Chapter 10

By Anj (A.k.a. Azurenon)

Introduction: At the age of seventeen, Darby Jennings is once again running away from a very abusive home life. This time, however, she's dressed as a boy. Along her rather short journey she meets up with a "call girl" or "lady of the evening". This story follows the early trials and tribulations of their rather unique relationship, as well as, their struggles with the malevolent human forces attempting to tear them apart. It is part romance, part drama, with an attempt at suspense and/or mystery. This is NOT an Uber story. Although I love the daring duo (and written fan fiction with a partner, under the pseudonyms "Azurenon and Savanna Mac" posted on this very site) you won't find them here.

DISCLAIMERS: No copyright infringement is intended by the use of titles, artist's names and/or lyrics of the songs contained herein. These have merely been used for entertainment value and possible storyline continuity. All the characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental.


Violence: This story contains scenes and/or references to physical, emotional and sexual violence.

Sex: It centers on an explicit sexual relationship between two women. It is intended for MATURE AUDIENCES. So if you're under age 18, this is illegal where you are or this just isn't your cup of tea, then you have been forewarned, please exit stage left. If you are mature enough and I've captured your attention, then moving right along here...

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Be it known the author has no firsthand knowledge concerning physical or sexual violence. Nor does she even pretend to know anything about "call girls" or "ladies of the evening". Therefore, I ask that the reader please forgive any mistakes and/or oversights. Especially so in the area of giving the healing process of such aforementioned experiences the in-depth attention they so richly deserve. This story is complete fiction, written merely for entertainment. In its entirety, it contains 23 chapters: at around 10 pgs per chapter.

Thanks go to all my friends for their support and encouragement over the years.

(Written 1993. Revised 2001)

        April 30th, I was standing at the door of Dora's new nightclub called appropriately: "Country Nights", extolling the virtues of paying eight dollars right then, to be able to get into both clubs, as opposed to ten if they decided to go into Anna's later. Most were only pulling out the five dollars for Dora's. And if there was a woman on the guy's arm, I hesitated in bringing up the subject, for the first few women had glared at me, then dragged their man off.

        After ten, Barry moved me to waiting on tables. I got my first taste of a rowdy customer, when a redneck, with a snake tattoo on his hand, reached around behind me and copped a feel of my butt, through my jeans. I stepped away and glared at him.

        "Awh, come on honey. It was just a friendly little feel."

        "Friendly feels don't come with price of the cover charge," I told him.

        "Oh no, then how much will it cost me, hmm?"

        I realized I'd just put my foot in my mouth. "They ain't for sale," I answered. "Now, do you want to order a drink or not. I've got other customers."

        "Ooo, sassy ain't she?" he said to his counterparts. "I just love a strong willed female. Get me a Bud Dry, little miss sassy," he added, looking me up and down.

        "And what can I get you gentleman?" I asked, his counterparts.

        The ugly one, with rotten looking teeth said, "I'll take two tits."

        The other one with greasy hair and five o'clock shadow added, "And I'll take a healthy heapin'a ass."

        Then all three busted out laughing. I just stood there, until they stopped. "You wanna order now?"

        "I just did," greasy hair answered. "You gonna fill my order, honey?"

        I wanted to fill his face with something, but I didn't say so. "Okay, one Bud Dry," I said and started away.

        "Hey, honey wait. Make that three," rotten teeth called out.

        "Any problems?" Barry asked, as I approached the bar.

        "Assholes," I mumbled.

        "Yep, they come with the territory. Just keep calm."

        Around twelve, I saw Anna standing near the alcove. She was watching me. I gave my order to the bartender then started making my way towards her. Before I got there, however, she was gone. I looked all around for her, but she was nowhere in sight.

        "Darby... Darby," the bartender was now calling and motioning.

        Around two, I started cleaning up the empty tables. There were only a few customers left, two of them new recruits with skinned heads. The waitresses had gone home leaving only me the bartender and Barry -who was in his office. It had been a fair night. Tomorrow night should be even better, I thought. And hopefully, I would get used to all the wisecracks and the hands that reached out.

