*Welcome back! I just finished up the next chapter and it will be up in two more weeks, hopefully I can write fast enough so that the chapter after that will be on time-ish.
And to those who begged me to send out new chapters sooner, no. Just no :) Maybe I can live up to my name after all.
I have the entire story outlined, so I know what is going to happen when. I just need to flesh it out. The breaks between chapters are not terribly clear, so you might want to go back and read the last few paragraphs of the first chapter.
Enjoy!
All characters are 18+
I arrived home at about 11, surprised at how the time had passed. Ben was up studying, and he got up eagerly.
For an irrational moment, I thought that he would know what I had done. Maybe it would be emblazoned on my forehead in bright accusatory red, like the mark of Cain. Maybe he would smell the stink of sweat and shame and sex on me. Maybe he would read it in my eyes or taste it in my words or just *know*, through some faint but damning form of telepathy.
But he just wanted the money, the money that I had gotten while helping Mr. Browning unload boxes from the supply truck.
I had separated the ninety dollars from the transaction. Thinking of it as a transaction helped me to think about it at all. I had thirty dollars in my left pocket an the other sixty in my right. It had occurred to me on the way home that even if I made thousands of dollars a night, I had to think of ways to spend it without Ben noticing. At least that would be easy.
Other then minimums on student loans and the rent and the utilities, Ben paid very little attention to our financial needs. That's probably how I had been able to get our 'discount' on groceries every week for almost six months without him noticing. Whatever was left over from his college and our living expenses, was given to me to handle. I shopped for clothes and groceries and paid school lunch fees and all of the little things that nipped at our heels. If I was careful, I could use this money.
And really, we were still going to be poor. This sixty dollars would barely buy a weeks worth of groceries.
I handed Ben the thirty dollars. He would probably spend it on a dinner with his girlfriend, but I didn't begrudge him that. He loved Patricia, and he didn't get to treat her often.
I was thinking about numbers and necessities. What did we need more? Shoes for Celia, or clothes for Lisse? It calmed me down. It wasn't until I got into the shower that I started to think about what I had done.
For the first time, I was alone. The water was too loud for anyone to hear me. The door was locked, there were no eyes to see me. I pressed my forehead into the wet tiles and started to shake. Nothing would come out, not a word, not a sound, nothing but tears that I couldn't see or feel with the water streaming down my face.
---
I saw Calvin before he went to school the next day. He had a bright-green cast from elbow to wrist. I signed it with a sharpie before giving him his bologna and cheese sandwich for the day. Ben told me that we owed the hospital a thousand and forty six dollars in all. For the stay and the food and the medication. We had no insurance. We still owed them over three thousand dollars for Mom, and her chemotherapy treatments that had barely been covered with our Stepfather's insurance. When he died, the insurance company fought tooth and nail not to cover Mom, but lost on the grounds that she had been covered by it while he was alive. When she died, the insurance disappeared, and we couldn't afford any more.
"Any luck finding a job?" I asked him.
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "No." That was it. I suspected that he wasn't even looking.
"Ben? I have some friends that work at the factory. We're going to hang out at Scott's place tonight, watch a movie." I made up the name of my 'employee friend' on the spot.
Ben looked at me sharply, and he wanted to refuse me. I could see it in his eyes. But even he could see what a dick-move it would be to refuse me a night by myself after all I had done for him and our family.
"Sure, but don't do any drugs, don't drink, and don't be late for work tomorrow."
I had my window, my excuse, my alibi, my lie. I sighed, grabbed my bologna and cheese sandwich, and started to walk to the factory.
---
Friday was paycheck day for both my factory job and my job with Mr. Browning. Combined, it was a bit less then five hundred. I tucked my factory paycheck into my jeans, rubbing the aching small of my back.
I was still hungry after my sandwich. But until dinner, all I could expect to have in my mouth was Mr. Browning's cock.
---
Four hundred and eighty-six dollars wasn't much to support a family on. But all at once, it seemed like a lot. It was tempting, very tempting not to go to the street corner that night.
But then I handed the checks to Ben, and I knew that most of it would go to this dump of an apartment, and that the rest of it would be spent on food. Only the crumbs would be left.
---
It was a warm night. Steam boiled up from the damp streets and from the gutters. People wore shorts and t-shirts and fanned themselves from the heavy hot air. I took a cold shower, got in my jeans cutoffs and this old pepsi T-shirt I had. The fabric was very tight.
I looked at myself in the steamy mirror before I left. I had dressed like this before, the cutoffs were comfortable, and I used them as a swimsuit in the summer. They were a little shorter than was really comfortable, but that had never bothered me before. Now it bothered me. Because when I looked in the mirror, I knew that men would be looking at me. Men would be looking at my ass and crotch and chest through the tight fabric. I would have to suck a lot of cocks to make money. And this time, a pimp would be taking half of my money. I couldn't just quit after one guy.
I remembered how scared I had been, how nervous and ashamed afterward. I had to get a thicker skin. I had to, if I was going to make money.
---
I was leaving at eight. Drake said that they started at eight, but when I got there, Jose was the only guy lounging on the steps.
I crossed the street to him, feeling naked in my short cutoffs and tight shirt. It was all about context. I felt more naked now then I ever had walking around the apartment in just my boxers during the dog-days of summer.
He looked up at me with imperious grey eyes and held out one hand to shake. "Hey honey." He said, soft sarcasm lacing his words.
"Um. Hi." I mumbled, feeling like an idiot. "Is D-Drake here?"
Jose nodded, jerking his head towards the door. "Drake is with one of his regulars now. Should be out soon. The man is a regular wham-bam, thank-you-Sam, kind of guy. Sit back, relax. The big man is gonna want to talk to you tonight. Start taking his share."
I sat on the steps, feeling a little nervous. What if someone stopped in a car and wanted to take me into one of the rooms? I didn't have keys, and I really needed to talk to Drake first, and I wasn't sure if I was ready.
But before I could worry too hard, the door behind us opened, and Drake came down the steps. I saw the man from yesterday, the man in the truck leaving down the sidewalk, but I couldn't have cared less about him. I only had eyes for Drake.
His dark hair was combed forward and off to the side a little. He flicked his head to keep it out of his deep-black eyes. He was wearing little bike shorts that made my cutoffs look conservative. On top, he had a black muscle shirt. His arms were long and pale and lean with muscle.
