The Reincarnation of a Glorified Sinner

BPOV

Twenty years old.

That's it.

Today, September 13, I graduate from my teens and embrace my new life as a twenty-something.

I laugh aloud at the irony of it. I'm not even of legal age to become intoxicated.

It's silly, really. I've engaged in threesomes, sucked various nationalities of cock, finger fucked and licked off numerous females, and barred myself to anyone who would pay attention. Yet, I have not taken a single drop of liquor.

For four years, I was a prostitute extraordinaire. I literally was up for any type of entanglement as long as it earned me a fast buck. Money consumed me. It was my alternative for lust. That particular passion had been stolen from me long ago.

I found that my tender age enlisted a certain excitement in men and I used that advantage to the hilt. I don't even know who I am anymore. Not really. Normally, there's a character I am expected to play. And play I do. Perhaps I could even become an actress at this point. From early on in my former business, I learned to exuberate the role my customer fantasized of. I could be their family doctor, wife, colleague, teacher, cheerleader…anyone. In some cases, I was their mother or even their daughter. People have twisted minds only accessible to the lowliest of people. Namely, whores such as myself.

I had no rules, no boundaries. I screwed humans of any age as long as they had money to offer. A twelve year old boy had once propositioned me 2,000 dollars in cash and I accepted readily. As soon as the money was placed in my eager palms, I popped his cherry in the back of an abandoned building, hidden from society. Of course, I reconciled to my conscience that technically no crime was committed since I myself was a minor at the time. But I know better. I would have fucked him for the money regardless of my age.

Then there's the women aspect. They're more generous than men. I often found myself being able to afford my entire month's rent simply by spending a night with a single female client. I have no romantic feelings towards women, but I couldn't deny any green love. What would be the point anyway? When you're a whore, you're a whore. There's no justification. I know plenty of people in the same predicament that claim to have "rules", but in reality it doesn't change a thing. If I'm going to Hell, I may as well have done it thoroughly and scraped up every available dime. If that meant getting fucked by a dog then so be it. At least I got my penny's worth.

You're judging me, aren't you? I know you are. At this very moment, you're shaking your pretty head with disgust and perhaps even an amount of pity. But let me ask this question: If you have a child who depends on you, wouldn't you do ANYTHING to ensure their survival? Isn't damning your own soul better than witnessing your beautiful creation starve?

Yes, I have partaken in derogatory activities that shall haunt me for eternity, but I don't regret anyone of them. For they are the reason I have been able to keep my son, Jacob.

Jacob's my only relief in this dreaded life. He loves me unconditionally.

Jacob's birth, five years ago, was an agonizing period in my life. He was the result of a rape by someone I had trusted with my life. No one believed me though. Paul was the star quarterback. Of course he wouldn't be capable of such a crime! Besides, like he would really HAVE to force himself on ANYONE. They all snickered.

My father was so ashamed of my ordeal. According to him, I ruined his stellar reputation. He kicked me out when my bulging belly became too prominent. I had gone to live with my mother in New York. She is a loving woman, but is completely ineligible in the skill of investing money. She blows her paycheck on Debbie doughnuts and artificial pink flamingos. I speak no ill of her though; she was kind enough to watch Riley when I went on my sexual escapades. Ugh, the way I word that makes me sound like I actually enjoy sex. The truth is the opposite. Sex is a grimy thing organisms do to gain a feeling of empowerment. It's entirely void of any true enjoyment.

And the term "making love" only exists to spare women from feeling cheap afterwards.

Ironic, I know, that I am so against sex, but have had more of it than most people do in a lifetime. Sex is an exploited activity that was simply too easy NOT to take advantage of. Between my mother's spending and my unemployment, Jacob was living on two measly meals a day. One day, I observed a hooker who was in finer clothes than me and the rest is history. Literally. I'm not in the business anymore. It's my past and hopefully it NEVER becomes my future.

I was intelligent with my finances and saved a nice portion of every paycheck I received. As a result, I have a hefty amount in savings. I truly hope no one begins to question how a jobless single mom managed to put so much money in the bank. However, I doubt they will. One of the many difficult lessons I've learned is that no one really cares about others. Not really. As long as you're not disturbing their happiness in any way, your actions are irrelevant. It's rather sad. Alas, I'm thankful for it.

Now, I have a job lined up as a personal assistant to some business mogul. Mr. Cullen I think his name is. Damn, I'm gonna have to refresh my memory if I plan to excel at this job. I begin on Tuesday, three days from this present date. I'm nervous as fuck because if I fail at this I shall have no choice but to return to my life as a streetwalker. It's a miracle I even was awarded this job. I have a hard time believing it was based on merit. Rather I am convinced Mr. Hale, the "gentlemen" who conducted my interview had a difficult time turning down the chance to ogle my tits every day. Perhaps he picks this Mr. Sullen's women for him. Or was it Cullen? Mullen? Escapes me. Oh well, I have three days to become VERY familiar with the philanderings of this mystery boss.

I refuse to get my hopes up. I can almost guarantee that I'll whip out his dick for a nice sucking the moment we're introduced out of pure habit. Then everyone will know I'm not the proper being they all are almost certain to be. They'll know I'm a slut who has fucked humans and occasionally animals alike.

When I'm carousing through even the ordinaries of places, I feel like they can automatically detect my sins. I wouldn't be astounded to discover I had a sign plastered to my head announcing my occupation.

Former occupation. I remind myself; scolding my negativity.

Still, I fear that one of my FORMER customers may work in the same facility. I'm having nightmares about it. A lot of businessmen relieve their tension by screwing whores- believe me, I would know.

Hence, I'm keeping my list of clients locked in a drawer…just in case. It's never safe to be presumptuous after all.

"Mommy?" Jacob pats my knee.

I'm immediately snapped back from my daze. My attention shifts to my baby boy.

"Yes, sweetie?" I ask whilst ruffling the black curls that frame his beautiful face.

"Do you know when nana's coming home?"

"Not until early morning, buddy. She's working the night shift." I kiss his forehead.

"Kay." He replies sadly.

"Hey, why don't we play a board game? Nana says you love them."

"Umm…no thanks. I'm gonna go play with my new Spiderman." Before I can protest, he scampers to his bedroom.

I'm powerless to the tear that escapes down my rosy cheeks. It seems my relationship with Jake has deteriorated right along with my dignity. He always declines my offers of spending time together. He's resentful to all the time I've dedicated away from him, I'm aware of that. In my quest to give him a good life, I had to relinquish many of my motherly duties. It wasn't me nursing him back to health when he was sick. It wasn't me who dropped him off or even picked him up on his first day of kindergarten. It wasn't me who accompanied him to receive his first haircut or view his first movie. It was my mom.

That's who his mother figure is. Not ME.

I'm a relative stranger to him.

It's times like these when I'm haunted by the question: Do I really deserve a second chance?

Even more disturbing is the only answer I can truthfully conjure up is: The world would be a better place without me.

No truer words were ever thought.