Loosing Faith, Youth, and Innocence.
She is a waitress, at Cup-A-Joe a little café on the corner of ninth and Emerson. The night had just fallen over our small city. Under her apron she pulled her black hooded sweater tighter to her thin frame. I will most remember her by the smell she wore, not strong but thick. She wore a faded smile. Her shift was almost over and it showed in her calm subtle sighs. Her faded jeans had been torn at the left knee exposing her pink flesh. A white spaghetti-strap tank top held her small perky breasts in place, along with a white lacey bra. The restaurant was playing some strange pop song that seems so foreign to me now, but I knew quite well at the time. After the last tip was collected Tiffany, another young woman, came up to take her place as a waitress. Elle took down the ponytail she wore during the day. Her wild ebony hair tumbled down her side. She ripped the red apron off her body and walked out the door. I followed her.
Outside it was brisk and the air was laden with a fog just above our heads. The streets were slick with water. It wasn't raining now, but it had been all day. She walked with a quick and steady pace, a look of determination crossed her face more than once. The street lamps flicked on with a jolt of energy. I noticed a small subtle gasp escape Elle's lips as she threw her hand upon her breasts in fear. How I long to be one of those hands.
For such a cool day the fog billowing from a manhole seemed so thick. Elle disappeared into a world of mist as she walked toward her humble home. She lived on the edge of the forest. well kind of. Her father was the janitor of a local apartment complex on the edge of Central Park. She had lived there all her life, and for very cheap because of her father's job.She never thought of him as just a janitor, though. To her, her father had always been rich. She had a fantasy that he used to sell expensive rugs and jewelry in a large department store near the Madison Square Garden. But one day, as he was moving to his own store, the trucks, which were filled with robbers, left for Canada. That is why her father became a janitor. For her.
Well although deeply beautiful it isn't true. Elle's father had a gambling problem. He would gamble. loose. then beat Julie, Elle's mother. He was the reason she left without Elle. Elle loved him, and Julie couldn't bear to hurt Elle. She packed her bags the night before Christmas. Her father told her that Julie was out trying to find the best present for her daughter she could. Elle was seriously fixated with giving people gifts for most of her adult life because of this lie.
Ted, her father, was sitting slouched over in the couch with a bottle on the floor under his hanging hand. He had obviously dropped the bottle when he went out. Elle bent over and pick it up. She came back to the door, but still didn't notice me standing and staring at her from down the hallway. She shut the door softly and locked it from the inside. She soon realized that her keys were hanging out of the outside lock. Quickly she opened the door, peered around so nobody could notice the stupidity and then rushed back inside.
I slowly walked away. This was my hobby. Girls I mean. The rich old guys over on easy street had a hobby too. that is where it turned into a job for me. I hunt the girls then I sell them. I made a mistake with Elle though. I made a terrible mistake.
She is a waitress, at Cup-A-Joe a little café on the corner of ninth and Emerson. The night had just fallen over our small city. Under her apron she pulled her black hooded sweater tighter to her thin frame. I will most remember her by the smell she wore, not strong but thick. She wore a faded smile. Her shift was almost over and it showed in her calm subtle sighs. Her faded jeans had been torn at the left knee exposing her pink flesh. A white spaghetti-strap tank top held her small perky breasts in place, along with a white lacey bra. The restaurant was playing some strange pop song that seems so foreign to me now, but I knew quite well at the time. After the last tip was collected Tiffany, another young woman, came up to take her place as a waitress. Elle took down the ponytail she wore during the day. Her wild ebony hair tumbled down her side. She ripped the red apron off her body and walked out the door. I followed her.
Outside it was brisk and the air was laden with a fog just above our heads. The streets were slick with water. It wasn't raining now, but it had been all day. She walked with a quick and steady pace, a look of determination crossed her face more than once. The street lamps flicked on with a jolt of energy. I noticed a small subtle gasp escape Elle's lips as she threw her hand upon her breasts in fear. How I long to be one of those hands.
For such a cool day the fog billowing from a manhole seemed so thick. Elle disappeared into a world of mist as she walked toward her humble home. She lived on the edge of the forest. well kind of. Her father was the janitor of a local apartment complex on the edge of Central Park. She had lived there all her life, and for very cheap because of her father's job.She never thought of him as just a janitor, though. To her, her father had always been rich. She had a fantasy that he used to sell expensive rugs and jewelry in a large department store near the Madison Square Garden. But one day, as he was moving to his own store, the trucks, which were filled with robbers, left for Canada. That is why her father became a janitor. For her.
Well although deeply beautiful it isn't true. Elle's father had a gambling problem. He would gamble. loose. then beat Julie, Elle's mother. He was the reason she left without Elle. Elle loved him, and Julie couldn't bear to hurt Elle. She packed her bags the night before Christmas. Her father told her that Julie was out trying to find the best present for her daughter she could. Elle was seriously fixated with giving people gifts for most of her adult life because of this lie.
Ted, her father, was sitting slouched over in the couch with a bottle on the floor under his hanging hand. He had obviously dropped the bottle when he went out. Elle bent over and pick it up. She came back to the door, but still didn't notice me standing and staring at her from down the hallway. She shut the door softly and locked it from the inside. She soon realized that her keys were hanging out of the outside lock. Quickly she opened the door, peered around so nobody could notice the stupidity and then rushed back inside.
I slowly walked away. This was my hobby. Girls I mean. The rich old guys over on easy street had a hobby too. that is where it turned into a job for me. I hunt the girls then I sell them. I made a mistake with Elle though. I made a terrible mistake.