        So far that night, I'd had my ass felt of four times, while taking orders; my crotch stroked once, when I reached across the table to get an empty beer bottle, teaching me never to do that again; and I'd had beer spilled down the front of my white blouse when a woman, who got mad at her husband for staring at me, jumped up, hitting the tray I was holding. He apologized and offered to help clean up her mess. In my flustered condition, I hadn't had sense enough to say no, and so found my breast being groped by a napkin-covered hand.

        All in all, it had been a unique learning experience. One I was wondering if I wanted to repeat or not.

        I was leaning over an empty table, wiping it off, when a male voice from behind me said, "Ooo honey, stay just like that." Hands were planted on my waist, as he pressed himself against my backside, pinning me to the table.

        "Hey! Get... off me!"

        "I been watchin' you all night, sweetheart. Umph, you're a looker. Can't you tell how much I want ya?" He pressed himself against me harder and yes I could tell. It reminded me so much of my father that it nearly made me sick.

        "Get off me, motherfucker!" I growled.

        "Ooo baby, you got a foul mouth. You need somethin' to wash that out with and I got just the thing." He grabbed me by the back of my hair. "Come on, let's you and me go back here to the bathroom and..."

        "What'cha doing, Stan?" A familiar scratchy voice asked.

        He eased up on my hair. "Umm... we's jest discussin' havin' ourselves a party, watn't we, honey?" He put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me upright.

        "Let go of me!" I growled.

        He chuckled, as if he were a bit uneasy then let go. I moved away from him and saw he was watching Anna intently.

        "Now Stan, I think you know she didn't want to have no party with you, don'cha?" she asked, her voice very calm.

        "Awh, I jest come on a bit too strong and... well you know how it is."

        "Oh yeah, I know how it is," Anna assured him, as if she knew him well. "And you know that if you don't get out of here right now, Tiny over there's gonna come in here and put you out, don'cha?"

        "Awh, Anna, I's jest havin' a little fun, no harm done. See, she's alright."

        Anna never took her eyes off him. "She better be. Now, why don'cha just hit the road," she said, her voice as calm as when she had first started speaking.

        He glanced between me and her. "She one of your girls?"

        "Does that matter? We're all just one big happy family out here. And you were mistreatin' one of my... sisters. And you know I don't like that. Now either you take your fun and games elsewhere or..."

        "Okay... okay. I'm goin'... I'm goin'." He backed away, glancing from me to her.

        I knew from his expression that this would not be the last I would see of Stan.

        She watched him until he was out the door, then she turned to me. "You alright?"

        "Yeah, just... embarrassed."

        She turned around and eyed the two remaining patrons. The two soldiers turned their droopy, bloodshot eyes away. "Come over to the club when you get through. I'll be waitin' for you."

        "Anna, thanks for..." I paused, when she cut her eyes over at me. I could now see the anger in them. I knew she did not want to see me just to comfort me.

        I was going to get chewed out.

        I walked into her small cubbyhole office. She was sitting behind the metal desk, her feet propped up on it, waiting for me. She stared at the calendar on the wall, as I slid into the only chair in the room, which was in front of her desk. I felt like a kid being kept after class.

        She took her feet down off the desk, then got up from her chair and went to the door. I heard her close it. I assumed I was really in for it, if she didn't want to be disturbed. I watched her walk back to her desk, the gold belt around her short black spandex skirt, dangling down and swaying with her hips, and her round braless breasts bobbing beneath the silky white blouse. She sat back down in the armless chair and placed her elbows on the desk, her fingers interlaced in front of her. The gold charm between her breasts glared at me from her partially open blouse. I'd seen her go out of the house dressed like this, but hadn't wanted to think about how blatantly sexual and available she really looked.

        A few seconds later, she was reading me the riot act on rowdy customers. She didn't like what she'd been witness to one damn bit. And wanted to know what I would have done if she hadn't been there? Then she told me how I should have handled it; calmly talking my way out of the vulnerable situation until I could get away.

