled my dress up. Underneath was the Hello-Kitty underwear, with my cock still sticking obscenely out the top, and a white corset that cinched my waist for the feminine appearance. A lot of people dislike corsets, but I actually really like that constrictive feeling, it braces my back, makes moving easier... I always thought that if someone was in good shape, had real ab muscles, it was like wearing an internal corset.
“How cute,” he laughed, running his hands down the smooth fabric.
“I know- I love it!”
He used the hand behind my back to pull me closer, bent down, and kissed my neck; then bit-sucked; I prayed he wouldn't bruise me and leave a mark. After a second, he stopped, moved down, used the hand that wasn't supporting me to tweak one nipple while he bit into the other. I moaned and put my hands around his head.
He pulled me closer, biting, pinching, and pressing against me, until he had almost pulled me into his lap. He slapped my ass with the hand he had been using to support me, while gently stroking my cock with the other.
“Have you ever had a dick in your mouth, Candi?” He asked. The way he asked it made me nervous.
“Um...” I couldn't read which answer he wanted. I had- but I didn't know if that's what he wanted to hear.
“No?” He asked and I shook my head. “Well, why don't you get on your knees and we'll try it out.”
He readjusted until he was sitting on the side of the bed; I did as I was told and got onto the floor, on my knees in the knee-high red boots. He wrapped a hand through my messy hair and brought me forward, I knew I would have difficulty getting his pants off with those white gloves on, so I went to take them off.
“No,” he interrupted, “Leave the gloves on- I want to feel them while you pump me.”
Fine- whatever. It did make unzipping him a lot harder, but I undid the clasp, and he wiggled free from his dress-pants, and plain boxers in one motion. He had them hanging from one leg when I went to work on him.
His cock was already hardening up, pretty good size, at least 6 and half inches- but impressive girth, couple inches at least; as I licked. He kept pulling me down- until his cock was resting on the side of my face, ending up near my forehead. Shit. He wanted me to suck his balls...
Alright, we'll do this. I tentatively stuck my tongue out- he could've fucking shaved first. Oh well, whatcha gonna do? At least he was relativity clean- all that was down there was whatever sweat he had accumulated in his well-aired boxers and light dress pants; he was obviously an avid showerier, and probably took good care of himself.
Still- I HATE body hair- girls and guys, I shave everything; not just my genitals (including my balls and ass) but my legs, armpits- arms, face, chest, everything. But I really needed the money. I took a deep breath and slowly took his left nut into my mouth. I sucked gently and massaged with my tongue until I heard him moaning, and felt his cock tighten up even more on the side of my face. Then, I switched to the other nut, first licking (my least favorite part) and then moved on to sucking, kneading with my tongue, flicking it back and forth-
He pulled me back, “mmm... good boy- see if you can do both at once.”
um... k...
So I put my hands on his legs to brace myself, and took both balls into my mouth. It was a stretch, but far from being hurt (which is what I thought would happen) he seemed to get off on it- pre-cum leaking down my face; his dick tightening and hardening against my head- I closed my eyes to avoid it. I'm sad to say that by now, my own cock was starting to leak a little, down the front of my undies...
After a few minutes, he used the grip on my hair to pull me back, so I was sitting on my feet instead of standing on my knees. So far it actually wasn't so bad. I mean, once you get past the taste.
“Alright- good boy.” I was starting to like that phrase- every time he said it, my cock would twitch, “Now, come here and get to the main event.”
He pushed me forward again, sliding my head over his cock; I opened my mouth to take him in, used a gloved hand to massage his balls the way he had massaged mine, figuring that he must like it, since he used it on me, and wrapped the other around the base of his cock.
“mm...” he moaned, “Good boy! That's why I wanted to keep the gloves on.”
“mm-hmm,” I agreed, my eyes closed as I tongued his piss hole, wrapped around to the little bundle of nerves under the head, and started building a rhythm, as I pumped, up and down. I didn't know how to deep throat, and hoped that I wouldn't have to. As it was, I could get about half his cock down my throat before I hit the back, and used my hand to jerk what I couldn't get in off.
