“Prairie says he ain’t got nothin’ for you, Pig.”
Pig looked over the railing. She stood on her toes to lean out over the highway. The cars sat, bumpers practically kissing, unmoving beneath the hot white of the sun. A stream of saliva dripped from her lips. She watched the spit land on the hood of a car. Her fingers grasped the railing and she pulled away.
“But it’s been two weeks,” she said. “What’s Prairie been doin’ for two weeks?” She glanced at Cork’s dirty t-shirt and torn-open, tattooed pants and wrinkled her nose. She crossed her arms.
“He just ain’t got nothin’ for you. He said come back in a week.”
“But it’s been two,” she reiterated.
“So?” He pulled a crushed pack of American Spirits from his tattered pocket, dumped one into his palm, and lit it with a baby blue Bic. “How much they givin’ you now, anyway?”
“They cut me off when I left Hellhouse.”
He snorted. “You never could lie for shit.”
She wasn’t lying, but there was no point in arguing. “Can I get one of those?”
“Where’d you get the money for Prairie?” he asked.
“From Crazy Eddie.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You with Crazy Eddie now?”
She pointed at his pants. “Can I get one of those?”
He shook his head. “Get your own. I only got so many left. When did you get with Crazy Eddie?”
“I ain’t with anybody. Just stayin’ with one of his girls.” She was staying with Candy, that was true. But Crazy Eddie wasn’t just giving her money. Cork didn’t need to know that.
“At the Ruby Palace?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She’d heard people call it that before.
He raised his eyebrow again and handed her the cigarette from his lips. She took it and put the butt between her own. She closed her eyes as she inhaled and let the smoke filter from her nostrils.
“You’re fucking ugly, you know that?” He watched her smoke with his hand in his pocket. “Give it back.”
She passed the cigarette back into his fingers and spat on the pavement. “Sure,” she said. “You’re not shit, either.”
He grabbed her cheeks and held her by the face. She looked in his eyes, not blinking. He blew smoke into her face and she continued to stare through the haze.
“Do you wanna fuckin’ die?” he whispered. His breath smelled of shit. “I can help you.” She waited for him to let go. “Get on your knees.”
“Fuck you,” she growled. She rubbed her jaw.
“Want me to tell Prairie you said, ‘Fuck you’? Want to have to wait another month?”
She sneered as she lowered herself to her knees. He pushed her back against the rail and unzipped his pants. His dick fell from the hole as he dug it out, limp and wrinkled. He pulled her head toward his waist.
“Suck it,” he demanded. She slowly placed her lips to the head and pulled him into her mouth, like a naked mole rat burrowing itself into her throat. His cock reeked of hand sanitiser. That was somehow more disgusting to her, though she couldn’t say why.
“Keep sucking,” he shouted. The dead worm lay lifeless on her tongue. She moved her lips around it. It felt warm and tasted like a gym sock. She tried not to retch.
Fluid rushed into her mouth, warm and foul. It leaked onto her shirt as she choked and put her palms to his thighs to push him away.
“I hate you!” Her fists pummeled him as he she stood. He laughed and backed away. “You fucking pissed on me!”
“Fuck you, Pig,” he laughed. He pushed his cock back into his jeans and walked away. He turned around and walked backwards. “Come back in a week,” he shouted. He turned and ran away.
On her feet, she spat globs of thick saliva onto the ground and wiped her mouth with the side of her arm. She hated Cork. He was a fucking faggot, anyway. Everyone knew it. That’s how he got to work so closely with Prairie. Rumour was Prairie’s dick was too big to fuck anyone without hurting them, but Prairie probably started that rumour himself. Cork sure didn’t walk like he was hurt.
She stood and watched his back grow smaller and disappear, then spat once more onto the sidewalk before turning away and walking in the opposite direction.
Cork chuckled to himself as his shoes scraped the sidewalk. He thought of Pig’s face as his urine trickled into her mouth. He snorted. Sometimes the hatred he felt for her made his stomach turn and jump at claw at him from inside. Now that she was at Ruby Palace, he’d catch shit for fucking with her for sure.
He wondered if he’d even see her in a week. Prairie must have known she was a Ruby now; he had more than enough to sell to her.
