by T. L Smith
I look down to make sure I’m looking slutty enough and decide to push my tits up higher so my nipples are almost on show. My cut-off top shows most of my midriff and my skirt and boots leave little to the imagination.
I enter what would be called a living room and see the men sitting down watching porn, together. Yuck. I don’t know how I got so lucky. These fuckers will be horny as fuck when they see me and jump at any chance to get their greedy cocks wet.
The man sitting closest to the television sees me first and nudges his friend to look up. I put on my best innocent, yet fuck me smile that I can muster, walk toward them and stand blocking the view of their porn. The first guy stands and walks closer to me, taking me in while the other sits there with his hand on his cock.
“So, where should we play?” Man number one takes hold of my ass and squeezes it. They think I’m their hooker for tonight.
I’m far from it!
“I say we take this somewhere private and both of you can fuck me at the same time,” I say, grabbing hold of his cock. He’s built like a brick house. Not as big as dark eyes, but I would guess not much smaller. His hair is short and wispy with blond highlights. He isn’t an unattractive man and I wonder why they do such bad things if they can obviously get laid easily on their own merits.
Number two is much scrawnier and his hair looks like a mop. As he stands, I notice he’s about the same height as me, though his eyes hold something more dangerous.
“I will take you any way I want you considering how much you cost. You better be the best fuck I’ve ever had, sweet cunt, or I won’t be happy.”
I don’t reply to number one and let him drag me up the stairs and into his room. His friend is not far behind and when he enters, he locks the door, temporarily locking us in. Scrawny guy walks toward me and cold shivers breakout over my skin. He is deadly, I can see it.
“Your name is Kayla, isn’t it?” he asks me with each step heading in my direction. My fingers start to twitch, reaching for my blades. His voice is serious like he knows why I’m here.
“Yes,” I answer looking into his haunted eyes not wanting to show an inch of horror.
“I’ve seen you around. You aren’t very nice, but I think we can change that. Now strip, you slut.”
I don’t answer him. I start with removing my top and my tits bounce free. He smirks and I wonder why number one is being so quiet. When I take a glance in his direction, I see he’s already naked with one hand on his balls and the other on his cock, slowly stroking.
Obviously one person is in charge. I just wouldn’t have guessed it was a scrawny guy. He must be a sick, depraved, weirdo, especially if he controls number one.
Each side of the brain interacts largely with just one half of the body, but for reasons that are not yet fully understood, the interaction is with opposite sides, the right side of the brain interacts with the left side of the body, and vice versa.
I had successfully avoided Detective Black for a full day yesterday, and today will be another. I don’t have any classes today, so I plan to go outside and sit under a tree and study. I’m also hoping not to daydream of my parents. I don’t know why I’m having memories sneak up on me at the weirdest moments, but sometimes I’m glad I can remember their words and the way they looked.
When I find the place where I like to hide out and not be bothered, memories from my high school years creep back. I had no friends and boys weren’t interested in me. I think it has a lot to do with me not caring what I looked like. Well, it’s not that I didn’t care; I couldn’t help my situation. My grandma only gave me fifty dollars a year to buy new clothes, and as much as I tried to find the cheapest things possible, it was hopeless to have a wide selection on so little money. Going to school every day wearing something that you only wore two days ago was not acceptable. Plus, my sense of style was unlike most girls. I wasn’t a Goth, but only dressed in all black, so needless to say I didn’t fit in that group. I wasn’t a cheerleader with a flexible body that only cared about what she wore. I also wasn’t a hippy that didn’t care what they looked like because they were too high on drugs to give a damn.
The smart students, nerds I guess you would call them, didn’t talk to me. I don’t know why either, but it seemed I had a sign plastered on my back that said ‘stay away from the girl in the Converse shoes who only likes to wear jeans and a plain shirt.’
I never thought of myself as a boring person. Wanting to be the best you could be so you could get out of a city you hated, didn’t seem too bad to me.
In my last year of high school, there was a moment I thought I might actually be pretty for once in my life. The high school heartthrob had asked me… yes me, to the senior prom. He was dreamy, very dreamy, with shaggy blond hair and a football player physique. He had dated the Jessica Rabbit equivalent for the last two years at our school. She was also the head cheerleader and did not like me one little bit. She made my life hell, pushing me into lockers every time she passed me with her posse, amongst other things. I was reluctant at first to actually say yes to Thomas. I didn’t want or need any more attention from the mean girls.
He wooed me though. Sending flowers to me in class with letters attached pleading with me. This happened for two weeks straight until he cornered me one afternoon and got down on one knee in front of his entire football team. I was embarrassed and wanted him to get up because the audience around us was growing larger. So I said yes.
He was a gentleman the whole night. I asked for a year's allowance and bought a second-hand dress. It was stunning and I actually felt beautiful for the night. It was a floor length black dress that dipped in the front and showed a lot of my back. My hair was tied up and brushed away from my face. When Thomas picked me up in a limo, I felt like Cinderella. It was then I decided that I would lose my virginity that night. I knew he wanted me in that way, he didn’t have to say it, but I felt it. He wanted more than just a date to the senior prom and I was willing to give it to him to see what all the buzz was about… sex.