I looked up. In the hand that wasn't attached to my hair, he had my drink- finishing it off for me. Damn it, I was gonna use that to get the taste of cum out of my mouth. Eh, fuck it. I need the money. I repeated it like a mantra as I sat there with another man's cock in my mouth- I need the money- I need the money- I need the money- I am gonna get so fucking fucked-up after this- I need the money. And I suddenly realized that my entire body was rocking to that mantra,
I need
up- cock down my throat
The money
down, until just the head remained, sucking for all I was worth, hollowing out my cheeks
Rocking on my knees, my entire body swaying, I decided to try to get a little deeper with each thrust- to see how far I could go without gagging myself.
up- almost pull out-
down- swallow as it hits the back of my throat- don't gag- don't gag...
It really wasn't so bad, once you got past the taste- Reznor (Resnor?) was right.
In fact... I was leaking pre-cum... Suddenly it dawned on me that I really didn't want cum-stains on my costume; I had worked for months on this thing- planning, cutting, sewing, creating! That shit was hard to get out; I'd ruined many a set of bedsheets that way- I was going to have to swallow...
If I could get him off- how long had I been pumping like this? I glanced up- he was beyond drinking now, he had the one hand tearing out my hair, and the other behind him, balled up, crinkling the bedsheets- his eyes tightly closed, his head flung back- well, that was a good sign. His breathing was labored.
Mmm... it really wasn't bad... at all.
Suddenly, both hands were on my head, one on each side, digging into my hair and pulling it into make-shift pigtails!
“mmm.. good girl!” he hissed.
Girl?
Whatever- it was the costume-
“Ready?” he asked, hissing through clenched teeth.
“mmmm?”
He tightened his grip, literally pulling out hair this time, and slammed my head against his pelvis, grinding his hips until he lifted himself from the bed. I screamed in alarm, but it was muffled as he shoved his cock down my throat- I fought to keep my breathing under control- I tried to swallow but I couldn't- my gag reflex was fighting me and I wanted so badly to push him away; instead I grabbed the sheets beside him and held on for dear life; hoping desperately that I wouldn't choke to death on his cock- goddamn that would be a fucking shitty way to die- people would fucking find out-
But I couldn't breath! I was convulsing, my body fighting itself, as the world around me started to lose it's edges and blur- as my body began to tingle...
Whow... that actually felt really good. I relaxed a little; the tingling spread from my brain throughout my entire body; I was starting to lose feeling in my fingers- it was a floating sensation, like really amazing weed- I was still spasmodic, I couldn't control it, but I didn't care! I can't describe how good it felt; I was hovering-disconnected from my body- pure euphoria; I lost the feeling in my throat, lost all feeling or thought and began to fade toward a comfortable numbness that I wanted to envelop me- to control me.
And he pulled out.
Reality hit me at once; the pain in the back of my throat, rubbed raw- the clothes against my skin, the air returning to my lungs, the salty taste coating my mouth- I fell backwards onto the floor, still convulsing, as feeling returned to my body- everything, after that euphoria, was all to real- the light was to bright, the carpet was to itchy, the clothes- the fabric I had picked myself was to constricting... or not constricting enough- I couldn't decide, but certainly to fucking hot- I was suddenly burning up.
Huh- my erection was gone... my cock was still stuck in my elastic, but it was flaccid- I went to move it, because the pain had returned with the pressure- and realized that my corset was covered in cum... My cum. What the fuck? Did I just cum from giving head? That... no, it was from choking. Lots of people cum from being choked, right? That... that made sense...
“Good boy,” he smiled and reached down to ruffle my hair- now completely fucked up while I coughed and convulsed, trying to get my breath back, “Seems like you had fun to.”
Goddamn it- it took me forever to get my breath back- when I did, I realized that he had gone to the bathroom, and I pressed myself up against the bed. That was... fucked up is what that was. I had cum all over myself- fucking expensive corset, to- but it had to be the choking- that was amazing... If I'm ever murdered, I want someone to choke me- kill me with their own hands, and let me fade away like that.
I want a drink.
He seemed to read my mind.
“Something to wash the taste out?” he asked, as he made me another one.
“Um... sure,” my voice was harsh- my throat really had been rubbed raw.
“Pretty good, actually.” he handed it down to me, “Until you choked.”
“Yeah...” I inhaled and it hurt, I took a drink, “Sorry about that.”
“Thought you were going to pass out on me.”
“Me to,” I agreed, and took a drink that could only be described as a swig.
“Ready for round two?”
“huh?” Round two? There's no way he could be hard again so fast- I'm 18 and it takes me a couple of minutes.
“So, you drink.” It wasn't a question, “What else do you do?”
“What else you got?” I had given up on the feminine persona- I had to breath.