Pig was so stupid, she didn’t even know what it meant to stay at Ruby Palace. She probably though Candy and Crazy Eddie were just being nice, giving her money and a place to sleep as charity or something. He kicked a rock, then picked it up and hurled it through a car window. The alarm blared and echoed through the street. He didn’t look back as he passed it, didn’t increase the speed of the snail pace of his travel. He dug the bent pack of cigarettes from his pocket and dumped one out into his hand. He then replaced the packet and fished for his blue Bic. He flicked it thrice before the flame caught the end of his cigarette. He inhaled slowly. The car alarm stopped and someone screamed in the street behind him. He didn’t stop or look over his shoulder. The cigarette tasted like nothing at all.
“I hate this fucking city,” he said aloud. It wasn’t fair. Pig would probably get to leave now. Stupid, ugly bitch.
He ashed onto the street and bent over to tie his shoelaces. The frayed fabric slipped through his filthy fingernails. His tongue pushed the cigarette to the other end of his mouth. It dangled between his lips and he squinted through the smoke. He stuffed the ends of the laces into his sneakers and kept walking.
He walked and the houses grew sparse. He walked until there were no houses at all, and the grass became weeds stabbing through the cracks in the pavement. He walked until he saw the warehouses, all kept safely behind chainlink fences. He pushed one of the gates and the chain rose enough for him to fit beneath. He jogged to the building and lifted himself in through a window.
He walked through the hot, dark hallways- going more by memory than by sight- until he reached the lit areas. In the main entrance, Cork called out for Prairie, expecting to find him hunched over the mad science experiment of his alleged laboratory. Prairie wasn’t in any of the lit areas. Maybe he was sleeping. Sometimes Prairie would pass out for days and Cork would have to take all of his calls and hold people off until Prairie finally woke up. It was because Prairie never slept. Ever.
And where were Tiny and Deadhead and Tank? Was no one home?
He crossed into the darkness of the other side of the building. These hot hallways made him claustrophobic. He put his hand on the wall and guided himself through the rooms.
He climbed the stairs carefully and took out the Bic. He flicked up the fire with his thumb. It didn’t illuminate much, but at least he wasn’t blind. He walked into a room and found Prairie there, his shoulders against the wall.
“Did you know Pig was a-” Cork saw the girl on her knees before Prairie. Prairie’s silhouette pushed his penis back into his pants. The girl wiped her mouth. Cork’s finger slipped into the flame of the lighter and he nearly dropped it. He flicked it five times before the fire returned and Prairie and the girl faced him, smirking, their faces jumping in the dim light.
Prairie’s smirks always gave Cork chills, but this time, he felt nothing at all. “What’s happening?” His voice sounded small and far away in his own ears. Looking at Prairie, he saw him through a seemingly-endless tunnel.
“You’re being demoted,” Prairie answered. His voice filled the entire floor, loud and deep. “Sorry, kid.” Even in the feeble lighter fire, in the empty room, Prairie neither looked nor sounded apologetic.
“But why? What’d I do?” His free hand gestured at the girl. “This doesn’t make sense, Prairie.” Prairie didn’t even like girls. They were missing something, the thing he wanted most.
She pushed forward, leaving the area. As she passed Cork, she whispered into his ear, “I got a dick, too. Fucking loser.”
The lighter went out. He wrapped his fingers around the plastic and punched her, hard. His hand aimed for her face, but he didn’t see, feel, or care where the blow landed. She cried out.
“Never hit a lady,” Prairie grunted. He knocked Cork to the floor as he walked the girl out of the room, holding her in his arms. The windowless room was too dark to see anything, even the outlines of the walls. There wasn’t enough light coming from the hallway to show Cork where to go. He’d dropped the lighter and his sense of direction. Disoriented, he sat motionless and listened to their footsteps abandoning him in the dark. Alone. Sounds came from every direction. He couldn’t breathe. He struggled to breathe. The air came in loud gasps and the darkness spun around him. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms against them until he saw the stars inside of him, the bright dots of his existence, and he opened his eyes and let them adjust to the lack of light before groping around on his hands and knees for his lost Bic. His fingers brushed the plastic and he palmed it and quickly stood, letting the weak fire guide him back down the stairs and into the light of the lobby.
“If you’re going to be a violent little shit, you can get the hell out.” Prairie didn’t look up as he spoke. The girl sat at his feet and stared up at Cork. Cork glared at her, at her huge animal eyes and blank face. “You know my lab is all about peace,” Prairie continued. “The smallest disruption could- poof!” He raised his arms, his eyes still focused on the broken desk before him. “Send us all straight to the devil.”
