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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Runaway Dream - Intro by Rachael Ross (F/f, Vampire, Rom, Drugs, Prostitution,Violence, Horror)
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Date: Wed, 02 May 2007 06:10:04 -0400
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The Runaway Dream

Copyright 2006-2007 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for
adults.
Story Codes: F/f, Vampire, Rom, Drugs, Prostitution,Violence, Horror

Note: This is something I started just before my vacation last autumn.
I posted the first few chapters on my website and I've had many
requests to continue it. Now that I've finished World Beneath, I've
decided to return to this and see what I can make of it. -rr

The Runaway Dream
by rache

Introduction - Sketching Lisa

"For 'tis not in mere death that men die most." - E. Barrett Browning


I'm down on my luck. All of 15 years old, running away for the third
time in two years, and determined not to make the same mistakes again.
I ain't gonna get caught. I've had enough of Family Services, and
Foster Care, and playing bingo with all the other orphans on Friday
nights. My folks had died on a Tuesday when I was nine, leaving me
with nothing but hate, and it's a bitch, yeah. Nobody wants a half-
grown girl with a bad attitude,

I wasn't ever abused or anything, although I heard the stories. Nobody
beat me all that much, or locked me in a closet, or any of that stuff.
I was just pissed on my own, you know? Not so much at people, but at
God. He didn't seem to be around so much though, unless you believed
the penguins, the nuns who smiled and hugged too much, and said God
was inside me.

So when I was 13 I decided to cut the fucker out. All that did was get
me in a hospital, a couple hospitals, but the state didn't have a lot
of extra cash for a kid with no parents. No prospects. No hope. So
they pumped me full of dope, gave me some tough love, and turned me
loose, putting me back into the ever lovin' arms of Jesus and the
homeless lonely children of St. Luke's. And I wasn't stayin' there.

I'm tall for being 15 and not ugly, I know that. I've seen ugly people
and none of them are orphans. That must be one of God's little jokes,
like "I'll make you beautiful, kid, and then I'll fuck ya good." I
imagine he likes screwing pretty people, just like everyone else does.
Every kid at St. Luke's was pretty, and so old inside it hurt to be in
the same room with them. You grow up fast in a world like that because
time really is relative.

The kids born without parents got it easier because they didn't know
any better. Kids like me, we did all our growing in a few minutes.
During the time it takes some stranger to tell you that childhood is
over, all of 5 minutes, maybe ten if it's a woman and she's crying. I
went from nine to ninety in ten minutes and I knew the big secret that
the deathbed holds...Living is a lot harder than dying.

Hard times. I have my hair tied back in a short blonde ponytail,
hanging just below my shoulders. I have my old denim jacket which
looks cool, but it doesn't keep the cold out. Some flair on it, a
yellow smiley face pinned upside down on the left side, and an anarchy
A in circle pinned to the collar. Just a couple small buttons, to warn
the world I'm coming. I got my t-shirt, plain white, and a red and
black flannel shirt, with all my money buttoned up in the breast
pocket. All 34 dollars of it.

Some well worn jeans, faded and frayed, but no holes anyway, and some
work boots half a size too big that I'd swiped from a Pay-Less not an
hour before. I scuffle my feet in the gravel along the railroad tracks
in South Seattle, knowing those boots look too good, too new. I need
them dirty and old looking because everyone likes the shiny stuff.

The rail yards aren't that big, not like you might expect in a gateway
city like Seattle, but they're big enough for me to get lost in. Maybe
grab a train going south, to California where it's warm and doesn't
rain so much all the time. Some guys are sitting in an open boxcar,
rusted and covered with spray paint. Some choice street art touring
America, bringing the message that "Rah ba-Zin Kilz" and I wish I had
my own can of paint. "Gahd Kilz" That's my message.

"Bring it." One of the guys says to me, not loudly, and with a little
nod of his head. The other one is smoking, both of them sitting in the
dark doorway with legs dangling. It's getting late in the afternoon
and the sky is warm and yellow red, but the wind is cold. Summer's
coming, but it ain't here yet.

I ignore them, feeling the knife in my back pocket, a 7" folding Buck
knife I'd traded kisses for with the old black guy who cleans the
halls at the orphanage. He was old school nigger with a pregnant belly
and an anorexic mind, asking me what I wanted and dumb enough to give
it to me. I'd slipped that blade real quiet into his groin and taken a
bloody nose when he backhanded me before he staggered out, pressing
his hand against his lower belly and dripping blood down his trousers.

