Chapter 8
Case Histories From "The Little Red-light School House"
When a well known high school in the northeastern section of Detroit, Michigan, recently received widespread publicity for the extortion, knifings, dope addiction, and other crimes that were taking place on the school property, police also discovered a ring of Baby-Pro prostitution that was student operated, student patronized, and almost completely high school oriented. Hardened police officials were overwhelmed it seemed impossible that sex solicitations could have been made during civics, economics, math, and sociology classes without it coming to the attention of school administrators. But it did. The Baby-Pro ring had flourished for many years. There was an abundant supply of both Baby-Pros, and high school boy customers. There were leaders and followers. And the curriculum was SEX!
The case histories which follow are of the Baby-Pros and their customers in a big city high school that is not very much different from the one attended by our own sons and daughters.
CASE HISTORY
New students to the high school wondered about the popularity of Diane Benton. She seemed not to be the type of girl who boys were crazy to date. A fair student, and of only plain looks, not even a leader of student activities, it seemed unnatural that she should attract so many boys, even the captain of the football team. But the boys thronged around her between classes, took turns holding hands with her as they walked her to the next classroom and acted generally as if Diane was the Miss High School Student of the year. Newcomers to the school decided that it had to be her figure, for Diane was big busted, with a narrow waist, jutting buttocks, and long, smooth legs, all of which was usually revealingly displayed in too-tight clothing. Yes, it had to be that, the newcomers decided, that and perhaps the fact that Diane had a reputation for looseness.
Diane was loose, all right. And she was so brazen about it that she successfully concealed the real extent of her operation as a free-lance Baby-Pro.
Diane followed a procedure. When a boy asked her for a date, as they always did, she would smile, then say, "It's going to cost you."
Some boys knew what she meant. Others thought that she had expensive tastes. What she really meant was that she was a young whore, that she only dated if she was paid, and that the date would always include sexual intercourse, or, for a higher fee, fellatio.
After investigation by the police, several of her former high school customers reconstructed Diane's modus operandi.
A new boy to the school named Bob who was somewhat of a sexual adventurer himself, asked Diane for a date.
"Sure," she said. "But it's going to cost you, Bob."
"That's okay," he answered. "I'll blow my whole allowance on you. Where do you want to go?"
"The nearest park will be just fine," she said, narrowing her eyes, raising one hand to touch lightly at his shoulder muscle.
Bob gulped, then kidded, "Promises, promises, promises always promises."
"Okay, ask some of your friends if you don't believe me," she said indifferently.
"I don't have to," he said. "I want a date, Diane."
"So do I. It'll cost you five bucks."
"You mean pay you?"
"Right, little friend."
"Gee."
"In advance."
"Oh, sure. When?"
"Now, if you've got it. If not, when you pick me up will be all right."
"I'm flat now," he said, embarrassed. "But I'll have the dough Friday night. Okay?"
"Yeah, Okay, Bobby boy," she answered.
Bob picked Diane up in his father's car at the scheduled time. As soon as she got into the car, she mentioned money.
"You haven't forgotten something, have you, Bob?" she asked.
"The money oh, Gee, no here--. "
He fished in his pocket and handed her a five dollar bill which she promptly secreted inside her purse.
"Okay, where will it be what do you want to do a show, a hamuburger, you name it, Diane."
"I already told you that the park would be just fine," she said.
"The park?" he questioned with a new gulp.
"Sure. Why beat around the bush. You know why you want a date with me. So do I. You paid for it, so, let's get cuttin'. "
Gulping Bobby said, "Maybe we should go to a show first."
"Look," Diane replied. "I didn't want to tell you this cause it kinda takes the edge off, but I've got another date later tonight after you take me home. So let's make it at the park, eh?"
Bobby drove to the well known lovers lane area of the Park that was well secluded, even if patrolled by police cars.
As soon as he turned off the lights and settled back into the seat, Diane went into action. She unbuttoned her blouse, exposed her breasts, then took Bob's hands and placed them on her flesh. After he had kneaded them a bit, she cuddled close and lifted her mouth to receive his kiss. Her tongue was hot and practiced. It twirled and swirled around his, then withdrew so that she could grab his fully with her lips, enabling her to draw upon it. Soon, obviously feeling that she had stimulated him enough, Diane reached to his lap, delicately lifted his zipper tab between thumb and forefinger and drew it downward. Then she reached within and exposed the anxious manhood of the boy.