Cork couldn’t stare at her face anymore. He walked to Prairie’s left side and watched him cut lines. Not a single grain of powder got away from the card he used to separate them. “One of these for me?” Cork softly asked. His right hand gripped Prairie’s left shoulder. Prairie slowly rotated and looked into his eyes, squinting and blinking rapidly.
“I know I don’t always express myself right,” Prairie spoke like a preacher. “So let me be real straight. You’re cut off, Cork. You don’t live with me anymore and I don’t take care of you. You get it now? Fucking dumb little fuck.” His eyes returned to the table.
Cork’s eyebrows met in confusion. “But where am I supposed to go? Prairie! I ain’t got nowhere else to go.”
“Go to Hellhouse! Sleep on the streets! I don’t give a fuck. Not my job to take care of strays.”
Cork’s fingernails dug into his palms as his hands turned to fists. “You swore.”
“Why are you snifflin’ at me like a little bitch? Why are you still here?”
Cork backed away, his eyes narrowed. He avoided the cartood eyes of the girl, willing Prairie to just look at him one more time. He backed into the long, white table- the laboratory- and whirled around. His arms flailed as he knocked it all to the floor. Every glass bottle, every tube. Liquid bubbled on the ground and he ran away as quickly as his feet could move. He heard Prairie shrieking and cursing as he threw his body through an open window. He kept running. He needed somewhere to hide, somewhere safe. He couldn’t think of anywhere to go. He had very little cash and no other friends.
His breathing grew laboured and he limped miserably beneath flickering streetlamps. The warehouses disappeared, replaced by strip malls; most of the businesses gone, the stores left deserted and bare, awaiting their next capitalist venture. Cork found a rock and tossed it through a window. An alarm sounded and he took off again.
“Fuck Prairie,” he muttered. Really, Prairie wasn’t too bad. At least he never hit him, the way his grandfather had. And he wasn’t so bad to fuck, really. Plus, he had the best drugs. But he knew Prairie would never have him back. He couldn’t even remember who worked for Prairie before Prairie found him.
He came upon another empty store and threw a stone through the window. No alarm. He crawled in, cutting his hand on a shard of glass. He tore his t-shirt and wrapped it around his palm, then found a corner of the building to hide in. Unless he found somewhere else to sleep, he’d probably have to walk the streets all night tomorrow, but Prairie wouldn’t be looking for him then.
He tried to position himself toward the light from outdoors without revealing too much of himself. Satisfied, he took his Sharpie from his left pocket and began to draw a snout on his pants leg.
Pig sat on Candy’s couch, her chin on her knees, shivering beneath a thick blanket. Candy kept her house like a refrigerator all summer. The material of the blanket made Pig itch and she dug her fingernails into her skin, trying to scratch away the sensation.
“Nothing from Prairie today?” Candy asked. She sat next to Pig and pulled her hand away.
“No. I think Cork was fucking lying. He probably just snorted it all.”
“Crazy Eddie give you money this morning?”
Pig nodded and scratched her nose.
“I know a guy who’s got some real good shit. You can make a few bucks from him. Are you interested?”
Pig dug at her scalp. “Do I have to fuck him?”
Candy shook her head. “Not if you don’t want to. It’s not like that, I promise, just some quick money. You got a fake ID?”
Pig nodded. Glass, one of the other girls who stayed at the house, walked through the living room. She didn’t speak or look at them. Candy rolled her eyes.
“Tomorrow, at exactly 9 AM, Crazy Eddie’s going to pick you up. Be ready. You’ll need to wear makeup. There’s some in the bathroom upstairs. You have to be ready at 9 AM. Can you do that?” Pig nodded. Candy grabbed her hand, held it, and continued. “Try to look your best, alright? It’s easy work, just a few photos. You want to do it?”
Candy smiled. “Fifty to two hundred. It depends how much he likes you. So make him like you.” She stood. “I’ve got to go talk to Glass and Feather.” She started to leave the room, then turned around. “Take Glass’s bed tonight. Get some good rest. And set an alarm.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“I’ll give you one of my old ones. Go on to Glass’s room. If Feather is in there, please send her out to talk to me.”
Pig tossed the blanket aside, jumped from the couch, and ran out of the room. It’d been years since she’d slept in a bed; even at Hellhouse, she’d slept on the floor in the dining area. Every morning, she and the others brought in the tables to replace the blankets while people filed in for their weak breakfast.
