Chapter 9- When Real Life's Getting More Like Fiction Each Day
April 29th, 1995-2 months later
"Roger! Come on, pookie, we're going to be late!" I yelled into my bathroom.
Roger and I had been dating for two months now, and he was taking me to see his band play that night.
"The Well Hungarians can't play without me-they'll wait!" Roger yelled back.
I sighed, and sat back down on my bed. There was no moving him faster than he wanted to. My eyes wandered aimlessly around my room and landed on the calendar on my wall. Today's date was the twenty-ninth.
'Shit," I muttered, "I have to go to Henry tonight."
Ever since February, I had tone once every month to "pay" my rent. Roger never knew. A twinge of guilt pricked at me. What if he found out?
"But he won't." I told myself firmly.
Finally, I heard the toilet flush, and Roger came out.
"Ready to go?" he asked, grinning impishly.
"I've been ready." I pointed out.
Roger planted a kiss on my forehead.
"You're always ready for anything," he said fondly.
He wrapped his arms around my waist as I stood up.
"You mean so much to me-you know that, right?" he asked, nuzzling my neck.
My insides turned to ice as this familiar display of affection. Hr cared so much, and if I had any morals or feeling left in me, I would have too.
"You mean a lot to me too, pookie." I said softly.
"I know," he replied, and kissed me softly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Whoo-hoo!! Yeeeeaaaa!!!!" I yelled at the Cat Scratch Club that night as the Well Hungarians took their encore.
The crowd was pretty good-sized and the Well Hungarians had kicked ass. After they got off the stage, a dancer took the floor. She was beautiful- she had long, curly black hair, dark eyes, and a great body. She looked Hispanic, but I couldn't tell. She must have a club favorite, because the men in the crowd roared when she took the stage wearing practically nothing other than a g-string and a bra.
"Gimme some sugar, Mimi, baby!" yelled one guy.
"Mimi, be my wife tonight!" cried another.
She smiled and accepted the sweaty twenty-dollar bill he tucked into her g- string. I shook my head in disgust-who could subject themselves to that?
You could, I thought. You do every month.
That reminded me of this month's commitment. I checked my watch-it was almost midnight.
"Twelve-thirty, and all won't be well." I murmured.
The crowd's roar suddenly rose. I turned and looked-the girl they called Mimi was sliding her slim and lithe body around a lawn chair that she was handcuffed to.
That's odd, I thought to myself.
But the crowd was loving it-she was sliding and dancing and twirling around the chair in an erotic dance.
"I gotta get outta here," I said to no one in particular.
At that moment, Roger came out from the dressing room doors. He was grinning from ear to ear.
"What'd you think, babe?" he asked.
"You were wonderful! I didn't know you were that talented!"
"Oh thanks!" he laughed.
Then he stopped and fixated his eyes on Mimi.
"That poor girl," he said.
"Yeah," I agreed.
"How can she let guys touch her and look at her like that? Even though she's not screwing them, she's still whoring herself," he continued.
My breath caught in my throat as I nodded my agreement.
"Roger, I gotta go. I'm not feeling all that great." I said.
Roger looked concerned. "You want me to stay with you, babe?"
"No," I said quickly, "I just wanna get some sleep. I'll call you in the morning."
I kissed him quickly and then walked out of the club.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You came."
Only two words for an unspoken agreement.
"I don't feel like being thrown onto the streets." I said.
Henry ushered me into the apartment that I had come to know so well.
"That's because you're my private whore, Maureen." Henry said silkily.
I bit back an angry retort as Roger's comment on the dancer in the club came back to me-I was a whore.
"Well, let's get this over with." I said.
"Not tonight, Maureen." Henry said in a voice that I hadn't heard before, but that I didn't like.
"What-am I allowed to finally stop this?"
"No-I want you to dance for me first."
I was dumbfounded; completely and utterly shocked.
"Dance?" I squeaked out.
"Dance," he said in a final tone.
He went over to the stereo he had and turned on music I had never heard before. It sounded like a mix of slow jazz, Latin, and tango. It was seductive and slow.
"Dance, whore," ordered Henry.
I was used to this kind of verbal abuse from him. Powerless against his whims, I started to dance. It was all a slow, sweeping motion, a sexy feeling, lustful movement. Henry licked his lips as he watched me hungrily.
"A perfect morsel." he muttered.
I shuddered. I felt not only slutty, but also dumb. I didn't really know what I was doing. I wasn't really much of a dancer. Then, the dancer from the Cat Scratch Club came into my mind, and I started to copy some of her movements. I started to toss my curls a bit, lean over and then wriggle back up while thrusting outward. I moved, swayed, slithered.
"Oh God." Henry uttered.
This continued for another five minutes with me getting hotter and heavier by the second. Then:
"Strip."
Confused, I stopped dancing and started to take off my clothes.
"No," Henry snapped, "While you're dancing."
I started to dance again, this time walking, prowling, shimmying around Henry. I watched him sweat and groan as if he were already on that ride to heaven. I tossed my head and the two bobby pins holding back loose curls flew out. My curls sprang out and framed my face in wild tendrils. I started to take off my clothes when suddenly, Henry launched himself at me, picked me up and, while furiously peeling off what hadn't already been discarded, brought me into his room. It was the same old story, same old shit that I had done before.
But this isn't me! How can it be me? I thought. This girl who's selling herself to her landlord so she doesn't get evicted-it isn't me! This isn't my real life, this isn't how it's supposed to be!
And as I slowly let myself sink into a world of lovely pleasures, it seemed that the life that was once so real was unraveling into something fictitious.