He didn't talk and he didn't come back. Maybe he'd died someplace, out
in the alley with the trash. Bleeding in the rain. I'd hoped so,
laying in my bed and fucking the handle of that Buck in and out of my
immature sex so my juices mixed with dried blood, bringing it back to
life and running pink and sticky over my fingers. God was in that
nigger too, maybe, down in his balls festering and I'd let him out.
Maybe.

No bra, little pink panties, and a pair of boys athletic socks, pulled
halfway up to my knees. That's all I've got. Thirty-four dollars, my
knife, a silver Zippo lighter running out of gas, and 3 smokes in a
crumpled pack. Two buttons on my jacket, a stainless choker chain
around my neck that I'd got from a dead dog on my last walk-about, and
a key. I don't know what the key is for; I found it and kept it.
Something for my pocket, something to put my fingers around with an
odd shape, interesting and mysterious. I try it on every door I can
find, but it never works.

Blonde hair, tall thin body, puffy boobs and a little hairy blonde
hole that's only been used by me. That's all I am. That's everything
I'm bringing to the fight. I skip through the rail yards on my way to
the 7-11 uptown, on Pike Street. It's a long walk, but that's what
running away is; the long walk to forever. I couldn't leave the city;
not by myself, not really. Thinking about hopping a train was a pipe
dream.

========-------========

I had a beer, a 40 malt liquor in a brown bag, what a stereotype, but
that's where I live. I was going to see Vin and it had become sort of
a tradition anyway, me bringing something to share and him giving me
that accidental attention without the concern that I needed. I leaned
against the counter and pushed the forty at him with a shrug. I'd only
had a little.

"Thanks. How ya doin?" Vin lit a cigarette and handed it to me. He was
still smoking French cigarettes, even though he was HIV positive and
if he got anything it was gonna kill him in weeks, not years. They had
cloves in them, just a little, so that the smoke made me a little
dizzy.

"I'm okay." I looked around without much shame. I was just a kid in a
porn shop, like that was normal. I take in the dildos and vibes and
pocket pussies and all the magazines and videos. It looks so stupid,
all of it, but what do I know?

"Running away again?" He asks, sipping the beer and drawing hard on
his smoke.

"Yeah, what am I gonna do?" I shrug. "I can't go back to family, no
fucking way."

"Yeah." Vin shrugged too. He'd run away from someplace in East Germany
before the wall came down, when he was like 12 or something. Just him,
hiding in some truck, and he'd never looked back. He had a soft spot
for kids and walls.

"You looking?" He puffed his cigarette like a fag, holding it almost
delicately between his thumb and forefinger.

"Not yet, why? You got something?"

"I know a guy." Vin gave me a little look, expecting me to shake my
head probably.

"I ain't going back." I bit my lip. "What do I gotta do?"

"Just lay there." Vin had blue eyes, like grey blue, almost white
under the fluorescent lights. "You gotta pop your cherry sometime."

"Says who?" I ask seriously and then giggle, sounding like a little
girl suddenly so that the two or three guys shopping me have an excuse
to stare.

"I got some if you need it, too." Vin says quietly. "Don't feel a
thing."

"How much?" I'd met Vin the first time I'd run away, when I was 13 and
he'd picked me up on the highway. It had been my first time with the
needle and we'd become best friends.

"Nickel?" He smiled as I licked my lips. "Not enough? A dime and you
get some cash anyway."

"Sure, yeah." I swallowed hard. "What's it called?"

"I dunno, Four Finger Discount or something." Vin shrugged. "They said
little girls, I thought of you."

"Oh, like you knew I was comin' around?" I giggled again, sort of on
purpose and I tossed my hair at one of the pervs, an old guy in a
suit.

"Girls like you always are always comin' around, baby." Vin grinned.
"Here...go get yourself well, on me." He pulled out a little leather
kit, black and dull and heavy. He dropped some tokens on the counter,
slapping them down with his fingers so they wouldn't roll. "Go in the
back, I fixed a couple of the locks."

"Four finger discount, huh?" I grinned at that. "I knew you were
fuckin with me." I swiped the pouch and the tokens quick. I'd done a
few movies, mostly playing the girl next door seduced by an older
woman. It wasn't really acting, but the sex was good when they just
let the cameras run.

Vin chuckled. "Figured you could use a reality check."

"Shit." I rolled my eyes. My reality check was in my hands.

The arcade was dark, and the shadows moved. Everyone back there was a
ghost, a shell of something else. My boots clomped on the dull
concrete floor and I ignored the eyes shining in the dark. I found a
booth, locking the door and sitting down, my heart racing. I hadn't
fixed in three days and I was shaking a little as I opened Vin's kit.