She opened the door without knocking and bounced onto the mattress. Feather jumped.
“Candy’s in the living room. She wants to talk to you.”
“Why are you in here?” Feather narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms against her stomach.
“I have a job tomorrow,” Pig answered. She tried not to smile.
Feather sucked her teeth and stomped out of the room. In the hallway, she ran face-first into Candy’s breasts.
“Wait for me in the kitchen,” Candy told her. Feather scoffed and walked away. “And stop storming around my house like you own it!” Candy waited until she couldn’t hear Feather’s feet. She sat on the edge of Pig’s bed and handed her a glass. “Drink,” she commanded. She stood and bent over the nightstand. The cord in her hands disappeared behind the table and she placed the phone carefully on top. “An alarm is set for 7. Don’t forget your ID. Get some sleep tonight. Be ready and waiting outside at exactly 8:45.” She waited for Pig to empty the glass, then took it and left. She shut the door.
Pig was far too excited to sleep. She could make fifty bucks tomorrow just for getting her picture taken? She couldn’t believe it. And she got to sleep in Glass’s bed. Glass would hold a grudge for days, but it was worth it. She rubbed her cheek on Glass’s pillowcase. It wasn’t as soft as it looked, but it wasn’t as rough as the couch pillows, either. She laughed and smiled to herself as she buried her face in the pillow.
The phone played a jolting tune and she couldn’t remember where she was and didn’t know what caused the noise. She turned beneath the blanket and saw Feather’s tightly-closed eyes.
“Fuck,” she groaned. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She sat up and grabbed the phone from Glass’s bedside table. She pressed the screen until the noise abruptly ended, then put her feet on the floor and stared at the blank wall.
Five minutes later, she stood and opened the bedroom door. She could hear the shower going at the end of that hall. She yawned and went upstairs, where Candy’s bedroom and the other bathrooms were. She locked herself in a bathroom. A box full of makeup waited on the counter. She looked at her face in the mirror and poked at a pimple. She pinched it until the pus popped out, followed by a weak stream of pink blood.
“Yuck,” she uttered. She left the mirror and turned on the shower.
She slowly undressed, facing away from the mirror, and stepped into the warm water. As soon as it touched her skin, urine trickled down the inside of her thighs. She wanted to shave, but she had no razor. She dragged her finger over her teeth and rinsed her mouth. The soap dish on the wall held a bar of soap and she smeared suds over her wet skin. She rinsed the film from her body and wet her hair before turning off the water. She shivered as she grabbed a towel from the bathroom counter and wrapped it around her shoulders. She dried her face, hair, and back, then wiped the mirror before dropping the towel on the floor.
She looked at the box of makeup, then back at her reflection. She took a few items and painted them on her face until she was satisfied. She pulled on the clothes she’d slept in and slipped a few lip glosses into her pocket. Then she left the bathroom.
Downstairs, she found an apple in a basket on the kitchen counter and wiped it on her shirt before biting into it. Pixie came out of the bathroom and joined her in the kitchen. She took four eggs from the refrigerator and grabbed a pan from the cabinet.
“You’re up early,” Pixie greeted her.
“I’ve got a job today,” Pig replied. She smiled.
“Yeah? Who with?” Pixie moved Pig aside as she returned to the fridge for the butter.
“Dunno. Candy didn’t say. Some picture guy.” The apple crunched between her teeth.
“Must be Marcos. You can’t wear that to see him; he’ll hate you. Go in my room and find a dress you like. I want it back. If you steal from me, I’ll fucking chop off your fucking fingers.” Pixie cracked an egg into the pan.
Pixie was the only girl in the house who got her own room, other than Candy. She didn’t have a curfew, either. And she had a car. No one else in the house spoke to Pig, but Pixie was nice to everyone.
Pixie’s room was nicely decorated and very messy. Pig stepped over piles of clothes and trash and opened the closet door. It was full of clothes- floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Pig looked at everything and chose the first dress she grabbed. She kicked everything away from her feet before taking off her clothes and pulling the dress over her head. She picked up her own clothes and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
In the kitchen, Pixie dumped scrambled eggs onto two plates. When Pig reentered, she thrust a plate at her.