        I was in tears before she finished, at which time she fell silent, allowing me time to get myself together. She even handed me a Kleenex.

        When my eyes were dry and my nose had stopped dripping, I heard her chair squeak and the wheels roll on the floor.

        "Cum'mere," she said, softly.

        I glanced up to find her watching me with sad, concerned eyes. "Cum'mere, baby." She held out her arms.

        In no time, I was astride her in the chair, my arms around her neck, hers around my waist and her face pressed against my chest.

        "You'll never know how much I wanted to jam his fuckin' balls so far up his ass they'd never see day light again," she hissed. "Fuckin' bastard." She nuzzled her head against my breasts. "And I wanted to say 'Yeah, she's my girl. You're fuckin' with the wrong woman now, you sonofabitch. She's mine!'"

        I was very flattered by this. She had always been protective, but it had so far been in a motherly fashion. Now, she was acting like a jealous and possessive lover. I liked this better.

        I kissed the top of her head, inhaling the delicate aroma that was her own. I wasn't mad at her for yelling at me; I knew she was only mad about the situation. She'd had to tell me things which she'd wanted to avoid, altogether. This was a portion of that "other life" she had been protecting me from.

        She'd tried to tell me that there were animals in the jungle and like a child I hadn't listened. Yet, she had not prevented me from entering this domain, she'd allowed me to make my own decision about that. And now she was merely nursing the wounds of my first encounter with one of those jungle animals.

        "I couldn't stand seein' him puttin' his hands on you," she added, as she nuzzled her face between my breasts, lightly kissing each one. Then she pulled back, abruptly. "Why do you smell like beer?" she inquired, looking up at me.

        "I... had an... accident."

        She gazed at my cleavage. "Perhaps, I should check for damages, hmm?" Her hands quickly moved to the front of my shirt, where she began unbuttoning it. "Is this my bra?"

        "Uh-huh, sorry... I waited until the last minute to wash mine and... they weren't dry when I got ready."

        "And when, do tell, did you grow into my bras? Hmm?" she asked, pulling my shirt out of my pants.

        "Since you went to thirty six's... Jesus, Anna... there are people outside."

        "I know, that's why I locked the door."

        She unsnapped the bra and swept the loose cups aside so quickly that it startled me. I wasn't used to front opening bras. I gasped when she cupped my left breast and covered it with her mouth. But, I couldn't refuse her. I never had been able to since the first time. And it had been over a month since the fight. The longest we'd ever gone without, to date.

        "You didn't have an appointment, did you?" I questioned.

        "Um-um, I... cancelled them," she mumbled. "I couldn't... leave you alone... out here."

        "Oh god, baby, it's been a long time," I commented, giving in to that oh so wonderful feeling of desire and longing.

        "Too long," she mumbled, shifting her attention to the other one.

        I ran my fingers through her hair, pressing her close, the incident only a short while ago completely forgotten. It felt very exotic being with her here, like this; and oh so very naughty, like a kid cutting school on a warm spring day. I tilted her chin up and leaned down as far as I could to get a taste of her sweet lips. They were tinged with the aroma of beer and my perfume.

        She pulled away, after a moment, then returned to her previous position, one hand now working on the button of my jeans. We were both lost to each other.

        "Anna..." A familiar male voice called out.

        She stopped abruptly.

        "Shit!" she hissed, then said "Yeah?" I started to get up, but she held on to me saying, "Just wait, it may be nothin'."

        "Barry's lookin' for Darby, you seen her?" Tiny inquired.

        "Damn. Yeah, she'll be out in a minute."


        "Well, hell he don't know what we were doin'. I could be... doin' anything in here." She snapped my bra then buttoned up my shirt. "Better go see what he wants. When you get through come back over here. I don't want you drivin' home on that bike."


        "Stan the man is probably still out there lurkin' around. I'm sure he'd love to get his hands on you again and I ain't gonna play into them. You're too vulnerable on that bike."

        "Well, I can't just leave it here," I protested, tucking my shirt back in my pants. "Someone may... steal it."