"Oh, gosh," he gulped passionately.
"Yeah, gee-whiz," she said, kidding him.
For a few moments, she merely held him. Then when his fingers tightened on her breasts again, she gently manipulated him, being careful not to over-stimulate him at this point of their encounter.
Soon Bob wheezed a long sigh of desire and lurched to come atop Diane's body.
She lifted her skirt and guided him to the cradle of her bare, pantless thighs. Then she paused and released him.
"How does it feel so far, Bobby boy?" she asked.
"Oh, great, just great."
"I'll take everything off for another fiver," she said.
"No. I haven't got it, besides, somebody might come."
"Somebody's going to come, and you better believe it," she laughed.
Bobby lurched his youthful hips forward a bit, probing at her womanhood.
"Hold it, Chum," she said coldly. "There's a little something we have to take care of at this point of this nasty little ole' game."
Without dislodging Bobby from his position of readiness, Diane reached to her purse and from it extracted the well-known tin foil package of contraceptives. She freed one from the paper and brought it between her body and Bobby's. Then she paused.
"This won't be so good for you," she said. "Sorry."
"Do I have to?" he asked. "Of course not I'll take a chance for another fiver."
"I told you, I haven't got that much."
"Tough."
"I'll give it to you in school on Monday," he pleaded.
"Well--. "
"Please."
"Promise."
"Yeah, honest."
"Well, okay then," Diane said. "It's supposed to be my safe time anyway at least according to that stupid chart they've got in Physiology class."
Diane regrasped him as she lowered backward on the seat, thrusting her legs upward and bracing her feet between floorboard and back seat while she jammed her head out of sight beneath the armrest.
Bob's hips quivered desperately. But Diane offered confidence with her experienced fingers as she guided him to her. Then she placed him and released him.
"There. How's that, Bobby?"
"Fine. Fine, Diane."
"Then, go, Bobby, go. Go, go, go."
She arched her body upward to meet his downward stab. Bobby rode her like a rodeo cowboy, whipping his body madly, rising, falling, churning and turning, helping the heady call of his venture, thrusting hard and grinding, pausing, then withdrawing and jamming close again.
And all the time Diana encouraged him with kind words that told of his proficiency, his masterfulness, his strong, hard, very exciting masculinity. It was all a lie. Diane didn't feel a thing. But she had learned that this stimulated and encouraged and hurried her young customers to their end so that she could be free for the next one, the next five dollar bill.
CASE HISTORY
Lynn, a friend of Diane of the previous case history, was rash about the setting she chose as her place of prostitution. According to her testimony to police, she had engaged boys in sexual acts for money back stage of the high school auditorium, in the audio visual room which was crammed full with equipment, in the lunchroom, behind the counter, during evening classes, and under the bleachers of the football stadium. Diane didn't need much room for her sexual encounters. Afraid of pregnancy, she sold only her expertness at fellatio.
"This chick was the wildest thing I've ever seen in my life and I've already been in high school almost five years," a poor-student senior revealed to police. "She'd go a guy any place on the slightest hint just so long as you had the dough. Ten bucks on the line no credit given."
Lynn, like several other girls of the high school, worked as a free-lancer, without the aid of organizational authority. And she was quite successful. By the time she was sixteen, she drove to school daily in a brand new convertible.
A seventeen year old senior who gave testimony to the police, told of his first adventure with the dynamic Lynn.
As they had arranged earlier in the day, the boy, Bill, met Lynn where she was waiting for him on the football field. It was deserted at this hour of the day, most of the other students having already finished with their classes.
Bill was a romanticist. He put his arm around Lynn, thrilling at the touch of his hand upon her slim waist, and led her to the bleachers where they sat down. Bill raised his hand a bit and slowly kneaded one large breast. Lynn allowed it, even rested her own hand on his thigh in order to add to the excitement of their meeting.
They tongue kissed, slowly at first, then more fervently as they twirled together, picked and pecked at each other, spun, withdrew, reentered, rested, then clashed again. During their long kiss, Bill's hand sneaked inside Lynn's sweater and fondled her flesh and played with the sharp, hot nipple which reached out for his touch. And her hand moved to his lap where it rested lightly but fully atop his bulging phallus.