“I've gotta get a jump-start,” he was sitting at the table, and I pulled myself up onto the other chair, literally had to pull myself- I shouldn't be that exhausted, to see what he was doing.
White powder. Oxies, Loris, or coke. He offered it to me, I couldn't taste it because of the gloves.
“What is it?” I asked, trying to sound naive
He thought for a minute, and decided that there was nothing I could do to him, “It's cocain.”
“Coke?” my eyes grew wide, “Not crack-coke?”
“Yup,” he smiled, and poured a little bit of the powder out onto a mirror he had produced from his suitcase, and lined it up with what I suddenly realized was my driver's license. My wallet was still laying on the dresser. I thought I had put it away.
“Like, rich-people coke?” I arched an eyebrow.
“You know what they say in the after-school specials, don't you?” he asked, pulling a $100 bill out of his wallet and rolling it into a tube, “First one's always free.”
And he went down the line. Then he screamed, but not a normal scream, an enthusiastic, “Wooo!”
And handed me the money.
I took a deep breath, let it out, put the paper to the mirror, and inhaled sharply.
Motherfuck, it burns. It always burns, but then it hits you. And suddenly, I was so fucking focused. There was no goal that I couldn't accomplish- nothing I couldn't do. The world was my oyster, and I suddenly had all my problems solved- this apartment bullshit, I had one, I just had to make the money to keep it, which was only about $400- I would get $300 tonight, $100 of which would go to Pierce, so if I could get one more night lined up, I would have enough to pay until I got my financial aid. Why was I so worried about that?
These fucking gloves were really bugging me.
So was the carpet in that room. I hated that room. I wanted to get out of there.
“Ready for round 2?” he asked again- his cock sticking strait up- I suddenly realized that he was still wearing his dress shirt- which struck me as odd, and really bugged me.
“Ready for anything!” I answered; I actually had energy to burn.
He smiled mischievously, what he must've thought was sexily, and then, in one, smooth motion, grabbed my by my hair again- and slammed me down on the bed, face-down. You don't suck cock face down. I realized this irrationally fast, propped myself up on one arm and began to flip myself around.
“Look, Johnny, I'm really sorry- Pierce was supposed to tell you, but I don't do anal.”
I couldn't turn- he was on top of me, holding me down- his tie loosened, his shirt half-unbuttoned, “Well baby,” he smiled, “There's a first time for everything.”
“Dude, where the fuck were you in sex-ed? No means no.” I struggled to squirm out from under him, but he had fuck- probably 50 pounds or more on me.
“Oh, come on, are you gonna do this?” he asked, his shirt unbuttoned, as he leaned over me, pinning my arms.
“Uh, yeah- I told you- I don't do anal. I'm not gay.” I hadn't meant to add that last part.
He laughed, “Yeah bitch, you are.”
“No, I'm not. I'm poor.” I narrowed my eyes- he had me pinned. Fuck. Pierce was downstairs- I had to call him.
“You're wearing a mini-skirt, you just came from giving head. Good head, by the way- you impressive little fag.” He smiled down at me.
“Dude, you are fucking coked out,” I accused, still struggling- but it was getting me nowhere, I had to think of something else to do- with him pinning my arms and legs like that, I wasn't going to get away, “Dude, we can't have sex... You can't do that- you filled up my entire throat- there's no way it's gonna fit- even if I was gay, you couldn't be the first guy- there's no way.”
“You'd be amazed.” He moved my arms so that he could pin them with one hand, high above my head, still sitting across my legs, I managed to get my upper body away while he had, but he grabbed me, and pinned me back, “Stop struggling.”
“No! Dude, you are acting fucking crazy!”
“And stop saying 'dude'! It's getting fucking annoying, you prissy little fag!”
Had I said it that much? Wait- I don't care- fuck him!
“Come on, let me up,” I was begging now and I knew it, “I'll give you another blow job- I promise I won't choke this time.”
“If you don't stop struggling- I'm not going to use any lube,” he threatened.
Pierce! Goddamn it, you're supposed to be my back-up plan. What could I do? Logic wasn't working. Trying to get away wasn't working. He was twice my size, so fighting probably wasn't going to work. I couldn't fight, flee, or reason. I was out of fucking options.
“You're right! I lied about my age!” I was grasping at straws, “Please don't do this! I'm only 16- I've never done anything like this before! If you let me go, I promise that I'll never do it again! Don't do this!”
