Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 This one involves Heterophobia, so let me get something straight: The
Man-hating lesbo is not a thing, but the myth still persists.  There's
manhating straight girls, manhating female rapists, and yes also manhating
Lesbians, but it has nothing to do with being gay.  Just like the most
common type of Misogynist is a straight guy, and those chauvanists are the
ones who came up with the myth of the man hating dyke.  Don't You believe
It!  They're just trying to validate their worldview, while knowing less
than nothing about actual lesbianism.  (Except for the shit they make up,
to invalidate them)
   TBPH, but that's not who this is:
   ,
   Cabby (Ffm6x Pros Bang)
   "Huh!" I picked up the radio, "I'll get it."
   "You sure?"
   "Yeah, I'm right around the corner." End of shift, but I can always use
the money.  Which means Get there First.
   "Wow," she ran up from the payphone.  "That was quick!" I unlocked the
door.
   "Let me fill up, real quick." They auto-locked when I put it back in
gear, pulled up to the pump, and got out.  She rolled down the window.
   "Where in Knightdale?" Long fare, clear on the other side of town.
   "Home, I missed the bus." School uniform, I didn't have to ask.
   "Could've picked you up at the office," not a nice neighborhood now, I
leaned back against the pump.  She hung out, her arms on the window sill.
   "You mind making a stop on the way there?"
   "Your money."
   "Yeah, that's the thing.  I need to pick some up, if I'm gonna pay you a
decent tip."
   "How decent?"
   "Double?"
   "The fare?" It's a long drive.
   "Yeah, it should only take about 15, 20 minutes."
   KUNK!  I hung the nozzle, pulled the company card, and receipt. 
"Where's the stop?" Got back in, she rolled up the window.
   "Broughton?"
   "So, what's the catch?" The question kind of implied, something out of
the ordinary.  If she's as used to taking cabs as she acted.
   "You have any problem with whores?"
   I laughed, "Well, in this business you tend to meet all the callgirls
pretty quickly."
   "How long you been driving one here?"
   "A couple years," but lived here all my life.
   "Well, let's just say you haven't met all of us yet."
   Copy that.
   "You're real young."
   "26, I dropped out of college, so." In the left turn lane, I looked
back, "I'm not a school-girl."
   "Me neither.  I mean, my folks sent me there to keep me out of trouble,
but.  I'm Atheist."
   I nodded, but she had the green sweater-vest, and yellow tie off, so
started unbuttoning her white blouse.  Down to the bra.
   She looked up, from me flipping it down by the highbeam tag.  "It's
green."
   "Yeah." Nobody behind us.
   "Uh!" she pointed, "The light?"
   "Oh!" I drove off.  "Yeah." Matching underwear.
   "Hihihm!" She grinned through the window, "So you're gay."
   "Yeah," no such thing as gaydar, but.  Leering like a bus station creep,
kinda gives it away.  "Huh, my ex girlfriend was a pro." Can't tell to look
at them, either but.  It's not like the uniform, she is cute, and sexually.
Well, sexual, I don't have a thing for teenage girls, either, but it's not
easy to ignore her sexuality with her pulling her arms in to take off her
bra, and jiggling in the back seat.  I took Wade Ave around, so it was a
fairly straight shot, and I could look back, keeping it in the lane. 
"So... I know about the, safety issues."
   "Being a whore?"
   "Well, pro."
   "Oh, I'm a total whore." She laughed, "I get off on it, every time."
   "Yeahbut, you know it's risky, too."
   "Well yeah," she pulled a box of rubbers out of the BP bag, and stuffed
her bra in.  "Why I got protection.  And it killed time, having to 'hey
mister' to buy them."
   Box open, she dumped them in the bag, and started tearing them apart.
   I kept glancing at the road, and signaled for the exit.  "In there, cut
through the back lot to Cameron." I signaled, and waited for traffic. 
Going against it, I had planned to get out before the Rush, but.
   "You do it on campus?"
   "Yeah, but it's safer if I got a car."
   "You didn't say anything about doing it in here."
   "Not in here," she rolled down the window, "There they are.  Just lock
the doors."
   "They auto-lock." When I put it in gear.  Basically an alley, between
the wings, I won't say which one because it doesn't matter.  The important
thing is pulled in, you couldn't even open the doors if you wanted to, the
guys had to scoot in the side.  I jumped when one of them knocked on my
window, and cracked it.  "Here." He passed some bills through, folded in
half with a rubberband.  I dogeared $300.00.
   "You her boyfriend?"
   "Pimp." I looked back, through the passenger side.  African Americans,
letter jackets, I would guess the basketball team.  Not that I'm the one to
ask about size, but I remember thinking that was a myth.  "You wanna make
some money?" I looked up under the windshield, and though I didn't go to
Broughton, I'd been on the campus.  No windows, even on the upper floor,
and the campus was fairly abandoned this late.  Someone could just walk by,
and see us.
   Them crowded around the cab, their pants open, "What kind of money?" I
looked up, from the front of his pants, and licked my lips?
   He grinned, "Tweny fi fo a jerk," he made the sign, "Fity a blow, $75 to
fuck, an a hunnert fo anal."
   I laughed, "Seriously?  I never met a hooker that worked for less than a
bill."
   He shrugged, leaned back.  Hips still out, and looked around.  "High
school prices."
   "You in High School?" Even held back, he looked old enough to buy beer.
"Me neither.  Double?"
   "Fo what?"
   "Well, I never, actually touched one.  Before.  I'm a lesbian."
   "A'rite!" He grinned, and got it out.
   "Huh!" Nope, definitely not a myth, and IDKWTF was happening to me.  I
mean, I know, but, I never, actually.  "Hihihihm!" The skin popped out,
almost closed over the head, and slipped back.  "Like this?"
   "Yeh," he pulled a $50 out of the money clip.
   "Mh," I bit my lip, but, that ment breathing through my nose, and.  "Sn.
Hn?" I'd smelled it before, sweat, but somehow it wasn't.  I mean male
sweat, even stale, and, "Snhhh!" What the hell is happening to me?
   "Slp, nh!" I looked back, but she turned, pulled another rubber over,
and I looked back.  Not like my lips felt dry, at all.  "Glgugugugugh! 
Kah!"
   "Another $50?"
   "Fo what?"
   "I want to suck it."
   "Yeah?"
   I shook my head, blinked, but.  No, "Yeah," I really.  Just felt,
incredibly curious, all of a sudden.
   "A'rite."
   "Mh, hm?" I closed my eyes, "Snhhhh!" Tried to rub my nose into his
pubes, but couldn't reach.  "Ghl, khaHK!" Gagged.
   "Go on," he patted my hair, "You can jerk on it to." Nodded it for me,
so I.  Well, tasted it, again.  It tasted like skin, and sweat, but I
always thought girls would tate different from boys.  Just careful not to
bump the back of my throat, but the skin pulled over the end again.  So.  I
rolled it back with my lips, and pumped it to bunch around the curls around
the bottom.  Then my lips, and I realized what I was doing.
   Not just sicking a dick.  It wasn't until I felt, a slimy little drop,
and tasted it milking out the end than I remembered he's a Pimp.  That
means prostitutes, pretty safe to assume he fucks them too, which mean
everyone they had sex with, so he could have.  Well, anything really, but
AIDS was the first thing that came to mind.  Not to mention Herpes, which
was like the lesbian AIDS, because you could see cold sores on our lips, if
we had any.
   "Huh!" I panted, looking around.  "Huh?" The fear, coming and going like
this is an emotional roller coaster, but there were 2 more.  With rubbers,
and he stepped back.  Pulled off another bill, a hundred dollar bill, and
pumped it hard again.
   I nodded, and pulled them in.  By the rubbers, he started unwrapping
another as soon as it fluttered in through the window like a falling leaf,
and I went back and forth.
   "Smh, smok, huh!  Neah!"
   All right, after I got over the excitement, I was able to think clearly
enough to chalk it up to Exhibitionism.  And measure my fingers,
pinky-to-pointer, so I'll have to guestimate all 3 of them were more than 6
inches, each.
   I loved it, all of it.  Cock, long young teenage basketball cock.  All
of a sudden I couldn't get enough, which lead me to closing my eyes, and
just try to enjoy it.  A foot and a half of cock, in both hands, and my
mouth, going all around to compare length, thickness.  I couldn't taste
anything but rubber, but smelled their sweat, and even with the steering
wheel tilted all the way up, couldn't scissor my thighs enough to get off.
But I was squishy wet.  It wrung out enough to slip between my thighs, and
wet all the way up to my clit hood, nothing but the thrill of sucking
stranger's condoms, on their school campus.  For money, with a Catholic
Shcoolgirl bent over in the back seat to hold her ass out the window. 
Rocking the car from the basketballer slapping the door with his thighs.
   "Huh!" I panted, "$150.00."
   "Fo?" Already frantically fumbling my pants open.
   "All 3 of you."
   "Fuckin?"
   "Yeah."
   "He already had his moneyclip out, and I couldn't get my shorts down
fast enough to get gangbanged.  I swear, I never wanted anything so much in
my life, I felt like I Needed it, and I kicked a Crack habit.  I'm white,
crack isn't a black drug, it started out doing coke in the 80s in Chapel
Hill, and then I tried it.  Don't try crack, kids but this?
   "Uh!" I just put my elbows on the arm-rest, while 4 hands felt under my
shirt.  Unhooked my bra, and groped me.
   It was a nitemare, literally.  Before, I heard of Gangbangs, but I
couldn't even bring myself to imagine it.  Woke up still terrified to the
image of huddling naked with them all around me, pointing, and calling me
dyke.  Now, somehow the fear, that was always a big part of the
exhibitionist's thrill was gone.  Instead of flashing back to that, I found
myself tumbling down through the memory of highschool.
   Gym class, yeah we're not supposed to cut through campus, but they
obviously did this enough to know what they're doing.  We didn't get
caught, nobody drove by there after the small side-lot emptied out, right
after the busses left, it really was the safest spot to hide this.
   We called it a Gangbang, but really it was more of an orgy.  We all
brought our toys, and everyone tried all of them, it wasn't like.  The
nightmare, the constant threat of being outed, then caught, and bashed. 
Gang raped, that was the very real fear, and while homophobic straight
girls probably wouldn't do that, there was the High School Closet.  Where
you wanted to crush on a girl, and yet there was the fear that if it scared
her she could tell her friends, and then everyone would know.  The boys
would hear about it, and just the accusation of lesbianism could get you
bashed.  Gang raped, by the football team is what I feared, but now it was
real, and I shook my head.
   Snapped back to my cab, the front seat, and the hard deep fast
penetration.  "Yeh!" shaking me with every thrust, bottoming out so it
pushed deeper, and deeper, not some toy, in the hands of one of my friends,
strapon, or even ass-to-ass with a double header.
   "Ah, shit!"
   "Ngh!" I slammed shut, but then his hands were replaced by 2 more,
letting go of my side, and pulling open my buttocks.  Feeling between my
thighs with his fingers, and guiding it under my sex handing out the window
like a bitch in heat.  "Yeah!"
   "I got this."
   "Nyeah!" He pulled out slowly.
   "YEH!" I shook with the hard thrust.  "You like that," another slow
pulling aout, "DYKE!"
   "NYEAUGH!" I nodded, drooping, and licked my lips.  My elbows slipped
off the side of the armrest, so I just pulled them back, instead of
reaching for the door lock.  Letting them in to fuck my mouth, while he
gave it to me, "Faster, ah fuck me afaster, yeahneanynhnhNH!" I shook.
   He pulled out, "Ahfuck!"
