Broken Girl(3)

GOING DOWNTOWN ALWAYS consisted of wrangling up a group of guys who wanted to have speed sex in the narrow alley between the Stop & Wash Laundromat and the Iron Hog Pub. It was the perfect place filled with lonely, horny men who would be willing to pay to have someone give their cocks a little attention. I called it speed sex because I didn’t have to work too hard to get them lining up while they’d willingly drop a couple or three Jacksons for me to f*ck’em or suck’em off. It was quick money and since word had gotten around, there were more guys than Sybil and I could handle. Pick and choose was our best option . . . oh, and the other horny bastards, take a number motherf*ckers.

Sybil suggested we bring Crystal and Brie in on our back alley gold mine venture and in the process collect a little finder’s fee. I was for anything that kept Sybil and I flush with a little extra cash. We were golden . . . or so I thought.

We had had it all set. Crystal and I would take a walk around the laundromat and see if there were any potential customers, while Sybil and Brie would meander through the Iron Hog, order a couple of drinks and show the drunk f*cks what they could have if they’d come out into the back alley.

Sybil pulled open the back door of the Iron Hog and both she and Brie slipped past a loudmouthed drunk * who used the opportunity to cop a feel of Brie’s rack. He acted like he was trying to find the restroom and that’s when he noticed Crystal was tapping away on her iPhone. His heavy-lidded eyes narrowed, his vision scraped up her bare legs and across her firm tits.

“Hey you, what are you willing to do for a couple bucks?” The gawky stranger slurred at Crystal before he stumbled forward and grabbed his dick. He shook his head back and forth clearing his long, wiry blond hair away from his sunken wasted eyes.

I knew this wasn’t the type of prick she should proposition in the back alley. Even though Crystal was only two years younger than me, she was just barely legal to make her own decisions. I’d seen girls like her before; they’d spend their days convincing themselves that they’d sell their bodies just until they made enough money to pay for their grandmother’s operation, or back taxes, maybe even work their way through college with a little extra money to survive. Her story was the same as all the others. When she’d make enough, she’d stop. It was always about selling themselves only long enough to pay for what they needed. Right? Then before they’d realize it, the sharp claws of greed would sink their black pointy tips into their skin and never let go. It basically boiled down to the fact that they’d get too used to the lifestyle.

“Come on, whatcha willing to give up under that little sexy black leather skirt? Can the first sample of this * be free?” he said towering over her; his body swallowed up her tiny frame.

“Get the f*ck off me,” Crystal screamed, struggling to push him away.

The disgusting odor of piss mixed with rotting garbage wafted across the narrow breezeway as a gust of wind reminded me just how wretched life could be. These f*cked-up moments didn’t exist for the Cinderella life most women lived on the other side of these stucco buildings. Streets where making a living wasn’t lived out in a shitty alley.

“Come on, what bitch wouldn’t want this inside her,” he growled as he pulled down his pants and grabbed himself.

You gonna take care of my sickness, isn’t that right, little Rosalie.

Words bubbled in the back of my throat, bile crawled up from my stomach as I opened up my mouth to scream for him to stop.

I am drowning.

I wanted to stop him from hurting her, protect her like I should’ve been, but the back door of the laundromat slammed shut and I recoiled back into the shadows. A voice, louder, deeper and more commanding, rang across the cracked stucco before it rolled across the weathered wooden doors.

“Hey buddy, you heard the woman, she said no.” His deep voice startled me. He stood tall, burly, dwarfing all of us, his shoulders wide, dark eyes narrowed, legs ready to launch his body if he had to pull the guy off Crystal.

“Fuck you. Find your own bitch to go balls deep.” The drunken * slipped his hands up Crystal’s skirt.

I saw the fear in her eyes dissolve to defeat. Her shoulders rounded slightly, just enough to tell me she lost the internal battle of convincing herself that she didn’t deserve what was about to happen. It was a moment when those of us who f*ck for money are forced to pretend to be someone else. It was just another shitty part of selling your body. Men will take, when given the opportunity. Tonight was no different.

“I said, let her go!” Laundry Man barked.

“You have no idea what business I’m conducting with this whore, so if you know what’s best for you . . . you’d get the f*ck up outta’-here.” The belligerent * pulled up on Crystal’s skirt, giving him full access to her. He smiled, and then tangled his grimy hand into her platinum-blond hair before he tugged her head back exposing her neck. Her heart thundered under her thin skin, the muscles in her jaw tightened as she whimpered, tears clung to her eyelashes.

“She isn’t doing business with you anymore.” The huge virile Laundry Man slipped his arm around the front of drunken *’s neck and pulled him off Crystal. Gasping for air, Crystal’s attacker’s feet left the concrete; he kicked, stretching for ground. His hands released Crystal as he struggled to grab at the thick, muscular arm choking him out. His haggard face grew red, eyes bugged so large I saw the blood vessels as they began to explode and color the whites of his saucer eyes scarlet. Every gasp and soundless whisper gave way to a shade of blue that seeped around his mouth before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. It wasn’t more than a couple of minutes before Crystal’s attacker was unconscious and crumpled in a pile of drunken leftover shit.