Lynn was fervent in the receiving of Bill's love-making, so fervent that one would little suspect that she was preparing her subject for a final act for which he must pay.
Finally, when he could stand her touch and her mouth no longer, Bill pulled back and said, "Come on, Lynn, let's go under the bleachers-okay?"
She looked pensive and played at it for a full fifteen seconds before saying, "All right, but just for a little while."
They stretched upon the grass beneath the bleachers and locked their arms around each other. They kissed. They touched. Lynn even allowed Bill to raise her sweater, wrestle down her bra and expose both her breasts to receive his hungry mouthing. And she added zest to this excitement by unzipping his trousers and exposing him so that her fingers could play at stimulation.
Soon, Bill, desperate now, had forced her skirt above her hips and was forcing her to her back, fighting to move between her thighs which she had firmly clamped together.
"No, Bill, I can't, I already told you I wouldn't do that," she exclaimed, pushing against his hard, young shoulders.
"You've gotta," he groaned.
"I said I wanted ten dollars, Bill, and I mean it. I like you and all that, but I really need the money."
Without giving up the advantage he had gained a-top her, Bill reached to his hip pocket and extracted his wallet. He placed it in Lynn's hand.
"There's a ten in there, now come on," he urged.
Her tightly clamped legs did not part.
"Come on, goddamn it," he said, raising his voice.
"I can't, Bill," she said sweetly. "Honest, right now at this time of month well, I just can't, you know what I mean."
"Huh?"
"Come on, don't be a kid," she said, chiding him. "Oh, yeah, I know what you mean, but what the hell, you can't leave me like this."
She grasped him and squeezed hard. "I don't intend to." She moved her hand, manipulating him in a circle.
"Cut that," he suddenly exploded. "What the hell I can do that myself!"
"This is just for now," she said, smiling brightly. "Come on, let me sit up."
Reluctantly, he withdrew from on top of her body. He watched as she took the ten dollar bill out of his wallet, then handed it back to him.
After she had secured the bill in the purse that rested on the ground next to her, Lynn looked around. Then she looked at Bill and asked, "Ready?"
"Hell, yes but how--. "
Lynn smiled, then stretched on the ground in a position that gave the impression of her lying on her side with her head resting in Bill's lap. An innocent position, it would seem, one that was a frequent sight around the campuses of colleges and high schools in any large city; one that spoke of budding young love, the sweetness and nostalgia of it all.
But it was business that little Lynn was about. The nasty, dirty business of performing fellatio upon a boy for a price while in a setting only two hundred yards from the high school principal's office.
Lynn first touched lightly at Bill again. For a few seconds she merely held him as he groaned softly and reclined a bit backwards, supporting himself on his elbows braced at his waist. Then, she raised a bit, moved him. aimed him, then lowered to the act of orality for which she had become known.
It didn't last long. And at the very end, Lynn became quite excited, too. She shifted her position in order to capture Bill's right leg between her thighs. She pressured hard there, undulating her body in the same rhythm with her bobbing head. And then it was over, there was no more that she could do for the shaking high school boy. And there was no more she could do for herself, either, for Lynn, extremely oral, had devised a method of love that also provided her with an orgasm and with no fear of pregnancy, and a ten dollar bill safely hidden in her purse.
CASE HISTORY
Val was a senior. She was a good scholar, very attractive, popular with her peers, had soared high in her college entrance examinations, meant to attend a good, Eastern college, had a successful business-man father and a mother who was active in the P. T. A. And Val worked as supervisor to four high school Baby-Pros. Val never sold her own sexuality. Sometimes she gave it away to a date, but she never took pay for the adventure of her body. She didn't have to. Val received half the fee collected by four Baby-Pros under her jurisdiction in the high school.
Val made it a point to greet every tenth grade freshman girl as they entered high school for the first time. She helped them with class schedules, finding the right rooms, lockers, tipped them off as to the teachers who should be avoided, acted like a big-sister advisor to them all. And to the pretty ones, she was especially attentive, made friends with them immediately. Val even kept a file card svstem on most every girl in the school. She was as thorough as a successful politician. And for the Baby-Pros who provided her with an above average, adult income, Val kept a special file, recording bits of news she could use to hold the girls in line should one decide to turn informer. She even kept a record of her charges' menstrual periods. She thought this most important. Pregnancies were always a risk, but Val had connections for abortions. She insisted upon an accurate recording of the Baby-Pros' cycle. If an abortion was indicated, Val wanted it done at the earliest possible time.
