Chapter 10

I'd violated one of the first rules of hustling -always make the customer pay before you service him. I really felt bad about it, but Gwen finally coaxed my story out of me that weekend at her place.

I was really embarrassed and didn't want to say anything, but Gwen seemed to be able to read my mind.

"My, my," she chided me gently. "You just don't seem to have any luck on your own do you? Promise me one thing-that you'll let me supervise your next trick if that's what you decide to do."

I shamefacedly promised her, although I wasn't sure if I'd take it up again or not. By this time, Gwen had given up her job, and had taken up hooking full time. She didn't hook around the clock, but she did have enough extra customers now to justify sleeping in mornings.

I put the idea aside for awhile, resuming my senior year at school. The old paranoia would get me whenever I saw Linda, but I just tried to bury it. But things at home were becoming more and more of a hassle.

I had to leave home, but I had to get enough money together to do it. I confided in Gwen, and she told me she'd help break me in. Rather than let me go on my own, she fixed up a date with a guy who was a football coach at Edgar College. She called and told him that she had another girl in mind for him, and that we could make it a threesome if he liked. He said he wanted to see the merchandise first, as she was asking for a hundred for the both of us- he usually paid fifty. He told her that he was free the following afternoon, and for us to come down and watch practice.

I'd have to cut school, and that meant they'd be checking up on me-eventual static at home, but I figured what the fuck? I had to get out, make a change. So it was set. I left that morning as if I were going to school, and then met Gwen at a pre-designated corner. We went shopping and caught a movie, as we had to wait until late afternoon.

"Why does he want us to come out there," I asked, not sure just what the story was.

"The guy's kind of insecure... with all his macho trip, I don't think he can score free ass," she told me as we lunched. "He's had me come down there before, and I think he gets a kick out of having the other coaches and the players drool over me. I know he doesn't tell them I'm a hooker, and we both look like schoolgirls... so, you figure it out. I only know he pays for it, and that's his trip."

"Weird," I said.

We drove over and parked the car next to the chain-link fence by the practice field. We got out and watched the poor fuckers working out, until the guy spotted us and waved for us to come inside. I followed behind Gwen and trudged the long walk to the gate. He met us behind the bleachers, out of the sight of the players.

"Harry, this is Annette."

"Whew, nice," he smiled, letting me know that everything was definitely go.

"You girls wait in the bleachers for awhile," he told us. "I've got a little drill to put the boys through, then I'll let my assistants take over practice."

"The money," Gwen reminded him.

He shrugged and fished out his billfold, counting out a hundred and a half, looking around to make sure nobody was watching. We climbed up in the near-empty bleachers and watched Harry put the sweating jocks through some drills. He really seemed to be lording it over them, making them sweat hard, occasionally glancing towards us as if to make the boys jealous.

"Here," Gwen broke in, handing me a wad of bills.

"All this?" I exclaimed, counting seventy-five.

"You'll earn it. It's fifty-fifty as far as I'm concerned. Whenever we work together. Just remember..."

"I know, I know," I laughed, running the money all over my body. "Get the money first."

She laughed then told me to stash the money. I'd forgotten all about it, the fact that there were people around. Luckily, nobody saw us.

Harry turned the practice over to one of his assistants and told us to go and wait by the car. We'd have to go in Gwen's car as his was in the shop for repairs-he'd take a cab from her place.

So we went back to the car and waited outside, watching the poor sweating football players work as it was too hot in the car. It took Harry a long time as he was taking a shower.

He finally came jauntily down the street, shouting at some of the guys to pick it up. When he got to us, he just smiled, telling one of his players, who was gawking at us through the fence, to take a couple of laps.

He was wearing a football jersey with the number 81 on it, a hat and slacks. He wore glasses and had a moustache, not my stereotype of a coach exactly, but then I always goofed up those kind of things.

"What's the number for?" Gwen asked him as we drove off.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I just thought it might be for some sexual thing, like 69, or 13 ... "

"I guess it must mean I'm gonna eighty-one-a-girl, then eighty-one-a-other-girl."

I laughed at his poor attempt at a pun, resolving that I'd have to ask what thirteen meant.

She later told me that it was one less than fourteen and one more than twelve.

He fished a pint bottle out of his pants and took a hearty slug, offering it to me. I took one, realizing that I'd need it for this trick, and offered it to Gwen.

We were really roaring by the time we pulled up to Gwen's apartment building, and the coach was checking out my back field, making me all hot and horny.

