Biting the Apple   2 comments

 The morning sun glistens off the water, shimmering diamonds of light bouncing off the roof of the car. I smile as one of many dreams has come true. I’ve seen the Lady and She is breathtaking.

  He pulls to the side of the road as I’m giving  the other riders a kiss, having spent five days in the van with most of them, I’ve come to think of them as friends. I grab my bag,  make sure everything is inside and hop out of the side door, calling out farewells and laughing. They drive away and I look around Manhattans busy streets, catching the bustle of daily life full force.

   I begin to wander and soon find myself in Times Square, gaping up at the tall buildings in awe. Sitting down on the railing of a subway entrance, I stare at the people, my small town mind awhirl. Not even Denver had prepared me for THIS. I am overwhelmed.

  Pretty soon I’m getting hungry and walk around to find something to eat. I find the Port Authority and spot a hotdog cart on the corner. I ask the vendor for a dog and he asks what kind of toppings. I look at the menu and laugh “Is there actually a hot dog on those buns?” “t the guy laughs “Yup, somewheres in there isa dog, just don’t go lookin for it or it’ll bitecha” I get one with “everything” and hold it in my small hands, I probably looked terrified because it was so HUGE. The guy and I talked between my bites and his customers.

  He tells me about a hostel close by where I can sleep in a room for thirty dollars a night “it ain’t much but ya don’t look like ya got much cash. What are ya, fifteen or so?” I shrug “Or so. Do they ask for ID?” “Yeah but you tell them Jim sentcha, he’ll fix ya right up” He answers. I thank him and head across the street, down a block and over a half block to the hostel. I get a room for two nights with the fifty dollars I have and make an arrangement with the manager for two nights “on the house” I head up to the room, take a long HOT shower and climb into bed. It’s 1PM and I’m beat. Plenty of time to find something to do after dark.

Hours later I wake, stretch and lay looking at the ceiling. It’s dark but I can still hear the traffic outside, six floors below my window. Curios, I slip out and over to the window. I open the blinds and am awarded the sight of a million jewels shimmering before my eyes. My window looks out over the street, filled with cars. I look at my watch and am amazed. Nine o’clock at night and traffic is at a standstill below.

  I slip into a pair of black slacks, a black lace top, sans bra and a white, button up shirt, unbuttoned. A pair of white sandals slipped onto my feet and the key to my room in my pocket. I put on my work face and slip out the door, catching the elevator to the lobby. I take my time leaving, looking over the grand entry before slipping into the chilly night.

I’m walking past open doors that reek of alcohol, neon signs touting nude girls and a theater, up to Times Square. I stand on the corner, marvelling at the lights of the square, reading the signs for the shows on the stages and imagining the ball dropping in a couple of days. I shiver as snowflakes begin falling lightly and pull my jacket tighter around me.

  As I stand there, looking, a man walks up to me and asks if I’m working. I giggle and say “Well, I wasn’t but if you’re looking, I’m working” He chuckles, takes my elbow in his large hand and leads me to a nearby hotel. We discuss the prices as we’re walking and when we get to his room, he hands me two hundred dollars. “um.. this isn’t the amount I said, Sir.” I say as I look at the money “I know, hun, but that’s the going price up here in New York for a sweet young thing like you. I know you ain’t of age and that costs more. I just giving you what I think you’re worth” He explains. “If you aren’t happy with me are you gonna beat me up or something?” I ask. He chuckles as he pulls me into his arms “oh, don’t worry. I’m going to enjoy you very much”

  He uses me for a few hours and sends me on my way with a hundred-dollar tip. Three hundred dollars in three hours. I’m VERY pleased with this and decide to see if I can find someplace to get something to eat. I find a chicken place on the corner that, amazingly, is open. I get some food and, as I’m standing at the counter eating, a black man comes up and starts talking to me. He introduces himself as “Hollywood” and tells me that he wants to take me to get a drink. I laugh and shake my head “I’m not old enough to be in a bar” He grins lopsided “I know, I’m talkin bout my place”

  After two drinks, I’m pretty drunk. We’ve talked for a while and he’s told me that he’s a pimp. He wants me to work for him and I laugh at him “Now what in the world do you have that I need to pay you for?” He grabs my hair and pulls me to him, his eyes hard as he growls “Either you work for me or I’ll beat yo ass, bitch. Hows that for somethin yo needin?” I whimper and nod, swallowing hard before speaking, my voice barely a whisper “Just don’t hurt me” He slaps my face hard with his free hand “DON’T be tellin me what to do, whore. You’re mine and I’ll do whatever I want. Got it?” I yelp and nod sobbing “Yes, please don’t hurt me!”

  Angrily he throws me to the floor and tells me to get undressed. I do so as fast as I can, holding my clothing to my chest and crying. He yanks my clothes from me and throws them aside “I wanna see you, slut, stop hiding yo fat ass.” He grabs my breasts hard, pinching the nipples till I cry out in pain then slaps me “Shut it, bitch. No screaming or I’ll give you sumptin ta scream about” He slaps my ass and stomach, telling me I’m too thick, that he’s going to starve me till I get in shape because no one likes a fat ass. He pinches and pokes for a while then suddenly grabs me, throws me onto the couch, pressing my face into the wall. He’s breathing hard and digging his fingernails into my scalp. I feel him moving behind me, his hands move to my ass cheeks. He spreads my cheeks and suddenly thrusts his cock into my ass without lube or warning. I scream into the couch, the pain so great that I throw up on the cushions.

  After he’s done raping me, he beats me for throwing up on the couch then makes me clean up he mess before he allows me to go take a shower. Before getting into the shower, I look at myself in the mirror. I’ve got a black eye starting and my bottom lip is split. I step into the shower and sit down gingerly, curl my arms around myself and cry.

After my shower, Hollywood looks at me with disgust and tells me to get dressed. He takes me to a seedy looking part of Manhattan where a number of girls are working. He tells me to get to work as he pulls to the curb. My quota? Three hundred dollars.

2 responses to “Biting the Apple

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  1. Oh my god. You remind me of someone close to me — you are obviously a true survivor. And a damn good writer, too.


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