“That looks so good on you, I almost want to let you keep it. Eat. Hurry. I wish I had time to fix your makeup, but I’m already running late.” Pixie shovelled three spoonfuls of eggs in her mouth and dropped the plate in the sink. Pig ate her eggs with her fingers, her clothes still in her arm.
“Gotta go. Don’t make Marcos hate you,” Pixie advised. She left the room, touching Pig’s shoulder as she passed. As Pig placed her own dish in the sink, she heard Pixie’s car start in the driveway.
She ran water over the dishes and walked into the hallway. She looked around, then opened a closet door and grabbed her backpack from the back corner. She stuffed her clothes inside, closed the door, and went to wait outside.
Crazy Eddie arrived at 8:55 and honked the horn of his brown Cadillac El Dorado twice. She hopped from the porch and ran to the passenger door. As she sat in the leather seat, he warned, “Don’t slam my door.”
She closed the door delicately and sighed, leaning into the headrest as she placed the backpack on her feet. “Mornin’, Crazy Eddie.”
“Hey, Pig,” he replied. He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. She stared at the ring on the little finger of his right hand. His left hand reached beneath the wheel and she saw him unbutton and unzip his jeans. His fingers pried within the pants until his cock bolted out- hard and pulsing at the wheel.
“You just gonna look at it?” he asked several seconds later.
She wrapped her small fingers around the soft, hardened flesh and tugged it toward her. Her hand moved up and down, over the head and down the shaft, into his pants. She turned in the seat for better access and moved her hand quickly up and down, down and up, jerking him feverishly but gently, until his dick shivered and drooled sperm into her fist.
“Napkins in the glove box,” he told her. He tucked in his penis and reached over to open the glove compartment for her. She cleaned her hands with the fast food napkins and pushed them into her backpack.
“Cute dress,” he said.
“It’s Pixie’s. She borrowed it to me.”
“You like Pixie?”
Pig nodded and looked out of the window. “She reminds me of my sister, I guess.”
“Pig and Pixie.” Crazy Eddie chuckled. “She fuck you, yet?”
Her neck cracked as she turned to stare at him. “No way,” she replied.
“You don’t like girls? Pixie does. I hear she’s real good, too. Just don’t fall in love with her. Love is the mind-killer.”
Pig scratched her knee. Crazy Eddie turned on the car radio and they listened to the commercials in silence.
At 9:45, Crazy Eddie parked in front of a house and turned off the engine. It was just a house, Pig thought, not a studio or anything.
“Is this it?” She stared at the mailbox and driveway.
“Yep.” He opened the car door and got out of the car. She did the same, grabbing her backpack before slowly and carefully shutting her door. She followed him up the driveway and watched him ring the doorbell.
“Be cool,” Crazy Eddie urged.
“Are you going to stay here with me?” Her voice revealed her age and anxiety.
“Of course,” he promised.
The door opened and Pig stared into the face of the man who stood before her, wearing old suit trousers and neither shirt nor shoes. Crazy Eddie nudged her inside. The interior of the house had the unmistakable dead skunk smell of cheap pot. A woman laid naked on a couch in the living room and watched the two men guide Pig through the house with barely-open eyelids. They stopped in a back room. The walls were covered in fabric and tall metal stands supported large, hot lights. Pig stood still and waited quietly, uncertain of what to do or say.
The man looked at her in the bright light and scoffed. “Estás completamente loco. Es fea. Qué hago con esa?” He spat into the air and turned away. Pig didn’t know what to do. She looked at Crazy Eddie for guidance, but he didn’t look at her.
“Hombre, qué es el problema?” Pig didn’t realise Crazy Eddie even spoke Spanish. She smiled, then turned her face to stone and let the men continue.
“Su cara! ¿Estás ciego o estúpido? Tú pierdes mi tiemp cada vez.”
Crazy Eddie sighed. “Voy a llamar La Niña. Alright? Borracho.”
The man glared. “Míralo…” he warned. He left without looking at Pig.
“What’s wrong?” Pig asked. She could hear the man stomping through the house.
“Nothing’s wrong. He just forgot to take his medicine. Look, I need you to go into the bathroom- right through there- and clean your face.” He pointed into the darkness and she could see a hallway through the lights. “Wash your face real good and don’t come out until I come get you. Got it? And whatever Marcos pays you today, you’re going to owe me a hundred of it. You got it?”
“But what if I only get paid $50?”
“Then you’ll still owe me $50 and you’ll walk out of here with less than you came with. So you better make more than that.”