He was old school and liked to cook, so he had a little tin of shoe
polish and a spoon. Three minutes after I sat down I was drawing
dreams out of a bent spoon and slipping them into my left arm, wincing
just for a second. Vin didn't have any cotton and that shit was hot.

Some guy was watching me through a hole in the wall and I smiled at
him, pushing the plunger halfway and then jacking it back, drawing
some blood and watching it mix in the flashing bright light of the
porno playing on the screen. I did that a couple more times, playing
with myself, jacking my shit like a fiend until I sighed and pulled
the needle free, holding it in my lap and staring at the guy's hard
cock sticking through the hole. I dreamed...dreamed...

========-------========

My next stop on the trail of tears was Denny's, just cause I needed
some food. I wasn't hungry and my mind was still a little numb, but
I'd learned my lessons young. When you run, eat every fuckin chance
you get. A girl named Clarice worked there and she was always good for
a handout. Tall and thin, looking a little like Uma Thurman's ghost,
with dull brown eyes. She needed contacts; green maybe, bright like a
cat's. She slipped out the back where I was waiting and handed me a
Styrofoam container with a club sandwich and some fries in it.

"Shit, you gotta eat fast. Mike's workin tonight and if he sees you
he's gonna freak." She watched for a moment as I nodded, taking a big
bite. "Can you come around later?"

"You want?" I asked with my mouth full.

"If it's cool." She smiled, just a little one.

"What happened to what's her name, the one with the tits?"

"Amy?" Clarice pulled a smoke out of her apron and lit it, sighing
heavily. "She's back in it."

"County?" I made a face.

"Shoplifting, she got 40 days." Clarice was 25 and she looked 35
standing there, but she had a good heart and that was why.

"Yeah, I'll come around." I nodded. I'd almost finished my food,
barely tasting it. I sorta figured she might want to put me up, so I
was glad I didn't have to ask.

"Here. I gotta get back inside. I get off at six okay?" She handed me
her cigarette and smiled again, then closed the door behind her.

========-------========

I was walking down the boulevard, looking at the sidewalk when a car
pulled up close, driving slowly. "Hey baby, how much?" Some guy was
asking and I shook my head. He was the third one in an hour, but I was
mostly killing time anyway. It was just after two and I had 4 more
hours and not enough money.

"Can I talk to you?" Another car and this time a woman's voice. She
was older, middle forties maybe, and dressed casual nice in her Volvo
sedan. Somebody's wife, mom too, judging from the toys in the back
seat. GI Joe and Barbie, so she had one of each. Out pretty late for a
mommy, musta been saving up. She was pregnant with the need that daddy
didn't know about.

"Hi." I leaned in the passenger window a little, giving her a look at
my small breasts as my t-shirt fell low. She could see my pointed
nipples, just barely maybe. I always liked watching the eyes, cops
always looked at your face first, see if they know you, but the
regular people, the horny soccer moms from Bellevue, they only came
out when they were famished. They didn't care if they knew you or not.

"Hi." She licked her lips and then looked up, into my face. "Do you
need a ride home?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "That'd be great." I opened the door and slipped
inside.

"Where we going?" She asked and that was too bad, cause I didn't have
a place yet.

"Gimme 18 bucks, I'll show you." I told her and we ended up driving
two blocks to the Amsterdam. It was a junkie hotel, renting rooms by
the hour, but that's all we needed.

The woman sat in an old stained arm chair, after having looked around
with some small hint of disdain. "Is this where you live?" She asked
me.

"No." I answered, not wanting any sympathy. "Don't worry, the bed's
clean."

"What's your name?"

"Lisa." I answered. "What do you want?" I was standing there with my
hands in my back pockets, a few feet in front of her, looking down at
the woman but not feeling superior at all.

"An hour." The woman shrugged. "Maybe uh..." She licked her lips. "Can I
see your pussy?"

I nodded, unbuttoning my jeans and unzipping them, pulling the
material open enough so she could see the swell of my sex and then my
blonde covered pussy. I pulled at my skin with my fingertips a little,
briefly stroking my little clit, coaxing it to come out for a little
peek.

"Yeah." She nodded and checked her watch. "Two hours, how much?"

"Fifty." I said, leaving my pants undone, hanging around my hips while
she opened her purse and pulled out one of the fifties that must have
been right on top. She probably figured it would be more, but I wasn't
pushing. Fifty bucks was easy to negotiate and so cheap she wouldn't
bother stealing it back, as if she could. I was doin this for fun
anyway.

I took the money and buttoned it up in the pocket of my flannel shirt.
I shrugged, giving her a genuine smile. "I'm all yours."