Lovely Val never had more than four girls working for her at the same time. More than that could cause a lessening of discipline and made for a greater risk. So, four lovelies were always available to the boys of the school once they met with Val to discuss the conditions of the date.
The procedure was quite simple. If the boys did not already know the girl for whom they bargained, Val produced a picture, generally one she had taken herself showing the girl off to the very best advantage. Val named a price, one that was scaled according to the desires of the boy. She collected the fee before the hour of the date. And Val dictated the setting that was to be used. She almost always insisted upon a Drive-In Theatre as the best place to make unobserved love. If the boy didn't have a car, she loaned him hers at a fee.
Val sometimes acted like a mother hen over her brood of chicks. Daily, she inquired of their health, their menstrual periods, their general welfare. And she insisted upon always knowing if a customer had abused one of her Babies. If he had and if the girl reported it Val had ways of teaching him a lesson. Several of the football players were on her pay roll for special jobs like beatings.
This seventeen year old, exceptional student, operated a ring of prostitutes within the confines of her alma mater for a period of two years before she was finally discovered and reported to the police.
The police officers who interviewed Val were quite taken with her beauty, her charm, her brains, her poise, and her organizational ability. But, more than anything, they were impressed by the well known criminal law firm Val had put on retainer when she first decided to go into business. About this they were very impressed. Very impressed, indeed. It showed that the girl also had foresight.
CASE HISTORY
Fifteen year old Marion kept a diary all through her tenth grade, freshman year in high school. It wasn't a diary so much as it was a record of the boys with whom she had made love. Marion got a kick out of recording their names, then dreaming about the interlude which resulted in the entry in her journal. She developed a code of her own that revealed the varied talents of the boys she had known. It amused her to look at the strange symbols and realize all that they told of the boys' strength, hardiness, ability, and particular-likes and dislikes.
One day, Marion showed her journal to a friend. The friend, noting some thirty-seven different names for a six month period, kiddingly suggested that if Marion were a prostitute, if she figured the entries in the terms of money well, she would already have given a small fortune away.
Marion brooded upon this for a full week. It was almost as if she were cheating herself, she reasoned. After all, the boys did enjoy her. And she enjoyed them. So, why not enjoy them, let them enjoy her, and make some money out of it too. Why shouldn't she? She could find no reason, except the risk, not to enter the business of high school prostitution.
Marion waited until her very next date, one she had consented to with a boy of whom she was unusually fond, to mention her plan. She kind of admired Jack. He acted very worldly. He was older than most of the boys in his class, too. And he had even quit school for six months to work as a musician. But, the orchestra leader discovered that Jack was under-aged to work in nightclubs and fired him. Jack returned to school. Marion was glad she liked him a lot.
When Marion and Jack were safely concealed in the parked car that Jack had nosed beneath the trees of the city park, Marion told him of all that she had been thinking that maybe she could make a little money for both of them if he would act as go-between for her.
"There's a better name than that for it, honey," Jack laughed.
"I suppose so."
"Just call me pimp, honey," Jack said. "That's what you're thinking about so use the right term for the right operation, eh?"
"Stop being crude," Marion said.
"Yeah I'll stop all right, after you've let me get a little cruder." He brought his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
"What do you think about the idea, Jack," Marion mumbled from where she cuddled her face against the open throat of his shirt.
"Crazy, crazy as all hell," he replied.
"You mean you'll do it," she said.
"Maybe."
"Why not for sure?"
"Cause I don't want to get busted, that's why. Hell, chick, I got enough on me already without taking on more responsibilities."
"Oh, but you're so responsible," she said, lengthening the words in a kind of verbal caress, at the same time moving her hand to rest on his thigh.
"Well, I might consider it," Jack said. "But you've got to be ready for all sorts of things."
"like what?" she asked.
"like special requests."
"What kind?"
"Come on, stop acting like a kid."
"Oh, I know about that," she answered proudly. "Well, you ready to do it to anybody who asks for it?"