   "Nhm!" Too late, I was already climaxing, but I lost count.  That was
just 2.  There was 3, they payed for 3, and I was ready for more!  "NHEA
fg, huh, fuck, mrh, yhr!" Grunting with the hard deep, excited.  I don't
know, highschool fuck?  I guess, I heard from my sister, and straight
friends, complain about their short fuse, and hurried bashing into them
before they're ready, but that's not what happened.  I was so ready,
already started orgasming, and his quick thrusts to a finish just prolonged
it until he pulled out.  So, I collapsed, squirmed to pull my shirt down,
over my cold metal clip board, and just panted.  My hips on the armrest,
but I could only pant desperately for a while, and by the time I could even
sit up, they had gone.
   "Whew!" I brushed the hair sticking over my eyes with sex sweat out of
the way, but she made me jump, knocking on the partition window.
   "Fuck!" I covered my heart, beating out of control, and slid it open.
   "We better take off."
   "Yeah," Back in my shorts, and pants, I just pulled my shirt down over
them, and pulled it in reverse.
   She giggled behind me, "Yeah.  You're so gay."
   "I don't.  Huh!" Switching back into drive.  "No, I don't think I was,
really."
   "You all right?"
   "Yeah!" Grinning so wide it started to hurt, "Yeah!  I mean, it's not
every day you go from not thinking about, penis, to a gangbang for money!"
   "See what I mean?"
   "Yeah!" definitely.
   "You want to pull over somewhere, we can smoke?"
   "Just roll the windows down, can you bum me one?"
   "Yeah." Back out on Wade Ave, or signaling for the turn.  "Oh no, turn
Left."
   "But, Knightdale's."
   "I know, I said that so you'd cut through town, I live in Cary."
   "Oh," there's a break, "Hang on."
   A small one, I had to gun it, and they held down the horn.  Cleared the
smoke out, though.  I took another drag, and held it out the window.
   "Whuh!" Out the window, I yelled back.  "Where in Cary?"
   "Cut over to Chapel Hill." Coming up on the cloverleaf, I took the exit,
and went around.  We flipped off the cigarettes, so I rolled up the
windows.
   "No smoking's the company policy."
   "You got to get back to the garage?"
   "It's my car," shrug, "I'll just turn in the paperwork tomorrow, I'm off
after this."
   She giggled, "You sure got off."
   "Yeah, I see what you mean, now."
   "The whoring?"
   "I guess, that's part of it.  I always was an exhibitionist, I just."
   "That why you're so femmy?"
   "Well, I'm not.  I guess, I don't.  Mean, uh!" Shake my head, "I'm not,
a lipstick lesbian.  I don't even know if I am, a lesbian any more."
   "Don't worry about it." She sighed, "You know, if straight guys get
drunk enough, they start sucking eachother's dicks?"
   "No?"
   "Well, I been to a lot of underagers.  Cut over to Chatham." The light
changed, so I pulled over to the turn lane.  "I know, around here most of
the rednecks tend to think in terms of Gay or Straight, but that doesn't
really mean anything, you know?" She unwrapped the foil on a stick of gum,
and I smelled Doublemint.  The light changed, so I turned.  "Just take
Trinity around, and cross the tracks."
   "I know," cab driver?  "I'm from here."
   "Cary?"
   "Well, Raleigh, but I used to live in Cary.  And I drive a cab here, so
I know the way as well as any cop."
   "Oh yeah."
   "Huh, can we talk?"
   "Do you have to?"
   I pulled over.  "Look, I.  I'll pay the fare, so don't worry about that.
I guess the tip is I'm in the wrong business, but do you know anything
about Money laundering?" She just chewed, and shook her head.  "Well, you
know this is illegal, right?  Yeah, well my ex got me into driving, because
people tend to pay you in a lot of $20s.  So, it's a good way to get rid of
large bills.  If you want me to make change, it's a lot better than
explaining where you got all those hundreds, when it comes time to spend
it."
   "Oh, yeah.  I usually go to the mall, so." She got it back out, "I got
$300.00.  You want to start whoring?" I winced.
   "I don't know," the money's, well incredible, "But.  Hang on.  20, 40,
60, 80, $300.00." I handed it back, "But really, you want my number? 
Anyway?"
   "For making change?"
   "Yeah," I folded them over my card, "I got my pager number on there too,
if you want me to pick you up after school.  I don't know about your pimp,
but after."
   "Oh, he's not my pimp," she laughed, "He just frontin'.  I mean yeh, he
gets most of the guys around Broughton, but I'm independent.  I don't want
a pimp." She handed her card back.  [Cherish] just a pager#.
   "Good," me neither.  "That was fun, though.  I just, I don't have anyone
to talk to, besides my gay friends, and I don't know what you know about
the lesbian scene here, but."
   "Nothing?  I'm straight, by the way."
   "Oh," just assumed she was bi.  "Uhm, sorry for being so flirty,
earlier."
   "Oh, I do girls too, it's just.  You know, work?  Yeah, if you want to
get rid of some of that money," she winked, "I'm down."
   "Oh, it's not that, just.  Huh!  A lot of them, well I guess I was one
of them that bragged about never even seen a dick, but." I closed my eyes,
shook my head.
   "Are you all right?"
   "Fine?"
   "Okay."
   "Huh, you're right I just.  Never, thought about it, before."
   "What?"
   "Well, when I was a freshman, there was this guy.  He got expelled, and
transferred to Re-direction, but."
   "He didn't.  I'm sorry, but I have to ask.  Did he, rape you?"
   "No, oh no.  It would have made more sense, I mean.  Uh!  No, I never
was raped, he just used to flash us."
   "Where?"
   "The Gym, on Senior lunch, so when we're changing out, or sometimes when
we're out on the field.  Learning soccer, or running laps.  You know, I
never saw one, before."
   "His dick?"
   "Yeah, and now I'm starting to think.  You know, even after he left, I
was still scared of gym class, for months?"
   "Yeah, I still get that.  I was, raped.  It was a John, but, I can't
even do hotel rooms any more.  At all."
   "Oh, I'm sorry."
   "Well, we got to talk about it, right?  Well, fine, you're paying for
the time." She pointed at the still counting meter, "So, let's talk about
it."
   "Well, I guess it feels kind of lame, complaining about just getting
flashed, after what happened to you."
   "Yeah, well it only happened once.  That's what fear is for, it's like
pain.  We feel it so we learn not to get burned again.  It's how we
remember, and it's not like you knew, when you started talking about the
dangers."
   "Well, I should have.  I knew, because my girlfriend was." Don't want to
say it, "Traumatized the same way.  She had to quit working, completely,
and it ruined our relationship, too."
   "There a lot of money in lesbian tricks around here?"
   "I don't know, she did guys too."
   "So, she was bisexual."
   "No, gay.  Complete and utter lesbian, she said it actually helped.  One
of the dangers is getting emotionally, or romantically involved with her
clients, but she didn't, because she doesn't feel anything for men."
   "Huh" she nodded, "Well, I don't really need the money.  I'm saving it,
money's always nice, but really I do it for the sex.  I'm not really a pro.
I guess I'm more of an amateur, but I had a real hard week, so I gave
Delantay a call, and he set up a six pack."
   "Like the box of rubbers."
   "Exactly, my folks still think I'm a virgin, so I can't take them home.
I get caught with cigarettes, fine.  I can say 'I got it from you!' but if
they even think I might be having sex, then they'll probably send me to a
convent."
   "They can't force you to be a nun."
   "Not take the vows, but they can still enroll me in this horrible prep
school they got lined up, and it's like a jail.  It's way the fuck out in
the hills, there's nothing around there, and you basically get to visit
every other weekend until college."
   "Sounds delightful!"
   "Yeah, so you feel better, about what happened?"
   "Well, I was just wondering what you think.  You think, maybe that's why
I turned into an exhibitionist?"
   "Oh!  I thought you're going to say Lesbian."
   "Oh no, nothing makes you gay.  Either you are, or you aren't."
   "I know, but.  I don't think, I really get how a guy flashing you makes
you an exhibitionist, instead of voyeur."
   "You know, you're incredibly mature for, what, 15?"
   "14," she nodded, "Sexually, I guess.  Started when I was 9."
   "Yeah?"
   "Yeah, started kissing boys for quarters, and worked my way up, but how
do you think him flashing you made you an exhibitionist?"
   "Well, not me, us.  The whole gym class, I mean I think he had the hots
for Melanie, but then, so did I.  I guess it made me jealous, and gave me
ideas, so I started, you know.  Huh!  I didn't know how to talk to them, I
was too scared of getting outed, and the boys finding out.  So instead, I
started, showing off."
   "Flashing them."
   "To see who looked, and if they liked, the way I looked.  You know, my
body?"
   "Yeah, I went through puberty too."
   "Yeah," I noticed, "Well, when that didn't work, I started trying to get
caught.  Playing with myself, in the girls room, or anywhere else I could
be pretty sure it was a girl that caught me.  Until it worked, I would up
sleeping over with my best friend, and then, well sharing toys with her. 
It turns out she was bi-curious, but we fell in love after that, and
started throwing sex-parties once we got our other friends involved."
   "Wow, this was like, in the 80s?" She guessed, about 10 years younger.
"I didn't know did that kinda stuff back then." Since she's about 12 years
younger, which made me feel like a creepy old creep.
   "Yeah?  Probably happened back in the dark ages, you could get away with
a lot more back then.  Because it was the dark ages, only nobody could
write anything down, and they didn't have vibrators yet."
   "Huh!  yeah." She shrugged.  "You feel better now?"
   "Yeah, you ready to head home?"
   "It's your dime, but I really need a shower."
   "Yeah," I just realized my pants were still open, so I buttoned them up,
and tucked in my shirt.  "Huh!  And if you have any.  Work, I'm off
Friday."
   "Really?"
   "I don't know." I shook my head, but that should be long enough to think
about it.  She just got out, and walked.  Along the tracks, so I couldn't
have followed if I wanted to, but she probably didn't want me to know where
she lived, or she just didn't want to go home to her prudish family.  I
wasn't raised so religiously, but I did grow up gay, or feeling gay in a
homophobic family.  I just need to think about, what happened.
   A lot, even after I got home, and drunk, and woke up with a hangover. 
That should have been long enough to get over the excitement, but I've done
a 15 girl orgy with strapons, double headers, and girls cheering us on.
   That was now the 2nd most intense sexual experience of my life...
   ;
   Cherry (Ff NS Pros Talk)
   So, I paged her, and she called like right back.
   "Yeah?"
   "Who's this?"
   "Cherry, you gave me a ride home from school, Tuesday afternoon?"
   "Oh!" she sounded excited, "You want me to pick you up, later?" I looked
around the hallway.  Right outside the office, "Maybe, I'll call you.  From
the same place if I do, but.  You still off Friday night?"
   "Yeah?"
   "Yeahwell.  I got this.  Well, my boyfriend wants to meet you."
   "You have a boyfriend." Jealous?
   "Well, you know John?" What that means, "Well, he saved up for TGFE."
   "What's that?"
   I cupped the mouthpeice, 'the girlfriend experience.' Whispered.  "You
know for the whole night, but.  He wants to take me to dinner, and while
we're out, he wants me to get picked up.  By a woman."
   "For a 3 way."
   "Yeah," a lesbian, "He's got the whole thing scripted, so if you're
interested, page me after school." Watching the clock, "Got to go." Before
the bell rang, but on my way to class, I started thinking about maybe going
to Sanderson.  After school, it might take some calls to set it up, but it
worked out.  Having her help me with the 6 pack, and you know what see said
about getting feeling for the Johns?
   Well, that's not a problem.  Boys, are pretty nice for looking at me,
and fucking, and money, but.  I never really thought about a lesbian, like
this before.  "Huh!" It's really hard to pay attention to the teacher, and
take notes instead of writing fantasies about.  Stuff I don't want just
anybody just looking over, and reading, but.  You know, we didn't really do
anything but talk, but what she talked about, and the way she looked at me,
and she really is kinda hot, now that I think about it.
