Chapter 6

Mother's Little Helper

Chapter Six

We all left the room together and once we were in the lobby I blinked because it was already light outside. I hadn't noticed it in the room, the drapes must have been closed or something, but I could see the street outside, empty of traffic and that cold, washed out grey color of early dawn. I looked at the front desk and they had a clock, of course. It was just after five in the morning and I tried to understand how I could have spent about six hours, maybe seven, in a hotel room fucking three strangers. It had seemed like two hours at the most and I wondered if I remembered everything that we'd done and I seriously doubted it.

Lance dropped the keycard at the desk and the guys were leaving, walking out with laughs and smiles and I jerked to life, moving quickly to catch up.

"Hey ... Wait ... I have to get home," I said. "I need my purse."

"What?" Lance grinned at me.

"I don't have any money or anything," I said. "I have to get home."

"Shit." Ron shook his head at me. "Call your husband."

"Come on, let's go," Lance said turning away from me and Derek gave me an apologetic shrug. Ron had already started getting into one of the taxi cabs sitting idle at the curb.

"Sorry, Gina," Derek said. "You're a great fuck though."

"What?" I stared at them. Lance sat in the backseat with Ron, pulling the door closed. "Wait! You can't leave me here!"

Derek got into the front passenger seat.

"Derek! Wait ... Please!"

I ran the dozen feet to the cab and pounded on the back window, tried to open the door and I could see Lance sitting there laughing at me, wiggling his fingers. The cab jerked off, pulling away quickly and leaving me standing there looking after it.

"You'd better move along now." The hotel doorman, an older man with a burgundy uniform, looked at me like I was dirt.

"But ... I need to use the phone," I told him. "Can I use your phone? Please?"

"Get out of here, before I call the police." He frowned at me and turned around, moving to guard the entrance to his hotel. "Go back to your pimp."

"W-What?" I blinked and felt my face burn with embarrassment. "I'm not a whore!"

"Go, or I'll call the cops," he warned me again and it seemed clear that a whore was exactly what he thought I was.

"Fuck you!" I screamed as tears flooded my eyes.

I was so mad I was shaking, literally jumping up and down with angry frustration. He did go inside then, almost certainly to call the cops, and so I did the only thing I could. I left quickly, swearing and crying and hating everything and everyone all at once.

Three blocks down I found another hotel, a nice one like they all were in this part of town, and a couple taxis were sitting out front like they do. I went to the first one and tapped on the glass, waking the driver up.

"Hey, hi..." I breathed, feeling like I'd just run ten miles.

"You need a cab?" He looked at me doubtfully.

"Yeah, I'm going to Maplewood," I said, smiling as I reached for the handle on the passenger door.

"You got money?" he asked, turning around in his seat.

"What? Yeah, of course I do." I nodded.

"Let me see it first," he demanded. "That's a long ways, thirty bucks easy."

"I don't have it on me," I sighed. "I got my purse stolen, but when I get to my friend's house I can pay. Okay?"

"Friend's house?" He chuckled and shook his head. "Get out of here."

"No, please! I'm serious, I'll pay you double the meter, okay? Just drive."

"No way. Get out." He jerked his thumb and I stared at him. "I said get the fuck out."

"Fine," I breathed. "Fucking asshole."

I slammed the door and went to the next cab, this one being driven by an older guy, overweight and eating a croissant.

"Look," I said, talking through the open window after he rolled it down, "I lost my purse and I just want to get home. I can pay you when we get there, okay? I'll give you an extra fifty, alright?"

"An extra fifty?" He looked at me, chewing slowly with crumbs all over his fat lips. "Where are you going?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Maplewood."

He looked me up and down and shook his head.

"What?" I narrowed my eyes.

"Nah, I don't like it," he decided. "Go somewhere else."

"But ... I'm serious," I said, looking into his eyes so he'd know. "I'm married, I got kids at home. Please?"

"You got kids?" he snorted. "And you're working the street?"

"No ... No, I was in a club..."

"Get outta here," he said, rolling up his window.

"I'll blow you..." I told him through the narrowing crack in the glass. "Whatever you want."

"Oh yeah?" He wiped his mouth with his hand. "Plus the fifty?"

"Yeah, yeah." I swallowed hard. "Plus the fifty."

"Alright, get in the front," he said, leaning over to open the door and I smiled.

"Thanks ... God, thank you so much!" I said as I got in.

"Yeah, yeah..." He started his cab and we drove about two blocks before he parked behind a restaurant.

"I gotta go to Maplewood," I reminded, looking around and not getting it at all.

"Yeah, but first you gotta blow me, right?" He grinned, leaning back in his seat and jerking his double chins down towards his crotch.

"Right," I agreed reluctantly. "Okay..."

I felt myself burn with acute humiliation and that was getting to be a frequent occurrence, one I didn't like at all. I was a wife and mother, a member of the PTA. I'd been a den mother for JJ's cub scout troop the year before. What was wrong with these people? I wasn't a whore, couldn't they see that? Why did I have to suck a guy just to get a break? And pay him an extra fifty dollars on top of that, I reminded myself.

This guy was ugly too! Fat and sloppy. I could smell his cock when I pulled it out of his dirty pants. He probably lived in his cab, lived in those clothes. His dick was uncircumcised and when I peeled the foreskin back it was sticky, reluctant as there was old fluids half-dried underneath. He probably jerked off and didn't even wash himself afterwards, I thought. It looked disgusting and the smell almost made me retch.