She nodded sullenly and disappeared through the dark hall. There was only one door, and she let herself inside and locked it behind her before turning on the light, putting her backpack on the floor, and sitting on the toilet.
What if she’d already made Marcos hate her? What if she had to pay Crazy Eddie more than she’d make? All she had was the money he’d just given her a few days ago and she didn’t know when she could make more. She scratched at her neck and shoulders, fighting back the hyperventilation she felt gather like a storm in her chest.
She stood and stared in the mirror. Makeup smudges covered her face. She looked like a clown.
The water only smeared the makeup more. She used the handsoap to wash it away, but it didn’t help. It took fifteen minutes of scrubbing before she noticed any difference, and another fifteen minutes before her face was clean, though now very irritated.
Still, no one came to the door. She sat back on the toilet and wondered if Crazy Eddie’d left her there.
Another ten minutes and she was certain he had. She couldn’t hear anyone in the house. Probably Eddie left and Marcos forgot about her. She picked up her backpack and reached for the doorknob.
The doorbell rang at the front of the house. She backed away from the bathroom door and sat on the edge of the tub, her elbows on her knees.
Someone knocked on the door. The doorknob turned. “Come on out, Pig,” Crazy Eddie called.
She turned off the light and opened the door. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the lights. A woman with long, thick eyelashes and impossibly-pink lips smiled at her.
“Pig, this is Niña. She’s going to paint you up pretty.”
“What did you call her?” The woman’s pencilled eyebrows raised.
“It’s just my nickname,” Pig explained.
Niña sat her in a chair directly beneath one of the lights.
“Is this a rash?” she asked.
“I scrubbed too hard,” Pig sniffled.
“Not so rough next time. And whatever soap you used, don’t ever touch it again,” Niña advised.
By 11:30, Pig’s face resembled something you’d find on a fashion magasine cover.
“Overkill?” Niña asked Crazy Eddie.
“You’re a magic worker.” Crazy Eddie beamed and kissed her softly on the lips. Pig looked away.
Marcos entered the room, still barefoot and shirtless. He smiled at Pig. “Who is this young beauty? You look like a completely different girl!” He pointed at Pig and asked Niña, “This your work?”
Niña smiled, her teeth gleaming bright white behind her pink lips.
“You deserve more than whatever this tacaño is paying you,” Marcos said. He kissed the top of Niña’s head. “Eres una artista.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t wait until Ed has to call me, then.” Niña laughed.
“Can I see?” Pig asked quietly.
Niña pulled a mirror from her bag and handed it to Pig.
“I’m beautiful,” she whispered. She touched her nose.
“Nope,” Niña said as she snatched the mirror away. “Don’t touch your face, chica. Hands off.” She kissed Crazy Eddie and Marcos’ cheeks. “Gotta run; it’s been fun,” she sang.
“I’ll walk you out,”Crazy Eddie offered.
Marcos chuckled as he watched Pig watch them leave. “Do you have your ID?” he asked.
She opened the front pocket of her backpack and handed him the license.
He looked at it. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” she lied.
“This ID is expired,” he said.
“I haven’t been able to renew it,” she responded quickly.
He huffed. “What’s your name?”
She gave him the name on the card.
“Alright. I need you to fill out this paperwork and I’ll make some copies of your ID. Don’t fill in the dates. I’ll do that later. Just enter your information and sign where it tells you.”
He took the ID, glanced at it once more, and put it in the scanner in the corner of the room.
Pig looked at the papers. Social security number? She didn’t even know her real social security number. She wrote nine numbers and copied them in a notebook she kept in her backpack. He handed her the ID and she gave him the half-completed paperwork.
“Alright, now let’s see you,” he said. She stared and didn’t move. “What do you think you’re here for? Get naked. Vámonos. We’ve already wasted enough time today.”
She stood and slowly removed the dress. Her bra and panties were torn and dirty. He sucked his teeth and shook his head.
“Turn around,” he demanded. She faced the wall. “Decent body,” he decided. He opened a drawer near the printer and chose a matching set of underwear. He tossed them at her back and she turned around. “Put these on.” She moved toward the hallway and he laughed. “Don’t be modest.”
She slowly slipped the bra and panties from her arms and legs and replaced them with the new set. They fit perfectly. She touched her breasts and he chortled at her awe.
“Keep them, princesa. Alright, put the dress on and stand over here.”