April 29th, 1995-2 months later
"Roger! Come on, pookie, we're going to be late!" I yelled into my bathroom.
Roger and I had been dating for two months now, and he was taking me to see his band play that night.
"The Well Hungarians can't play without me-they'll wait!" Roger yelled back.
I sighed, and sat back down on my bed. There was no moving him faster than he wanted to. My eyes wandered aimlessly around my room and landed on the calendar on my wall. Today's date was the twenty-ninth.
'Shit," I muttered, "I have to go to Henry tonight."
Ever since February, I had tone once every month to "pay" my rent. Roger never knew. A twinge of guilt pricked at me. What if he found out?
"But he won't." I told myself firmly.
Finally, I heard the toilet flush, and Roger came out.
"Ready to go?" he asked, grinning impishly.
"I've been ready." I pointed out.
Roger planted a kiss on my forehead.
"You're always ready for anything," he said fondly.
He wrapped his arms around my waist as I stood up.
"You mean so much to me-you know that, right?" he asked, nuzzling my neck.
My insides turned to ice as this familiar display of affection. Hr cared so much, and if I had any morals or feeling left in me, I would have too.
"You mean a lot to me too, pookie." I said softly.
"I know," he replied, and kissed me softly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Whoo-hoo!! Yeeeeaaaa!!!!" I yelled at the Cat Scratch Club that night as the Well Hungarians took their encore.
The crowd was pretty good-sized and the Well Hungarians had kicked ass. After they got off the stage, a dancer took the floor. She was beautiful- she had long, curly black hair, dark eyes, and a great body. She looked Hispanic, but I couldn't tell. She must have a club favorite, because the men in the crowd roared when she took the stage wearing practically nothing other than a g-string and a bra.
"Gimme some sugar, Mimi, baby!" yelled one guy.
"Mimi, be my wife tonight!" cried another.
She smiled and accepted the sweaty twenty-dollar bill he tucked into her g- string. I shook my head in disgust-who could subject themselves to that?
You could, I thought. You do every month.
That reminded me of this month's commitment. I checked my watch-it was almost midnight.
"Twelve-thirty, and all won't be well." I murmured.
The crowd's roar suddenly rose. I turned and looked-the girl they called Mimi was sliding her slim and lithe body around a lawn chair that she was handcuffed to.
That's odd, I thought to myself.
But the crowd was loving it-she was sliding and dancing and twirling around the chair in an erotic dance.
"I gotta get outta here," I said to no one in particular.
At that moment, Roger came out from the dressing room doors. He was grinning from ear to ear.
"What'd you think, babe?" he asked.
"You were wonderful! I didn't know you were that talented!"
"Oh thanks!" he laughed.
Then he stopped and fixated his eyes on Mimi.
"That poor girl," he said.
"Yeah," I agreed.
"How can she let guys touch her and look at her like that? Even though she's not screwing them, she's still whoring herself," he continued.
My breath caught in my throat as I nodded my agreement.
"Roger, I gotta go. I'm not feeling all that great." I said.
Roger looked concerned. "You want me to stay with you, babe?"
"No," I said quickly, "I just wanna get some sleep. I'll call you in the morning."
I kissed him quickly and then walked out of the club.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You came."
Only two words for an unspoken agreement.
"I don't feel like being thrown onto the streets." I said.
Henry ushered me into the apartment that I had come to know so well.
"That's because you're my private whore, Maureen." Henry said silkily.
I bit back an angry retort as Roger's comment on the dancer in the club came back to me-I was a whore.
"Well, let's get this over with." I said.
"Not tonight, Maureen." Henry said in a voice that I hadn't heard before, but that I didn't like.
"What-am I allowed to finally stop this?"
"No-I want you to dance for me first."
I was dumbfounded; completely and utterly shocked.
"Dance?" I squeaked out.
"Dance," he said in a final tone.
He went over to the stereo he had and turned on music I had never heard before. It sounded like a mix of slow jazz, Latin, and tango. It was seductive and slow.
"Dance, whore," ordered Henry.
I was used to this kind of verbal abuse from him. Powerless against his whims, I started to dance. It was all a slow, sweeping motion, a sexy feeling, lustful movement. Henry licked his lips as he watched me hungrily.
"A perfect morsel." he muttered.
I shuddered. I felt not only slutty, but also dumb. I didn't really know what I was doing. I wasn't really much of a dancer. Then, the dancer from the Cat Scratch Club came into my mind, and I started to copy some of her movements. I started to toss my curls a bit, lean over and then wriggle back up while thrusting outward. I moved, swayed, slithered.
"Oh God." Henry uttered.
This continued for another five minutes with me getting hotter and heavier by the second. Then:
"Strip."
Confused, I stopped dancing and started to take off my clothes.
"No," Henry snapped, "While you're dancing."
I started to dance again, this time walking, prowling, shimmying around Henry. I watched him sweat and groan as if he were already on that ride to heaven. I tossed my head and the two bobby pins holding back loose curls flew out. My curls sprang out and framed my face in wild tendrils. I started to take off my clothes when suddenly, Henry launched himself at me, picked me up and, while furiously peeling off what hadn't already been discarded, brought me into his room. It was the same old story, same old shit that I had done before.
But this isn't me! How can it be me? I thought. This girl who's selling herself to her landlord so she doesn't get evicted-it isn't me! This isn't my real life, this isn't how it's supposed to be!
And as I slowly let myself sink into a world of lovely pleasures, it seemed that the life that was once so real was unraveling into something fictitious.