"Damn," said Gwen, searching through her purse. "They changed the locks on the fucking doors, and I forgot to put the new key on my ring. I'll go get one from the landlady."

She lived on the first floor which was right of the street. Harry began fondling me, eager to get down to it, but I fought him off.

"Not here," I said.

"I can't wait," he cried, and from the look in his eyes he wasn't lying.

"Quick," I told him, half-drunk and not giving a shit. "Back here."

I had to improvise. There was an alley to the side of her building. The only window besides hers was on the second floor, a fence cutting through the alley partway down. On the other side of the alley was a warehouse with no windows. I just hoped that no one could look in from the street if he really intended to do what I thought he was.

There was a big gas meter partway down the alley, with a wooden structure for garbage cans blocking it off from the street. As long as we were going to be danger-lovers, we might as well try for us much privacy as possible.

I asked him if he was really sure he wanted it this way, and he just pointed to his pants and the obvious bulge. I opened his fly, looking around to make sure nobody was watching, and made as if I were going to blow him.

"No," he implored. "I wanna fuck."

I told him to keep his voice down. He insisted that it would be a bigger kick to fuck outside in the alley than suck, so I went along, hoping I wouldn't get busted on my first real gig. He pulled his pants partway down and sat on the big meter, and I pulled up my dress, ripped off my panties, stashing them in my bag, and climbed aboard. I hoped that he would hurry and get his rocks off.

It must have been hilarious to watch, but I hope nobody did. But somehow he managed to work me up a bit with his long cock, although I didn't make it. He did. And when he came he let out a long moan. Suddenly I heard a window open above us, and I jumped off of him and pulled down my skirt. Whew, it was only Gwen.

"You fucking idiots," she screamed in a whisper. "Get in here."

"My idea," Harry smiled up at her, zipping up his pants and following me.

"I don't care whose idea it was..." her screaming whisper followed us.

But she was all calmed down by the time we met her at the door. She's not the kind to get mad, and when she does it doesn't last very long.

"You fools," she taunted as we came inside. "You want to get us busted?"

"It's really fun doing it outdoors," he smiled at her.

"In the woods, the boonies. But not in an alley right in the fucking city."

"I dunno, I had a pretty good time," he laughed, pulling out his bottle and taking another hit.

"For a coach, you sure set a bad example," Gwen chided. "Whoring in the streets ... boozing."

She broke off, laughing. "It's just a good thing my landlady didn't catch us. That's why I take most of my tricks to a motel, or go to their place."

"But there's no place like home," Harry said, tossing down the last of the booze.

"I'm getting worked up again," he stated, "so let's get it on."

God, he really gets it up again fast, I thought. I was just coming down from my aborted mission in the alley. But then a man hadn't made me come in ages. But, I had a hunch, with Gwen around and everything, I just might make it. But if I don't, I've still got seventy-five bucks, and that's more than I made in a week at those other jobs. There was something sexy about Harry, despite his drawbacks, but I couldn't figure out why. Maybe it's because he was older than all the kids and didn't give a shit. Or maybe, the anticipation I was feeling due to the fact that I was trying something new out-it isn't how one becomes a hooker. I don't count that time with Larry, except as far as my starting age goes.

He took off his shirt, but left this weird neckerchief on that I hadn't noticed before. We all made for the bedroom. I watched as Gwen stripped off and gave Harry head, then I joined in by ramming my fingers up his ass at his request-the customer's always right.

I stripped off my clothes and fooled around with Gwen while Harry rested up, his eyes about popping from watching the show. She'd just about worked me up to my maximum peak, when he pushed her off of me and shoved his pecker in me. I wrapped my legs around him and began twitching my ass, trying to match his rhythm.

Worked up as I was from Gwen, I had an orgasm not long after he put it to me, but he just kept riding away at me, making me come again. I clawed at his back and complimented him on his loving, as Gwen had told me to do with most Johns. It wasn't really necessary for me to remember the rules though, for it was a trip for me to get off with a guy again, the first one since the rape, even if Gwen did give me a head start

He ate her pussy out before he called his cab, satisfied with our three-way conversation. After he left, I puzzled over the fact that he'd seemed so uninhibited with us after she'd told me he was shy.

"You'll see, kiddo," she told me. "Some guys can only be good with hookers. With other girls they're total wipeouts. You'll meet all kinds."

She was right.