She stuffed the old underwear into her backpack and stood before the backdrop. She wiped her sweaty palms against her knees. He snapped a photo. She looked up. “Here?” she asked.
“Yes, perfecto. Now, point your feet out a bit. Relax, cariño. Arch your back. Give a nice, pretty smile.” She heard the shutter.
He took a few more photos of her wearing the dress. She smiled and relaxed into her body.
“Alright, lose the dress.” He looked at the camera, reviewing the pictures. She wondered where Crazy Eddie was as she pulled the dress over her head. “Pare! Stop!” he yelled. “Hold that pose.” He snapped more photos. “Alright, toss it aside. Now, cross your arms beneath your breasts, push them up. Lean forward and arch your back. Smile.” Click. “Bend your knees a bit. Just a little. Put your arms over your head.” Click. “You’re a hairy girl, huh?”
“I didn’t have a razor,” she apologised.
“That’s alright, baby. You’re looking very beautiful. Now, put your thumbs in your panties and pull them down a very little bit. Gimme a little tease. That’s it, very pretty, very natural.” Click. “Now take off the bra and dangle it towards me.” Click. “Can you pinch your nipples for me?”
The lips of her fingers held her nipples, rubbing them until they were erect.
“Good girl.” Click. “Now put your left hand in your panties and hold your breast with your right.”
She felt the softness of her skin in her hand. Her fingers played with her pubic hair.
“Very good. Muy linda.” Click. “Now I want you to lie on your back and remove your panties. Very slowly.”
She laid on the wood floor and slowly pulled down the panties.
“Point your toes, always point your toes,” he breathed. Click. “Now, play with yourself.”
She hesitated and sat up. “But…”
“You don’t want to?” He backed away a few steps and lowered the camera.
“I… I don’t… I never…” she stammered.
“I’ll walk you through it for the photos. Then I’ll give you a toy and take a little video. Alright?” She nodded. “Good. Now, take your hand and slide one finger into that tight pussy for me, baby.” Click. “Do you know where your clitoris is?” She shook her head. “Open your lips for me, baby,” he said. Click. “Now let your thumb travel up until you feel that button. A little further. Oh, you found it.” Click. “Look at all that sexy fur. Now, rub that button. Soft, don’t be too rough.” Click. “Slide another finger in. Look at you, getting so wet for me. I can see your pussy juices gleaming on that soft fur.” Click. “Move your fingers in and out slowly. Good…” Click. “Alright, now I’m going to give you this toy and I just want you to do what feels good and pretend the camera isn’t here. Yes?”
He handed her a rabbit and explained how it worked. She laid down and closed her eyes, penetrating herself with the large, purple toy. It hurt at first, but she turned it on and the vibrations loosened her walls. She tried to position it against her clitoris, but the sensation was too much. She pushed the toy in and pulled it out over and over. Her breathing grew heavier and her back arched away from the floor. The vibrations between her legs made her feel as though she needed to pee, but she couldn’t stop. She could feel her heartbeat in every nerve of her body. The wave rushed over her and she screamed, the descent plunging her into the depths of pleasure, and she pulled the toy away and lay on her back, panting and sweating.
“Ay, Dios,” Marcos breathed. “Even I felt that one.”
Her first orgasm.
“Alright, get dressed.” He left the room and she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She tried to think about what just happened, but she couldn’t do that, either.
Finally, she got on her hands and knees and collected her clothing. She dressed and grabbed her backpack. Her eyes fell on the dildo, still vibrating, and she went to turn it off. Then she stuffed it in her bag and went to the front of the house.
“Marcos says you are a natural,” Crazy Eddie said as she entered the room.
“He told me what to do.” She blushed.
“I gave this pendejo your money. Two hundred fifty. Now you can get a new ID.” Marcos winked.
She’d made one hundred fifty dollars.
“Well, let’s get you back to the house.” Crazy Eddie stood.
“Thank you, Marcos.” Pig hugged the shirtless man and he kissed the top of her head.
“Thank you. I’ll see you, Crazy Eddie.” He walked them to the door and locked it after them.
In the car, Crazy Eddie smiled at her. “Great photos, Pig. I’m surprised. You did real good. Did you like it?”
She shrugged and closed her eyes. Her arms held the backpack to her chest.
Crazy Eddie laughed. “Let’s get you some McDonald’s. My treat.”
[Follow the story here. My first novel; a journey we can all take together!]