   I really think about it a lot, so I guess I better try it, get it out of
my mind before i drives me bonkers because.  "Huh!  Yeah."
   "So, what is it?"
   I just looked up, at him, the board, and back at him.
   "Uh, can I go to the bathroom?"
   Maybe I can frig off real quick, and pay attention to the rest of my
classes, but I didn't even get a real good look at her.  Over the seat
back, bent over for the bros, and.  Well, I guess part of it is making a
lesbian wonder about her sexuality kind of makes me wonder about lesbians.
I never really talked to one before, and sure I can tell when a woman is
hot, but I never really felt so hot, for a woman before, and I don't really
need the money so much as to satisfy my curiosity, and maybe check out her
place, so, "Yeah."
   I'll call her, after school, but while I got the restroom to myself, I
can think about.  What she said about, showing off for the other girls.  At
school, in gym, that's what she called it.  "Showing off," like making sure
only a girl could catch me playing with myself.  "Hhihn, yeah!" Hear me,
"Oohh!  Yeah!" And smell me, "Snhhh!  Yeah!" And getting turned on.  "Yeah?
Yeah!  Nhmh?  Yeah!" Letting her in, or maybe peeking over the stall door.
To see if I'm doing what it sounds like I'm doing?
   "Hhhhhhn!" Seeing me like this.  "Heah!" Relax.  "Huhhh!" Let my head
fall back, propped up on the big pump thing, with the flush handle, and
watch the pretty lights.  Dance in my eyes like embers swirling up from a
bonfire.  "Hhhhh, yeah!" Wipe my eyes, and realize my fingers are damp, and
sticky.  And "Snh?" Smelly, and taste it.  "Hm!" Not bad!  "Huh!  Yeah!" I
could get used to, the taste.  Just imagine myself, eating pussy.  While I
wash my hands, and splash my face.  "Huh!  Yeah!"
   I'm gonna do it, but I guess I can sneak in a cigarette, too.  I should
freshen up my pussy, too, but the smoke should cover the smell, and I kind
of like feeling dirty, in school.  Under my uniform, the gross discomfort
reminding me what I just did, thinking about going lesbo with a woman twice
my age.  For money, Friday, but I might as well try before I bi, right? 
"Hihinheyeah!" Giggling all the way back to class.
   "Snh?" She pulls my sweater out.  "The girls room is not a smoking
lounge!" The girls laughed, while she wrote up the slip.  They're not
supposed to spank us, but she still gave me a good hard swat to send me on
my way.  I rubbed my ass, or the side she hit, but.
   "Fuck it." I'm already going to detention, and that period's fucked. 
So, yeah.  No reason to go straight to the office now, what are they going
to do, suspend me?  Good, then I'll have Friday off too!
   Of course not, 2 hours after school, then In School Suspension the rest
of the week.  Great.
   Well, more time to think about Friday night, and an excuse to call for a
ride after I get out.
   "Huh!" I can hardly wait.
   ;
   Gabby (F Solo Toys Hete Fant...)
   "Huh!" I actually passed out.  The sticky dick, stuck to the headboard,
and sucking the biggest one I had.  Like a whore, I guess I was so
peniphobic?  I don't know, after my exposure, I swear I was afraid of even
thinking about a real dick, but now I was practicing.  Not just sucking it,
I mean before I'd get it wet with spit when I was running low on lube, but
last night, I swear I was doing it to imagine sucking a real one.  I got
condoms, just to flash me back to the rubbery tang, and missing the hairy
bouncing balls, brushing my wrists, but following up the fantasy of opening
the doors.
   Both sides, to fuck and suck bent over the console, and trying to figure
out some way to attach one to the door, but just fucked myself unconscious.
Instead of going out to the driveway, but the cab is really perfect,
because I can drive it out anywhere.  Or pick up a couple guys, pull into
the parking lot, and fuck them for a big tip.  "GhukuH!  Yeah!  SLRPH! 
PHB!"
   Sucking it, I never imagined.  Of course around here, "Cock sucker" is
just another way of saying faggot, then I remember Delante saying $150.00
for Anal.  "Snh, spop!  Huh!" Maybe not ready for that, but, really? 
Taking it up the ass like some guy at Capitol Corral.  "Uh, womMuh! 
Gulgukuh!  Hah!"
   THUMP THUMP THUMPing the headboard, then shook it in me, holding the
black "Realistic" cock by the balls, but it isn't.  It doesn't have the
skin, but with the rubber on it, and the drool running down over my hands,
and "GWRHL, HL, kah!" I can deep throat it longer without gagging, and why
the hell that's so exciting, but I want to take it all until I can rub the
plastic balls with my chin, so I layed it down flat in the blanket to suck
them, and rub it all over my face, and back and forth under my nose, and
"Mmwmwmwnuh!  Huh!" Stand it up for another deep sloppy kiss, teasing my
throat to gag, and drool even more into the growing cold wet spot on my bed
until I finally climaxed, and.
   "Huh!" Woke up.  Backwards, and sideways.  The rubbery shaft rolled up
right next to my chin and neck.  "Mh!" Wrecked hair, and trying to kick the
snoose button, but barely managing to crawl groggily off.  No idea how late
I was at it, but I made it to the full pot of coffee to write down what I
remember.  "Yeah," I was afraid far to long.  Now I want all the dick in
the world.  To see, and feel, and suck, and fuck all the different kinds I
can find, and make a fortune at it.  I want a camcorder, to make porn, and
all the guys to jerk off watching me fucking a hundred men, and swimming in
a kiddie pool of semen.
   "Huh!" But I need a shower, before work.  Or I'm gonna feel this gross
all day, and I don't want to drive around, again, all day like I have the
last 11 days in a row.  But maybe, if I'm lucky I'll pick up a couple of
cute guys, who won't mind pulling over for a quick fuck and suck.
   "Yeah!" I need to wash out any way, might as well fuck off while I'm at
it.  "Ooh, yeah!" I can get 2 fingers, and a thumb in, easily.  "Nh
yehyehYehYEhYEAH!" Fall back, "Huh, huh, huhHhHhH!" Shiver, and sick down
to the tub.
   "Huh!" I should have, gone and talked to him.  Barret, in High School.
The one time he got it up, jumping out from bhind the bushes while we're
walking back from the track.  Watching us run, and trying to jerk off, but
not quite finishing in time, so it stood up straight and proud.
   "Huh!" Pushing him back, "Yeah!" Down behind the bushes.  "Ahh, yeah!"
Sucking him.  "HhuhH!  Yeah." Sucking him off.  "Ghluguhuguh, KUH!" Letting
it run down my chin, before the water washed it down, and rubbing it into
my chest.  "Huhhhhh!"
   God, I'm gonna be so fucking late!
   ;
   Cheri {Not a whole lot of sex here.  Not graphically described, but
phone.  Basically a flashback, babbled out from holding it in, and having
no one else to talk to about it...}
   "I thought I was invisible, until I was about eleven, and men started to
notice me.  Not boys, grownup men.  I kind of liked it, after being ignored
for so long.  I'm quiet, shy, I don't really like to talk to people, and
it's always awkward.
   Doesn't mean I don't like attention, I just don't know what to say.  I
stutter, when I'm nervous, and cried a lot whenever someone said something,
tried to be my friend, but I couldn't.  It so scary sometimes, not looking
at me so much, but especially talking.  I had friends, sort of.  I mean, I
hung out, just don't say much.  Wrote a lot of notes, one friend in
particular, we were forced together in school.  For a project, she did the
whole thing, but told me what to write, and we got a A.
   She was the first one that really understood, I just don't like to talk.
I'm bad at it, so we started sending notes.
   She noticed to.  She said I was pretty, an that's why men are starting
to stare.  Especially when I wore a tight top, I was starting to grow, but
shot up skinny at first.  Before I ever got anything up front, but being so
tall and skinny.  I guess that made them look bigger on me.  Not really
boobs, just lumps.  I didn't even get up to a training bra for another
year, much less an A cup.
   So, I wore tighter tops.  I liked to get noticed, and now the boys were
starting to look too.  The teachers finally told me to cover them up.  I
got sent home with a tight white teeshirt, since I didn't bring a jacket or
a change of clothes, but that's when I saw it.  The first time, he was
staring, but then I noticed he had something in his pants.  I knew, boys
have willies, I just didn't know they stuck out like that, and this was a
man.  Not a boy, but he was looking down.  Not at me, at my tight top, and
I was looking at the front of his pants.
   I didn't say anything, but that was okay.  I mean, he looked at me, and
I looked at him, I didn't even blush.  Fair enough, then the bus came, and
I got on.  He didn't, but when I looked out the window.  He was behind the
wall, where the bus stop is, there was a wall behind that, but from the bus
I could see over it.
   He looked right at me, and I couldn't see what he was doing.  Just his
shoulders, and the top of his arm, shaking.  Then the bus took off, I
turned around to see, but he disappeared behind the wall.
   So, I got a jacket, but I really like the white teeshirts.  100% cotton,
I guess there cheap, and cool.  Dad got me a whole bunch for Christmas, but
then I started to outgrow them.  Just in the front, and when I got home. 
Well, I didn't say anything, but he looked at me.
   Like he always did, and I didn't see anything in his pants, but.  You
know, he just looked like dad, always looked at me.  That day I got sent
home to grab a jacket, I noticed.  How he looked at me, the front of my
shirt when I came in the house.  He didn't even ask why I was home. 
Lunchtime, I missed lunch, but spent the money on the bus, but when i came
out, he was gone.
   In the bathroom, I just rushed out to the bus stop before it came back.
From the end of the line, if I'm quick it can drop me off, and pick me back
up on the way back.  So, that's what I did, but like on the way out, it was
just me and the driver the whole time.
   It was hot, the Air conditioner was on, but with the jacket on, I took
it off, but saw how sweaty I got.  Real quick, just running to the stop,
and getting on, then I took the hot jacket off, but that's how I saw what
happens when white cotton gets wet.
   "Huh!" I pulled it out, and shook it so it dried, in the air condition,
and that was cool, but the driver kept looking up.  In the mirror, we
stopped at a light, and he didn't stare, but he looked, a lot.  Real quick,
then back at the road, so I liked that.
   Then, I got to school, and it was cool.  Enough for the jacket all day,
I zipped it down, but the AC in that building was like, on, or off.  There
was a heater too, but in the spring, it wasn't that hot.  They still had it
on, so it was sort of chilly without it, until you got used to it.  I
rolled my sleeves up, and left it open, so I didn't get to hot and sweaty.
   I sweat more, then when I was a little girl, but this was the first year
I really noticed.  It stunk too, if I didn't wash it off, that's why they
have showers in Gym, I guess.  The girls started to stare, not that day, I
missed it entirely, but then I started looking around.  Instead of avoiding
eye contact, and I mean Stare stare.  This one girl just stood there, half
naked, and held her shirt.  Staring, her mouth wide open, still in her
shorts until the bell rang.  I liked it, she was little.  Short, as skinny
as me, but you know.  Nothing showing, so I guess she was just interested,
but I let her have a good look before I put on my clean shirt.
   I brought another one, for changing after gym, but the Coach said
something about the shirts I wear.  Especially when I got sweaty, so I sit
it out, and put on my jacket.  I told her, all the ones I got that fit,
like a dozen of the same white teeshirts, "It's not the same shirt.  See?"
I even showed her the clean one, but I didn't mind.  Watching from the
bleachers, why we have to learn Basketball anyway.  I was the tallest one
there, and in 6 grade, so one of the tallest kids in school.  It's still
way up there, it's not like we had a lot of black kids, or a team.  Seemed
a waste of time to me, so I wrote an note to my friend.