"Sure." Her tone was brave.
"All right, let's practice I'm asking."
Marion laughed hard, then said, "Man are you ever a joker."
"A joker who's not kidding," he replied.
Marion laughed again, but stopped when Jack wound his fingers into her hair and bent her head to his lap.
"Stop it you don't have to be so damn rough," she shouted up at him from his lap.
"And you better not be too damn rough either, baby," he said, at the same time arching and doing crazy, open things with the front of his jeans.
"There," Jack suddenly breathed, relaxing into the car seat again.
Marion touched the hard flesh which had been exposed for her. Then she gripped it. Then she paused.
"Come on, go," Jack muttered excitedly.
"Okay, but just for a little. Okay?"
"Okay, okay, okay, but let's get cuttin', " he bellowed.
Marion moved upon him, slowly at first, then faster and still faster until she was onlv a bobbing blur of dark form laboring above his thighs. His fingers directed her at the beginning, but then flew away to claw at the car seat as his body arched and churned and pumped up-and-down in a frantic effort to achieve that which he wanted before Marion decided that she had had enough.
She decided and quit when Jack was at the very topmost peak of his reflexes. He yelled and attempted to force her to his finish, but she wrestled free of his grabbing hands. Then she faced him and smiled.
"What's the matter, baby? Does it hurt?"
"You know goddamn well it doss," he growled.
"Poor baby." she cooed sympathetically.
"You little bitch," Jack declared with a hiss. "You're going to finish me or or--. "
"Of course I am, sweetie," she answered. "I wouldn't leave any one in this condition especially you, baby. But first--. "
"First what?" he said.
"First, what about our deal?"
"Sure, sure I already told you I'd do it," he said quickly.
"For sure? No backing out?"
"Hell, no. I'm for profit, you know that."
"Good. It's settled then, isn't it."
"It is, but I'm not."
She smiled. She reached and again took him in her hand. Then, facing him, crowding her body close, looking into his eyes which she really could not see in the dark, Marion twisted and turned and jerked and lengthened and bunched and straightened him until at last he could not even cry out for the orality she had started, then stopped, until he could do nothing but explode all the congestion of his pent-up masculinity.
That night marked the beginning of the arrangements that added Baby-Pro prostitution to Marion's three years of college preparatory courses in high school. Bright, both in studies and in the ways of the world, Marion did not graduate with her class, however. Unfortunately, she spent that day incarcerated at a juvenile detention home, awaiting the disposition of her case.
CASE HISTORY
Junie invited a dozen boys and girls to a party at her parents' upper-middle income home. Junie's mother gave her blessings to the party, then joined her husband for an evening out on the town. The guests of Junie's party were all members of her sophomore high school class. There were six boys and six girls. Junie liked things even, sex evenly distributed. Junie suggested the idea of the party to her girl friends. There was a special reason to have one. The girls all of them were sorely pinched for money, and Spring vacation was approaching.
Junie got her idea for this special type party when one of the popular boy members of the senior class completely demolished his uninsured car. His many friends gave a dance, the proceeds from which would be given to the boy for a new car. It was a popular method of meeting crisis in the high school in all high schools, really, and Junie thought it was just divine.
Junie charged the boys ten dollars apiece for an invitation to her party.
"Man that's high," one boy complained. "What you goin' have there strippers?"
Junie giggled, then said, "Better than that but you've got to take your chances."
The boy, and five others, paid the required ten dollars. Junie had been selective about the guests. She invited only those boys who had incomes from after school jobs. Not only would such boys have the ten dollars, they were most-likely to have other money in their pocket on the night of the party.
Junie collected the ten dollars from each of the boys as they entered the house then descended to the basement recreation room.
Downstairs, liquor was provided two bottles of Scotch Junie had stolen from her father's liquor cabinet. The boys felt very "big", the girls sophisticated. Most of them drank quite a lot. Pretty Junie was glad a little drunkenness wouldn't hurt her plan a bit.
After refreshments had been served, those taken from Junie's mother's refrigerator, and the Scotch had been well consumed at a time when they had all danced with their bodies snuggling close together, Junie called for attention and jumped to the top of the ping-pong table to make an announcement.