“That would be a real shame, wouldn't it?” He asked- he was getting off on my panic, his cock leaking pre-cum down my chest.
I took a deep breath, watched it rise and fall, narrowed my eyes. He wanted a victim I'm not a fucking victim. I narrowed my eyes.
“Get the fuck off me, right FUCKING NOW!” I demanded, losing all traces of femininity
He laughed, “Aw... look whose getting some base in his voice. If I wanted to fuck a girl I would've picked one of the girls.”
“Get the fuck off me!” I screamed again, “I swear to god when I get out of here- I'm going strait to the fucking cops and telling them you raped me! I'm a teenager! You'll be fucked! My friend has your license plate- we have your room number- we'll fucking find you! You won't get away with this, motherfucker!”
“Right- you'll go to the cops and tell them that I raped you in a fucking mini-skirt. On coke. While drunk. Your ass can't even pass a breathalyzer, let alone testify in court. You've fucked yourself, little fag.” he laughed.
“Stop calling me a fucking fag!” I hissed and bucked as hard as I could. It didn't shake him.
He laughed again- goddamn it was getting annoying.
“What are you going to do? Fucking sit on me all night? You know that as soon as you get off me, I'm running, right? You know that my friend's gonna come looking for me!” I was fucking mad- and freaking out.
“I gave him the wrong room number.” He smiled, and brought his face close to mine, “And if you try to run, I'll beat the living shit out of you.”
“Not like it would be the first beating I ever fucking got!” I spat back.
“Don't be such a dick,” he laughed, “Lie back- enjoy it; take it like a man!”
“Get the fuck off me!” I yelled again, hoping that someone, anyone would hear- maybe in the next room or the hall- why was no one helping me?
And he slapped me- hard. Didn't punch me; slapped me- like you do to someone who's hysterical. My face burned. My hands were suddenly free, he was leaning up with his on either side of me. I pushed myself up, he still had my legs pinned.
“Please,” I heaved a sigh, “Get off of me.”
“Much better.” He smiled. “If I let you up, are you going to run?”
“No.” I was lieing, he had to know.
“Liar,” he teased and kissed my forehead.
“You really are cute, you know.” He leered over me with that smile, “If you don't like anal sex, you'd better make damn sure that the cops don't find your coked-up whore ass tonight. You go to jail and you'll have all the hot man-on-man action you can dream about.”
I sighed. He was right. I couldn't go to the cops. I wasn't supposed to be drinking. I wasn't supposed to be on coke. I wasn't supposed to be taking money for sex. He was fucking right. I was just going to have to take it- FUCK- I was completely out of options.
“This isn't the first time you've done this, is it?” I asked, staring up at him.
“Oh no.” he smiled down at me, “You're adorable, but you aren't that special. There have been others. You won't be the last one.”
“Condoms?” I asked, pretty sure I knew the answer.
“Good boys get condoms,” he said, “You've been a very bad boy. You're not even getting lubed up before I pound that sweet virgin ass- I'm going to fucking rip you open,” he moved to get my license, which was still sitting with the coke, “Vincent- what do your friends call you- your real friends?”
“V,” I sighed.
“Really?” He asked, “They're that fucking lazy?”
“Vince, sometimes... like from the Mighty Boosh,” I sighed.
“Yeah, I like that- you look more like a Vince.” he reached to put the license back, and suddenly, an idea came to me.
I grabbed his shirt, the shirt that was still hanging, opened and unbuttoned, and twisted it until it was over his head and around his neck. In the confusion, he had temporarily lost his balance, which was enough for me to twist the fabric- this man obviously knew nothing about fabric, and pull- I didn't have to be strong, just had to have the right angle.
He was frantic, tearing as his lungs fought valiantly- and I was, momentarily, jealous. But I kept at it. His will to live was stronger then mine- suddenly, he found me, and ripped at my arms, both at once, sending me flying over his head and on his lap.
FUCK!
Wait, I was on top now- I could run, or at the very least, make it to a phone! I stood, stammered as he tried to put his shirt on, fell, reached for my bag- where's the phone- where's the FUCKING PHONE! Oh, thank god- my phone! Opened it- and felt a sharp blow to the back of my head.
Motherfuck!
Hit the down button for contact- hit “p”.
He grabbed that wrist-
“Drop it!” he commanded- I hit the down arrow, glancing through the names- Parry; Percy; Pierce, Pizza Hut- I had Pizza Hut on speed dial? I'm thinking about this now?
