One of my not so fondest memories was being in a playground. I don’t know how old I was, I know that the feeling I had was frightening. I was by myself, and I was looking for my mother. I kept saying her name over and over again. “Momma, Momma, where are you? I scared, Momma…” I don’t know how long I called and cried for her, but I know eventually she did find me, or maybe it was more like I found her. She was behind some trees that were in the back end of the playground. She wasn’t supposed to be in that section. The sign said so. I couldn’t read it; I remember a boy losing a ball that had rolled into the seclusion once. When I told him to go get it, he informed me that the sign said he wasn’t allowed. He would go to jail. I was afraid my mom was going to go to jail.

I hesitated at the edge, hearing a man say, “Aren’t you gonna answer the kid?” She responded with, “No, just make it fast. I can see her.” I couldn’t really see her, although I could see that her skirt was hiked up, and her legs were around his waist.

She took me home that day and put me to bed in my dirty, smelly clothes. I think I might have had a sandwich or something, except I still remember going to bed hungry. I remember going to bed hungry lots of nights. 

The years that followed were much of the same, me looking for my mother, while she “worked”. She described to me years later, that this was her job, that this was how she provided food and clothing. At the time, I remember thinking What food? What clothing? I sure as hell never saw either. Nevertheless, I kept my mouth shut like I often did. I never responded to what my mother would say. I became a really good listener, and by that I mean, I usually tuned her out and stayed away from our house as much as possible.

In my imagination, I pretended like she wasn’t my biological mother. That she had kidnapped me from a beautiful wealthy family, who were still out there looking for their long lost child. If it were true, they sure as shit never found me. I continued to live in my own personal hell, designed specifically for lil ole me, where I cried myself to sleep, and thought about brighter days ahead. These brighter days that I speak of never really came. I lived a very fucked up life, that even now I think back on and say; I must have been a really shitty person in a past life or something. The cards that were dealt in this lifetime, fucking sucked. Yet time heals all wounds… right? What’s that saying, that the past always repeats itself…?

The real fucked up part that I haven’t gotten into yet, is that I fucking loved my newfound power that I had over horny boys.

I loved the attention that I got from boys and the leverage that I held in my hand with my pussy, not that I ever gave them that part. The fact that I had one was all the power I needed. I craved it. I wanted it. To a normal person, yes, my life was fucked up, but to me, I embraced it. I had to. We all have human survival instincts. I chose mine. Nobody chose it for me, so this isn’t a “woe is me” story. I’m not asking, nor am I looking for sympathy. I enjoyed doing the things that I had to do, to sustain life, maybe it’s hereditary or something, to be a whore, a slut, a prostitute. That’s what I grew up to be.

That’s what I knew. That’s what I became.

I wasn’t just some prostitute sucking dick for nickels and dimes. I was “The Prostitute”, the more politically correct word for my Madam would be that I was an escort. I worked for an elite service that provided anything and everything for just the right amount of money. I was a VIP (Very Important Pussy), but I’m getting ahead of myself here so let me start again. Let me, let you into my own personal fucked up psyche.

 

 

Julia and I played at the waterhole every day for three months straight. My birthday came and went, and we celebrated at our waterhole. It quickly became our special place. I had taught Julia how to jump off the tire swing, do the backstroke, and swim underwater. Her underwater breath count had increased to one minute and ten seconds. She complained that it wasn’t as great as mine; almost two minutes. I was proud of her, nonetheless.

She had been a nervous wreck for the last week, because her sister Olivia was going to arrive that day. She was thrilled to have someone to share all her secrets with. That confused me, because Julia had and would always have me. Plus, she told me everything anyway, she said that this was different. As much as I loved her, she confused the hell out of me sometimes.

They had been meeting with Olivia two times a month for months now at the adoption place, and it was finally time for her to come home. I waited for them to return in their living room. I had helped with all the decorations the night before, I sure hoped this girl liked purple and pink, since that’s the color of all the decorations. It looked like Barney threw up and then exploded in here. I heard the garage door open, turned off the TV, and walked to the kitchen.

As I was walking into the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks. Julia stood there holding the hand of the most adorable girl I had ever seen. My mouth parted slightly, my eyes got really big, I could feel my heart beating in my throat, and my hands got really sweaty. I had absolutely no idea what the hell was happening to me, all I knew was that I never wanted it to stop. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Julia was tiny and Olivia was even tinier. She had long dark hair, tan skin, big green eyes, and big lips that I felt the urge to want to kiss. Wait…what? Kiss…no…that can’t be right? What’s wrong with me?

