When a butterfly finds a special bush that has delightful sweets, it keeps going back to that precious pasture.
The same with me, at that truck stop. I figured that when things got real bad, when I needed a fuck so much it made me have cramps, I could always slip into that shower and let one of those bully drivers have a go. The problem was the guy who owned the place. It seemed I wasn't the only teenager who found this land of milk and honey.
"Take your fucking someplace else," the guy told me when he saw me near the gas pumps. "You want I should get closed down?"
It was the same at malt shops, drug stores, or the parking lots where us school kids sometimes hung around. Nobody wanted young hotshots on the premises because it gave the place a bad name, and besides we didn't have the cash to help any businessman. I suppose they had a point all right because shoppers didn't like to go into a place where a gang of restless kids were goofing around. We didn't have much finesse then anyway, because some of the kids went to feeling each other up right there on the car hoods, proving to the world they were very adult when it comes to sex. Some of the girls, even flashed their titties at married people. The men liked that okay but the wives got skittery.
Actually I didn't get a big bang out of hanging with the other kids because they seethed so immature, still I had to have friends so I went along with the scene. I even let a couple of the boys fuck me once in a while and it wasn't too bad, except they always got on a love kick. Young boys are too romantic for my blood. They get serious over a little thing like a healthy screw, and they always want you to be a steady. Keep true blue. While they go ahead and fuck around with other girls.
So even if I tried it was impossible for me to be very serious about my school chums and their limited outlook on life. The only time I found they showed a bit of vision was when they smoked grass, or popped a pill, but of course their futuristic extensions were twisted by their "high" and didn't have any real foundation.
"You're too fuckin' serious, Angie," Carlos Zapeda told me one day. "The world's gonna get blown to hell anyway, so we might as well have a ball."
"People said the same thing a thousand years ago, Carlos."
"Maybe so. Maybe so. But none of us got a future and you know it. They're gonna turn us all into robots for the politicians. Might as well enjoy things while we can."
Carlos echoed the fears of every kid in school and we were frightened. Looking down the road to faraway years there wasn't much hope. Perhaps that's why we lost our morals and found it difficult to be serious about anything.
Still I didn't want to face any years without a little cash in hand. So many times my chums couldn't even afford gas for their cars, new spark plugs when they were needed, and they were so penniless they sometimes had to sneak into the drive-in movie because they couldn't afford a ticket. Bombs were bad, politicians were sneaky, earthquakes made me tremble, but the most horrible concept I could summon had to do with poverty. If I got killed in the holocaust or was sucked into the ground by natural disasters then nothing could help and it didn't matter anyway. Yet the prospect of getting up one day, and being hungry, without a dime to my name, was the most terrifying fear I could imagine.
Above all else I wanted money.
And there is only one way a young girl can make a lot of dough.
"Let's go fuck somebody," I told Paula one day just after my sixteenth birthday.
"Who you got in mind, Angie?"
"Somebody with money. Before school's out for the year I wanta have a thousand dollars saved up."
"Gee, I'd like that too. Only who's gonna pay us that much for a little sex?"
"Nobody. But maybe we can think up something?"
I went to see Alfred DeMarco, and he hadn't bought tickets for Switzerland yet.
"Maybe I'll do it one of these days," he said.
He refused to have anything to do with Paula and me. Said that Susan Lovely put out the word to keep away from jail bait. None of her friends would pay a dime for pussy.
"And if you girls cause trouble we're prepared to fight you in court. You can't afford a lawyer, and we have lots of power. Some of the judges are our friends, you know."
"Aw, fuck you, Albert. And Susan Lovely, too! We wasn't gonna make any trouble."
"Just thought I'd remind you, Angie."
"You rich people stick together, don't you?"
"We have to, girls. There's more of you than us, and we don't want to lose what we have."
Alfred was right and I didn't blame him a bit. When I got rich nobody was gonna take it away from me either!
