Chapter 7
Carrie was excited-so excited that as the train got closer to Atlanta, she could feel her heart pounding. It was the same train she and Melissa had taken into the city a few months before to look at the stores and admire the nice clothes that neither of them could afford; but the trip seemed different this time. For Carrie, there wasn't going to be any going back. And before long, she promised herself, she'd be traveling again-not with just a crummy tote bag full of cheap clothes, but with tons of luggage stuffed with expensive designer outfits.
As the train slowed beside the station's platform, Carrie got up and adjusted her skirt. It was wrinkled already from sitting down for so long, and she knew that she didn't look her best. She got off the train, hurried through the crowded station, and found a ladies' room. Inside it, she rummaged through her handbag for her make-up and began to apply it in front of the mirror.
She was wearing a miniskirt and a thin knitted top, both shocking pink and both well calculated to show off her full, womanly figure. Now Carrie folded the hem of the pullover upwards, tucking it under itself to give herself an enticing bare-midriff look. Shaking her hair back over her shoulder and giving it a few strokes with a brush, she stood away from the mirror to check herself out. She was pleased-a little more pink lipstick, maybe; but on the whole she was fully satisfied that men would look in her direction as she walked past them on the city's sidewalks. It was time to begin. She rented a locker in the railway station and stowed the tote bag inside it; then, swinging her shoulder-strapped purse in classic hooker fashion, she hit the busy downtown streets. She didn't need any directions, any specific goal: all she had to do was follow the lights and the ever-thickening crowd, strutting along proudly, her breasts thrust out, her hips swaying provocatively from side to side as her long straight legs moved. She wished she had nicer stockings to draw more attention to her legs...
"Hey, baby-where you goin'?" a rough-sounding male voice called out jeering. Then an equally rough hand grasped her elbow from behind. She turned and looked at the guy-or guys: there were three of them, all ugly, all leering at her as they closed in around her.
"Hi, good-lookin'," the second one jeered.
"You sure are one foxy-lookin' chick," the third said, rubbing his grimy hand over his swollen crotch.
Carrie thought she could handle it-obnoxious men were no novelty for her-but she automatically glanced up and down the sidewalk for reassurance. But the passersby studiously pretended not to notice. A couple of black hookers, older than Carrie, were watching, amused, from a doorway nearby. The three punks could probably knock her down and rape her right there, taking their own sweet time doing it, without having to worry about anybody intervening on Carrie's behalf.
She swung her handbag at the guy closest to her and got him smack in the face. "Kiss off, asshole," she said contemptuously, trying to sound tough and praying that her voice wouldn't crack from fear. The creep she'd whacked stumbled aside, nursing his bloody nose; the two others were too startled for a second to react as Carrie stepped away from them and tried to run down the sidewalk to escape. Then they pursued her, cursing, but a man grabbed Carrie with a protective gesture. He was older, almost as old as the men her mother tended to bring home, and Carrie recognized him immediately as a potential John. He was more sure of himself than most, however, and when he curtly told the punks to fuck off, they slunk away, muttering threats. Carrie was grateful. But she'd still have to charge him for the sex...
"You want to come with me?" he asked her softly, the lit cigarette dangling between his lips muffling his speech. He was still holding on to her bare arm, squeezing it lightly.
"Sure-why not?" Carrie replied breathlessly.
"Daddy's found himself a cheap lay," one of the hoods called as the man quickly led Carrie up the street. There were further catcalls and laughter, but the girl blocked them out easily.
"Honey, you can't expect to walk around here looking that good without asking for trouble," the man said pleasantly, pulling her closer against his body as they walked. "You been doing this long? Sorry-I know that's a corny question. None of my business, right? Hey-you want to go to a movie first? A fuck film? I'll pay. We can-well, you know!"
Carrie didn't know, exactly; but she felt that she had a pretty good idea. She nodded. She was pleased that the man had immediately taken her for a hooker. This might be easier than she'd anticipated. She was already with her first customer and he'd been the one to do the picking-up. All she'd had to do was flaunt her available body before the public.
She let the John lead her to a cheap, dirty-looking theater, with suggestive placards in its grimy, broken windows and blinking colored light bulbs on the marquee: he paid for the tickets, then dragged her through the creaking turnstile and into the auditorium. At least it was cool and dark in there, although Carrie was surprised to see how small the theater actually was. There was also a slight but unpleasant prevailing odor, a compound of cigarette and cigar smoke, stale urine, and--well, and come: there was no point in pretending she didn't recognize the distinctive smell. She knew what went on in places Like this. The man guided her to a back row, then to a seat all the way to the side. The familiar beat of a rock song that had been on the radio all last summer was coming from the tinny loudspeakers near the screen, and Carrie looked up at the film.