   My best friend, I guess.  Not my only one, but the one that understood
the best.  I don't remember it, we didn't keep them, but probably about
what's on my mind.  On my chest, and how I liked the attention.  I must
have mentioned the guy from the day before.  At the bus stop, then beating
off behind it, because she told me what that ment at Lunch.  Not the girl
staring at me, in the locker room, that happened after that.
   She laughed, "You know, he was beating off?" Real low, but the lunch
room was loud, so if we whispered, we wouldn't hear each other, and we had
the table because nobody sat with us.  She showed me, under the table. 
"Like this?"
   "Yeah," I nodded, "My dad does that."
   She laughed, "You seen it?"
   "Well, I didn't know what it ment, but, like when he's watching
football, or.  Stuff.  I don't know, he's like 'Oh, cummon, Ref!' Then, he
does this." I did it.
   "Well, that mean he playin with heself."
   "His willy?"
   "Yeah, donchou play with yoself?" I'm not going to name any names, but
that's how she talked, and kind of how she became my girlfriend.  Not like
we started kissing, right there in the lunchroom, but she told me all about
it.  We didn't have sex ed, our mothers were supposed to tell us about it,
and those of us without mothers heard from our friends.  I didn't know that
girls could play with ourselves, for one thing we didn't get woodys, so we
couldn't jerk off like this.
   I took notes, I was real good at it, and a straight a student except for
Gym, and I don't know to this day why we're graded on Sports.  I don't care
about football, I never cared, and you can fail because you didn't do good
enough, but in high school, the dumbest kid there is could pass if he could
throw a ball, or bounce it running good enough.  I still don't get it.
   Then we went to Social Studies, and she pretended to take notes, but
kept passing me pictures.  Dirty pictures, of her pisser, and her privates.
My jacket got real hot, but I didn't dare take it off, because it would be
a distraction for the boys.  She had them too, and a booty.  So, the boys
looked at her too, especially in the lunch room, but maybe that took some
attention away from mine, and I'm not sure if that was a relief, or I was
jealous because hers were a little bigger.
   It was just confusing, but I was able to keep quiet.  Laughing, I didn't
have to laugh out loud, but she giggled a lot, and she's loud.  So, she
didn't get caught passing dirty pictures, but got sent to the office for
being a "Disruption." So, I looked at the board, and copied the notes, I
was only half listening, so I guess it was true, but all that was so much
more interesting, and exciting.
   Then, she was waiting after class.  We had periods, in 5th and 6 grade.
To get us ready for Jr High, but just the lunch bells.  Ask me why they
have 2 years of middle school, 4 of High school, and 6 of grade school, but
that's how they did it.  So, anyway she waited for me, and then we wound up
skipping.  She told me to smell her fingers, and I did.  She said it was
"Pussy." On her fingers, or that's what she did while she was waiting, and
the first time we did it at school.
   Instead of going to class, so she was a distraction, and I didn't mind.
Didn't say anything, she did all the talking.  Like "First you gotta wake
up you titty." I tried to squeeze mine like she did.  Right there in the
handycap stall, I back up against the door so I could see, but she sat on
the toilet, and spread her legs.  Pulled her shirt up, and took off her
bra.
   She had real boobs.  I mean, they even boobed a little on the bottom. 
Not saggy, really, just round?  Mine weren't big enough to get round on the
bottom, but she sucked her finger, and her thumb.  "Just get the nipples,
like this." Then she got her other finger, and thumb wet, to pinch, and
slip her nipples in them.
   "Like this?" She nodded, but didn't even open her eyes to look.  I could
really smell her, pussy then.  Like her fingers, from playing with herself
waiting for me to get out of Social Studies.  My shirt was real hot, and
sweaty from wearing my jacket, and looking at the dirty pictures she drew.
In class, it was exciting just to look at them when I was supposed to be
taking notes, and paying attention.
   I never looked, before.  Between my legs, nobody even told me not to
play with it, just don't let men see it.  Well, not my dad, he's my dad,
and while he didn't walk around naked all the time, he didn't make me put
on clothes, or anything.  It's just my body, and when I started growing, he
said boys would start trying to get in my pants.  He didn't say anything
about girls, you know Boys will be Boys?
   Well, they didn't think about girls molesting eachother in elementary
school.  All I heard about was Strangers, boys, men, and not even anything
about what they would do if they caught you.  Just to not let them, which
is why I got a friend in the first place.  Simone was just the only one who
really wanted to be my friend, or so I thought.  It was years before I even
sought therapy, and by then it was all about the Flasher.  In high school,
as a freshman, but cause when a boy does it, or a man, you think about it
as something dirty.
   When a girl did it, I thought it was gay.  I was gay, because that's
what girls who have sex with eachother are.  She told me, and got off again
just fingering herself in the toilet in front of me.  I tried it, feeling
my boobies through the damp sweaty cotton, and even stuck my hand in there,
but I stayed dressed.  She kept going, told me, "I finish, but that don't
mean you gotta quit."
   She just kept doing it, playing with herself in front of me, until the
bell rung.  Then she pulled her underpants up, under her skirt, and had me
help her with her bra.  I never had one, so I didn't really know how, but
it's little hooks, and loops.  She had to tell me to use the first ones. 
Like a belt, it had 3 rows of hooks, so you can loosen it when you get
bigger, but she was still on the first set.
   Then, she pulled down her shirt, and we went off to class, but I kept
going back to the pictures.  Up against the wall, I always sat in the back,
corner.  I could look out the window, but really I just held up my book, so
I could look at the pictures, and put my notes over it if the teacher came
back.  So, nobody saw me, but that's.  That was always a big part of it for
me.  Ever since that first time, playing with myself in public.
   The thrill is I could get caught, but it really pays off when I don't.
Getting away with it is what gets me off, not right there in class, but I
did.  Unsnapped my pants as quiet as I could, and stuck my hand in there.
Until the bell rang, I didn't get off, but I did stink up my fingers real
good, and the most exciting part was all the boys around me.  The other
girls, and even the teacher had no idea what I just done.
   Watched a girl fingerfuck herself in the restroom, then came back to
play with myself in class.  I didn't moan, or grunt, I don't really know
why people do that.  I'm quiet, I can even laugh or cry quietly, but I saw
porn.  Later, after that but all I can figure is they do that for the
camera.  I don't, but I got good and horny, the whole class.  Didn't take a
single note, just wrote down the reading, and page numbers.
   Then the homework assignment, at the end.  I had to pull my fingers out,
of my underwear to pick up the pencil.  Not inside me, I didn't even know I
had a hole down there.  Or another one, but my desk didn't have a seat
around the bottom, like the toilet.  So, I couldn't really get my finger
in, I just rubbed up front.  With my finger wet, like she showed me.  I put
my head down, to get it wet again, when nobody was looking, and stuck it
back in there.
   I found my clitty.  Real quick, and figured out all kinds of ways to
stimulate it with just a wet fingertip.  Under my jacket, my shirt got so
sweaty it clung to me, and if I looked back, with my head down I could see
them.  Through the shirt, except the wrincles, it was so wet it was
transparent, and better then being naked.  Because it clung to them, so I
didn't have to use my hands, to hold them.  I thought about wearing a bra,
and what that looked like, how Simone looked in hers, when she pulled her
shirt up, before she reached back and unhooked it.
   Which led to thinking about her titty.  She wore a dark baggy top, with
a high neck, and bloused sleeves, so you couldn't even see she was wearing
a bra.  It was tan, "Nude" in the catalogs, but her skin was darker then
it, even though it was the darkest tan you can get, and she had on matching
panties.  Granny panties, really.  She pulled them down to her high tops,
so she could spread her legs, and show me.  Just like the pictures she drew
of her pussy.
   I never even looked at mine, but she knew hers good enough to draw it.
The first one I ever saw good, so I didn't know they're different.  I was
surprised to see mine when she got out the mirror, and showed me.  After
school, she invited me over to her house.  Well, it wasn't a house, she had
an apartment with her mom, and her step father.  Lots of boys and girls,
like the Brady Bunch, but she was the oldest.
   Turns out her mom was white, but "She like black men." Always, her
daddy, and all her half brothers and sisters daddys.  Her step daddy too,
so that's why she didn't have other friends.  Being mixed race, I didn't
know but the black kids call her Cracka just like the white boys called her
Nigger.  She didn't have a place, really.  Except with me, alone at the
table.  She had some old bras, though, saved them for her sista, when she
got old enough to need them.
   She kicked her sister, and half sister out.  The girl's room, big old
apartment, but that means her momma, and her husband had to work.  To
afford it, but that also means kids there, all the time.  Except for
school, I guess, but by the time we got there, they're already there.  I
sat with them, in the back of the bus.  We didn't do anything, I just
listened to them talk.  All mixed, half white, but around here, that was
black, according to the white men that run things.  Still is, they still
do, we got the same Senator we did when we were growing up, because he's
been in congress since the 70s.
   Shit.  Where was I?  Sorry, don't mean to get bogged down with Politics,
but it's in Context.  Why we had to keep it secret, she couldn't hide being
black, but she could hide being a lesbian, and making me a lesbian.  She
used it as an excuse, digging the hand-me-down box out of the closet, and
telling me to take my shirt off for her.  Oh yeah, and she smelled my
fingers, on the way to the schoolbus.  Before I met her siblings, she even
licked and sucked it.  The one I had in my pussy, when nobody was looking,
and I got a little thrill from getting away with it.
   Then, I guess that was the first time she touched me, sexually.  I mean,
we're friends, we sat next to eachother, and sometimes she put her arm over
my shoulders when we're eating, but I didn't think that was sexual.  It
wasn't for me, I didn't ask her, but then I wasn't thinking sexually, and
didn't think of it as molestation for decades after that.  I'm just now
realizing all she did, she was so sneaky about it, because all my therapy
was about men, and how they made me feel about sex.  Bad, wrong, especially
my dad.
   He really fucked me up.  Confused me, saying 1 thing, and doing another.
He never remarried, he just worked, and warned me about men.  Boys too, but
he really ment other men.  Our relationship was affectionate, and I already
told you I thought nothing of seeing him naked.  Being naked around him, or
when he made me hug and kiss him.  I didn't like it, but it was, just like
a duty.  Something a little girl does for her father, it's just how it was.
How I was raised, wearing pants because he never even bought me skirts.
   I like them, they have pockets, but he did it to keep me from showing my
underwear.  My ass, and my privates.  To anyone else, he didn't mind me
walking around the house in my underpants, until I put on a nightshirt, or
something.  My only hand me downs, his old teeshirts, and shorts.  Boxer
shorts, over my panties, those were pretty much my pajamas when my hips
started filling out.
   His old underwear, I'm sure he didn't think about it, but he bought me
white cotton teeshirts, by the dozen.  Let me wear them all year, so they
were too tight, and you could see my breasts bud through them.  My nipples
when it got cold, then the sides clinging to it with sweat.  No bra,
because he didn't buy them for me, and I didn't ask.  I didn't talk to him,
or anyone much, nor think anything of it, because it was normal to me.
   When really, he was treating me like his wife.  He didn't touch me, but
he looked, and bought clothes for me so he could see better.  Me growing
up, my boobs, and even my butt.  In my panties, with one of his shirts on
for bed, like I could never dress going out, but for him.  Yeah, I could
dress like that for him, and I never saw him erect, but I saw his penis. 
All the time, we just had 1 bathroom, in the tiny 2 bedroom house.