“Sebby, are you okay?” Julia asked, bringing my train of thought right back in the moment.

“Uh…yeah…yeah…I’m fine,” I replied, realizing then how dry my mouth had become.

“All right…Sebastian this is my sister, Olivia. Olivia this is my best friend, Sebastian. I call him, Sebby.”

Olivia released Julia’s hand, came right over to me, and threw her tiny frame onto me for the warmest hug. She stood as high as she could on her tippy toes, put her arms around my neck, and her face into my chest.

“Hi, Sebby,” she said in the softest voice I had ever heard. For some reason, my initial reaction was to look over at Julia. I saw the most pained and stunned look on her face, and I didn’t know what I could say or do to make it better, but I didn’t want Olivia to let go.

“Hi, Olivia,” I responded. I knew right then and there, I was done for. I have a feeling that Julia sensed it as well. I don’t know. We were kids, I cannot really explain it, and it was just there. I’m sure of it. What was there? That I didn’t know, however, it was something.

From that day on, we were a threesome. Where you would find one, you would find the other two. It’s just the way it was with us, I can’t really explain that either. They were just my girls, plain and simple.

I don’t know that I have ever been more curious about a girl, than I was about Olivia. Hmm…maybe, I had some sort of a fascination with her. I was happy to learn that she wasn’t in foster care because she had been abused, just rotten luck.

She didn’t really remember her mother. She had died of an accidental overdose when she was three. I guess her father was some sort of a loser. The only other family that she had was a grandmother, with severe diabetes and one leg, who wasn’t able to take care of her.

She liked the two foster homes that she had lived in. They were good to her, although neither of them were in the market to adopt any of the kids. It made me happy to know that she grew up happy. I’m not sure that I could have handled knowing someone hurt her. 

The first few months of Olivia living with Julia had been some of the most memorable moments of my life. Olivia took to us, like gum does to the bottom of your shoe. She was similar to Julia in a lot of ways. It was hard to remember that they weren’t real sisters. However, you would never be able to get away with saying that to Julia. She loved her way more than any blood-related sibling I had ever seen. The love was mutual; Olivia loved her just the same. To say it wasn’t awesome that I had two girls that I could call my best friends, would be stupid. I didn’t care that they were girls, or that I was outnumbered in almost everything. The happiness that they brought into my life daily, was worth it.

 

For six months, we had been trying to get Olivia to jump off the tire swing, and she swore that today was going to be the day that she would do it. Julia and I impatiently waited for her to take the leap.

The swing swayed forward for the fifth time.

“Come on, Oli, you can do it! Just close your eyes, and jump already,” Julia yelled.

“NO! I can’t do it, it’s too high. I’m too scared. I’m going to hurt myself. I’m going to get down!” she yelled back.

“Oli…don’t you dare chicken out again, you can do this! You see Jules and I do it all the time. You know you’re not going to get hurt, just jump!”

She frantically shook her head back and forth.

“All right, I’ve had enough of this. You’re doing it today! I’m coming up there, and we’re going to do it together,” I demanded, running out of the water to stop the swing before she had a chance to say no. I caught Olivia by the waist, right before she was about to haul ass, and run away.

“Oh no you don’t…you are going to jump off this swing today…ouch…stop fighting me, Oli! This is happening.”

“No, no, no, no, no…I don’t want to do it anymore, Sebby, I don’t want to… please… I don’t want to!” Julia could hear the panic in her voice, and ran over.

“Sebby, leave her alone! She doesn’t want to, you BIG BULLY!” she shouted. Olivia turned to me with her big, sad puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, come on Oli, you can do this. I’ll be right there with you. I’ll put you right on my back, and all you have to do is hang on. Okay?” I pleaded.

She took a long deep breath and put her hands on her hips. I swear, she already had each and every one of Julia’s mannerisms down.

“Fine, if something happens to me, Sebastian Vanwell, you have no one to blame but yourself. You can tell everyone that you are the reason that I am dead,” she replied. I swear girls can be sooooo dramatic, Thank God that these girls had me or they would be such big wimps.

“Perfect! I’ll take full blame. I would never let anything happen to you, Oli,” I assured her with a serious face.

“Yeah…yeah…I know,” she replied with a smile. Julia and Olivia laughed before Julia ran back into the water to watch. Olivia jumped on my back, and I couldn’t help feeling the same way that I had felt the first time I saw her; I had named it “the jitters”. I don’t know, maybe I was going through puberty, who knows. I did have the jitters with her though. That’s for sure, no doubt about it.