It was pretty crude in every sense of the word through a haze of grainy-textured film stock, she saw two naked girls, or rather women, writhing in front of the wobbling camera, masturbating each other and moaning exaggeratedly as they pretended to get closer and closer to violent orgasms. The one with the big tits and the bright-blond wig suddenly had a dildo in her free hand: it was hard rubber or plastic, one of those vibrators shaped Like a penis, with a tapered point. She ran the quivering tip of the thing over her clit and gasped, then took her fingers away from her friend's moist parted labia and began to insert the dildo between them. She thrust about a third of the thick instrument up into the brunette's snatch and the girl went wild as it entered her. More and more of the artificial cock vanished inside the dark-haired "actress's" cunt, and the blonde-wigged girl fucked her with the dildo until she had, or pretended to have, a terrific orgasm that shook her ass and tits and forced squeals of implausible ecstasy from her painted lips. Then the vibrator was withdrawn, wet and glistening from the girl's pussy juices; two men moved into camera range, and the women began to neck and pet with them as they undressed them.
Carrie felt the man beside her grasp her wrist to guide her hand to his lap. He was sitting with his legs spread and she could feel that he had developed a sizable hard-on in his trousers. Her fingers caressed the bulge lightly, then with greater force as he pushed her hand down harder and grunted with satisfaction.
"Take it out, honey," he drawled in a whisper, although there was nobody nearby to overhear. "Take it out and play with it a little. I'll give you five bucks for a good hand job."
She was tempted to ask for ten, but a hand job was nothing and five dollars seemed a generous payment for one. So she continued to fondle him through his pants as she glanced around nervously. She saw only a few men sitting alone, each with his coat thrown across his lap as he gaped up at the simulated sex play on the flickering screen.
"Come on, will you?" her customer demanded. "What the hell you waiting for? Christmas?" He pressed her timid fingers against his zipper. Carrie pulled it down and plunged her fingers into the now-open fly. She had to pull aside his undershorts in order to grasp his hard-on and lift it up and out of the gap in his trousers. It was warm as it pulsed urgently in the hollow of her hand and she closed her fingers in a tight fist around the coke-bottle shaped shaft and began to move up and down around it. Her John grunted happily.
"Yeah-! Oh, yeah! That's it, baby," he gasped, his voice low as he encouraged her and her movements became bolder, more efficient. She fisted his prick with all her strength, to get it over with quickly and collect her five dollars. Afterwards, they'd probably go to a cheap hotel nearby-a trick hotel!-and he'd pay her more to let him bang her. She was well on her way, after having been in town only a few minutes!
He began to surround her hand with his own as he watched the fuck film unroll, pressing her fist tighter shut around his cock and pushing his erection up to meet her pumping fingers and increase the friction. "Squeeze it, doll," he pleaded hoarsely, panting for breath as he watched the dark-haired girl on the screen take one of the men's dicks into her mouth and suck it lustily, her eyes rolling, her ass twitching, her ripe, siliconed breasts swinging freely as she worked on the guy for the camera's benefit. "Squeeze it real hard--make me shoot!"
Carrie did her best to please him. From the screen, the music blared even louder; she looked up as she jerked her neighbor off and saw how both couples in the movie were writhing and twisting as they pretended to screw. The guy she was beating off was watching, too, his gaze intent, as though he were hypnotized. As she manipulated him even more roughly, he closed his eyes and moaned loudly, letting his head slump back against the seat
"Faster-do it faster!" he groaned.
What did he think she was-a machine? Her wrist was getting tired. But she grimly tried to speed up her movements. The man muttered and gasped, not caring if anyone else in the little auditorium heard him or not, as he approached his climax at last. Even as his hips lunged up from the creaking seat cushion and he shot into the air, he gave no sign of acknowledgement to the girl who was bringing him off. He was lost in some erotic fantasy that didn't include her. Carrie released his dripping prick hastily, grabbed a kleenex from her handbag, and wiped the traces of sticky come from her fingers. Then she threw the soiled tissue to the floor with a grimace of disgust.