When we entered the dance that night, I got death stares and at some point I thought I would disappear into the floor with some of the looks. Thomas would squeeze my waist and whisper into my ear, “Don’t even look at them, they’re jealous that I have the most beautiful girl in school.” It didn’t make me feel better. I, for one, knew I wasn’t the prettiest by any means.
Halfway through the night I needed to go to the toilet, but I was afraid to. I knew I’d be cornered and possibly someone would hurt me. So, I asked Thomas to take me to his room. He looked at me questioningly.
“You know that’s not why I asked you here, right?” He took hold of my face with his hands and I wanted to tell him he was lying. He saw the look in my face and answered my silent question. “You are stunning, Kristy, and you don’t care what others think of you. I have been watching you for a long time. I was just afraid you wouldn’t want me. I got the courage one day and thought, what the hell. Last year of school and I’m taking this beautiful girl to the dance whether she says yes or no.”
Needless to say, I didn’t argue with him. He made me feel cherished and on some level, loved. I knew the idea of him loving me was crazy. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me.
“Take me to your room please,” I said in a small voice.
He stood up and placed a hand out for me and I took it without a second thought.
We had sex that night and I lost my virginity and it was painful. Nothing like the books I read where the guy gets the girl wet enough so it won’t be as painful or any of that. He placed a condom on and I lay back on the bed and he kissed me. Then the next moment he was inside me. I bit my arm to muffle my screams, but nothing worked. I could feel the tear and he didn’t stop. He was enjoying it. What was torture for me was heaven for him.
Once his body left mine, he went to the bathroom and I grabbed my dress and placed it back on. There was blood on the sheets. I contemplated cleaning it up and thought better of it. So, I ran out of
there and never spoke a word to him again.
Since that last horrific sexual encounter, I’ve never slept with another man. It’s not like I don’t want to, I just don’t want to feel that cheap again. Used and abused.
Pushing those memories aside I pull out one of my books to get a head start on next week’s exam when I notice Julia walking my way. She’s wearing a fluorescent dress with ballerina flats and a face full of makeup. You would never guess that she’s a man from a distance because she is actually quite beautiful.
“Sugar, I want to take you out. We are going to get you laid, and yes I mean fucked. You can’t keep the cobwebs up there forever, and I want to see a smile on that face. So tonight, we are going drinking and scouting,” she adds with a wink. I can’t help but laugh at her.
She tries with me, tries to make me step out of my comfort zone. I love her for it, but some things aren’t meant to be done. Some people aren’t meant to step out from their comfort zones. Sometimes I think I’m one of those people. I should stay locked in my zone. But maybe, just maybe, I might break free.
Your brain generates enough electricity to power a light bulb.
“How about we play?” I suggest to the two eager men practically circling me like a dog. I can’t let this situation get out of hand and give them the upper hand. I must keep my head on straight at all times. Otherwise, one wrong move could serve me badly.
“I say, how about you shut up and just be the slut that you are,” number two sneers at me. I’m sick of him. I can’t play anymore let alone let him touch me.
I reach for my first star and aim it at number two. He’s the sickest one. He will fight the hardest; I can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t care who he hurts, and he will continue doing it all his life. My star hits him straight in his thigh. I watch as the pain slices through him and he drops to the floor. He looks down at what I’ve put there and smiles and pulls it out.
“I knew you weren’t a hooker. You have the same look in your eyes I have. You crave the blood, don’t you? You fucking love it? We are one of a kind, Kayla. We could do so much together.” He moves toward me with a wobbly step. I don’t answer him. There’s a part of me that craves it, and I love that, but he’s sick on a different level.
“I wouldn’t step closer, you might lose a penis.” I smile at him and show him my other star. This whole time, number one hasn’t moved. He’s watching us with curiosity written on his face. I wonder if he’ll like watching his friend die and not do a thing about it.
He laughs a menacing laugh at me and steps closer one more time. I don’t make threats I won’t keep. My star flies straight to his pants and hits the spot that brings him to his knees. I pull my gun from my small handbag and shoot him straight through the eye.
I turn around in time to see number one making a run for the door. My aim is perfect, my star pinning his hand to the door. He slowly turns around, holding his free hand up in a surrender of peace. I know better than to fall for his attempt at making peace. He is sick. He smiles at me when I drop the gun and I wonder why he isn’t screaming yet. His hand must be painful. He smirks at me and my blood boils, so I throw the other star into his hand that is still held up.
This time he does scream. He tries to move, but realizes that each movement only makes it worse.
I start to sing him a song, not to calm him down, but to amuse myself. He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but he’s late to that party cause it was lost a long time ago.
I watch as the blood drips from his hands. I take joy in it, it’s hypnotizing. I want to sit here and watch as it creates its own puddle. Watch the beauty of the blood slowly tricking down. The sound is soothing and it calms my erratic heartbeat while I listen to it.
“Why are you doing this, Kayla?”
Why, he asks? What a silly man he is.
“You’re scum. You think it’s fun to treat girls like a piece of meat?” I ask, raising my eyebrows as a smirk appears across my face.