   Its funny, but Simone's apartment was bigger.  Not in a complex, but
downtown, or between there and State, but more like a New York apartment. A
walkup, 3 stories, but they were on the 2nd floor, so it was just 1 flight
of stairs to the landing, and her door down the hall.  No elevator, but
there was a fire escape on the other side, and back stairs down to the back
yard.  If there was a fire, and it blocked one set of stairs, you could use
the other, but there wasn't.
   She said we're going to do homework, when she kicked her sistas out, but
really she ment sex-ed.  The whole reason she took me home was to loan me a
bra, but after she hooked it on, she kissed me, and felt around the front.
Under my arms, then she was squeezing my titty in the bra.  Her old bra, it
was black so you could see it through the teeshirt, even when it was dry,
but I just left it off, and we made out.  In my pants, and her bra, but
then we stopped, I put my shirt on, and grabbed my bookbag.  And my jacket,
I just hung it through the strap, and carried it by the other, on the way
home.
   She came with me, because my dad was at work.  After his day off, he
never got 2 in a row, but I got to see her place, her momma gave us a ride,
and permisson for her to sleep over, but that's when I found out why she's
so light skinned.  All the kids are, I didn't ask about it, Simone just
told me.  In the back seat, "My momma likes black men."
   So, she talked about it, driving, how white guys are.  "Assholes," I
think they call it, but mostly privileged, entitled, and a bunch of other
things we didn't have words for back then.  "Black men treat you like a
queen."
   "Mhm?" I was a little distracted, by Simone, feeling my legs through my
pants.  Right behind her, her momma, where shouldn't see, but the bra felt
tight, and I was right.  You don't even have to touch them.  I held my
breath, when she unsnapped my pants, and stuck her hand in there.  Then we
got home, and I had to zip them up quick before we got out.  She just
dropped us off, and went back to fix dinner, but Simone laughed so loud, I
thought the whole neighborhood would hear it.
   I just dropped my bookbag, and jacket by the door, but she grabbed me
from behind.  Kissing my neck, and breathing in my ear, so loud.  It was
exciting, and I was still horny from her molesting me in the car.  Right
behind her mom, and then walking up the driveway with her.  Where my
neighbors could see, but getting away with it, and now this.  Just inside
the door, the only thing between me and the rest of the world, atching me
with my girlfriend.
   That's what I thought, at the time.  Because she told me, "You my
girlfriend." Feeling up under my shirt, and unsnapping my pants.  Groping
me, humping my butt with her hips, and fingering between my lips so fast, I
had my first orgasm.  Right away, half bent over the chair by the door, I
just held my breath, and shuddered.  Felt her fingertip.  Just her pinky,
and just barely pushed inside me.  My hymen, pulling tight with the
orgasmic twitching.
   "Yeah, oh yeah!" All she said, next to my ear, but I just nodded, and
squeezed my eyes shut.  Shaking, and afraid I'd pass out if I didn't
breathe, but I couldn't.  Finally she let me go, and I gasped for air.  It
was the most wonderful feeling, I just turned around, and sat down.  On my
jacket, my bookbag next to me, but I didn't care.  I just sat there, and
felt it, panting silently, until I caught my breath.
   She untyed my shoes first, and took hem off.  Her bra felt so hot, and
tight, I wanted to take it off, but first I pushed off my jeans, and she
pulled them off by the legs.  I looked at the time, dad wouldn't be home
for hours, with dinner, so I decided to make the most of it.
   She didn't just go home to loan me a bra.  She brought he bookbag too,
but we didn't get any homework done.  My grades really started slipping,
from the distraction, but I didn't care.  In my room, she got them out. 
Her toys, a toy dick, like a hard one.  She didn't even know it was called
a dildo, just like the vibrator was a "Massager." Not even one of the dick
shaped ones you can fuck, but I didn't ask where she got them.
   "My momma's." She told me, "I borrow them." She let me borrow the toy
dick, but took the massager with her.  "She'll miss this." She zipped it
back in the bag.  When dad called, to ask what I wanted him to pick up.
   Bojangles, it turns out.  Not in any way racist, I didn't even tell him
she was black, just that I had a friend over, so bring her some too.  He
didn't catch us, fucking eachother, we got dressed before he got home.
   But I thought about it."
   "Woah" I nodded, didn't know what else to say.
   "Sorry for talking your ear off."
   "No, it's okay."
   "Well, it's late.  Good night."
   "Good night."
   I hung up, and just tried to sleep.  Feeling gross, and about as unsexy
as I could possibly remember, but it's hard to believe she was ever shy. 
Ever had trouble talking to people, after all that.  But I'm glad, I feel
like I know her a lot better now.
   ;
   Gabby (Ff Ephebophilic Sapphic Exhibitionism, Race, Hate and Fear.)
   I took the bus.  The city kitty, the fucking CAT bus.  I'm not going to
pull up in my car with a number on the side.  There's a company policy for
drugs, sex, or prostitution in the cars, that I already violated.  "Yeah, I
want to report a crime?" Give a description of the car...
   Go to jail, so not fun.  Don't even let you smoke there, so there's not
even that much of a cigarette economy, the new one, and no.  "Fuck that,"
but.  Down to Hillsborough street.  She got on at the Meredith College
stop.
   "Huh!  I think I was showing off." We talked on the phone, a lot.  For
her, I was showing off for her, and I let it get out of hand.  #450.00 out
of hand, the fare wasn't $50.00.  So, the money's good, incredibly good. 
"So, your girlfriend." The whore,
   Totally made her up, but damn if she wasn't right.  Dead as a doornail
on the Thursday morning, between rushes.  "Uh!" she scooted out, on the
opposite seats.  Facing across the bus, forward facing seats blocking us,
we don't want to get caught, but she giggled.  Slipping off her underwear,
I think I might be interested, in trying a prostitute girlfriend, even a
straight girl, as good looking as her.
   All right, we're talking Lesbian Whores in downtown Raleigh NC.  You
want descriptions?  She was about 20, dropout, wasn't even her schoolgirl
uniform, saving up for college.  Can't go in any bars, because she could
pass for 14, if she fixed up the clothes, and makeup right, but not an
innocent little girl.  I know what we say about sleeping with her is like
sleeping with every man she met at the AIDS Service Agency, but lately
that's been not too bad, to think about.
   Not like I'd solicit that kind of action from fares, word gets around,
and it's not a big city.  They could come for us.  Men, straight, most
likely white religious men.  Christian, with power, to gang rape, and
murder us, or their sons.  I don't know what you think you know about
homophobia, but in the south, it's a war.  Fought with terror-tactics, and
eugenic ideology, but if the NC State Wolfpack heard about it, then their
Skinhead friends, they could get downright Ultraviolence(*) on you.  (* "A
Clockwork Orange")
   And the fear is a sick turnon.  Okay, women have rape fantasies.  Women
under the constant threat of sexual violence, or at least sexually
motivated have a lot of them.  Not anything we actually want to happen, but
is it occasionally arousing?  Yes, roll the dice enough times they
eventually come up snake-eyes.  So no, I'm not giving you a detailed
description.  Cary girl, young looking, and a middle-aged woman.  In
gay-bash town.
   The bus stopped, so we straightened up.  She pulled her skirt down, and
I pulled my hand out of my shorts.
   "Ghnihihm!" She grinned and nodded.
   "I stay with my mom.  During the week, some weekends I get to stay with
my dad." She brightened up, "In Santafe!" Blond Voice.  {Totally did an
impression of Linda Beaver.}
   Off-work, I'd have to pull an evening shift later, but scooted over to
her side, she looked back.  At the rednecks, boys with fish-hooks clipped
to the bills of their hats.  Gang sign, why it's called a Gang-bang.  I
told you about the Broughton Bloods?  I mean Capitals?  Well, yeah, they're
Racist too, but it helped the sudden urge to hold her hand, and maybe kiss
her.
   "Snh!" I rubbed my nose, "Think I'm coming down with something."
   "Yeah?"
   "I have a fever?"
   "Hh," she felt, "Snh?  Yeah.  I got that too."
   Stinking, both of us, and I crossed my legs, the other way.  To move my
knee, and calf, closer against the cold hard edge of the plastic seat. 
"Hh," the red-necks right behind me, probably staring, I pulled the cable.
   DING!
   "We better get off."
   "Yeah."
   Sex, free sex.  I payed my $0.50.  Fare enough, it made cents not to go
home with her, or take her home.  Don't shit where you live, but no money
changed hands between us.  Hotels were Out, but I gripped her hand. 
Tightly when we're out of sight.  "We need to talk, about the job
tomorrow." Too much like work, "I don't want to drive anywhere."
   "Well, the john.  He's pretty pitiful, but he wants to watch.  The
Girlfriend thing is like: "My friends will never believe this!" Hahehin! 
Like he's got any friends, but he's a pushover."
   "Okay?" I shook my head.  "How much?"
   "$500.00 for you?"
   I looked around.  "Hmh!" She backed up, smiled and stopped in the
corner. "Virgin?"
   "Meah!" She bit her lip, "Probably."
   "You do this kinds of stuff, in public a lot?" I had to smell her hair,
but just felt down to her hips.  Barely brushing the sides of her bra with
my wrists.  On my way down her arms, "Snh!" I blew out that breath on her
cheek.  Clean faced, I could smell her soap, but she didn't wear makeup.
   "Yeah, I know a place." She led me out by the hand, "But that one's
kinda sketchy."
   This is for us, it's not about them, but it's not just the money.  She's
a $500.00 a night callgirl.  That's half a grand, and she just dropped it
like.  I bet she's making at least a thousand.  "So, we can't pick you up
at a bar."
   "I thought I was picking you up?" I patted her pantiless bottom through
the skirt, when no one was looking.
   "Yeahah!" She spun around, grinning at me, but I caught the tops of her
thighs, stepping back, then the pleats dropped down over her buttocks. 
"Huh!  So, maybe one of the family places?"
   "He driving?"
   "Yeah, but he doesn't drink."
   "Well, good."
   "He's like 14."
   "Oh!"
   "Yeah."
   Her boyfriend, I don't know how to feel about that.  "Well," For the
night, but what's it like playing the Girlfriend for the night, for money?
"Fuck him!"
   "Right?"
   That makes me a $500.00 a night call girl.  Which is a wonderful
feeling, I'll have you know.  Probably a virgin, so disease isn't much of
an issue, but I weigh the risks, because that's still a hell of a turnon.
Look, we get it.  Our worth is based on our sex appeal.  Not real subtle
with the messages there, guys.
   "He cute?"
   "Yeah, kinda."
   ;
   Arthur {Incidentally, this is written and drawn like a Storyboard by a
male cartoonist, trying to emulate the style of Allison Bechdel.}
   I took her to the Rathskeller.  Ordered the Wizard's Choice, London
Broil in Bearnaise with sauteed mushrooms.  Sat at the bar, she told me
about being Bisexual.
   "Hey," the lady turned around on the stool, pulled the plastic sword
shaped toothpick out of her mouth, and tucked it back in the lime floating
in the top of her Margarita.  Cherry Margarita.  "Me too," she crossed her
legs the other way on the bar-stool.  Sucked the marachino cherry in, so it
stained her lips, licked them, then chewed.  Pulled the stem out with her
fingertips, tied in a knot, and set it on the cocktail napkin.
   "Right?" My pager lit up, so I took it to the hostess station, and
handed it back.  "Ladies," on the way back past the bar, "Our table is
ready."
   "They didn't card her.  My little sister, she didn't order any alcohol,
but the older woman brought her's to the table.  It's an expensive place,
but classy, I kile the beer better over at Greenshields, but ordered a
guiness.  She hung her John Deere cap from the plastic tabs, by the peg
between the boots, and I slid in beside them.  "Here's your beer."
   "How old are you?"
   "Seventeen?" I blew off the foamy froth from the top.  "You drive a
tractor?"
   "Nah," she laughed, "I work down by the dealership."
