Chapter 8

"You mean you're a hooker?" I finally blurted out, sitting upright in the bed.

"And a goddamned good one at that," she smiled.

"Wow!" was all I could manage.

There was a lot about Gwen I hadn't known up until tonight. I was stunned.

"You really don't know a lot about me," she smiled. "But don't be so shocked. It's not as bad as it sounds. I just take gifts from certain men I know from time to time... cash or otherwise.

As I listened, not believing all that I was hearing, she told me how she had been turned onto hooking by an old friend of hers back when she was in high school, not much older than I was at the time. She'd gotten tired of hassling with her parents for money, so she'd turned to an occasional trick, the friend mak ing the introductions.

"Oh, it was just twenty dollar stuff at first, but then I was getting fifty, a hundred. I had a weekend with a guy not long ago and he got me the car. Said it's a down payment on more sex when he's in town for another meeting. He's some big shot from the south. My sugar daddy.

I really couldn't believe it. Just as I had held a stereotyped image of lesbians up until a few hours ago, I held a different image of hookers. Gwen wasn't a real pro, she told me, but she did turn quite a few tricks. She worked a book sometimes, filling in for this black girlfriend of hers when the other girl couldn't handle her full load, or worked conventions, the streets, bars ... whatever. She told me that she'd never been busted, reaching back to knock on the wooden headboard.

"I can usually spot Vice," she said, "but you can't always tell."

She wasn't big time for a pro, but more of a part-timer. Still, she'd built up a small clientele of regulars and sometimes had to turn them down if she wasn't in the mood. Conversely, she'd sometimes get the urge to go out and hustle the streets on a night when she hadn't anything going.

"It's more than the money," she confessed. "It's sort of a kick actually."

"But..." I broke in, my mind still not quite caught up with all the revelations of the evening, "you said most men are fucked up... lousy..."

"That's part of it," she smiled. "It's nice to make them pay for it. If they turn out to be a good lay then it's bonus time."

We sat up for another hour talking it over, and I was astonished just how much Gwen knew of the world. She told me of various fetishes that some of the Johns had, some of them sounding interesting to me, some of them disgusting. She had a fixed price with most of her customers and usually got around fifty or a hundred for a quickie, and around five for an all-nighter, but she was flexible enough to bend the rules once in awhile, as she didn't have to depend on the bread as a steady thing.

"I don't think I'd go for it on a steady basis, but it's a real kick in the ass sometimes. Shit, even though I usually charge more. I went out with this seaman the other night for twenty as that's all he could afford. He was an older fellow, an Irishman, and his stories appealed to me. As twenty was all he could afford, I left it at that. He more than made up for it with his fucking."

It still took me quite awhile to let it all settle in, but I couldn't really look down on her for it. After all, she'd just turned me onto the greatest sexual experience of my whole life.

It surprised me though when she went so far as to suggest that I should give it a try sometime myself. I just couldn't feature doing something like that for money. Of course, I couldn't feature making it with a woman until a few hours back, so I just went to sleep in her arms, with the thought in my mind, but not really taking it seriously. Still, if things got too bad at home, I could always make some money that way so I could split. But all that seemed so far away now. All that mattered was being close to Gwen.

I started spending more and more time with Gwen on the weekends, although there were times when she'd be entertaining a guy when I couldn't go over. A couple of months later a strange thing happened with Linda and me, a sort of a result of my thing with Gwen, that resulted in the end of my friendship with her.

Linda had asked me over to spend the night with her as her parents were going to be away overnight visiting some relatives. My Mom gave me permission so it was all set. Originally, Linda had hoped that she'd be able to have her current boyfriend over, and maybe fix me up with some guy, all behind her parents back of course, but they had a fight that day, so it was just Linda and yours truly.

She was pretty put out with her boyfriend, so we went over all the guys we'd known, putting them down. We'd broken into her dad's liquor cabinet, and we got pretty smashed on vodka. It only took us a few drinks before we were looped out of our skulls.

When we piled into her bed, something we'd done a number of times on the innocent level, either at her place or mine, she kept talking about how fucked her boyfriend was. I was so looped that I let it slip, but it came out anyway:

"You should try girls."

"You must be joking!" She sat up and stared at me.

"Don't knock it if you haven't tried it," I told her in a drunken manner, throwing all cautions to the wind.

I realize my come-on wasn't too great. Not knowing how to put it into words, I reached over clumsily and grabbed at her, putting a kiss on her cheeks.

"Stop it, Annette," she screamed, pulling away. "You don't mean you like girls?"

"Sure. I've done it with them lots of times."

In my drunken condition I didn't realize what I was saying, or how I was shocking my friend. She started screaming at me, calling me all sorts of nasty names. I finally sobered up and calmed her down, but she wanted me out of the house. Realizing I couldn't go home, I told her that I'd sleep in her folk's room.

"Just for tonight," she told me, having regained some of her composure. "But the door will be locked, so don't try anything funny."

I was so smashed I went into her parents' bedroom and fell out. It was only in the morning that I realized what I'd done. I felt terrible. Sure, I would have liked to make it with her, she had a neat figure, but I'd come on all wrong. She was too straight for that shit.

I knocked on her door and pleaded with her to forgive me, that I'd had too much to drink and was only joking. But to no avail. I argued and pleaded, but she wouldn't even open the door, and then I realized, with a sickness in the pit of my stomach, that I'd really blown it.

"One thing," I asked her before leaving. "Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't if you'll just leave," came the reply through the door.

I tried to calm myself down during the short walk to my house, figuring ways that I could cool the whole thing out. But when I tried to talk with her later in the week, she wouldn't have anything to do with me. I knew she wouldn't tell her parents, as that would've gotten her into trouble, but I was hoping she wouldn't spread it around school.

When my mother questioned me about why I wasn't seeing her anymore, I just made up this thing about her saying some rotten things about me... at least my folks and hers weren't close so there wouldn't be any questions from that quarter. Mom just figured that it was one of those schoolgirl fights that will happen sometimes.

I began living inside myself more and more during the next few weeks, just waiting for summer vacation. Though nobody said anything to me, I could feel everyone's eyes burning into me and it made me paranoid. I don't know if Linda said anything or not, but if it did get out, I made up my mind to deny it. I didn't have that many friends at school anymore anyway, in fact none. But it still seemed to me that it was all screwed up somehow, that I was an outcast.

I got my only sympathy from Gwen, whose only comment was that I'd better get my se duction techniques down straight if I wanted things to go better the next time. But I didn't feel there would be a next time.

She was my only solace, and as school drew to a close, much to my relief, I began to go more and more inside myself. Everything at home was fucked-arguing all the time. I had to get out, and wondered if I'd run away. But I'd have to get bread. Gwen's hooking proposition sounded better all the time.