Chapter 22

Angilee's life became a nightmare of offering her mouth, nest or anus to anyone with the cash. As the weeks, then months rolled by, her life was reduced to eat, sleep and screw. Carlos would, at times, arrange for her to meet Johns, but much of the time Angilee spent on the streets, dressed in leather mini skirt, jacket and heels -- nothing more. She soon learned from the other girls to open the jacket and flash her breasts to the passing motorists to attract their attention. When they pulled over to the curb, she would lean in, ask if they wanted something warm and tight. If the answer was affirmative, she would get in and the negotiation would begin. She would sometimes get as much as a hundred, often less, but one night, desperate to make her minimum, the greasy haired young man just laughed when she asked for a hundred, replying, "One hundred? Are you kidding. All I've got is twenty. Take it or leave it."

She hated herself as Angilee heard herself say, "... Okay, twenty will get you a blow job..."

"That's all?" he asked, eying the rings in her nipples, her jacket now open to encourage the negotiation.

"What else you want?" she asked.

"Around the world!" he blurted.

"For twenty?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, for twenty. How old are you? You must be at least forty. I can get something a lot younger than you for twenty."

The remark cut her terribly. Angilee was now thirty-three but when she and Terry had gone out, she was often taken for a twenty-five year old. It was obvious to her what life as one of Carlos' hos was doing to her. But she had seen what Carlos did when one of his girls didn't bring him his minimum.

"... All right, all of it for twenty," she said, directing him to the cheap hotel which Carlos had his girls use.

Later as the man, who smelled as if he hadn't washed in a week, left, Angilee was dressing when she happened to look into the mirror hanging on the wall by the bed. Her hair was a mess, semen dripped from the corner of her mouth, large dark puffy circles under her eyes gave her a ghastly, almost vampiric appearance. Maybe the guy had given her a complement, telling her she looked forty, for the face which stared back at her was that of a fifty year old she thought. How did this happen, she wondered, from a wife and mother to a twenty dollar whore? Her heart aching, she finished dressing so she could get back onto the street. Another six or eight tricks and she would have enough to put something into the kids trust fund.

A week later, she tested positive for gonorrhea. She managed to get the shot of antibiotics at a free clinic, but when she asked Carlos for a night off, he beat her, first with his fists, then with a pool cue until she relented and returned to the streets.

She, Jean and Susie, another of Carlos' girls, wound up working a convention together, moving from room to room, servicing an endless stream of conventioneers. It was here that Angilee was first introduced to cocaine. She was near both mental and physical exhaustion and it showed. Susie had been using for some time to help her through the endless nights and offered Angilee a line. Reluctant, even in her current state, Angilee finally consented to try it "just this one time". The resultant boost in euphoria and energy led to her snorting whenever she could afford it and Carlos made sure she was never without it. Angilee soon forgot that there was little or nothing left to go into the girls's trust funds once Carlos got his cut and Angilee paid to support her growing drug habit.

The sun was rising when the two finally left.

Jean looked at Angilee, seeing the toll that life on the street and the coke was taking.

"I'm sorry," said the redhead.

"For what?"

"For getting you into this. I want you to know that Carlos made me recruit you. He told me what he would do to me if I didn't get you for his stable. That first night, even when I told him you said you'd think about it, he..."

She pulled open her blouse. Angilee gasped to see Jean had no nipple, only an ugly scar on her left breast.

"He did that?"

"Yes," Jean said, her voice low, sad, resigned. "He pulled several of the other girls into his office, then had me strip. He started fucking me. I thought he just wanted to degrade me in front of the other girls, but then he said he wanted to demonstrate what happens when his hos disappoint him. He whipped out a knife and before I could do anything he..." The woman closed her blouse without finishing.

"I"m so sorry. But none of what's happened to me is your fault," consoled Angilee. "I walked into all of this with my eyes open, first as a call girl with Donna and now a street whore for Carlos. I have no one to blame but myself."

They discussed briefly the notion of running away, but Jean related that she had been told that one girl who tried, ended up, face down in the river.

The girls parted, each going back to her own apartment to get a few hours sleep before it was time to once again sell their affection, their bodies and ultimately their souls.

It was a Saturday morning when there was a knock at the door, awakening Angilee from yet another horrid dream in which she stands on the shore, bound to a huge rocky crag, while Amy and Mary Beth sail off on a ship with Carlos, who stands at the stern smiling. As Angilee screams and watches in horrified helplessness, Carlos rips off her daughters clothes and begins raping first one and then the other.

The sweat still clinging to her forehead as her eyes opened and the fantasy began to vanish, she asked who it was.

"It"s Mitch, the super. You got a phone call."

She threw on a robe and hurried down to the phone which hung on the wall at the end of the hall.

"Get your ass down here, now!"

With that there was a click and the line went dead.

What does he want with me? she asked herself. "Have I done something to tick him off? I've been meeting my minimums. Will he beat me? she wondered. Will he cut me like he did Jean?

Deciding she did not want him any angrier, she hurriedly dressed and was standing before him in less than twenty-five minutes.

"Got a job for you," he said matter of factly.

Relieved that it appeared he was not actually angry with her, Angilee simply nodded her head in the affirmative.

"Got a new recruit down at the bus station. She came in yesterday afternoon, spent the night on the bus station bench. Probably a run away, most of them usually are who come to town without enough money for a place to stay or even something to eat."

Angilee gave him a puzzled look as if to ask what that had to do with her.

"She's ripe for the taking. Problem is, while I usually have no trouble talking them into coming down here for a "job" interview, she won't let me near her. Must be afraid of men. We'll get her over that in a hurry," he said smiling. "Here's what I want you to do. I want you to recruit her, talk to her, gain her confidence, tell her you know this guy who can get her a great job. Get her to come with you."

"But..." started Angilee.

"Shut up bitch and do what you're told! You just get her down here, I'll take over from there. She looks like she's maybe fifteen or sixteen, just the right age. Most guys will pay a lot to fuck a teenager, especially one who's fresh and tender. She's blonde, got on jeans and a purple tee-shirt."

He looked up at Angilee from behind the desk.

"Well, what the hell are you wanting for?"

"Nothing," said Angilee, hurrying for the door.

Angilee spotted the girl easily. Besides the description, the look of loneliness and fear were evident in the girl's face.

Angilee stopped at the counter and bought a couple of sandwiches and sodas.

"You look like you might need this," said the prostitute, handing a sandwich and soft drink to the girl.