It was big too, big like Ron's, except pale and pinkish and not so thick maybe. But the feeling of it. His skin was hot and greasy, like old French fries reheated in a microwave or something. I didn't want to be touching him at all and the odor hit me like mildew, old socks stuffed wet in a corner and left there for a week. I saw his mushroom shaped cockhead stained with old cum. It had to be and there was more underneath the flanged head, revealed as I pulled that foreskin back slowly.

"Go on, slut ... Eat my dick for breakfast." The driver grinned, grabbing a handful of my hair and pushing me down. I had no choice. I had to get back to Stacy's house because I surely couldn't go home like this.

I took his cock into my mouth, tentatively closing my lips around it and trying very hard not to touch that prick with any more of my body than was absolutely necessary. I just used my lips to slide up and down an inch of shaft, not much at all, and I tried to keep his cockhead from brushing my tongue or the roof of my mouth, or any part of my mouth, really. That was impossible, of course, especially since even a guy like that had some idea how a real blowjob should feel.

"Suck it right, bitch," he growled. "Or you'll be walkin'."

"Mmphh..." I agreed, feeling my stomach rebel and I hoped I wouldn't puke.

Once it was decided that I had no choice except to give the man a real blowjob, I gave him the best one I could. I just wanted it over with. I kept my mouth tight around him, using my tongue to give him his first bath in a week probably, and swallowed his slimy precum down as if I loved it. I made all the noises a man likes to hear from a woman, moaning and trying to give him my eyes. I even pulled his fat balls free, and they were sticky too. I rolled them around in my hand, making it real nice for the bastard.

"Yeah ... That's it, honey. You make a lot of money with that mouth, huh?" He chuckled. "I love drivin' cab."

I didn't pay much attention to him and even managed to ignore his hand as he reached for my tits, mauling my tender breasts through my halter top. Whatever he needed to get off, I didn't care. I began bobbing my head up and down quickly, catching my temple on the steering wheel more than once, and using the guy's fat belly for a pillow occasionally. It took a long time though, or maybe it just seemed like it, I don't know. He finally did cum, holding my mouth down with both hands and telling me to eat all of it. I didn't have much choice anyway and his semen was thin and oily, salty as hell too, probably from his bad diet.

I swallowed though, choking a rather large load of ball cream down with feigned pleasure. I almost gagged at first, but kept control as he held my hair in his fists and rocked my head from side to side. My empty stomach churned and the sensation of having my throat glazed with semen made me sick, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation. I wouldn't have given the guy the time of day in my normal, usual life, but I'd just sucked him off in a taxi.

"There..." I said, sitting up and wiping my sperm stained mouth across the back of my hand. "Okay?"

"Yeah, that was good." He nodded, starting the engine and smiling after he got his prick put away. "Sit in the back, I don't want someone to think you're my girlfriend or nothin'."

"Yeah." I licked my lips and tasted salt. "I know what you mean."

I got out of the cab, moving towards the back, and as soon as the front passenger door was closed, the guy took off. I was just reaching for the door handle so I could get in and he gunned it, that yellow piece of shit accelerating down the alley and taking a hard right onto the street. The asshole had left there, staring in disbelief as my ride disappeared, tasting the guy's semen and wondering what I was supposed to do then.

"What's the matter with you?" A girl's voice interrupted my self-pity.

I hadn't gone anywhere. I was still in that alley, sitting on a piece of cardboard with my legs drawn up, hugging my knees and trying to think. My brain wasn't working though. I felt tired, so tired, crashing from the night before, and I wanted a pill desperately. Two of them maybe, because I was low. I needed those pills. Some coke too. Where was my coke? Who had my purse? I would have killed someone for a line right then. All my problems could be solved if I could just think clearly and to do that I needed my greens. I needed my coke.

"What?" I looked at her and she really was a whore.

Not very tall, a little heavy maybe, but not bad. A black girl and not very old, twenty-one maybe, but who could say for sure? She had a leopard print skirt, golden fishnet stockings and a black bikini top, showing off her little round tummy and big round tits. I laughed because she was a stereotypical whore, straight from central casting, and I found the idea ludicrous that prostitutes really did look like that. It had to be a joke.

"I said what's the matter with you?" She frowned, not liking my laugh probably.

"I got no money," I shrugged. "I'm about twenty miles from home. My husband's got no idea where I am and my kids are probably crying."

"Huh." She looked at me and the back door of the restaurant closed behind her with a loud click.

"Other than that..." I smiled, " ... I'm just fucking peachy."

"Who's your man?" she asked and I narrowed my eyes.

"My husband? Jack, but he's..."

"Husband? Shit, whatever girl." She started walking away on her scuffed up leather boots.

"Hey, wait! D you have a phone? You know where I could use one?" I asked her, still sitting there.

"My old man's got a phone," she said. "Maybe he'll let you use it."

Really?" I nodded. "Okay, thanks."

I got up, brushing my butt off and hurrying after the girl as she kept walking.

"I'm Gina," I said, just because I really needed a friend.

"Doreen." The girl looked at me. "I haven't seen you around here before."

"I live in the Grove."

"The Grove?" She laughed. "What's that?"

"Spring Grove? It's south of here?" I said and got a blank look in return. "The suburbs?"

"I don't know about any suburbs." Doreen said with a shrug. "I'm from Detroit myself."

"Oh." I nodded.

We walked a few blocks until we reached a Seven-Eleven convenience store and Doreen led me to a car, a black BMW with gold spoked wheels and heavily tinted glass. She knocked on the rear passenger window and it rolled down slowly. I saw a black guy sitting in there, but at least he didn't look like the pimps on television. He looked pretty normal, if a red track suit at 5am could be called that.

"Where you been?" the guy asked Doreen, snatching her purse and opening it.

"Working," she replied in a bored tone. "Where else would I be?"