I did some babysitting but couldn't get screwed, even when I was willing, to do it for free. Everything I tried went sour. I guess I was trying too hard. And the few pennies I earned from babysitting hardly paid for a Dutch date with my school chums. I was getting despondent, even desperate, so I went back to the Vespers.
"Goddamnit, kid, I told you to get lost!" The Madam was furious.
"I'm gonna lay on your porch until you show me how to do it!" I was adamant. "I gotta earn some money."
She slammed the door on me and when I stood there for an hour she came out and threw a bucket of water on me. But I was determined. Finally she let me in the door.
"You fuckin' kids are gonna be the death of me." She was ready to cry. "Can't you just leave us alone? We ain't hurtin' nobody. We just wanta make a living."
"Me too," I assured her. "I ain't gonna work for no company the rest of my life filing papers or something for a lousy few bucks a week. The government takes most of it anyway."
"We have to pay taxes too, honey."
"Oh, you're kidding!"
"Fucking is a business, sweetie. Uncle Sam wants his cut out of the pussy profits too."
"You still make plenty, don't you?"
"Some girls do. It depends. Some of them can't even earn enough to pay for douche water."
"So teach me how to be a good one. Please?"
It was a ridiculous situation when you think about it. Here I was a sexual infant, untrained in the fine arts of pleasing a man, and I couldn't make ten cents with my healthy young body. While some of the women in the Vespers were hags. Beat-up floozies with too much makeup, sagging breasts, and meat on their bones that was disfigured and bruised with countless years of sexual torment.
Still these women were doing what they liked, fucking the males of the city and making money at it.
"I want in," I told the Madam as I looked around the beautiful interior of the place. "I mean to make money with my screwing and I don't care what I have to do to get it."
"You ready to get the shit beat out of you, honey?"
"What d'ya mean?"
"Some men like to whip their ladies. They use belts, and their fists, and they kick the skit out of you."
"That ain't want I got in mind."
"You want to be a professional, don't you?"
"Yeah, but I only want to screw."
"Sex has many faces, honey. Some guys piss in your face, or crap under your armpits. It's the way they get their kicks. And you gotta be willin' to give 'em what they want. You ready to smack a guy on the cock with a rubber hammer?
Or stick your tongue in his asshole?"
"Oh, they don't want that!"
"They sure do, sweetie. And that ain't the half of it You ever have a guy put raisins up your cunt and then get 'em out with his tongue? Or paint your tits with chocolate syrup and then lick it off?"
"Wow, that sounds okay!"
"Well then, how'd you like a guy to strap a dildo on you and then make you fuck him up the keester?"
"Do they do that?"
"Listen, honey. There ain't a fuckin' thing you can think of that people don't do with sex. I even had one guy bring a fuckin' monkey in here. He wanted one of my girls to let that fuckin' ape screw her. Can you imagine!"
"Gee, what'd ya do?"
"We fucked the monkey of course. We're here to make money, ain't we? And a cock's a cock, even if it is hanging on some goddam beast."
"You're trying to scare me."
"Sure I am. You gotta know what you're gettin' into, right?"
"Right."
"Well, this business ain't no picnic. We work harder than, any secretary."
"But you have more fun."
"Sometimes. Sometimes it's real hard. I already had most of my teeth knocked out one time or another, and I had a sailor once who wanted to slice off my tits."
"Why'd he wanta do that?"
"He got sunk in the war and ended up on one of them islands, living with some natives. I guess they was cannibals or somethin' because this sailor was real weird. And believe me, you don't have to be lost on an island to get freaky.
Some of the guys in this town are a damn site worse than that!"
"Yeah, I already had a guy put axle grease on his pecker when he did it to me."
"Hell, that ain't nothin'! Guys use salt and lemon juice and bubble gum and anythin' else they can think up. They wanta stuff your cunt with cabbage and prickly pears and all kinds a' shit!"
"Do you let 'em do it?"
"Sometimes we have to. We're in business, right?"
"Right."
"The worst ones are the husbands. Guys who have a pretty wife at home. They get bored as hell with that same old stuff so they come here to charge their batteries. And they get real spaced out sometimes. Most of the times!"