When the laughs had quieted down, when the boys stopped shouting jokes back and forth, most of which called attention to Junie's short, very tight skirt and her large breasts which billowed her white blouse teasingly outward, Junie made her announcement.
"We're going to play 'slave girl' and you studs are if you're all game for this particular game."
"Listen to her," a boy called out. "She made a pun hell, in English they say a pun is--. "
The others shouted him down and Junie continued.
"We're going to play 'slave girl' and you studs are going to bid for us. Get it?"
"We gotta see the merchandise," a boy said seriously, rubbing his chin, acting like a buyer for a department store.
"You will," Junie laughed. "But not until you bid for each article of clothing we take off. Now do you get it?"
Shouts of approval rang through the house.
And then a question of procedure was presented.
"And after we've bid you down to the raw, what then?" a boy asked.
"Then you bid for the real thing, baby," Junie told him.
"Gosh!"
"You're not kidding?" asked another boy. "Not in the least," Junie said seriously. "Hell, where's my goddamn wallet," another boy shouted.
"Okay, get your money out and start bidding for the first slave girl's clothing. The winner can deposit his fee right here on the table."
Junie jumped down from the table. One of her girl friends climbed upon it and raised her arms high over her head. She was a pretty girl with dark hair, dark eyes, a solid, comforting kind of figure, and a sweater, skirt, sox and loafers which were soon to be bid off of her body.
"Two bits for the sweater," called out a boy.
"Thirty cents," said another.
The sweater was dispatched from her body when the bidding had reached a dollar and a half. And then there was the business about the strapless bra she wore. That went for three dollars and excited groans, and cat calls, and wild, wild yelps of joy issued from the boys. The girl's breasts were very firm, very nipple-pointed, very, very round and full, and they quivered in just the right amount of reaction that rested someplace between fear and thrill.
Soon, the girl was down to her half-slip and panties and the table secured a fair pile of change and dollar bills. And then the half-slip vanished when an affluent bidder daringly declared his extravagance with a five dollar bill. The panties were whisked away at six dollars and twenty-five cents.
Nude, the girl turned around on the table. The boys were awe-stricken. They had never quite seen anything as delightful as the bare sixteen year old girl. Her nipples stuck out like thumbs now, and her belly was indented so that her navel was a mere slit in the middle of smooth roundness. And her thighs were fascinating, especially the way they cuddled the fresh downy womanliness of her in such a perfect V-shape.
"And now you bid for the girl herself," called Junie from the side of the table. "And Boys, I'm this little chick's best friend, I've seen her in action on a double-date, so I can tell you that she's worth any price you're prepared to bid."
There was silence. There were a few gulps and nervous coughs. There was the sound of heavy breathing, suddenly piercing the silence. And then there was the bidding.
"A dollar-I'm not being insulting, I'm just broke."
"Two."
"Three and a half."
"Five."
"Six seven eight ten eleven dollars and thirty-three cents," bid a boy, climbing the scale to his total wealth with the enthusiasm of an antique collector.
The naked girl went at twelve. There were sighs and shouts and calls for a new slave girl so a new bidding could began.
But Junie, that little promoter of the party, was intent upon clutching every penny available from every girl.
"Hold it," she called out. "We're not quite through with this one yet."
"You are-I'm not," yelled the winning bidder as he reached up and gripped the naked girl's hand.
"No, there's a little more bidding," Junie declared. "Now, this is the way it goes. The others can watch while you two do your capers right here on the ping pong table-that is, they can watch for fifty cents apiece. But, no payee-no watchee, and the guy who doesn't pay goes upstairs and sits in a corner like a naughty boy until it's all over."
"Hey, what the hell, that's dirty," complained the boy who had won the slave girl.
"Yeah, ain't it," said Junie.
"But suppose I don't like this goddamn ping pong table-suppose I don't like to display my talent."
"Simple," Junie said. "Fifty cents apiece from the lookers adds up to two-fifty, add another fifty cents for yourself and you take your little ole' slave any place you want in the room."
"Jeeez-what a hold up," said the boy.
But he tossed three crumpled bills on the table, assisted his new slave girl from the table, then hurried her naked body to a far, dark corner of the recreation room. Even before the next fully clothed girl jumped upon the table to face her bidders, squeals and laughter and moans of passion could be heard issuing from the first winner and his cooperative slave.