He snatched the phone from me and tossed it onto the dresser with my wallet- he had a death drip around my wrist.
I moved to elbow him with my free hand, but he wrapped around me and held me. I struggled, kicked, because he had pinned my arms to my sides.
“Calm down, Vince!” he commanded.
“I can't calm down!” I screamed, “WHY is NO ONE HELPING ME!?”
“Would you shut the fuck up?” he hissed, “There's a pile of fucking coke on the table.”
“Dude, I really don't give a shit! Not my coke!” I tried to kick him and he picked me up, sat me back down, dodging expertly.
“Stop it!” he commanded.
Why did he think that just by saying that over and over I magically would?
“Stop it or I snap your fucking neck!” he threatened. He was lieing. But freaking out was only tiring myself out- it wasn't helping my cause any. I had to find another way.
“We both know that you aren't going to kill me. Nobody's that stupid.” I slammed back against him one last time, for good measure, and stopped, breathing deeply, trying to calm down.
“Stop making such a huge thing about this, Vinny,” He moved one hand to run it down my face- to move my hair so he could kiss my neck.
“Don't fucking call me 'Vinny'!” I snapped, “My mom calls me Vinny! No one else! That's not fucking cool- ok- even if I give in, you don't fucking call me Vinny!”
“Fine- I wouldn't want to scar you, Vince.” he bit into my neck- hard, “Now,” he whispered, “I don't want to tie you up, but I will. There's no reason for you to be fighting this hard- but it's good for you. I've not had to work this hard to take one down before; if you're gonna suck for money, why not fuck for it?”
“Because I don't-” I hissed, my eyes narrowed, “And if I did I wouldn't want my first one to be for money, you know?” I sighed, then, in what was a much more desperate then I meant voice, “Come on, man, just let me go. There are a hundred kids in this town like me who do anal- I'll set you up, I know some of them.”
“I'd like to Vinny-Vince,” he corrected himself, “But you see- part of the reason I wanted you, is because you haven't done this before. I want to rip you open. Do you know why?”
“I really don't. I never got the fucking virgin thing. Even with chicks, I never really wanted to fuck a virgin- dude, do you really have to hold me this tight- what the fuck am I gonna do? I can't get away!” he loosened his grip a little, “I wouldn't kick her outta bed for being a virgin, but no, I don't get the appeal.”
“Because your hot little ass is going to be so tight that it's going to adjust to my cock,” he explained, “And you're going to be stretching and maybe ripping-” I sighed again, “So hard that you're gonna squirm; and that's gonna make it even better.”
“Won't you hurt us both if you go in dry?” he had sat down on the bed- I was sitting in his lap as he still held my arms to my sides.
“Maybe a little,” he shrugged; I felt it, “But I'll go slow.” he paused as if considering something, “At first.”
“Can I have another drink?” I sighed.
“We tried that- you can't be trusted, remember?”
“I swear to god, I won't run.” There was a desperation in my voice that told him I was telling the truth. He let me go and shoved me to the bed- pocketing my phone as he walked by the dresser.
Fuck!
“Please... it really is my first time...” I was not going to cry about this, “I don't want to do this... But if I have to, can we please use some lube? And a condom?”
“Vince,” he warned.
I held my head in my hands. He had my phone. Maybe I could get outside. I looked at the door. He saw me.
“Vincent!”
I snapped, turned my attention back to him. He was holding a Browning 9mm. Where the fuck did that come from? That was a military gun. He shouldn't have that. I want that. Wait- did that motherfucker just pull a gun on me?
“Holy shit!” I smiled.
“Holy shit indeed.” his grin was back, but I was ignoring him.
“Is that a Browning?” I asked, the enthusiasm leaking through my voice.
“What?” He seemed puzzled.
“Is that a Browning GP?” I asked again, “You know, invented by that Belgian guy, used in over 50 different countries military? How did you get one?”
“That's not cool kid,” he smiled, “You're the first person to get excited with a gun aimed at them.”
“Seriously- that's an awesome piece of metal! I thought you had to be in the FBI or some shit- that's not real, is it?” The thought just occurred to me.
“Of course it's fucking real, you little shit!” he hissed, “You're just the first one to actually appreciate it- most people get FUCKING SCARED when you point a gun at them! They don't sit and fucking analyze it! Now lie back down or get your fucking head blown off!”