She wanted to ask for the money now, but she wasn't sure it wouldn't offend the John. After a few seconds of heavy breathing beside her, he sat up, zipped up his pants, and began to watch the movie again, as though nothing had happened. Suddenly he seemed to remember her.
"I've got to get a big bill changed so I can give you your five now," he whispered. "You wait here-I'll be right back."
He squeezed past her, into the narrow aisle; Carrie turned her head to watch him go, but the way the men sitting in the rows behind her suddenly took their eyes off the screen to stare at her made her feel uncomfortable, and she watched the movie again. There was a different couple on the bed now, and a big-busted girl with red hair, dyed no doubt, was kissing and tonguing the man's hard-on as a prelude to going down on it. She began to suck... the camera jerked forward and back, and Carrie decided that the girl's performance looked better from a distance: in close-up, it was too easy to notice the bored look on her face as she deep-throated her leading man, who also seemed less than ecstatic about the act.
Maybe, Carrie told herself as she leaned back, got comfortable, and watched for her John to return, she'd be in movies too someday. Not crummy fuck flicks like this one, but real movies. After all, once she hit Vegas and got herself established as a showgirl, her future would be wide open-literally so, since she'd probably have to put out on the casting couch once or twice in order to get work. That was okay. She might be "discovered" or something by a big producer or director. Maybe a famous actor would want to take her out-they'd fuck and she'd be the best lay he'd ever had, so the word would get around...
The daydreaming kept her mind occupied as she waited, but the minutes passed. Another man had come into the theater and taken a seat on the aisle, just a few seats away from where Carrie was sitting. He glanced at her but she didn't turn her head. She wished that the first guy would come back with her money, and she tried not to notice the unsubtle ways in which the newcomer was trying to get her attention as they both kept up the pretence of being engrossed in the action onscreen.
The possibility that her John might not come back hit her with shocking abruptness and force. He'd been nice to her, for a john, and had saved her from God-only-knew-what back there on the street. And he wanted to screw her, too, didn't he? He wouldn't just leave the theater and walk off... he couldn't!
"Hey," her new neighbor whispered loudly over the soundtrack.
Carrie gave him a quick, casual glance. He'd exposed himself and was playing with an impressively large cock, grinning at her insolently as he worked on himself. She looked away nervously. But her discomfiture had given the exhibitionist all the encouragement he needed; he slid over the few seats that separated them and was beside her, still exposed, still fisting his dick. How gross! Carrie wanted to jump up and run, but she forced herself to remain Calm until she could assess the situation.
"Hey, beautiful-wouldn't you like to give this a little suck, huh?" her molester asked feverishly. "We could go someplace-I know a cheap hotel we could go to, it's only two blocks away-and I'll give you a real good fuck. Not like that shit up there."
He indicated the screen with his unoccupied hand.
She stood up. "Let me pass," she told him, her voice shaky. "I-I have to go meet somebody."
The man grabbed her arm. "Come on! Let him wait."
"I said I have to go!" she hissed, wrenching herself free. "Let go of me or I'll scream," although she doubted whether doing so would have much effect in this hole.
Then the guy spoke the magic words: "I'll make it worth your time, baby. Give you twenty bucks for a good fuck!"
She thought fast, looking him coldly in the eyes as he leered at her. That first bastard wasn't coming back-ever. She realized that now. She'd been had! Ripped off! She'd given him that hand job for nothing. She had to get money somehowand fast.
"Make it twenty-five," Carrie told the man, feeling more sure of herself now. "And I want it before we start in!"
"Sure, beautiful, sure-whatever you say."
He let her slip past him, then zipped himself up and followed her up the aisle as the other patrons leered at them.
Carrie tried to act sophisticated as she followed the man into the lobby of the sleazy hotel, which reeked of illicit sex. But the man behind the desk was looking at her awfully hard, as though he could read her mind, knew exactly what she had come here for, and was aware that she was still underage. Carrie forced a smile. She made up her mind that if the stupid desk clerk asked her anything, she'd just say that he could get the information from her husband-or, better yet, from her father.
"We want a room," her John said matter-of-factly.
Carrie, feeling bolder, smiled sweetly at the desk clerk.
"Ten bucks," he grunted, not taking his eyes off her body as he threw down a key.
"Ten bucks!" the man with Carrie exploded. "What kind of a fucking rip-off is this, anyway? Look-we're only going to be up there a little while and you know it! It was only five bucks last time." Apparently, an alibi wasn't necessary, Carrie thought with relief. The desk clerk knew the score.