“Hang on, and whatever you do, don’t let go,” I ordered. She took another deep breath, and nodded. I moved us to the front of the tire, and shoved my legs back so that it started to swing. Once I felt like we were at a good rhythm that we could jump from, I looked back at Olivia. Her eyes were shut tight and she was biting her bottom lip.

“Don’t bite your lip…you ready?” I asked.

She hesitated. “Nooo…”

I grabbed on to the back of her legs, and pushed our bodies into the air. Olivia locked her ankles around my stomach, and squeezed my neck as hard as she could. She clung to me like a spider monkey. I was lucky I didn’t pass out from lack of oxygen, although what a way to go. We splashed into the water moments later, and when we resurfaced Olivia’s body was now clung onto the front of me. I don’t know how we got into that position, but it felt fantastic. We were both laughing.

“That was so much fun, Sebby, let’s do it again!” She begged, gyrating her hips on my lower body over and over again. I couldn’t help that I started to get hard, and by the look on her face, she could feel it too.

“What is that, Sebby?” she questioned in an innocent tone. I blushed and pushed her away.

“Nothing, Oli,” I didn’t realize how far back we were, I couldn’t even see Jules. “Come on, let’s swim back.” She jumped back on me, resuming her position. I could have never imagined what happened next. She closed her eyes, leaned in, and kissed me right on my lips. I kept my eyes open the entire time. I had never kissed anyone before. She pulled back and opened her eyes.

“I feel it too,” she said in a sweet quiet tone. I didn’t know what to say. She moved her body to my back like nothing had happened, like she wasn’t aware that I suddenly couldn’t breathe, let alone focus enough to swim us back.

“Come on…let’s go!” she ordered as she thrust her hips on my back like I was a horse or something.

 

 

I never considered myself a beautiful girl, from what people and boys often told me, I was flawless. I have tan skin like a caramel color, bright green eyes, long brown hair which is wavy in the back and straight in the front, and voluptuous lips that I may have gotten from my father, because my mother didn’t have them. I’m 5’6 and weigh about 110 on a good day, 34 C breasts, tiny waist, and a Brazilian booty. I have no idea what my heritage or nationality is. I know my mother was beautiful as well though. She never had a problem getting men. My mother was Caucasian. I imagine my father was Latin or African American. I’m not even sure who the guy was. I could have very well been a product of a one paid night with my mother. Who knows?

What I did inherit from my mother, was her bright green eyes. I haven’t seen her in over nine years. I left the moment I turned sixteen, and have never looked back. I don’t know if my mother is alive or dead. She has never tried to find me or vice versa. I have no remorse or regret for leaving her. In my mind, she died way before I actually left.

I moved to Miami, Florida the day I turned sixteen, with no more than the clothes on my back and $100 in my purse. My home, which I don’t even think you could call it that, was a piece of shit; we never had air conditioning, and it always smelled like sex. No lie, it smelled like sex, yes, sex has a smell. It’s a musky aroma of sweat, condoms, and semen. You know the feeling of when you’re outside and you smell the weather changing. It’s in the air, the aroma is different. Sex is kind of like that too. It’s a smell that once you inhale, you never forget. It’s a smell that grew comforting to me throughout the years, and at times still is.

I never had any friends, and to be honest; I never really wanted any. Girls are too dramatic and problematic for my taste. I had my own problems, and they didn’t involve what I would be wearing to school tomorrow or if I finished my calculus homework. I mean I went to school, it just didn’t really stick; let’s face it, a girl like me would never be able to afford to go to college or to even think about getting scholarship money. Fuck, I didn’t care enough about my grades to even try. I kept to myself, and people didn’t really bug me.

If you want to be invisible you just sort of become invisible. I don’t even think my teachers knew I was there, let alone my fellow classmates. The boys, however, oh yes the boys, they knew me…this is where I was smart, or stupid, depending on how you want to perceive it. In my case it was smart. This is where I applied myself. I had about four to five different boys that I would use. One could say that they used me, fuck that, I definitely used them! I kept them on rotation and chose different guys from different social groups, so that they wouldn’t know about each other and they wouldn’t gossip about me. 

They kept me fed. I guess you could say it was like my job. I mean they gave me money sometimes, when I would asked for it. Though, how much money can a fifteen year old kid really have, so mostly I got food, sometimes shelter, and if they had any sisters then they might try to steal some make up or clothing for me. I never asked where anything came from, I just took it, and they never offered any information, so it was an unspoken agreement. Actually, we did very little talking, it was a service for a service situation.