Although funds began to run low, the bidding remained spirited and soon each of the six girls had been bid down to nakedness, then bid to an individual boy with whom she happily performed the happy sexual tasks of slave girl to her master.
Junie stood at the side of the table, smiling, watching the pile of money grow high, watching, too, as each of her girlfriends departed with a winning boy-and everyone was a winner, even the disenchanted and broke. Junie saw to that. With a sharp eye for business, at the last, when all the money was stacked high on the ping pong table, she accepted I.O.U.'s. adding a twenty-five per cent interest charge. She even talked frankly about having credit cards made up for those boys who proved that they paid their bills.
Soon, all the couples were again gathered around the table, looking at Junie, wondering what was to come next; wondering if anything more could possibly be offered by this hostess who seemed to think of everything. There was something more to offer. Junie had planned it from the very beginning. She was the extra girl-the lucky, or unlucky, thirteenth member of the party. Junie proved to have a real flair for public relations, an instinct for providing that extra thing that assured repeat customers for future parties, that assured good public relations and publicity throughout the high school they all attended.
"And now, so to speak, the house is going to provide the entertainment," Junie announced.
Agreeable shouts issued from all, girls and boys alike.
"Yeah, how about that," said a boy. "You ain't been bid for yet."
"Nor am I," she answered.
"That figures," a gruff voice said from the back of the circle the others made.
"You're damn right it figures," Junie shouted, jumping to the top of the ping pong table.
She looked so wild, so wanton, and so very, very desirable when she spread her arms wide, emphasizing her breasts, her hips, her fine, lean legs, the anticipation of what nakedness would do to her figure, that suddenly applause broke out from the boys and even from some of the girls.
"That's right, clap you madmen," she laughed. "Clap-cause your little ole' Junie is about to give a bonus to you studs-and boys, when you get the bonus, remember who gave it to you, remember the party that you're at-then-well, start saving your pennies for the next one."
The party group shouted anew.
Junie raised her hands and clasped them above her head. Then, deliberately swaying her hips, she turned. Then she turned again, but when she faced her guests, she paused, brought her hands down and smiled. And then she slowly brought both hands to the buttons of her dainty white blouse. Slowly, she undid them. She shrugged the blouse from her shoulders and allowed it to float to the table. She turned again, answering the cheers from the onlookers. Then she unhooked her bra at the back and cuddled it shyly in front of her, cupping her large breasts together so that the bulge of flesh was clearly seen by all. And then she dropped the bra. Her breasts bounced, then quivered to the excitement of her newly hastened breathing. And then, in quick succession, she dispatched her skirt, half-slip, loafers and sox from her body. She was revealed to all in nothing but her exceptionally brief, bikini panties-those panties that hinted at transparency, that shouted womanliness, urgency, and growled the low, mean whisper of femininity's outline.
For a few moments, it was so quiet that the distention of the crumbled bills upon the table could almost be heard. But then there was the sound of movement-Junie's movement as she raised her face to the ceiling while at the same time she slowly edged her panties downward, a fraction of an inch at a time, down, down, down-over hip bone, down a bit more, then a full inch of garment rolled under as they moved another full inch, then to thighs, lingeringly here a few seconds as the crowd glued to the pause, then further down until the topmost bristle of woman was revealed, then quickly and more deeply downward until the panties paused again at the very base of the V that was pulsating, breathing, winking, beckoning to all. And then she zipped the panties all the way to her ankles and stepped out of them. And then the loud, mad, sensual cheers issued throughout the room.
Junie opened her arms to everyone in front of her.
"All right, Studs-Okay, babies-come on, you crummy bunch of guests-come on-Junie's giving you all one on the house!"
"Okay, studs," she cried out, almost hysterically. "Take me-come to me-get to me, kids, and in the order that you won in the bidding-first, first now-just to make sure all you studs are recovered. Let's go-give!"
Junie lowered her back to the table and braced her legs. In an instant, the boy who had won the first girl was before her, propping her at the bend of her knees with his arms as he pumped his body forward and back in a mad whirl of giving.