        "Alright, give me the keys. I'll have Tiny bring it inside, how's that? You can pick it up tomorrow, in the daylight."

        I agreed then went to see what Barry wanted. Turns out he just needed to tell me he was going to close up and showed me the take.

        "Should be better tomorrow night. You still with us?" he inquired.

        I hesitated then nodded.

        Once home, she did not resume what she had started. She merely snuggled up to my back and fell asleep with her arm around me. We stayed that way for the rest of the night, I assume, for I awoke the next morning in the same position.

        "Ready to quit?" she asked at breakfast.

        "No, I'll stick it out. If you can handle that life, I can. And I'm gonna check into that Tech school. Maybe I can afford a few classes."

        "A few? Quit and you can go full time. I'll work somethin'..."

        "Hell no, you won't. Don't you get it, Anna? I wanna get you out of that trap, not further in it!"

        "And I want you as far away from it as I can get you!" she retorted.

        I sighed heavily and so did she. Life itself was a trap and we were both caught in it. For better or worse.

        I went back the next night, feeling a bit more in control. I merely smiled or ignored the comments according to how blatant they were. I brushed hands away from my behind, keeping my cool, and steered away from open "Cum'mere, honey" arms, that wanted to encircle my waist. To avoid another incident with a jealous woman and a bottle of beer, I complimented angry looking wives with "pretty blouse", "love your necklace", and "wish I had your sense of style". Anna said I shouldn't be perceived as such a threat this way. And it worked. A few of the women who had eyed me with disdain the night before, now smiled in my direction. I realized Anna knew how to work both sexes.

        I felt better about myself that night, after Barry let me go and I joined Anna in her club. This time, she waited until everyone was gone, and checked around before locking the outside doors. She then turned on the radio and we danced to a slow love song amid the tables.

        "You know, you're actually a good dancer," she commented, when the song ended. "If I... put on somethin' a bit more... stimulatin'... think you could follow my lead?"

        "I'll try."

        She disappeared into the back and the radio fell silent. She rejoined me a few seconds before a slow, erotic ballad by George Michael began playing. She then turned her back to me, pulling her hair over to one side and putting my arms around her waist. She ran her hands over my thighs and began swaying to the slow sensuous beat. I followed her every move, as best I could.

        I found myself kissing on her neck, moving my hands over her writhing body and singing to her, for I knew the song well. At the beginning of the chorus, she faced me and began singing along:

        "I will be the one who loves you, 'til the end of time," she whispered in my ear.

        She sang the next refrain by herself then I took over at the chorus:

        "If you are the desert... I'll be the sea. If you ever hunger, hunger for me... Whatever you ask for, that's what I'll be. So, when you remember the ones who have lied... Who said that they cared, but they left as you cried. Beautiful darlin', don't think of me, because all I ever wanted... It's in your eyes... baby.... and love can fly."

        "Greet me with the eyes of a child," she sang.

        "My lover's always telling me so," I joined.

        "Heaven is a kiss and a smile."

        "Just hold on, hold on, and won't let you go, my baby."

        We both were lost to it. We writhed together, almost as if we were making love through the dance. Needless to say, I was thoroughly aroused by the time it ended.

        It was immediately followed, however, by Madonna's "Justify My Love", which she sang, while dancing in front of me, as well as with me. It was a teasing, seductive and very erotic display.

        At one point she sang, "I wanna know you... Ummm, like that", then rubbed my crotch. "I don't wanna be your mother. I don't wanna be your sister, either. I just wanna be your lover. I wanna be your baby," she whispered. "Kiss me, that's right, kiss me."

        I did.

        She immediately pulled away from me and began slowly unbuttoning her blouse, while still singing along.

        Then she enticed me to her. "What are you gonna do?" she asked, unsnapping her bra. "What are gonna do?" She ran her finger down the front of her chest. "Talk to me. Tell me your dreams, am I in them?" She began unbuttoning my shirt. "Tell me your fears, are you scared? Tell me your stories. I'm not afraid of who you are." She ran her hands beneath the shirt. "We can fly." She kissed my neck.

