Betsy After the Fact (MF)
(FlashFic in 280 words)
By Alexis Siefert
ealexissiefert@yahoo.com

I talk to myself, silently, while he fucks me. It gets me through the night, the cold bricks 
of the walls, and the freezing puddles at my ankles. It gets me through the five minutes he 
needs. I pretend I'm being interviewed. This is my story, I tell the blonde bimbo 
interviewer. Youll be fascinated. Its one of a kind.

Everyone has a story to tell, dont they?

He's grunting in my ear. They usually do. I used to think they were talking to me, but 
after a few weeks I figured out they were talking to themselves, making believe they 
hadn't just paid a two-bit whore for a quick alley-fuck. Sometimes they're angry. Bitch. 
Whore. Take it. They spit when they curse, and I used to wonder who they were angry at.  
Then I guess I figured out that it didnt matter.

Sometimes they're trying to be happy. Come on, baby. Give it to Daddy. They spit when 
they do that, too. Like they've forgotten how to kiss. 

But most of the time they just grunt. I don't mind. It goes faster when they don't seem to 
care.

My ass cheeks hurt. He's pounding pretty hard, and my legs are tired. I'm tired. I gotta get 
out of this, I tell myself every night. It's part of my interview. How I Got Off the Street, 
Tonight on Nightline.   I used to think it could happen.  Or I think I did.  

Okay, so I don't have a story to tell. So its not unique, after all. But Ive got money for 
some dinner, and hes done.  So it doesnt really matter now.

Until next time.

Come on, baby. Bitch. Whore.