He pointed at her insultingly. "You can afford her, can't you? Well, then you can afford the room. Unless you want to screw her standing up in the phone booth, and even that'll cost you a dime for the first three minutes!" He laughed uproariously at his own idiotic joke; Carrie wished she had something to throw at him.
Her john, looking disgusted but resigned, tossed a ten-dollar bill down on the desk and picked up the key, then led Carrie to the elevator.
"What the fuck?" was his philosophical comment as he pushed the button for the sixth floor, where their room was. "Everybody's got to hustle a buck, right kid?" Carrie agreed. The elevator door closed, and the man grabbed her ass, pulling her close against him, as the car began to go up. His. erection pressed against the mound of her cunt as he pulled her skirt high and began to stroke her asscheeks and thighs with his hands. He kissed her, and Carrie didn't object. "Oh yeah! You're one hell of a sweet piece, you know that?" he said as his hands explored her body through her brief panties. "The minute I saw you walk in with that asshole, I told myself, Harry, that lucky stiff there has got himself a real piece of sweet young ass. I couldn't believe it when he walked out on you like that.
Fuck! You're ten times better than any of those broads in the picture show."
"Thanks," Carrie murmured, at this leaden compliment.
The elevator jolted to a stop, and they got out and found their room.
"Yes indeedy," Harry continued cheerfully, unlocking the door, "I said to myself right away, look at that son of a bitch getting into that hot little snatch, I tell you, honey, I took one look at you and my prick got so hard it really started to ache. I'm not kidding-" They were inside the cheaply furnished room; he bolted the door behind them. "How about a look at the merchandise, baby?"
"The money," Carrie said firmly. "You said I could have it first-"
"Oh sure, sure, might as well get that out of the way, right?" She was relieved by his immediate compliance. He pulled two tens and a five from his wallet and handed them to her: Carrie shoved the money into her purse. Thank God! She was so grateful that she'd give him the fuck of his life now. He was touching her hips, caressing one full breast through the thin material of her knitted top.
"Now the boobs, honey-those big boobs of yours-let's have a look at 'em, see if they're for real..."
She realized for the first time that he was short, a couple of inches shorter than she was; this was oddly reassuring-Carrie suddenly felt very much at ease with him. He was a weirdo, but a nice weirdo. She was smiling as she pulled the top up and off and saw how his eyes bulged, nearly popping out of their sockets, as she bared her breasts proudly for his inspection and approval.
"Wow! They're just terrific!" Harry swore softly, seizing her tits and squeezing the plushy mounds so hard it hurt a little. "That's really a nice fucking set you got there, doll-and believe you me, I know nice tits when I see 'em. You know, I'm what you'd call a real tit man... how about a little hot tit-fucking, huh? Okay?" i She wasn't sure what he meant-none of the men who patronized her mother's house had ever wanted such a thing-and her confusion showed in her face; but Harry only laughed cheerfully as he undressed. Carrie pulled her skirt off so it wouldn't get wrinkled worse than it already was. She hesitated, then stripped out of her pants as well. She wore only her nylons when Harry eased her onto the narrow bed, his erection poking out towards her the way it had when he'd exposed himself to her in the movie theater. "First suck on it a little, so it's good and wet," he gasped. His hands moved to her head, drawing her face down to his crotch. This much, at least, was only too familiar to Carrie. They all wanted to be blown! She took his hard cock in her hand and guided it to her lips, putting just the head of it inside her mouth as she began to suck gently.
"Go ahead and swallow down the whole thing," her John insisted. 'Take your hand away and let the whole thing slide right down into your throat. Do it easy, you won't have no trouble. Oh fuck yeah! Yeah! That's the way I like it, honey-that's how to suck dick! You're worth every goddam red cent of that money. Go on and suck it good. Don't be afraid-really blow me. Use your teeth a little, that turns me on, only don't bite too hard." She did as he suggested and his groans and helpless squirming movements told her that she was pleasing him; he kept his hands in her hair to guide her head as she worked her sucking lips up and down the length of the throbbing column of steely flesh, but then he moved them to her breasts and pinched at her large dark nipples.
"That's good-real good! A great suck!" he gasped, getting more and more excited as she labored on his prick. "Your mouth feels damn good-nice and soft and warm. Go ahead and suck it some more. Suck it real hard-!" She did so.