“Bullshit,” it didn't occur to me how powerful, how stupid that word was until I had already said it. Fucking coke.
“Lie down!” he commanded, walking closer, the gun pointed at me.
“That's not loaded,” I said it with no malice, just a simple fact.
“Of course it is,” he seemed really upset with my attitude. What had he expected me to do, pull out something amazing like that and have me not drool over it.
“Let me see the clip!” I was so excited- but he narrowed his eyes at me, “You'll still have the one in the chamber if I try anything,” I reminded him.
He shrugged and popped the clip. OK- I was wrong, it was loaded.
Motherfucker pulled a gun on me. The disbelief washed over me. I hate that shit. I ran my hands over my arms, my thoughts drifting back to the scene that left the scar there as my father screamed at me, rifle in hand, warned me not to leave. I left. A loud bang.
Fuck that shit- that motherfucker was not going to fucking shoot me! The rage I felt, at my father, at the world, at my situation, at this MOTHERFUCKER for PULLING A FUCKING GUN ON ME, boiled over, and I lunged forward, faster then I would have ever thought possible. I grabbed his wrist that held the gun and pulled it behind me, his body toward me. It was so fast and startling, that he didn't have time to react before I kneed him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him and FINALLY causing him to drop the gun. It didn't discharge. The safety had been on the entire time. I reached behind me in one smooth motion and scooped it up as I jumped off the bed.
I can't believe that fucking worked. I stood there like Shadow Link on a sword, completely unable to process what had just happened. That fucking WORKED! How the fuck did that work? I had the gun- I had the fucking gun. I held it in my right hand and slid the safety to the off position and moved back the bar- it was cocked. I held it steady in my right hand, my right wrist with my left at eye level, staring down the sights, just as I had been instructed to do.
He stood to his knees and put his hands up.
“Vincent,” his tone was still harsh, in command.
Fuck that shit.
“Give me my motherfucking phone,” I said it in as calm a tone as I could muster.
“Look, kid, you need to calm down- you are tripping really hard right now-”
“Shut the FUCK up!” I screamed, “You weren't going to shoot me! This this is not cocked 'n locked anymore- give me my fucking phone! You had a fucking life to risk- I don't. I swear to god, I will kill you, you crazy fuck! I could do it to- look through my wallet if you don't believe me- there are gun-club memberships, NRA cards- give me my motherfucking phone.”
He pulled it out, I held up my hand and he tossed it to me.
I hit the down button 3 times from memory.
“V?” Pierce asked, “Something wrong, buddy?”
“Get up here right fucking now before I shoot this motherfucker!” I yelled.
“Goddamn it, V!” I heard him getting up, getting ready, heard the door close.
“You've got the wrong number,” I hissed, my eyes never leaving the sights and the sights never leaving John, but turned the conversation back to him, “Johnny, what room are we in?” he was silent, “All I have to do is squeeze, motherfucker!” I hissed.
He told me. I told Pierce. Pierce clicked off- he was on his way.
“You don't want to do this, think. You'll go to jail.”
“For what?” I asked, “I was never fucking here! You fucked some teenage whore, he left, you got high and shot yourself.” I started laughing, I had no idea why, but the idea was suddenly so plausible I could do it. I could kill him. All I had to do was squeeze my finger... And he would be fucking dead. Why, why couldn't I have ever done it before?
“Keep the gloves on,” I mimicked him, “You stupid fuck! Your coke, your gun, your out-of-state hotel. This fucking writes itself! Holy shit- I could kill you! I could kill you and get away with it! Maybe I should... it would be so easy.”
There was a knock at the door.
“V?”
Pierce. I stepped backwards, never dropping my sights. I let him in.
“V?” he asked timidly, “What are you doing, honey?”
He had his .38 special drawn, but was pointing it downward, like someone who wasn't a psychopath.
“This motherfucker pulled a gun on me!” I screamed.
He stepped inside and closed the door, “OK, V, let's talk about it quietly, ok.” I nodded, “That's cocked.” I nodded, “And loaded?” I nodded. “Alright baby, I'm here, so what I need you to do is lower that, ok? He's not gonna jump you.”
“I could fucking kill him, Pierce. Right now. This motherfucker pulled a gun on me- just like my fucking dad!”
“Listen to my voice, Vince,” Pierce spoke smoothly, calmly, “Listen to me, ok? I really need you to lower that so I can figure out what to do. You're really excited right now. Do this for me, because we're friends, ok? I know I can trust you Vince, but I really need you to show me that you trust me.”
