Alright, so, it's been awhile since I was on cuz of school and other stuff, but. . . I am back. You may applaud.
Seriously though, I have some excuses to make. This thing was written when I was like 13 so its a little sex-centred (thanks, hormones) sooo. . . forgive me.

BTW, angie: I dig that you're guessing about the bad guy! It makes me feel like a good author :P I hope to get the whole thing on here but I have to chapter hunt in the tornado wreckage I call my room.

Okay, I want at least two reviews or I won't add any more.
Not because I'm needy but because I don't want to post shtuff that nobody's going to read.

Onward!!

I sat down heavily. My day had pretty much reached the ultimate in suckitude. My band fell apart, I had no money, I was getting evicted, and the guy I thought I was in love with just dumped me after telling me he had been cheating on me.

I looked around at the shitty apartment I called home. I knew I wasn't going to be able to move in with my dad. He was still pissed that I dropped out of college for Pencey Prep. My mom barely had the money to support herself, so that was out of the question.

Geoff? No. Leeli? Nope. Mikey? Nah, he lived with his parents. Toro? Maybe. Maybe maybe.

I put my head in my hands.

My name is Frank. I'm short, I'm green-eyed, I'm dark haired, and I play rock 'n' roll music.

Or rather, I did. Things aren't going to the plans I had for Pencey Prep.

Sighing, I gathered my guitar, Pansy, and a bag of clothes. I stood at the door with a guitar on my back and a satchel at my side, took one last look around my apartment.

With a sigh and a touch of nostalgia, I walked out.

* * *

I learned a lot in those first couple weeks. I learned what "do you swing" means. I learned the right angles to tilt my hips, when I was on the bottom or the top. I learned how to use my tongue to make men moan. I learned how to make men scream.

I also learned how to tell a tender lover from a boy-beater. It's something about their eyes, how they run up or down my body. How they talk when I get in a car. How they grin when they see me.

I didn't set out to become a prostitute. It just sort of happened. I asked at Toro's, but he was having money troubles himself. I had to head back, so I tried to hitchhike.

Some guy pulled up. I noticed him checking me out, but I didn't think anything of it.

He rolled down the passenger window and said, "You swing?"

I blinked, not comprehending. He sighed.

"Hop in."

I slid into the seat, Pansy flipped off my back with prowess. She sat between my legs usually, but this guy said, "Chuck 'er in the back." I blinked again, but slid my guitar in the backseat with my bag. He drove down the on-ramp onto the highway.

"You ready yet?"

I looked over at him. He was pulling off the highway, turning on to a side street. I swallowed. He pulled up in front of some house and unbuckled. It wasn't until he moved to straddle me, unlatching my seat belt, that I figured out what was happening to me.

He released the seat's catch, and it flew back as he pressed his lips to mine roughly. I responded hesitantly, afraid. This wasn't what I had planned on at all! He put a hand up my shirt and tweaked my nipple, making me arch toward him. He pulled his mouth away.

"Am I gonna have to do all the work or are you gonna make it worth my money?"

I thought hard. I knew all the shit about STDs and all that shit. I knew what could happen—but I also knew that money was hard to come by easy, and playing my guitar on street corners wasn't making much. I decided hesitating again.

"Depends, " I said. "How much you gonna pay?"

"Depends."

I smirked. Time to be sexy. I licked my lips thoughtfully. "Forty-eight an hour."

He nodded. I grabbed a belt loop and pulled him down for another kiss. I didn't realize then that it would change my life . . . forever.

Lawl. Corny ending for the win.