   "Make pretty good money," she held up her hand, as if to kiss it, turned
to the face of the gold bracelet watch.  "This is lovely," she traced her
fingertips around the dial.
   "I do all right," she leaned back, sideways against the wall, and took
another sip from the Martini glass.  I was saving mine to wash down the
rich, heavy entree.
   "I'm going to the community college, for my GED."
   "Oh yeah?" Just couldn't see, over the table what their hands were doing
in eachother's laps.  A fairly "Family" friendly place, meaning Gay,
Lesbian, and bi, but not like they'd start kissing, and feeling eachother
up right here at the booth.  I'd ordered it rare, so it wouldn't take too
long to cook, but I got out a smoke, tapped it on the case before I lit it.
   The older woman looked over, "Oh." Looked up, "Nice Bowler."
   "It's a Derby," I took it off.  Forgot I had it on, but it's impolite
indoors.  She put up the menue.  "Think I'll get the nachos."
   "For 2?" I hung it on the nail.
   "Yeah, the platter, and another one of these?" She downed the bottom
half of the glass, but it was conical, so little more than a watered down
shot, full of ice.
   "Yeah, that's fine." I got my water out.
   "Uh, a Shirely Temple?"
   The waiter left an ash-tray, so I flicked the ash off.  "Your drinks
will be right out." Hope it's that cute bartender, starting to feel like a
3rd wheel here, but enjoying the show.  "So," make conversation, "You sell
tractors?"
   "Deliver them." she shook her head, "Yeah, they mostly drive them around
the farm, but you can't just drive them down the road, so I drive a
flatbed. I can drive one, but it's just backing off the truck.  Or back
hoes, Bobcats."
   "What's that?"
   "A skid-steer, like a little bull-dozer?"
   "Here you are." He dropped off the Nachos, and the drinks.  "I didn't
order another beer," but with the cheese sauce, "I'll take it." I drink for
the flavor, more like a thick malty milkshake than a beer, but there's
still the alcohol, and they don't sell Imperial Pints here, like they do at
Greenshields.  I can handle 2 beers, I'm not a kid or nothing, It's not a
guzzling beer anyhow.
   {Note: I can't really put into words how hard it is for me to write as
someone who's actually bad at dialog, but I like the challenge.  He failed,
Incidentally.  To imitate the artistic style of Bechdel, and the Test:
Writing a dialog between 2 "Females" that don't involve a man, somehow. 
Because he's a male writer, and lacks the Frame of Reference.  All of this
is subconscious, because there's not a qualified psychiatrist between them,
Actually.
:}
   Trucker (TW: SJWs)
   He got carded, didn't look not 14 neither, but old enough to drink.  And
drive, but it's like smoking in the cab after an underage gang-bang.  He
didn't wreck the van.  Conversion van, high-top with a TV in back, and even
a car-phone.  Still lives at home, and creeps on high school girls.  I
guess it's like a public service, he's not a charity case, but good for it.
   Yeah, it was a nice watch, I'd been dreaming about for months, and
thought I'd never be able to afford it.  The real think, not a knockoff,
but it was marked down in Zales to make room for the new collection.  I
didn't care, that it was so last year, I loved that watch, and was still
giggling inside every time I looked down to see it on my wrist.  Got my
nails done, my hair professionally styled and colored, in the salon.
   Spent more than a grand on it, most of that I hadn't even earned yet,
but you have to spend money to make money, right?  High class, call girl,
not a turnpike hooker getting picked up on the beltline for a couple
hundred in a cheap motel, I felt like a Million bucks.  For once in my
life, so sue me.  I might actually have the money to pay you.
   Asshole, though.  You know the type, kept making excuses to interrupt
the conversation.  So, we made small-talk, because if we brought up
anything to do with Lesbians, "Well, you know..."
   "Yeah," lived as one for 20 years.  "I do." But the customer is always
right?  Idafuckin'know, normally I'd tell him to go fuck himself, but
that's not what we're getting payed for.  Yeah, he said he just wanted to
watch, but he also called himself an "Artist."
   Right, he reads DTWOF.  He's bi-curios, which means he's infatuated with
bisexual women, because he thought about it enough to get to the threesome
part.  It's his fantasy, so whatever.
   "Uh huh?" Nod politely, take another sip of the virgin margarita.  A
little fruity, with some grenadine, and a cherry on top.  "Oh yeah?"
   "Yeah, so homosexuality is basically Narcissism." Okay, he might know a
thing or 2 about that, "Actually.  It's unnatural, but that's how your self
image gets stronger than the natural urges."
   See what I mean?  He thinks about that a lot, therefore he knows more
about it than someone with more experience doing it than he had at being
alive.
   "You don't say." I mean, "Tell me about it." Lace my fingers together
under my chin, and tune it out.  He's a talker, so you don't even have to
flirt with him.  She's right, you just have to listen, so he feels smarter.
"You're taking Psychology?" Trying to sound like a shrink, only getting
right past getting to know the patient before you jump straight to the
diagnosis.  Lots of therapists, couple's therapy with my girlfriends, and
group bitching sessions which are a lot like that anyway, even if we're not
talking about guys.
   I had to finish his beer, though.  The second one, he's "Not much of a
drinker, actually." Fine, weigh the risk of driving drunk, but carefully,
he could handle that van, but can't take us to his house, either.  Parents,
if I had to place bets, put all my money on he can't bring prostitutes home
to meet the family, but at least he's not driving around looking for
schoolgirls with his van.
   "How about the Rose Garden?" Good idea, "It should be romantic."
   "Good idea," Actually agreed with him, "Is it still open?" Checked his
Casio Canculator watch.
   She's right, he is kind of cute in a nerdy creep kinda way.  I don't
know, designer glasses, and that "Derby, actually" to cover the cow-lick
growing into the spot, like he covers his personality with money.  No
charm, just like my van?  Yeah, there's a lot of room in the back, and the
seats fold down, you wnt to watch a movie?
   But, there's 2 of us, and I found out why that little purse is so heavy.
Getting out another rubber to split for a Dental Dam, you want to read
about real Lesbian sex?  Save sex, between a Bar Brigade girl with a case
of condoms and another one full of little lube ampules to put in the STD
kits with our fliers for the ASA.
   Because she's a Prostitute, a Whore.  Prefers the word Whore, not slut,
Pro, Hooker, or even really Call-girl.  That's her job, but Whore is her
fantasy, and I'm really getting into it.  Safe sex also means Self Defense,
so instead of a can of Mace, she had a long barrel Derringer. .410, 'It's
just bird shot!' but it's a pocket shotgun, in the bottom of her purse. 
Alaska Special, it would take .45 too, but her father gave it to her, for
her Birthday.  Don't ask her when she turned 16, she'll just lie, but she
didn't get a car, she got a gun.  Don't make her call her daddy, he's a
Marine.  (Ret.)
   So she says, never met him, he buys her tickets to fly back to New
Mexico from RDU, when it's his turn for Custody.  Not my problem, but
Mommy/Daddy issue?  Yeah, ya think?
   "Over there," she pointed.  Corner of the parking lot, I popped out the
windows.  Late May, so you could smell the blooms with the one in the other
door propped open.  So, the evening breese could blow through, warm, and
humid, but scented by the flowers, and rather private for damn near
downtown.  Raleigh Little Theater, or between that and the Roses.
   He just turned the captain chairs around, and moved over to the
Passenger seat when she came back.  To show me how to fold it down, to the
double-doors in back, like half a futon, with seatbelts in the middle.
   "Hhuhuh!" Couldn't get it up, but that didn't keep him from playing with
it.
   "Nice dress," I ran the scalloped hem up her thigh, then the other one
when she bought her knee up on the seat.
   Slipped the straps off her shoulders, not underwear, she just had to
turn back to unbuckle the straps over her heels.  With the silky garment
slipping down over her young breasts, pale nipples puffing out, and
pinching them into obtuse cones.  Round on the bottom, where I cupped them,
lifting one to my mouth to kiss, suckle, and lick when it popped out.
   "You mind if I take some pictures?"
   Nice camera, too.  Digital SLR, Cannon, brand new this year.
   His friends would probably never believe him anyway, and it would give
him something to draw from.  Later, when he sobered up, hopefully better
than that comic script he wrote for us.
   "Uh!" He's really bad at it.
   {Working on it, but so are they.  Yes, they're teasing eachother.  If
you want to look it up, it's called co-escalation.  Sorry, I can't write it
any other way.  Also, a subtle reminder that this one's not about sex. 
It's about sexually motivated hate, and fear.}
   ; "Cheri" (fFM Pros Troi)
   "Hhuh!" I can't remember the last time I was so turned on.  At work, I
suppose it was the first time.  Just some guy, hitting on me, telling me
how hot I looked in those tight slacks, and loose top.  Begging me, to see
a little more, then offering me money.
   Her hands all over me, turned to put my leg up sideways.  The chair
screeched turning around, reminding me what we're here for, but honestly.
   "Huh!" I was here for her.  I wanted her, so much.  Even pretending to
listen to him all night, making out in the movie, all I could think about
was her.  Picking me up at the restaurant, and now I have her.  Here, in
the back of the van.  No toys, he said, but we brought lube.  I didn't need
it, but the plan was for her to get greedy.  Molest me, like a school girl,
"I never done anything like this before!"
   "Relax," she rubbed my thighs, her soft feminine hands, and the scent of
her hair.  Her long brown hair, I stopped, blinked in the sudden light, but
she was looking at him.  Watching him, mister floppy couldn't get it up. 
She just stared, excited, and kept feeling between my legs.  My tits, back
and forth, then slipping the dress off my shoulder, but distracted.
   Watching him, she really is an exhibitionist, but he wants to watch, and
I think it turns her on?  "Snh?" I can't tell, I mean I smell me, but I
feel so randy, maybe I just can't smell it, but "UHN!" Finally she was in
my underwear.  Bra, and panties, I just lay back.  Put my head up, half out
the window.  Like pop-out windows, they don't really open up, but pop out
an inch or two.  So, I could put my head up there, and moan.  "Ooooh!"
   I lied, having been with girls, and women before.  Not even for money,
or not really.  I mean, like dates, she payed, and took me out, showed me a
good time, but amateur?  This was a pro move, and I guess with the pictures
it's kind of like porn.  When I get old enough, I can do that, barely
legal, but for now.
   "HhhhuhHhHuhH!" I just relaxed.  God damn, but she is good with her
fingers.  Or one, I think.  "Ngh!" Lick a little drool off my lip, it was
one of those anticlimatic orgasms?  I don't know I got so exited that when
it finally came, it was just a relief.  "Snh!" Yup, her middle finger,
stinking, held up for me to lick, and suck, and taste my pussy on.
   It wasn't enough, we're already off script.  She was supposed to make me
eat her, and fist her, I've done fisting, but it's an all night gig. 
$5,000.00, I'm not paying her enough.
   "Hh, help." I turned around, "H'help me, put this down." She found the
release, to fold it back.  Not like a futon, really, just a van seat, like
a bench, but it folds back to the back doors, and right then I wanted
nothing more than to taste her.  She got her pants open quick, pushed her
hips up so I could pull them down, smell her.
   "SNHHHH!" Really smell her, "God!" I should have felt her legs, or
kissed her or something, but I was so thirsty for her pussy, I just dived
right in.  "LNH, Mn!" I licked my lips, "Llhihn?"
   "Yes, omIgod, yes!" She's such a bad faker, "Eat me, eat my pussy!"
   She's not, turned on.  At all, I can tell, and it's a bit disappointing.
Maybe all the dirty talk was to try to turn her on, or she was just acting
for the John, but now I get it.  Something that always bothered me, you
have to get lubed up in secret.  For guys, especially if they're buying, I
guess the fantasy is we are turned on by them, they're not just a client. I
never really understood why they got insulted, but now, I held back all the
things I heard, from Johns.