"Can't a girl just screw for money? I mean, can't she just sell herself straight out?"
"You can try, sweetie. But sooner or later you're gonna run into the Martians."
"The who?"
"That's what we call 'em. The Martians. Guys who want something special with their fucking. And believe me, sooner or later they all get turned on that way!"
I wanted to stick around and watch some of the girls get screwed but the Madam told me it would bring the heat to her place, and she had been real good to me, so I left them alone.
The visit had been informative yet my riches seemed farther away than ever. It was spooky to imagine a guy doing all those things to me, or having a thousand guys trying to think up ways to abuse my body. All I wanted was a little screw, for a few dollars, and I sure didn't want to end up looking like the girls at the Vespers. Sure some of them were still pretty, but the ones who looked like they had been in the business for years were worn out. Shadows in a world of light. Garbage heaps where the men of the world came to dump the refuse of their sexual natures.
It made a girl stop and think.
Fucking was one thing, while brutality showed a facet of human personality that was horrible.
"What we gonna do, Paula?" I asked her when I told her of my visit.
"Gee, I dunno, Angie. I never did think we could make much money with screwing."
"We ain't gonna make it any other way, either."
"Yeah, I know. I guess we're doomed to a life like our folks."
"Not me, damnit! I ain't gonna cry myself to sleep every night because the utilities are gonna get shut off!"
"It's the Establishment, Angie. Just like the kids at school say. They don't want us to get ahead. Keep us down so they can dictate to us."
"We say that because we're chicken, Paula. There ain't nobody holding us back but ourselves. Lots of people still make a million bucks in this country, and we can do it too if we try."
"How many guys would we have to fuck to make a million dollars?"
"Only one, if we found the right man."
"You mean like those heroines in the books? The ones who marry a guy for his money?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Gee, that'd be swell, Angie. I'd let him screw me as many times as he wanted!"
I couldn't find a millionaire just then so I let Thomas Harding fuck me for a trip to the movies. I had to get away for a while, lose myself in the dream world of the cinema. We watched one of them R-rated movies where the girl shows her tits, and it got Thomas all shook up, so I let him suck my tits in the drive-in.
And that made me think some more.
If a girl could show her tit for one second on the screen, and a million men in the country got a hard-on from it, maybe there was a way to get rich. Maybe I could fuck for one of those X-rated movies and make a deal for the percentages.
Get royalties on my screwing. Linda Lovelace got rich that way and so did a lot of other women.
The next day I went to, the Studio, a movie house downtown that showed only X-rated films.
"I wanta see the manager," I told the little ticket girl in the window.
"Get lost," she frowned. "You ain't old enough to come in here."
"My daddy's in there," I lied. "You let me see the manager or I'll raise hell.
My daddy should be home."
The manager took me next door and bought me a coke while I told him what I had in mind.
"Yeah, you could make a few bucks." He stared at my nice bosom. "Ain't too many kids built like you, and you sure are pretty, Angie."
"So how do I go about it?"
"Well, I've got a friend. He makes the movies in his basement. Got a franchise with one of the distributors in Burbank. Maybe he could use you."
"How much does it pay?"
"Depends on you, kid. Depends on what you've got under those clothes."
"Do I have to audition? How do they work it?"
"First you gotta let me interview you. At my apartment. If I like it, I'll send you over to see Alex."
Watching all those fuckers on his own screen made this guy horny as hell and he thought he was seducing me with all his talk about being a big movie star. What he didn't know was that I was seducing him. A grown man, with an honest to god cock, a man who would appreciate young stuff.
We fucked for two hours in his apartment.
"You're gonna castrate me, honey!" he groaned when we were having thirds.
"Jeez, my balls hurt so bad I can hardly move!"
"Do it some more!" I clung to his sweaty body. "Do it harder, Mister!"
"Your cunt's on fire, Angie! It's so hot it feels like broken glass down there!
Ooowww, I gotta stop for a while!"
"Do it deeper!" I cried. "Just a little longer, Mister! I think I'm gonna come again…!"