He notices and cringes while I play with one of the shooting stars in my hand, spinning it in my palm. He continues to watch me, waiting for what is to come. There is more and he knows it.
“You don’t know what you are talking about, you crazy bitch. Now let me go.” He winces as he struggles from the pain now shooting through his hands. There’s a star embedded in each one. He is like my own human dartboard. My heart does a jump while I watch him struggle and more blood oozes from his wounds.
The sick things I crave, I fucking love it!
“I could let you go,” I say as I tap my finger to my chin, like I’m contemplating the option, “but where would the fun be in that, pretty boy?” I throw the last star in my hand straight into his eye.
He screams and it’s like music to my ears.
I leave the house making sure there’s no evidence of me being there. As I step outside I feel like I’m being watched. I look across the street and see a dark figure standing there dressed in all black. I run toward it. I can tell it’s a man the closer I get and when I get close enough, the figure in the black hoodie goes into the bushes and I can’t see him anymore. I stand there, lost in thought, wondering what he saw, or even how long he’s been following me. I’ve never noticed or seen him before.
I’m not someone who worries about the authorities. You see, I have an authority on my side. What, Tyke doesn’t think I actually know? He’s a detective, and I guess all my targets are ones that he’s investigated himself, but couldn’t bring to justice.
I walk the rest of the way back to see Tyke and send him a message on the way, telling him the job is done and asking if he was following me. His reply is short and sweet with, ‘no.’ I know he wouldn’t lie to me about it, so I wonder who it could be. Could it be Bob, my new favorite thing, but also my new favorite asshole? He knew things about me that he shouldn’t have known.
I wonder why he knows those things. Is it he who is following me? And if so, why would he let me get away with it? He could easily report me or take me in, but he does neither. He plays with me instead. I guess I deserve it. I like to play as well. I guess he knows that, too.
The outer layer of your skin is the epidermis, it is found thickest on the palms of your hands and soles of your feet (around 1.5mm thick).
I have reluctantly agreed to go out with Julia for the night, on the condition she doesn’t try to find me ‘man candy’ as she so eloquently puts it. She agreed to the terms on the condition I let her dress me. I agreed to that, as I have nothing to wear anyway and have absolutely no fashion sense whatsoever.
She walks into my dorm room holding a bag full of clothes and I can tell she’s ready for whatever tonight has planned for us. She’s wearing heels and a tight blue dress. Her make-up looks incredible, and here I am in my faded ripped jeans and T-shirt. I start to have second thoughts and she sees it immediately and snaps her hands in front of my face.
“Na ah, Sugar, you wait till I’m finished with your fine ass. There’s a goddess hiding under all those frumpy clothes you wear.” She walks to my closet, opens it and starts going through everything which doesn’t bother me at all. I know she’d never steal or judge me as she sees what I wear anyway. She turns to me with a massive smile on her face and holds up a pair of killer boots.
“You are so wearing these? You have fabulous clothes in here. How come all you wear are your jeans?”
I have absolutely no clue what she’s talking about. My clothes are basic, nothing spectacular by any means.
“I bought them at a garage sale years ago, but I’ve never worn them,” I tell her, pointing toward the shoes in her hand. Her heels click as she walks over to her bag and pulls out a little black dress. I look at it and shake my head.
“We are going dancing tonight since you won’t let me get you some nice man candy.”
“Yes, but I didn’t agree to dressing in that,” I say pointing at it. She throws the dress at me and laughs. “Humor me and try it on.” I think she’s started drinking already. She obviousl
y didn’t hear a word I just said. She shoos me like a dog, pushes me into the bathroom and tells me to change.
At first, I stare at the item and wonder if I can say it doesn’t fit me, though I guess she’d just tell me to show her. I know there’s no other way around it, so I pull off my jeans and T-shirt and pull the dress on. It actually fits perfectly, hugs in all the right places, though it is a tad bit short for my liking. I open the bathroom door and see Julia standing there waiting. When she looks me up and down, she puts her fingers in her mouth and blows out a huge wolf whistle. I guess now I can’t convince her otherwise.
“It’s too short for me Julia,” I say, pulling the dress down with both hands.
“Nonsense, it’s not even that short. Most of the women will have their hoo-ha’s hanging out tonight, so trust me on that,” she says pointing to my dress. “It’s not even short. It covers your snatch so you are fine.” She slaps my ass as she walks into the bathroom, pulling out my hairbrush.
We arrive at a nightclub that isn’t too far from the university. We’ve got free entry thanks to Julia knowing the doorman. I’m on my third free drink, which I think is going straight to my head.
“Okay, party animal, it’s time to shake what your momma gave you.” I almost spit out my drink at her, but just manage to swallow it in time. She grabs me by the arm and pulls me like a rag doll to the dance floor, which is packed, and couples are basically dry humping each other.
We reach the dance floor and we are basically on the edge, which is fine as there aren’t many people standing behind me. I don’t remember the last time I went out and actually drank and had a good time. Julia starts swinging her hips to the music and I follow what she does. I’ve never been dancing before. Sure I’ve danced around in my room, but that’s the extent of my dancing abilities.