I gave my first hand job when I was thirteen, sucked my first dick when I was fourteen, got finger fucked when I was fifteen, and had sex when I was sixteen. I know…I waited until I was sixteen to have sex after being raped, and I did it for $100 to get the fuck out of Tampa and away from my mother. Best decision I ever made! The sex wasn’t so bad though, it didn’t last very long. It was in the backseat of his pickup truck. The guy was a senior, and he didn’t want to go away to college a virgin, so in reality, I kind of did him a favor. I laid on my back and spread my legs, staring at his stained roof, as I tried not to inhale the shitty smell of motor oil lurking in the atmosphere. Three minutes and ten thrusts later, I was on my way. To ask if I had the big O, and saw stars would be a fucking joke, it sucked.

Now the first time I ever felt a sense of power, was the first time I sucked cock. Of course, I wasn’t very good at it, but damn, did it feel good to be able to make a guy react that way using my mouth. The surge of adrenaline that I felt by having the condom fill with his load was indescribable. It felt amazing to feel like nothing in the world mattered, except what I was doing to this boy.

I chose Miami, because it was the farthest that $100 could get me. He drove me to Miami before heading off to his University. Oh, and I know what you’re thinking, yes I ALWAYS used protection, I’m not fucking stupid. I didn’t want an STD or end up with a little shit like me. This guy wasn’t so bad though; he was actually kind of nice. He gave me another $100 bucks, because I gave him road head. He didn’t ask for it I just offered. Who says chivalry is dead?

Once I got to Miami, I didn’t know what I was going to do for the essential things in life, you know; food, money, and shelter. I was beginning to think that this was a bad idea, and maybe I should just turn around and head back home. Then I thought to myself and realized; I barely had that at home, so what the fuck was the use of going back to that hellhole?

I got out of the guy’s truck and walked my happy ass to the nearest bar. I figured I could either get picked up or get drunk, both thoughts appealed to me. Upon entering the bar, I had several people looking at me, I mean, hadn’t they ever seen a chick with a backpack before? Maybe they were wondering why I had all my life’s possessions on my back, or maybe they were just checking out my rack, who the fuck knows. I sat at the bar and ordered a Cuba Libre; when in Rome, right? The guy didn’t even ask for my ID, which was sort of disappointing, because I had one made from one of the computer geeks at my school, I was itching to use it.

Looking up at the bartender, I realized he was pretty handsome. He had dark skin, dark eyes, short black hair, and seemed taller than six feet. He was sporting a five o’clock shadow that kind of made him seem edgy. He looked Latin. His build was impressive; even through his clothes, I could tell he was well-built. What really caught my attention was his smile. I had never seen a more sincere welcoming smile before. Something about it was genuine. When he handed me my drink I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and that he had really big hands.

“Do you know of any places hiring?” I asked.

He looked at me and smiled, “What are you looking to do?”

I thought about it before I answered. I wanted to come off confident.

“I’m not quite sure. I’m a fast learner though. I just need to make some money and by that, I mean today. I just picked up and moved here from Tampa, so I need to make some money fast; not really crazy about living on the streets,” I halfheartedly smiled.

He contemplated what I was saying, giving me a once over with a questioning glare.

“What’s your name, and how old are you?” he asked. My nerves piqued just a bit. It wasn’t that I couldn’t lie. I could lie. I was damn good at it. I just hoped that I could get away with the five years that I needed to add to my age. I looked twenty-one, people often told me that I did.

I stuck out my hand to shake his, “Ysabelle Telle, twenty-one, you?”

He shook my hand. “Devon Hill, twenty-nine.”

“Well nice to meet you, Devon Hill.” I gave him a flirty smile. “Now, about any hiring’s, do you think you could help me?” I bit my bottom lip in the enticing way that worked with the guys back home that I had become accustomed to. I knew how to flirt to get what I wanted. I was damn good at that too.

He considered what I was saying.

“Let me see what I can do.”

He walked to the back of the bar.

I took that time to look around the place. The bar looked very upscale. I was sitting at the first bar by the front doors. There were white leather couches that extended throughout all of the back and sidewalls, with small tables in front to accommodate expensive drinks. Above the back wall was a balcony looking thing, and DJ equipment. Attached with its own set of stairs. Right in the middle of the place were tables with white cloths and chairs tucked underneath. There were a few people sitting around having some drinks. One of the tattooed covered guys smiled my way. I smiled, and continued to inspect the club. I didn’t want to be rude to the guy. I may need to use him for a few bucks if I didn’t get this job.