        "Poor is the man whose pleasures depend on the permission of another," she whispered in my ear, while I freed her blouse from her skirt. "Love me, that's right, love me." I pressed her against me. "I wanna be your baby."

        Before the song ended, I had backed her against one of the tables and lifted her up on it. I had completely and totally lost all sense of time and space. Nothing mattered but the fire burning brightly between us.

        My hands were moving up her thighs underneath her skirt, when a familiar voice called out, "You two should put that in the show."

        "Jesus H. Christ!" I hissed. "I thought you locked up."

        "I did," she whispered, holding onto me. "Just be calm, it's only Rick."

        "Only Rick?" I screeched, trying to pull away.

        She held me more firmly. "Yes and if you move away, he's gonna see more than you want him to. Now, stay just like this and button up your shirt, hmm?" She cleared her throat. "Where'd you come from? I thought everyone was gone?"

        "Candy and I were next door dancin'," he answered. "Barry let us back in here before closin' up. Candy needed to get her things."

        How could they sound so calm? I wondered, my fingers trembling.

        "Oh, I see."

        "Sorry to... interrupt you, but... I thought I'd better let you know before..."

        "Yeah, sure, thanks." She cut him off.

        "You really oughta put that in the show. I'da never admitted it before, but... whew-wee, that was hot."

        "Rick!" Candy scolded.

        "Well, it's true," he defended. "I watched more than you did. You were back there, gettin' your stuff."

        "Jesus Christ!" I hissed, against the bare skin of her chest.

        She kissed the top of my head. "It wasn't meant for public display," she assured him. "But, thanks anyway."

        "Come on, Rick. Let's go," Candy said.

        They started towards the front door. "I'm serious," he called out. "Sump'um like that would pack'em in."

        "And get me thrown in jail," she added.

        He chuckled. "Yeah, it might at that. Oughta think about being a dancer," he said to me. "You got the moves for it."

        "Shit almighty," I cursed, softly.

        "Lock the door behind you," she called out.

        "Sure thing," answered Candy. "Other door's locked, too. So, if you want to... well.... See ya."

        We both heard the door shut behind them. "It's alright, baby," she assured me. "He couldn'a seen much."

        "He seen enough. You heard him."

        "Yeah." She chuckled.

        "What's so goddamn funny?"

        "I don't know. But, it's better than cryin'. Ain't nothin' we can do about it now."

        "We can go home."

        "Okay, if you'd rather."

        "You mean you'd wanna... do it, right here?"

        "Why not? You wanted to do it on the balcony."

        She had me there. The thing about the balcony still turned me on. I debated the options. "Let's go home," I finally said.

        "You don't like it here, huh?"

        "Table's too small."

        She glanced around us. "The bar isn't. Or... there's my desk."

        My mouth dropped open. "You ever done it here?" She shook her head. "On the balcony?" She shook her head again. "Come on, then." I led her towards her office. I'd get to the balcony later.

        I checked on the Tech School. I could only afford two classes, which met on Tuesday through Friday. Classes for the next quarter didn't start until late June, which gave me less than two months to save up some much-needed money.

        The weeks went by, as I settled into the routine of the job. Anna insisted that I ride to work with her. She didn't like the idea of me riding the bike home that late. She was still weary of "Stan the man" as she called him and told me why.

        He was known to harass the girls, especially if he caught them alone. He seemed to get off on the idea of forcing a woman. Or at least scaring the pure shit out of them. She had barred him from the club on several occasions when he was caught harassing one of her girls. There had been only one instance, however, where he was caught trying to put one into his truck. Tiny had cold cocked his butt that night, which was one reason he didn't like Tiny, nor the mention of his name. And I didn't like Stan anymore either after hearing this. I tried to be more aware of my surroundings, when Stan was anywhere nearby.

        I liked riding back and forth to work with Anna. And waiting for her after Country Nights had closed. She seemed to like it, too. And to my knowledge, as much as I saw her there, I didn't think she was taking any appointments, during business hours. Matter of fact, she seldom left the house anymore. The checking account balance slipped, but not alarmingly so. Dora's nightclub was drawing in a bit more business that made up for it.

