Part 4 – Lisa’s Story

Lisa; a girl; 32 years old, five foot three inches tall, with short black hair and brown eyes.

My name is Lisa, and yes, that is my real name. For the past 10 years I have been working the area between the Prudential Center and Penn Station in Newark New Jersey, trying to making a living the best I can. It isn’t an easy place and certainly not for the faint of heart, but I’m not exactly what you would call a high class whore.

In the neighborhood I work, you have to offer something that you can’t get from others. There is a lot of competition here, from all different types of “working girls” so you have to do something to stand out. I have an advantage in that I don’t have many restrictions in what I will do sexually.

I am up for pretty much whatever the customer wants except for S&M. I don’t mind a spanking or a little nipple clamping play, but anything involving real pain is a no-no. “I like me and I don’t trust you” is my philosophy!

Some people call me a skank whore, some call me gutter trash ... whatever. You can call me whatever you like so long as the green keeps coming in – believe me, I’ve been called every name in the book!

I grew up not far from here in East Brunswick, New Jersey. I had a fairly decent life growing up I guess, all things considered. Dad worked as a truck driver so he was gone a lot, but when he was home we were pretty happy. Mom worked as a waitress at a local restaurant and did her best to raise me right. My childhood had no traumatic events and was pretty ordinary.

I did however, have trouble in school. I have A.D.D. so school was very difficult for me. I couldn’t seem to sit in a classroom for hours on end and listen to someone talk about something I had absolutely no interest in.

As a result, I got very bored easily and I would act out – cracking jokes, making the other kids laugh, and causing interruptions for my teachers. I got in trouble a lot and my Mom was forever coming to school to talk to my teachers or my principals.

I finally dropped out of school when I reached 16 and was able to legally leave school. I was happy to be out of school and have the days to myself again, but I didn’t realize that such freedom came with a price. With no high school education and no GED, my employment opportunities were limited at best.

With Dad gone so much and Mom so busy at work, I was left to watch myself most of the time – not a good thing when you are easily bored. I would leave the house as soon as Mom had safely gone, and go about finding something to keep me entertained.

That usually meant boys and I knew just where to find them! I quickly learned that boys have this remarkable ability to hold my interest and that sex was wonderfully calming for me. My first “boyfriend” took my cherry and I have never asked for it back!

I became quite the little slut once I discovered cock and I couldn’t seem to get enough. When I found out my boyfriend couldn’t keep up with me, I dropped him to find myself another. I went from boy to boy looking for someone who could feed my starving pussy, but no one seemed to be able to.

Then it came to me ... no ONE could satisfy me! I stopped looking for Mr. Right at that point and started looking for Mr. Right Now. I was too much for any one man to keep up with, and so I would have multiple guy friends.

Having several guys chasing me seemed to ease my sexual hunger and getting it regularly was working. Oh, there was the occasional jealous spat, but if things got too serious, I would walk away. And the guys knew that too, so it usually worked out.

This system seemed to work for awhile and I was feeling pretty good about it. That is, until Adam came into the picture. Adam was a friend of one of my guy friends and we met one day when they both came over to see me. Adam was new to the area and Tim (my guy friend) was showing him around and introducing him to some people.

Adam was a gorgeous, well built, muscular hunk of a guy with blonde, shoulder length hair and ice blue eyes. I fell for him the moment I saw him and decided I was going to add this guy to my selection of playmates. Soon, I was seeing him more often than my other guy friends. We just seemed to click and the sex was fantastic. I thought that maybe this guy was the one I had been searching for.

We were married about a year later, when I was 19. At first it was nice, we didn’t have a lot of money, but we didn’t need much. We were happy just being with each other. But then things started happening ... I started finding out more about my new husband and not all of it was good. As we got more and more accustomed to life together, I started seeing another side to my man.

He started off first by raising his voice at me. I thought “Well maybe I deserved that” when it occurred. But he soon started yelling at me, then cussing at me, and finally hitting me. I realized he was an abuser. I had married a wife abuser. I tried making him happy. I tried doing things the way he wanted them. But the more I tried pleasing him, the more it angered him when I messed up.

I held it together for six years. Six years of being yelled at, called every vile name in the book, and being hit. I went to the hospital several times because I had “fallen” or been “clumsy” and gotten black eyes or various bruises. I had a concussion once from one of my “accidents” and even busted an arm. I began to wonder if this was all there was to a relationship and I started suffering from depression. Depression led to alcohol to try to escape and that is when it happened.

I was going to the liquor store one day to buy yet another bottle. I was a vodka drinker primarily, but in a pinch I would drink whatever I could get my hands on. I was about to go into the store when I realized that I didn’t have enough cash. I did have a credit card, although I preferred not to use it – if hubby found out I had been to the liquor store with the credit card, he’d be pissed!

But then I realized that he was going to be pissed at me for something anyhow, so what’s the difference! I went in and got my bottle and was at the register to pay for it. I plopped down the card but when the cashier rang it up, the card had been denied! I was dejected and was about to put the bottle back, when a friendly voice spoke up from behind.

“You look like you could use a drink,” the voice said. I turned about and saw a nicely dressed man behind me flashing some money in his hand. “What would you say to having a drink with me?” He offered to by the bottle for me and I gratefully accepted. He paid for my bottle and we walked out of the liquor store together. Then he took me around the corner of the liquor store where I paid him back for his kindness with a little of my own.

After showing my new friend my appreciation orally, I left to go home, bottle in hand. As I suspected, Adam came home and was pissed about something at work. With me as a handy punching bag, he got his frustrations of the day out, giving me a couple more bruises for my collection in the process.

But this time I’d had enough. Once he passed out on the couch as was his fashion, I grabbed a pillowcase and threw what clothes I could into it. Then I left him sleeping on the couch.

I didn’t know what I would do or where I would go, I just knew I had to get out of there. I’d figure something out once I put some distance between me and him and could think clearly. I went to the nearby transit station and got on the first bus leaving for anywhere. I took the bus as far as it went, then hopped another, and finally another. That got me a good distance from what I once called home.

Figuring I was safe from Adam for awhile, I sat down on the bech as the bus stop to try to figure things out. I took stock of what I had, which wasn’t much, and what I needed. I had no job, and no skills to speak of. I needed a place to stay and something to eat.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that if I could use my sexual appetite to get a bottle, why not use if to get something to eat? I knew that prostitution was a tricky game and that it could be dangerous but I grew up on these streets ... I figured I could handle myself.

And so my new life began.

Joey Antonacci was my first “date”. Joey was a fifty-something sanitation worker whose wife had left his many years ago. Joey had his own place, a nice Victorian townhouse in a better part of town. Joey’s house was about a fifteen-minute drive from where I had set up “shop”.

Joey’s place was a disaster; apparently housekeeping wasn’t real high on his list of priorities. The kitchen sink was stacked high with dirty dishes and it looked like he hadn’t done laundry for a week.

Joey lived a pretty simple lifestyle, there were no knick-knacks, pictures, or anything to make the place look like a home.

Joey had picked me up on his way home from work so he was still dressed in his work clothes, dark blue cotton coveralls that were badly in need of washing and had seen better days.

The hundred dollars Joey was paying for me was the only good thing about the situation.

Joey had seen me standing on the corner of Mulberry and Market Streets and given me the once over. I knew he liked the looks of me as I had dressed to get his attention, a skimpy sequined tube top with no bra, a very short mini-skirt, and high heels.