"Now, honey-that's enough! Now!" Harry grunted. "All you got to do is lie back on the fucking bed and let me on top-"
He pushed her into the position he wanted, then straddled her chest, his weight oppressing her for a moment until she got used to it. Placing his saliva-wetted penis between her breasts, he grew even more excited. She immediately got the idea. He wasn't even going to fuck her in her cunt! That was a relief... this was going to be an easy twenty-five bucks. Carrie wondered why she hadn't discovered how her big breasts could be put to erotic use long ago-
"Okay! Now you just play with those gorgeous big tits of yours-just rub 'em real hard and keep pushing 'em together so that they're rubbing against my dick real nice an' tight." Carrie did as he asked, and he began to fuck her generous cleavage as though it were a soft pussy, rocking rapidly back and forth to slide his cock in and out of the deep pliant groove they'd created from her boobs. Carrie began to enjoy it. She let her head fall back onto the pillows, but Harry grabbed her hair to pull her back up.
"No! You got to keep looking-look right at my dick going back an' forth between those big tits," he panted desperately. "Watch my cock! I'm going to shoot a really big load in just another couple of minutes! I want it to go right into that sexy hot mouth of yours! Get ready to take it-to suck it...oh, fuck! Shit! You're really turning me on, getting me hot! Fabulous big boobs... you're really something else, honey... oh, does that ever feel good!"
He was ramming his prick back and forth between her compressed breasts much faster now, and Carrie kneaded her breasts rapidly to increase the friction.
"Oh yeah! Oh fuck! I'm almost there! Open up, baby-open wide-get ready to take it-!" he grunted.
He pushed himself forward, deep into her mouth, keeping his hand on the back of her head and forcing her to take him as he rammed his cock into her mouth and exploded deep in her throat. She gagged a little as the salty taste inundated her throat and his cock rubbed frantically over her lips and tongue and the insides of her hollowed cheeks as she sucked to gulp the flow of semen down. At last he was spent and her ordeal was over.
Harry pulled away from her, sighing. "You really are something else, doll," he repeated. "You're really special-not like most of the hookers I pick up around here. Usually I last longer, but this time I just couldn't hold it in, you got me so fucking hot. What the fuck-I got my money's worth." He slapped her rump lightly, then caressed her sweaty breast. "Hey, you new in town? How old are you, anyway?"
"Does it matter?" the girl asked defensively.
He laughed. "Honey, the way you suck dick, you could be sixteen or sixty and I wouldn't give a shit. But you'd better watch it-the cops're getting a little tougher to keep the voters happy, you know what I mean?"
She nodded as she put her clothes back on. "Thanks."
"Just a tip, baby. Stay cool and you'll make out all right."
He was already dressed. Carrie was glad. Short and businesslike-the way she liked it. He didn't even wait to accompany her downstairs, but reminded her to drop the key off at the desk when she left as he went out the door. He waved good-bye and was gone down the hall.
Carrie took her time putting herself back together, applied fresh lipstick-ugh, she could still taste the come in her mouth!-and brushed her silky blonde hair in front of the cracked and discolored mirror on one wall. It hadn't been badnot really. Harry was a decent trick, as Johns went. And she had the twenty-five dollars. Harry had told her she was something special-not like those other cheap whores. She'd known that all along. And once she saved enough money, when she got to Vegas, other people would know it, too. Pleased with herself, she left the room and pressed the button to get the elevator. In the lobby, she was about to throw the room key on the desk when the clerk caught her arm to detain her. Puzzled, she glared down at him haughtily.
"Hey, you!-you want another trick?"
Carrie looked at him, momentarily confused. "What?"
"Another John, you dumb bitch! Do I got to draw you a picture?"
"Who-you?" she retorted, trying to sound contemptuous.
"Don't make me laugh! No-it's a guy upstairs."
"How-how much will I get?" she asked shamelessly.
"He's got for thirty, but I get ten off the top for setting it up. Okay, baby?"
"I get twenty-five," Carrie said, surprised by her own confidence. She wasn't going to get ripped off again-not ever!
"Maybe you do, if you peddle your ass out on the street long enough. But I've got a quick, easy twenty for you right here, all lined up. Don't do me any favors, though-take it or leave it. You don't want the John, I know four, five other sluts within yelling distance who'd be glad to fuck him for the twenty."
"Okay," Carrie said. Maybe she could get another twenty-five or thirty if she hit the streets, but this money would be hers without even having to work for it.
"He's in Room 43," the desk clerk told her, smiling. "Go right up."
Carrie walked back to the elevator-it was waiting for her.