        Near the end of June, on a slow Friday night, I slipped over to the club during business hours. There was a show in progress, so I stood at the doorway and looked around for Anna. When my eyes drifted to the stage, my mouth dropped open. She was up there, in the middle of her routine. I stumbled on trembling legs over to an empty table and sat down.

        I had heretofore been unaware of her professional dancing prowess. But, she was good; very good; too good. She was wearing a skimpy gold bikini like top and a red chiffon skirt. The song she was dancing to was none other than "Body Language" and she was now in the process of twirling around one of the poles, her left leg draped around it and her long hair flowing behind her. I was mesmerized, unable to take my eyes off her.

        She danced her way to the middle of the stage and keeping her back to the audience, removed the skirt, revealing the skimpy gold G-string beneath. As the singer belted out, "You've got the cutest ass I've ever seen," she took several small consecutive steps backwards, making her behind jiggle and shake enticingly. The men cheered. I knew what they were cheering about, for she had a beautiful body. I was already aware of this of course, but somehow underneath the lights, which enhanced the soft curves and writhing muscles that sprang up as she moved so gracefully and seductively, she looked even more beautiful.

        She did several more turns and undulating movements with her hips, then slowly, teasingly removed the skimpy gold top. When her breasts were finally exposed for all the world to see, I felt sick listening to the men cheer her on. That was my lover up there they were gawking at. She is mine! Goddammit, mine!

        But, then again, she wasn't. Not now. Not at this moment. She belonged to them; to anyone willing to put money in her G-string. I hated it. I didn't want their eyes roaming over those full, round, beautiful breasts that fit so perfectly into the palm of my hand. Whose brown areola and nipples grew even more taunt and erect than they were now, at my very touch. I especially didn't want their hands reaching up to touch her, while putting money in her G-string. Touching those shapely thighs that felt so soft and warm against my own. A part of me wanted to be able to stuff enough money in that G-string to bring her down off that stage, never to return.

        When the singer said, "Baby, you're hot," she suddenly bent over, playing to the small audience, while running her hands over her behind. That was all I could take. I jumped up and ran into the bathroom, nearly knocking down a tall, mocha brown dancer, named Jasmine, as I burst through the door.

        "Honey chil', what's yo' hurry?" she asked.

        I couldn't respond, I merely held up my hand and started for the sink.

        "Uh-oh," she said, walking up behind me. "You been drinkin', sweetie?"

        I retched into the sink. She turned on the water then moved away, her high heels clicking on the floor. She came back a second later, with a wet paper towel.

        "I know you ain't been hookin'," she said, wiping my forehead. "So, I doubt you's pregnant... unless you has yo'self a man. Now, what gives, hmm? You can tell Jasmine, honey."

        I liked Jasmine, I'd been around her several times at the house, as well as here. She was rather attractive, with her mocha complexion, big lips, and long wavy hair. She said she was of Spanish decent, but her accent said otherwise. She was a good-hearted prostitute, but had a big mouth that said exactly what she was thinking, which often times tarnished the former image.

        "Must've... been somethin'... I ate," I finally answered, taking the proffered wet towel.

        "Umph, well that's rough, ain't it? But honey... what you doin' over here? I thought you worked.... " Realization dawned in her eyes. I looked away. "First time you ever seen her dance, huh?"

        I couldn't hide it any longer. I nodded, as the tears began forming.

        "You know that's why she didn't want ya out here, don'cha?"

        I shook my head.

        "Men can't take it much, neither. They wanna fight, us'lly. But you... I 'spect she knowed it was gonna make you heart sick. And it did, didn't it?"

        I busted.

        "Oh sweet chil'," she said, pulling me into her arms. "Sweet, sweet chil'. Maybe you just shouldn'a come to work out here, hmm? I didn't think it was a good thing. Seems every female ever paid Anna any mind, always ends up disappearin' sooner or later. Mostly sooner." She patted me on the back.