   "What's wrong, don't I make you hot?  I'm not sexy enough for you?" Of
course not, man.  If you were, then you wouldn't have to pay for it.  Well,
not always, the Broughton boys just like gangbangs, and between them can
afford to pay for it.  Even half price, it's like a few bills in 10, maybe
15 minutes as quick as they finish, but is that it?  Maybe it's his whiskey
dick, since she got so turned on seeing all those hardons all around the
cab, maybe she just wants to see him jerk off, or at least get it up,
watching us.
   "Huh!" I licked my lips.  Wiggled my butt, knowing the hem of the dress
didn't cover much of anything bent over this much.
   "Want a hand with that?"
   I looked back, and he put down the camera.  In both hands, but now it
was getting a little chubby.
   "Yeah," she sat up, "You know, I never sucked a cock before?" She lied,
but, it's his fantasy.  Not that he wrote it like that, she was just
supposed to sit on my face, and get off on it, but now.  "I never even seen
one so big.  Mh hmM!" She nodded, humming around the head.  "Mmmmh!"
Feeling behind her.  Rubbing her fingers between her legs.  Shag carpet, of
course, so I got down, behind her.  Pushed her fingers out of the way, and
felt my spit.  Of course she was wet, I just had my tongue in there, but
now she felt puffier.  Warmer, and started getting turned on again.
   "Shl shluh glh!" She really likes sucking, "Khah!" She rubbed it in, so
I rubbed it in, and felt back.  To her pussy, just had my tongue in there,
but I felt around with my pinky first.  Freshly manicured, no scratches, I
can finger myself with nails, but I took them off, because it's harder when
you can't feel what you're doing.  She could, and I slipped in to the
knuckles, easily.  "Rubber."
   "Uh!" Now I was feeling left out.  I knew him, a regular, It's For A
Book.  Research, he calls it.  A comic book about a teenage
prostitute/crime fighter.
   Right, whatever.  Turning back from my purse, I got the lube too, but
she didn't need it.
   "Huhn!" I just lay back, on the seat, and played with myself.  Lazily,
but it's a job.  A client, his fantasy, I was lucky to get off on it at
all.
   "Ah, yeah, fuck, yes!" Still a shitty actor, but what the hell.  Not any
worse than any porn star, but you know what?  Fuck college, what kind of
degree do I need to get into porn?  Acting classes?  Yeah, I got those, and
am better than any I've ever seen in porno movies anyway. .  Beats whoring
myself for the fashion industry, my childish dreams of changing the world,
and ending sexism, by selling clothes to everyone.  I was so naive, but
this pays better, and I bet the $20,000 or so I got after this could get me
a pretty nice van.
   "Yeah!" Maybe some hidden cameras.  I can keep turning tricks, but they
don't know how old I am.  It's illegal anyway, so what if I'm 17?  I'll
have them when I'm 18, and it's not like I'll look any different next year
when I find someone to sell them.
   "Hm, yeah." That'll work.
   ;
   Gabby
   Well, it wasn't like.  The gangbang, for one thing he weren't no teenage
basketballer.  I'm not a size queen, and I have no intention of turning
into one, but it wasn't overwhelming.  Just one, with the foreskin cut off,
I expected a scar or something, but if there was one, I didn't feel it. 
That's 4 now, I definitely like that.  Foreskin, it's more skin to slip up
and down, I love it when it slips up and down, something I just can't get
from a dildo.  Even the "Realistic" ones, they don't have that, but I
wanted more.  Instead, I got it wet.  Slippery with spit, and that's all
right.  Too much like a toy, but if I'm buying.  "Yeah," maybe that
Delante, nice long young cock.  "Hhuh, awe, yeh!" Lots of skin on it.
   Fucking, I don't really care.  A dick, dildo, the 2 skinny fingers she
got into me, all pretty much feels the same.  I was ready, to fuck now, but
really too bad he said no toys.  For some reason, competition?  Maybe it's
like the impotence, or the trouble he had getting it up, but I don't really
understand guys.  At all, and I guess that mystery is a bit interesting
too, but I gave her the camera.  A dildo would have been nice, though.  So
I could keep sucking him, while she fucked me.  That's the nice thing about
treesomes, and gangbangs, and group sex.  You don't have to do 1 thing, at
once.
   He got off, quick.  Too quick, but I was close enough to get off on my
fingers.  Just got in the other seat, and went to town.  He turned around,
with the light off, and pulled out before I was done, but she just got
dressed in the back.  Then, we got back on Hillsborough street, and I
rolled the window down.  Fingers still busy between my legs, but I looked
around.  Friday night, people walking all around.  Looking at me, not that
you could tell.  What I was doing, or they could see Cherish reach around.
To fondle my breasts, pull up my shirt, and grope me under it, right there
in front of anyone.
   "AughHHH!" A couple, walking looked over, and I just arched my head, on
the headrest.  "YEAHHHH!" We drove past, and I panted for breath.  Licked
my fingers clean, then pulled up my short, and pants.  "Turn around."
   "Where?' Nice for someone else to do the driving, for once.
   "Downtown, Wilmington Street?  Yeah, you got $250.00?"
   "Yesh," he pulled over, fished out his wallet, then dug around for
change.
   "Haha, no.  Two hundred, fifty dollars."
   "Uh," he looked back, "I already payed her, up front."
   "Yeah, to watch.  Then I gave you a blowjob, and fucked you.  I know
it's a fantasy for you, but the fantasy is over.  Time to pay up."
   "I don't have that much on me."
   "Fine, there's an ATM right there." Across from the parking garage.
   {Sorry, guys.  This is about the difference between Fantasy and Reality.
So, it's not perfect every time.  Also, the before, and after, not just who
does what to whom.  So, there's some motivation, and recovery...}
   ;
   Towncar {Ff Date NS}
   She picked me up, in the Towncar.  Saturday morning, not really anything
special about it, other than nobody was driving it, until this evening.  By
the hour, unmarked, not a Limo, but the same model they made them out of.
If it was a Ford, they'd call it a Crown Victoria LTD, but the luxury model
of that, old boxy style, actually Midnight blue, but a very nice car.  It's
a cab company, they have a Towncar.
   "It's expensive, but." She rented it, for an anonymus client.
   "I know you're into talk therapy, but this is how I get past it."
   "Last night?"
   "Well, you know.  Arthur."
   "Yeah," she laughed, "I do now!"
   "I can't save up, unless I get a bank account, which begs the question
of how I got so much money, and."
   "I can open an account for you." She shrugged.  "I mean if you trust me
with your money."
   "I don't know." I don't really know her, "I'll think about it, but today
lets just enjoy having money."
   "Yeah.  I'm gonna save some, but I don't guess I have to save all of it.
It's kind of exciting." I think she means it turns her on, I'm not sure,
but sometmes that's what she mean by exiting.  We're going out, to the Art
Museum first.
   To live like queens, for a day.  I spend all of it, get some nice
things, clothes or whatever, but I celibrate.  I don't have savings.
   But, it's kind of nice just to sit back and appreciate it.  Leather
seats, air-cushion ride, detailed, not even any birdshit on it, just a nice
car.  Live like a queen, for a day, then go back to work, because we don't
need men to do it.  Well, one guy, basically payed for it, but she earned
it.  Kinda nice to sit back and watch for once, and exciting to think
about.
   Not in any hurry to get into the public sex.  Now that's exiting for
her, which makes it exciting to me.  She's like 30 something, I guess. 
Twice my age, and this whole lifestyle is all so new for her.  She was a
virgin when I met her, not even a week ago, lived as a lesbian because her
dad terrified her of the D, and now she had power over it.  Dick, milking
them for money is fucking empowering, all right?
   That's why it's a bad word, "Whore." She laughed.  Because it's the one
industry where we have the advantage, sex work.  Can't have that, so
criminalize it.  Like Slavery, okay totally not a thing any more, take down
that rebel flag to deny that ever happened, nowadays?  They're petitioning
to ban the rebel flag, just like Germany banned fascist imagery, but you
know what?  That should hang in a museum, a constant reminder that we kept
people as livestock, the men that shipped other men here as cargo wrote
"All men are created equal." Obviously.  They said Self evident, but if
it's so damned obvious, then why the fuck say "Go back to Africa" today?
   Because men run everything.  Around here white racists that tell their
women to shut the fuck up, in public, and leer at 12 year old girls.  Gang
rape lesbians, suspected lesbians, and even gays.  Men, beaten to death,
and raped.  Sodomized for being "Faggots." That's not what's terrifying,
the fucked up thing is that mindset.  Jesse Helms, and Pat Robertson run
things.  They're in control, and blame minorities for fucking up the state.
Think about that real quick, the guys in power blame tose without any
power, for ruining God's Utopia.  Stay in your ghettos, don't hold hands in
public, mixed race couples are illegal, and never mind that she had to
check out the car, and pay the fare hourly to rent it, for today it was our
car.
   I squeezed her hand on the armrest, and she looked over smiled.  Nobody
had to say it, out loud, this is great.  We had the money, it was time to
enjoy it.  There's a world class art museum, right there, it's dead as
hell, because rednecks don't care, and she showed me her favorite painting.
   "Sunset (Medusa)," Eugene Berman, oil on canvas, 1945.  Modern art,
other than the year, beautiful, tragic, and hopeful, and disgusting all at
the same time.
   The cost is a donation, to see this, I decided they need a good tip. 
Just for keeping this here, where you can come and see it.  If you're ever
in Raleigh, come and see.  Give them some money too, they need it more than
they do up in Washington, which is the next closest collection.
   ;
   Delante (Anonymus.  If you didn't notice it's my recurring giggalo/pimp
character, named after a friend of mine from Durham.  Is he a 90s racial
stereotype?  Yeh, he was, in the 90s.  A teenage dropout with dreams of
becoming a gangster, because his college prospects didn't look good.  Know
what I'm saying?)
   "Whodis?"
   "You still at Raleigh Gardens?"
   "Yeh."
   "Wanna make some money?"
   "Yeah!  You know that's right!"
   HONK!
   "We'll pick you up."
   "The blue Mercury?" If it was a crown vic, you'd think it be an
undercover, but no government plates, or Christmas tree out back.  Also,
brown ragtop, they never get that for cops, knowhatI'sayin?
   "OohH!" Into my fist, pointing across the parking lot.  "Grand MarKEE!"
Strutted, and threw in a little pimp limp.  It aint like Walnut Terrace,
but I was starting to build juice here.  It's a project, but almost North
Raleigh, it ain't like the ghetto, but at least it aint like I'm getting in
an undercover.
   The driver, from the other knight got out, held the door for me.
   "Uh!?" I looked around.  "You got a car-phone?" She weren't no where
near any payphoes, so she coulda run up so quick, why the horn sounded over
the phone, she called me on the car-phone.
   "Yeah, get in." She scooted over.
   The driver got in, and turned down the radio.
   {Duran Duran - The Chauffeur (Rio) You ever get a song stuck in your
head, for weeks?  Yeah.}
   "Nice ride!" we took off.  "So, what's the bidness?" Don't even matter
to the Hood why I get in this car, money.  They know that's right!
   "Just need to sell something."
   "Wuzzat?"
   "Rock," the driver said, "You carrying?"
   "What?"
   "A gun?  Are you armed?"
   Cheri patted me down.
   "Nah, man.  You say rock?"
   "Cocaine?" she nodded, "Yeah, but the neighborhood we got to go to, we
don't feel safe delivering it." I hear a clip drop.  Slide out the handle,
I don't got guns.  I get guns, and drop them, but if you got one, the cops
can hassle you.