"Take off your clothes." She said and I undressed for her slowly,
taking off my shirt first, and then my t-shirt, uncovering my breasts
as it came over my head, pulling the small mounds of flesh taut and
flat for a moment. I played with them a little, just cause it felt
good and she didn't mind. My nipples were hard as diamonds, like sharp
pink points of fire. I kicked off my boots and then finally my Levi's,
letting them fall down around my knees and standing there for a second
so she could see me in just panties.

"How old are you?" She was staring at me, breathing softly through her
open mouth.

"Fifteen." I smiled, sitting down on the short rough carpet and
pulling my socks off first, and then my jeans over my feet slowly. I
spread my legs, letting the woman see the crotch of my pink underwear
pulled tight over my sex.

"Runaway?" She asked and she was touching herself, just a little
through her nice middle class American JC Penney's clothes.

I nodded. "Uh-huh." I sat there, leaning back on straight arms, naked
except for my panties, looking up at the woman.

"You're so pretty." She swallowed. "Let me see your pretty pussy."

I pulled my panties to the side, thinking she liked them, and I let
her look at my sex, pulling my labia for her so she could see my pink
little hole. She told me to finger myself while she undressed and I
did it slowly, rubbing my pussy and then tilting my finger inside
gently. I was moist and tight and hot and it felt good, fucking myself
while this woman watched me.

She was nice looking, even old as she was. I liked older women better
anyway. Her boobs had a little sag, and she had some old faded stretch
marks around her waist, but she had a nice shape. I loved her body,
the motherliness of it. I wondered if she'd want me to call her mommy
the way a lot of older women wanted me to. I hadn't really been with
that many, maybe a dozen, but that was enough to clue me anyway.

She had me eat her for about twenty minutes and then she wanted me too
and it was a good 69 with me on top. She was noisy when she came and
wet, but so was I and I wished I was still fixed. I'd have jacked her
too. We spent half of her time doing that, her mouth on my cunt while
I tongue fucked her hard. She had a big sloppy pussy and I could have
fisted her probably, if she'd been into it.

But she was into other stuff.

We were hot and sweaty and smiling when she told me she wanted to piss
in my mouth. "You do golden showers?" She asked and I just shrugged.

"It's your ride." I told her.

A few minutes later she had me on the floor, neither of us really
caring about messing up a shitty hotel room like that one. It wouldn't
be the first time someone had pissed on the floor probably. She knelt
over my face as I lay there, her knees on either side of my head,
looking down at my waiting face. Her pussy was a foot above me and I
watch her fingers moving in the shadows.

"Open your mouth, Lisa." She said softly and as I opened wide she
began pissing, hot and salty and bitter. "Swallow it...uh fuck swallow
it, Lisa..."

She was spraying my face, moving her hips and tightening her bladder
so she could aim the stream into my mouth. I swallowed fast, but it
was useless. The yellowish liquid was in my hair, in my ears, running
down my neck. She moved to wash my puffy tits and then my tummy and
then finally pissing her last little bit onto my pussy, rubbing her
cunt with her fingers as she did so.

"Ohhh god..." She was turned on by it and I didn't really care, except
my stomach churned a little.

The woman lay on top of me, licking my face and kissing me, sharing
her piss as her breasts worked across mine. I lifted one of my legs so
I could press my thigh against her sex, giving the woman something to
grind against as we made out. It was hot and good like that, and when
I came I didn't mind being pissed on at all. We kissed and I held her
tight, moaning and biting her ear as she shuddered and came hard
against my thigh.

She left before I did, not talking a whole lot. She showered while I
smoked and then dressed while I watched. I was tired. She gave me a
look at the door, one of those 'I almost give a shit' looks that
people get when they're done using a person, but that's just guilt,
and then she was gone. Back to her lies.

========-------========

I showered and got dressed, checking the clock in the dull yellow
lobby. An hour and a half and I could crash with Clarice. There's a
diner, a Korean place, with Korean writing and chicken feet in the
window. That's where I went; sliding into a booth and sitting low,
looking at the little cardboard pop-up advertising Michelob. The
waitress is Korean, flat faced, flat chested, flat assed, like
somebody steamrolled her.

"Get some coffee?" I ask and she makes a face, or maybe that was her
smile, I dunno. I gotta watch for the cops though, cause they like
coffee too and if they see me I'm going back. I hate that shit, like
criminals get away, and I get caught. Being a kid is a crime. Being
alone is a crime. Being a kid alone is a death sentence so they gotta
arrest me to protect me. My brain wanders a lot at 4:30 in the
morning, coming down off a buzz, coming down from good fuck. Coming
down all the way, all the way...