I took a deep breath. He was right. I lowered the gun.
“OK. Good.” Pierce went on, in his soothing voice, “Now that everyone is calm and collected, I want you, V, to tell me what happened.”
“I gave him head. He wanted to fuck me. I told him no. He tried, so I tried to call you. He took my phone. He pulled a gun on me, so I took it from him.” short, simple, my mind had chopped the story.
“Alright,” Pierce had the most soothing voice, “What about that shit, over there? Is that coke or pills?”
“Coke.” I was still staring at John, the john.
“Are you on coke, V?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, baby,” he sighed, “You've never done coke before, have you?”
I shook my head.
“OK. I really need you to do something for me, OK, Vince? While I talk to Johnny, I need you to go over there, go through his stuff, get that bag of coke, the money from his wallet, and anything else that looks expensive or cool. We're gonna take it with us. Because Mr. Johnny here wasn't respectful to my friend. OK, Vince? Can you do that?”
I took a deep breath. Pierce was here. I trusted him... yes. I turned the safety back on (why?) and put the gun down next to the pile of coke. I licked my license, and put it back in my wallet. I put the wallet back in my bag, and brought it, opened, to the table. I sealed up the bag of coke and dropped it inside, pushing it to the bottom. I went through his wallet, pulled out several more hundreds and other bills- when I counted it later, it would be over $700. I opened his suitcase- there were expensive-looking clothes, Pierce would be to big and I would be to little. Cool watch- I took it. Nothing really that good in there.
The empty gun-case was still inside with a box of bullets. I took the bullets. Then, I took the clip, emptied it, and put it back. I popped the one in the barrel
“I want this fucking gun, Pierce.”
“Traceable,” he warned.
“God, I know...” I stared at it. Should I take it? Probably not. It would be a bad decision. I set it, now empty, back in the gun-case and zipped it up.
“Alright,” Pierce was speaking to John, “Now, we're gonna go. You're gonna stay here, and count to 30 before you do anything. If you call the cops and send them after us, you'll be fucked. What are you going to tell them, that the teenage boy you paid for sex stole your shit? But if you call the cops- you'll find me. And nothing will come of it. Except, my little friend here will take a shower, put on some mens' clothes, and explain to them why your DNA is all over him- why he has bruises, and why he was drugged. I've dealt with these cops before. We should call them right now, but I'm going to be nice. I'm going to let you decide how to handle this situation.”
“Ready, V?” he asked me, his voice never angering, never faltering, “Make sure you get everything, because we ain't coming back.”
“Yeah,” I threw my wig over my shoulder by the pigtails, the bag over one shoulder, the wig restrained by that hand, the bottle of rum, for good measure, in the other.
We walked out the door- I heard it click closed behind us. Pierce was very calm. We stepped into the elevator and headed down. My make-up was fucked, my real hair was out and sticking everywhere, and I was still in a Sailor Moon costume. I was shaking. Everyone in the elevator was staring at me- or as Pierce put it when he was telling the story, at us.
“What?” he finally asked, “You never see a fag and his boy-toy before?”
He lit a cigarette. I laughed. No one called him on it as we walked outside, where he was actually allowed to smoke.
“So that was fucked up,” he said as he unlocked the doors.
“Yes. Yes it was.” I agreed.
“You are fucked up.” he added, “You don't need to do coke.”
“Yeah.” I agreed.
“Hyper?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Wanna tell me all about what happened up there?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, you're gonna stay with us tonight- because you are a crazy little fucker.” he smiled, and shifted the manual transmission as the truck started to move, “I don't trust you alone. And you're gonna tell us all about this. And we're gonna watch you. And then, once we see how good it is, I'm going to do some of this coke. And then, we're gonna sell the rest. You really don't need anymore. Coke is a once-a-year thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, V.” he turned to look at me, “It is.” he chuckled, “Crazy fucking kid. You know that, right? That you're crazy? I'm not trying to joke or be mean, just- as your friend- you need to see a shrink; you're crazy.”
“Yeah... I think I will, actually. Being away from home has taught me that the rest of the world doesn't work the way I thought it did... the way everything has always worked.” I looked up at the stars through his windshield.
“Crazy fucking shit,” Pierce sighed.
And we pulled out of the parking lot. We never saw any police, or any sign of John ever again. I really hope that he learned his lesson that night.
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