   She slid back the last one, unloaded, she put in an empty one, and
handed it back over the seat.  Still driving, but with the window tint,
you'd have to be loking back through the windshield, all blue sky in broad
daylight like that, and I saw signs for RTP.
   "What 'hood?"
   "It's in Durham."
   "Barretta," 9.  I unlocked the slide, so it won't stuck back, and tucked
it in my belt.  Zipped up my hoody.  Yeh, I know, but if I bust out,
everyone on the block knows somebody just got shot.  Don't want to attract
that kind of attention, know what I'm sayin?  Just being there, in yo face
is enough.  To get control over the situation, if it starts getting out of
hand.  Just point it, and get out.  No need to call the cops busting out
caps.  That's the opposite of getting control over the situation.  Don't
even ask where you get this, don't wanna know.
   "Kripps, so you might want to take off the Bandana."
   "Yeh." I folded it up.  "Where you get Rock from?"
   "You ever read Clockers?" I looked at Cheri.  "Here, you can borrow my
copy, but they got it a Broughton too." School library copy.  "Says it
right in there, how to buy coke, and rock it up, for profit.  We just pick
up the coke in Chapel Hill."
   "I have, a friend in Durham, but it's better if I don't, go in for this
run.  You understand, that's where you come in."
   "Yeh."
   ;
   Chauffeur (Reprise, might as well make it the Cris Corner rendition)
   I'm not sure how romantic it was, but we went out shooting.  At the
range, just to see their jaws drop.  At us, two girls coming in to shoot,
her guns in their cases.  The automatic was her dad's.  Not service pistol,
same model only without the high capacity magazine.  So, the grips aren't
as fat, the police detective's model, I think?
   I tried to avoid firefights, but going out with a crackhead.  Well, she
wasn't always a crackhead, but our relationship wasn't built on the most
solid foundation.  She was surprised to hear from me, but I said that money
was tight, and I know a sure fire way to make a little money into more. 
Flip some coke, I could go right up to her apartment, high rise, not a
penthouse, but they built that project like a high rise building.  About
halfway up, she wasn't there the next week, but you want the floor, and
room number?  No, fuck no.
   You want to play gangster, kid?  Aite, here's your chance.  Called them
from the parking lot, got in back while he ran it up, and turned up the
music.  Bass way down low, nice system, and a late model luxury sedan in
that parking lot with the bass thumping?  If I didn't know any better, I'd
say there was a drug deal going down, but he's not flying blood colors,
hope he doesn't try to run with it, but we know where he lives, now.  Or at
least the building, it wouldn't be hard to call the cops on him.
   Anonymously, of course.  They got Caller ID on 9-11, but that doesn't
work for the Cellular system.  It's not set up for that kind of data. 
Which makes carphones ideal for things like prostitution, and drug dealing.
Like it hasn't happened before, I never had to detail it, and found powder
spilled all over the back seat.  Not going to say what company, either, but
there's a reason why we can't do stuff like that in the marked cabs.  It's
a marked cab, the Towncar just has fleet plates, in another city, and I can
always report it stolen.  Yeah, I'd lose my job, but that's better than
going to jail for drug dealing, and contributing to the delinquency of
minors.
   I kept my eyes out, but she was into it enough to get off.  She was
still gasping for breath when he came back, tossed the bookbag in the
floorboards.
   "You wanna drive?"
   "Huh!  Yeah." She climbed over the front seat, panting, once she had her
undies pulled up.
   Nice ones, helped her pick them out, and try them on, in the changing
room.  Held my breath, and my hand over her mouth, so nobody heard us.
   "Uh!" she popped out the tape {Cassette, old car} put in another. 
{David Lee Roth - Just a Giggalo/I aint got nobody.} I had to laugh.
   "My money." I pulled it out, counted it.  Back into the bag, mixed bills
separated by denomination, rubber banded together in stacks of various
sizes.  Mostly 20s, up to you to get it in the bank without looking
suspicious.  You, you know.  My boss, with the rest of the deposits
tomorrow.
   "Where's mines?"
   "Well," I turned in the seat, "How much were you thinking on making
today, Delante?"
   "My share?" He looked at the money, not my skirt stretched from thigh to
thigh.  My right one up next to the seat, left one down across it utter
lack of underwear.  I didn't take them off, I called in slick.  Sunday
morning, no traffic to speak of until church lets out, and even then,
Research Triangle Park.  Corporate all the way back to Raleigh, all but
deserted.
   Mon Cheri next to me, but now I had a fine young man here, asking for
what he earned.  "You what, took the elevator up, and down?  I bought the
coke, cooked it up, drove it around between My contacts, and you want a
full share?  You, just a runner?" I scoffed.  "Here you go, son.  You want
a blowjob with that?" I rubbed a couple bills in his lap.  "Yeah," tucking
them in his pockets.  Gangster loose, easy to pull off.  "Isn't that what
they say," feeling in his NCSU Wolfpack shorts.  Basketball shorts, with
the tank top, it was the uniform, not that he goes to state.  Old enough,
but "Yeah." Nice long soft cock with the foreskin.  "Oh yeah." I left it
stuck in the top.  "It's 50, right?" I pulled another bill out of the
stack, stuck it in his pocket.  "SHLRP!  Huh!"
   Pimp?  What do you know about Pimpin?  It aint easy?  Well, try being a
whore.  Iver if you're into it, if you Wannabe pimps aint never dodat, then
what the Fuck do you know about pimpin?
   "SPUB!  Yeah!" I rubbed the spit up and down.
   "What is dis?"
   "Sh," I put my finger over his nice big lips.  "I don't pay you to talk.
You want to make another $50.00?" I nodded, he nodded back.  "Good, then
show me what else you can do." Pulling my legs up, "With that mouth of
yours." I lay back, "Huh!" Pulling my skirt out, and picked up the small
book of 50s.  Not a common bill, they tend to pay in 10s, and 20, then skip
right up to 100s.  Like the $2.00 bill.  Yeah, they print them, but people
tend to carry ones, and fives.  "Huh!  Yeah, suck it." I rubbed the back of
his hair.  Down to where it's shaved, I could feel it with my fingertips.
"Suck it real good."
   I'd fuck him, eventually.  There's another hundred in it, he'll be down.
When I'm good and ready.
   Pimp?  "Uh!" My ass.
   ;
   Giggy D {MFFf Doub Date Hebe Pros Cuck.}
   "Aite." they picked me up, "What kinda car this?"
   "Galaxie 500."
   "Wagon."
   "Yeah, '73."
   Ain't seen a lot of them, but then we pulled up at the school.  Picked
up someone at the faculty parking lot.  The driver got out, and turned off
the radio.  I don't know, white people music.  Nice bassline, kinda bluesy
R&B, but trippin.  The singer sound like he screamin.
   {Clutch (Eponymus) - Space Grass}
   A teacher got in, Buckled up, and started the car.  Not my teacher, I
don't even go to school there no more, but I remember her.  She remember
me, called me "Delante."
   I look back, shotgun, but they just making out in the back seat.
   "Pay attention.  Now, I don't know how many times I told you about
disrupting class," she rubbed my leg, "But if this is going to be a
problem." My dick, "Huh!  Well, I suppose I better do something about it."
   It aint like a limo, but for money?  "Yeh." All right.  I got to ask my
boys that go there, if they ever have her.  Mrs.  Anonymus.  Ain't even
gonna tell you if she white, but being in that school for years?  She aint
even that hot, you'd have to pay me but, "Aite."
   I never seen this, there in the parking lot.  It ain't her car, after 5
years I'da seen it, but.  It ain't a limo, I mean it nice, it aint as long
as a limo, but I found out if you fold up the seats in the back, where it
got a tailgate instead of a trunk, it kinda like a limo back there.  It
just look like, well a old station wagon.  White, it faded beige, two tone
with faded fool boards on the sides, but it fit in.
   The hood, you walk past it parked, with the little curtain pulled in the
back.  Maybe a bunch of Mexicans, it aint busted, but if say we got to roll
deep.  For some reason, the boys in the back just got to drop the tailgate,
and the window fold right up, got 4 doors to pile out, rolling that deep.
They made for kids, so it don't look like nothing out in North Raleigh,
neither.
   She took me home, we startet working together, every week.  Working with
all them teenage boys.  Don't want to get in trouble, risk her job for
that.
   They say pimpin ain't easy, but this?  "Someone's gotta do it." {*} I
aint gotta do nothing, but fuck and count my money.  She aint even spank me
that hard.
   ;
   {* Big Daddy Kane (Feat Nice&Smooth)
   ...F.R.I.S.K.  - "If you go away" (Soul of Indiscretion)...}
   ;
   Cheri' (Thera)
   "Hah!" he came out, so she crawled up to the driver's door, got out, and
got back in front.  He came around the engine, and got in shotgun, so I
climbed over, and folded up the seat back.  At the same time, because
that's how you have to, but I'm getting used to this car.
   "Aite," he rubbed his pants, pulled up for one, and sat down.
   Pulled the door, "Buckle up."
   We could be pulled just before, but she's right, it's exciting.  In the
way-back of a station wagon, backed in front of the garage of a suburban
townhome.  I know, they built them.  A complex of "Townhomes," in a north
Raleigh suburb.  Hey, i just live, work, and go to school here.
   Community college, i can get a GED, and take some business courses. 
Purely elective, but she knows whores, clients, coke, crack, and pot
distributers.  Drove a cab for a few years, in the small state capitol she
grew up, big enough you can't meet everyone, but "Cast a wide enough net."
Don't follow the rules, but.
   "I ain't.  Comfterball wit.  The drugs."
   "Yeah?" She looked over, across the seat.  "What about the
prostitution?"
   "You know Ice T?"
   "Not up on my Gangsta rap, the Fat Boys, Sugar Hill Gang, Public Enemy
was more my gGj'eneration." {Who?}
   "Yeahwell, he did this one, 'I'm yo Pusher'?"
   "Hadn't heard it, I stopped watching MTV when Martha left."
   "Yeah, well, he's talking about music.  Records, here's listen to some
of this.  I ain't no good at music, can't stand them fuckin crackheads, and
I seen drugs.  Well, it wuz horse, but my uncle, his wife, and my fucked up
cousins.  I ain't a blood, yeah I can wear read, but I ain't.  I don't
wanna die like that, man."
   We pulled over.  "Get in the back."
   "Aright."
   "Oh!" I scootted back over, and held him.  "It's all right, you don't
have to live like that no more.  How was your first real job?  Was it all
right, do you have anything to talk about?"
   "She'sick."
   "Mrs.  Cunningham?  No, no, she's fine.  She just needed her fix, is
all. Did she hurt you?"
   "It didn't hurt, she just."
   "Did she hurt your feelings?  She's not really a sadist."
   "She racist."
   "Yeah, but maybe you can tell her about it some time.  Right now, are
you all right?"
   "Yeah, I feel a little better."
   "I know it's hard," I sat back up, and rolled down the window.  "Here,"
got out a pack of Newports, lit one, then another one for me, and handed
him his.  "HuhH!" It blew out, but we're on the Beltline by then.
   "She didn't pay me."
   "Oh yeah, sorry.  They pay up front, here's yours."
   "That's it?"
   "$Two fifty?" I nodded.
   "You don't more than us, and we got to make money to set this all up. 
Get rid of the money so no body gets busted, or arrested."
   "Whyou, was just fuckin in the back!"
   "Yeah, and if we got busted, you don't get busted, and more importantly,
the schoolteacher client doesn't get busted for sex with an underage
prostitute.  You get it?  You didn't have to pay for a single STD test,
because I set it up.  You don't start at the penthouse, playboy."
   "Gabby!  Stop, I got this."
   ;
   
  
Chauf Whore (Fare Gang)