A Forgotten Tomorrow Read Online Free
Author: Teresa Schaeffer
don’t seem to mind their job at all. They happily talk to one another and speak to every man that drives their way. It takes me a while to ground myself, control my mind and become appealing to those who pass by.
I don’t have a certain technique, but I do have something the other women on this block don’t – I’m young and reasonably attractive. I lie about my age frequently. I have even managed to get away with beingtwenty-one years old, when I am really only sixteen. I would never get any clients if I was honest about my age. Besides, this job isn’t about honesty, it’s about money and that’s it. There is no satisfaction.
Once I manage to get over the nauseating feeling in my stomach, I am able to make myself available. I will walk towards the street and down the sidewalk at a slow pace in a way that I would normally not walk. I have to actually concentrate on swaying my hips for appeal. I gaze into almost every car that slows down when passing, batting my eyes and smiling in a way that is sure to catch someone’s eye.
As horrifying as it may sound, I do have a couple of regular clients. It doesn’t make the job any better, it still disgusts me, but at least I know what they are about and how they treat girls like me. They also don’t make me do anything out of the ordinary, like some men do. People are sick and want what they want, sometimes the unspeakable. I guess that’s why they come to the block, instead of asking theirgirlfriends or wives – which many of our clients do have. If their wives knew what they were doing, they’d be devastated.
I am getting off track. The point is, it’s a horrible job and I am ashamed to announce what I do. But, just in case I haven’t been very clear, I’m a prostitute. I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined I’d end up out here on the streets like this. When I ran away from home a year ago, I had a plan – and this was not it. But life is hard. Survival is the key and I was starving, freezing and withering away to nothing. I did what was needed to survive – and still do.
It has been a slow night tonight, with no work for at least two hours. There are normally close to ten girls out on the block, but tonight there are maybe six of us out here. I think Michelle, the oldest, is the only one who has been picked up. In many ways I am relieved, yet at the same time I’m really in need of some money. I haven’t managed to eat anything all day and I need a shower. If I gather enough money tonight, I can geta cheap room during the day tomorrow and clean up a little. I need it, bad.
Through the thick fog that has settled in, I manage to see a set of headlights coming my way. When the car slows down and pulls up to the curb next to me, I can tell by the outer appearance that the driver is probably hideous. I have learned over the past year that a car actually says a lot about a person. The chocolate brown, beat up and rusted El Camino looks about fifty years old, and cars like that are never a good sign.
I walk over to the car with my lips curled and a scandalous smile upon my face. I place my hands above the passenger side window and bend down, revealing my cleavage and face to the driver. At first, I can not see his face because he leans over to wind down the window. Once he does, the scent of stale cigar smoke and rotten fast food reaches my nostrils quickly. I try hard to stand my ground, seeming interested in the overweight, unshaven and obviously unclean man who is looking up at me. His smile only makes his appearance worse.His teeth are chipped and rotten, which I am sure is not helping the smell that seems to surround me.
I bend down even closer to the window and give him a quick wink. With that, he jolts with excitement.
“You lookin’ for some fun tonight?” I ask, while quickly stroking his arm.
It is always best to tease the men a little bit, give them a small taste of what’s to come. This almost guarantees that they will want your
I don’t have a certain technique, but I do have something the other women on this block don’t – I’m young and reasonably attractive. I lie about my age frequently. I have even managed to get away with beingtwenty-one years old, when I am really only sixteen. I would never get any clients if I was honest about my age. Besides, this job isn’t about honesty, it’s about money and that’s it. There is no satisfaction.
Once I manage to get over the nauseating feeling in my stomach, I am able to make myself available. I will walk towards the street and down the sidewalk at a slow pace in a way that I would normally not walk. I have to actually concentrate on swaying my hips for appeal. I gaze into almost every car that slows down when passing, batting my eyes and smiling in a way that is sure to catch someone’s eye.
As horrifying as it may sound, I do have a couple of regular clients. It doesn’t make the job any better, it still disgusts me, but at least I know what they are about and how they treat girls like me. They also don’t make me do anything out of the ordinary, like some men do. People are sick and want what they want, sometimes the unspeakable. I guess that’s why they come to the block, instead of asking theirgirlfriends or wives – which many of our clients do have. If their wives knew what they were doing, they’d be devastated.
I am getting off track. The point is, it’s a horrible job and I am ashamed to announce what I do. But, just in case I haven’t been very clear, I’m a prostitute. I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined I’d end up out here on the streets like this. When I ran away from home a year ago, I had a plan – and this was not it. But life is hard. Survival is the key and I was starving, freezing and withering away to nothing. I did what was needed to survive – and still do.
It has been a slow night tonight, with no work for at least two hours. There are normally close to ten girls out on the block, but tonight there are maybe six of us out here. I think Michelle, the oldest, is the only one who has been picked up. In many ways I am relieved, yet at the same time I’m really in need of some money. I haven’t managed to eat anything all day and I need a shower. If I gather enough money tonight, I can geta cheap room during the day tomorrow and clean up a little. I need it, bad.
Through the thick fog that has settled in, I manage to see a set of headlights coming my way. When the car slows down and pulls up to the curb next to me, I can tell by the outer appearance that the driver is probably hideous. I have learned over the past year that a car actually says a lot about a person. The chocolate brown, beat up and rusted El Camino looks about fifty years old, and cars like that are never a good sign.
I walk over to the car with my lips curled and a scandalous smile upon my face. I place my hands above the passenger side window and bend down, revealing my cleavage and face to the driver. At first, I can not see his face because he leans over to wind down the window. Once he does, the scent of stale cigar smoke and rotten fast food reaches my nostrils quickly. I try hard to stand my ground, seeming interested in the overweight, unshaven and obviously unclean man who is looking up at me. His smile only makes his appearance worse.His teeth are chipped and rotten, which I am sure is not helping the smell that seems to surround me.
I bend down even closer to the window and give him a quick wink. With that, he jolts with excitement.
“You lookin’ for some fun tonight?” I ask, while quickly stroking his arm.
It is always best to tease the men a little bit, give them a small taste of what’s to come. This almost guarantees that they will want your
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