At the back of the bar was a dance floor, as shiny as glass. I was sure guys loved that, there was no doubt that the floor reflected like a mirror. Right before the dance floor were two sets of stairs, leading to a second floor that looked even more striking than the first. There also appeared to be another bar in the middle of the room, along with leather couches and tables. I looked back on the first floor and saw that there was another bar to the left of the dance floor. It seemed that they would need a lot of bartenders, considering it had three bars. I pondered that thought, as I downed my drink. Before I knew it, Devon returned and handed me an application with a pen.

“Fill this out and you can start today? Do you have any bartending or waitress experience?”

“No…like I said though, I’m a really fast learner.”

“All right then, I can have you start bartending today. Just shadow me and we will see how fast you pick it up. If I like what I see, I’ll put you on the schedule. I’ll just pay you under the table until we see if you’re going to work, and then we’ll talk about putting you on the payroll. Deal?” he asked with an extended hand.

I shook his hand. I would de-rail the payroll thing as long as I could. I didn’t need him running my social, informing him of my true age, not to mention my mother. I wasn’t too worried that she would be looking for me. She never cared what I was doing or where I was before. The only thing that would send her looking for me would be the fact that she didn’t have my food stamps, to ensure she had drugs anymore. Fuck her. She could sell her body for her fix. I wasn’t being anybody’s pawn. Ever again.

“Are you the owner?” I asked, shaking his hand.

“I am,” he replied.

I put the pen to the corner of my lip and bit on it. I don’t know why I was flirting, I already had the job.

“Huh, you’re awfully young to be owning something.”

“And you are awfully gorgeous,” he smirked. “You’ll definitely bring in a crowd for me. I inherited this club from an uncle, who passed away a few years ago.”

I brought the pen back down on the application. “Oh…I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t sweat it, Kid. It happened a long time ago. He was a mean old bastard anyway, but he did know how to run a great place. It was successful before I ever got my hands on it. I was fortunate enough to have a business degree from college, so I knew a thing or two about running a business. What brings you to Miami?”

I started working on the application. I didn’t want to look him in the eyes.

“I was over living in my hometown. I wanted to expand my horizons.” I looked back at him. “You know?”

He nodded his head. “Yeah, I can understand that. I was born and raised in Miami. I moved to Gainesville to go to UF for college, and somehow I wound up back here anyway.”

I noticed then that Devon was a talker and he wasn’t shy about sharing. Though I found myself not minding his openness, he was authentic, and I liked that.

I grinned at him. “You sound like you got your shit together, Devon. Care to share your secret?”

He laughed. “I think I’m gonna like ya, Kid. You say what’s on your mind, great quality to have. The guys will be taken with you…which will make my bar happy, as well as your wallet.”

“I think you’re giving me more credit as far as my appearance goes, thank you anyhow.”

He left me alone for a few minutes to finish my application. When he came back, he introduced me to some of the staff and gave me a tour. Once we were finished touring the exquisite night club, he walked me to a back restroom and asked me if I had anything else to wear. I must have looked at him funny. He called one of the bartenders that I had just met and asked her to “help me out”. His words, not mine. She handed me a black corset top and told me to leave my bra on with it, and to change into some tight jeans. I’d never worn a corset anything before, so she had to help me with the ties on the back. She pulled the ties so tight, I had to tell her that I couldn’t breathe. She loosened them a little with a snicker.

“You’ll make a lot more tips with it tight like this. You’ll get used to the not breathing part. Beauty is pain, right?" she said and I smiled, nodding at her.

After I finished changing, I looked in the mirror to survey myself. The first thing that caught my eyes were my breasts, they were to my chin, and my waist was smaller than usual, which made my ass stick out more. All in all, I was pretty impressed with myself. I could see what she meant by making more tips this way. My breasts would be in the guys’ faces every time I would lean over. With this ensemble, I would need to be on nipple slip patrol. Since I never really wore any makeup, I really didn’t have very much to work with, so I just went heavy on the black mascara and eyeliner. I applied some blush, and went with my favorite flavored strawberry lip-gloss.

After I did one more check in the mirror, I walked out from the bathroom, and ran right into Devon. He raised a huge smile at me.

“You clean up nice! You looked great before, now you just look amazing. Are you ready?”

“I am,” I assured him with a smile.