I'd fallen asleep, just a little, and the waitress had nudged me. I
paid for my coffee right away because that's how it works in places
like that. They'd rather kick you out right away then let you catch
your breath before you told them you didn't have any money.

There's a girl sitting at a table and I noticed her because she
noticed me. There's only 4 of us in the place anyway, 6 if you count
the Koreans. The other two are guys, hard luck cowboys who are waiting
for something, but they don't know what. They notice us too, but we
don't care. The girl though, like twenty something, maybe 30, she
looked at me, reading last night's newspaper, drinking her coffee. She
was wearing real clothes too, like mom in her Volvo.

I'm so cloudy right then, I couldn't tell what was past and what is
now. So I sit there, sipping my coffee and the taste is bad, like
dirty water painted black. Piss tastes better and I throw some sugar
in it, three little white packs and some creamer from those little
peel top cups. Now it looks like old river mud, so I can't drink it
anyway. I just stir it for awhile.

"You wanna eat?" It was the girl, the woman, thirty years old maybe,
and her hair's dirty blonde, but all natural and pinned up.

"What?" I looked up at her.

"Are you hungry? You look like you haven't had anything in awhile."
She didn't smile, and I was grateful for that anyway.

"No, I ate before." I shrugged. A little bit of kindness and a pretty
face always fucks me up.

She sat down without asking, sitting across from me and putting her
arms on the table. "I'm Angela."

"You're a cop." I stared at her. It was all over her, the way she
moved and the way she smelled. Only cops and whores had that smell,
the smell of other people all over them.

"That bother you?" She liked looking into my eyes.

"I'm going to my sister's place, she gets off at six." I said.

"Okay." The woman shrugged. "I was thinking maybe you were out here by
yourself."

"No." I shook my head.

"You sure? I saw you going in the Amsterdam a couple hours ago." She
looked at my coffee and then waved at the waitress. "You got orange
juice? Real stuff? And some toast."

"I told you I wasn't hungry." I licked my lips, looking around, but it
was just her.

"Yeah, I know." She smiled then, for the first time and it was sorta
nice. Not too much teeth, not a lot of lip, just a little humor around
her dark blue eyes.

"So, you got me in the Amsterdam." I shrugged.

"How much?" She asked and then looked up as the waitress was putting
down a glass of juice and plate of toast between us, like she didn't
know who it was for.

"You shoppin' me?" I gave her a little smile of my own. If she wasn't
I'd have been gone already, halfway home in the back of her car.

"How much?" She repeated, sitting back a little.

"Got some apple jelly?" I asked the Korean and she shook her head.
"For you?" I shrugged, looking back to the woman's eyes. "Depends. How
long?"

"Long as I want." She shifted a little, reaching out and pushing the
juice at me. "How long since you fixed?"

"Couple hours. I'm okay."

She nodded at me. "I got some, back at my place."

"You're fuckin with me." I laughed, stretching a little and rubbing my
eyes. They felt red and dry, like my eyeballs itched.

"Uh-uh." She shook her head.

"Let's go." I had my hands on top of my head, like she was takin me
down.

"Drink your juice."

========-------========

We were riding in her car, getting on the highway going north.

"You pick up a lot of strays, huh?" I yawned, feeling tired. The sun
was gonna come up soon. "Got a thing for it, I bet."

"Yeah." Her thumbs danced on the steering wheel, but she didn't look
at me. "I don't meet a lot of regular people."

"Don't want to?" I turned my back to the door, pulling the seatbelt
for some slack as I turned to face her in the dim light.

"Not really." She did look at me then, just for a second. "What are
you looking for?"

"Nothing." I took a deep breath. "I just want it to be over with."

"Go to sleep." She told me.

"You ain't a cop, are you?" I took off my boots, kicking them onto the
floor.

"Nope." She smiled straight ahead, happy maybe I wasn't so dumb.

"Figures." I laughed weakly, pulling my legs up and hugging myself,
wriggling my ass a little to get comfortable. "You gonna kill me?"

"I dunno." She shrugged then. "It isn't up to me."

I fell asleep after that, feeling better because she'd told me the
truth. Most people lie. They might lie all the time, or they might
tell the truth about the little things, but when it comes time, they
always lie about the big things. Like God being inside me. Angela
wouldn't lie though, I knew that. She was like me, the only ones we
could trust.

End of Part One

========--- )-( ---========

Continued in Part Two

rache696@yahoo.com
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rache/www/index.htm

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