        "Jasmine, what in the world...?" asked Brandi from behind us. I hadn't even heard her enter. "Anna's gonna pull every hair in that nappy head of your'n out."

        "Ah, shush yo' fuss!" Jasmine growled. "Can't you see this is a baby in tears? Now get yo'self outta here, if'n you ain't got nothin' pressin' to do."

        "What'cha cryin' 'bout, Cutie?" Brandi asked, her voice softening. She'd never called me anything else from that first day onward.

        "Uh-uh, Brandi. Get yo' little white ass out from he'ya. 'Cause I knows what yo' game is, missy. And you ain't runnin' it on this 'un," said Jasmine.

        "Kiss my ass, bitch!" Brandi shot back.

        "I'll mop this floor up with yo' white ass you don't get out of he'ya!" Jasmine shouted, as she let go of me and turned on Brandi.

        "Who gives a fuck anyway? Poor little lezzie can't stand on her own two feet." She chuckled. "What happened, ba-by? Some mean old man cop a feel of your precious little twat?"

        "Brandi, I'm warnin' ya," said Jasmine. "This baby ain't in no mood for yo' shit."

        "Fuck you." Brandi spun around on her heels and started towards the door. Then suddenly she came prancing back. "Oh, I know what it is.... your precious lover is out there spreadin' her legs and givin'em all a good look and you can't take it, can you?"

        "Brandi, you pushin' mighty hard," Jasmine warned.

        "She tell ya 'bout that show we did together for that old man?" Brandi continued, "Oh yeah, I know why you like her. She's re-eal good at goin' down." She paused. "Old man paid real well, too. Cause she was justa writhin' and moanin' and... lappin' like a dog."

        "Shut up!" I screamed.

        "Make me, you little snotty nosed lezzie!"

        That did it. I shot around Jasmine and headed straight for Brandi.

        "Come on, bitch!" she shouted, taunting me.

        I pulled up short, realizing I'd never actually fought with another human being in my life. The worst I'd done was push Anna upside the wall.

        "Fuck you, Brandi!" I exclaimed, "Just FUCK YOU!" I then turned towards the door to avoid further confrontation.

        Brandi laughed at me. "Mealy mouth little pussy eater. Oughta known a pervert wouldn't have enough guts to..."

        She never finished the sentence, for I spun around, took two steps and hit her in the stomach just as hard as I could. She doubled over like a sack of potatoes and slid down the wall.

        "That shut her up," said Jasmine from behind me. "Can't say I didn't warn ya, Brandi."

        I opened the bathroom door so quickly Candy nearly fell all over me, coming in. "Hi, Darby. What...?"

        I proceeded out the door and over to Dora's nightclub. I went straight through to the front door and out it. The warm night air flowed over me. I walked three paces then dry heaved by a beat up pickup truck.

        All in all, it had been about the worst night of my life. Not even the beatings could hold a candle to this heartbroken feeling. Not only did she strip off her clothes and go to bed with men for money, she also went to bed with other women. She'd never said a word about this. Furthermore, she'd lied to me when she said I was the first.

        I was sick. Heart sick, as Jasmine had called it. And it felt like I was dying.

        Later that night, when we went out to the truck, there was a white piece of paper underneath the driver's side wipers. It resembled a napkin. She lifted it off, very quickly, glanced at it then crumpled it up.

        "What's that?" I asked, remembering the note I had seen in her chest of drawers so long ago.

        "Nothin'... Just someone's idea of a joke. I get'em all the time."

        "All the time? What did it say?"

        "The usual. Don't worry about it. Like I said, I get'em all the time."

        "Did he tell you not to dance anymore?" I inquired.

        She glanced over at me very quickly.

        "I saw the one in your chest of drawers that first morning," I explained. "It... sounded like a threat to me."

        "I've been gettin'em for years. It's nothin'." She shoved the napkin in her pocket.


        "Yes. Like I said, it's nothin', don't worry about it."

        Feeling too heart sick already, I decided not to pursue the matter. It seemed just another part of that "other life". And, that's the last thing I wanted to talk about at the moment.

Continued in Chapter 11

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