And for Junie, the receiving was very, very satisfying. The events of the night-the pile of money upon the table; the money that now spilled every which way as her hips bounced and her small fists beat a rhythm at each side of her-had acted as an aphrodisiac for the wanton, sex-centered teenager. Junie was expertly atuned to sexual responses. This night, even her high sensitivity had been made sharper, more thinly and finely ready for the first entrance of a boy. Before the boy had struck the sting of his young masculinity within her thrice, Junie erupted with a howl, then pumped to receive more from the charging youth.
His finish offered her a new climax, offered them all the view of Junie's body grinding fiercely, squeezing, eeking out every breath of energy it was possible to receive from the depleted boy.
And then were was a new boy. And with it, there came a new howl of climax from Junie. Then, at the end, when the boy met his, still another.
With the third boy, Junie devised to offer variety. She rolled to her stomach, then boosted on forearms and knees as she jutted her hips teasingly to the boy who reached and gripped them.
Junie remained in this position, facing away from the passion that converged upon her body, the passion that sent her again and again into convulsions of response, the passion that sent her to crying, shouting, whimpering, to bellowing obscenities as her body quivered, rippled like waves, shook madly, and continued to meet and depart from the recipient of her sexual lure. She remained facing away from it all until the sixth and last boy took his position behind her. Then she turned and faced him.
Her eyes were diamond sparkles of excitement as she moved from the table and breathlessly pushed the boy to a sitting position upon it. Then she faced him. She smiled once, the instant before she lowered to accommodate the desire she had deemed as his reward. She was wild and savage. At times she seemed mad, so madly did she move upon him, so savagely did she take him and shake him and take him unto herself again and again and again.
And soon, it was done. The boy leaned far back, braced himself and arched a final time as Junie crumbled atop him, her breath coming in shattered fragments of normalcy, her body soft and sated and very, very wet.
The party ended a full two hours before Junie's parents returned to their home, finished with their night of cocktails, dinner, and suburban friends.
The money return from the party came pretty close to what Junie had anticipated; one hundred and thirteen dollars and thirty-three cents, including the I.O.U's. Because Junie had done fairly well in her economics class, she knew all about depreciation, business expenses, risk of stealing liquor, food, parental wrath, etc. So, it seemed only economically equitable that the proceeds of the evening be split evenly-twenty-five per cent for herself, the other seventy-five per cent divided among the six slave girls. Not one of them objected. They knew that Junie had earned her dividends as leader of their group.
Junie's parties became the secret talk of the school. Invitations to the party were widely sought by all the boys. And no one minded a bit when she doubled the price of admission. The parties thrived for a year, were held weekly, and alternated as to location, each of the charter girl members taking their turn as hostess.
Business boomed until the boom fell when a rejected customer reported the matter to school authorities who in turn consulted Junie's parents.
"My God, why?" Junie's mother exclaimed. "Why would our daughter be involved in such a thing? Why?"
It is a good question. It is one every parent can sometimes ask during the course of raising children. Why?
SUMMARY
The fast paced, status driven American Society has nurtured and prospered the Baby-Pros who work among us. Youth is the pass word, vitality is a must, sex is the glory and the goal, and to be "in" one must dabble in it.
"True, there appears to be an abundant crop of teenaged prostitutes in our society today," says Dr. H. Robert Drews. "But, when we stop and think about it, we've always had youngsters selling their sex. It was common in the old days-it's common now. So, I think, rather than to be awed by it, or shout about it, or curse it, we should analyze it and see just where our own responsibility is in the matter."
Where is adulthood's responsibility in the creation of a Baby-Pro?
"In our values," claims James Wood, a well known advertising man. "All of our values today are sex values. We sell cars with it, get people to donate money to all sorts of organizations by using it, even promote political candidates through the subtle use of sex. So, we've given our youth sex with a capital S. How can we blame them when they use it other than we would want them to? We can't blame them, not as adults, not as parents, and when we can't blame youngsters, how in the world are we going to discipline them to different, more rigid and proper morals?"
There is little hope for the lessening of Baby-Proism within our society. The population is exploding, more people are crowded into smaller areas, there's less physical activity and a greater mass media attack upon our instincts-our sexual instincts. So, we can expect to find more and more early teenaged girls selling their sexuality. We can expect it until we draw rein on our own adult values. Only then-only when we look clearly at ourselves-can we expect to pass on to our children a different set of values, values that perhaps will save some of them from the frantic influence, over valuation, and importance of sex.