Color Me Your Color, Baby Ch. 04

Chapter 4: Little Red Riding Hood

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Morgan grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me back. "I really don't like this, Johanna."

"I don't care. You owe it to me."

"Sweetheart, this will only lead you down a -"

"Spare me." Just then I tripped on a groove in the pavement. I wasn't used to wearing such immensely high hells. Morgan steadied me and I unfortunately had to look at her.

"I know you're hurt. I know, okay? And it sucks that Tate let you down so much, and that I let you down so much. And it's awful you're seeing all the not-so-glamorous parts of this job. You just have to remember it's a means to an end, not for fucking life! And if you meet Thomas and you get into the shit storm I've gotten myself into, you'll be doomed forever. Please, let's just go back home."

Her words were valid. I knew I was doing something I would possibly never be able to get myself out of. At the moment, it seemed like a good idea. I was eager for self-destruction. I was inexplicably disappointed in Tate and I wanted to lash out. All I could think of was the way he shed the cultured facade he had and took me, treated me like a whore, and left me shaking on the sofa. If he wanted me to only be a whore, I'd be a whore. I wanted to ruin whatever was between us. I wanted a brutal reminder of what world I was in. Meeting Thomas would be that.

Perhaps I should just go get hammered or get a tattoo or pierce my eyebrow. Something drastic and damaging, but something that wouldn't be equivalent to selling my soul.

And then the whore Rebecca stepped out into the street a few blocks down. She was far away but I could still make out her challenging stare. I ran hands down the red dress I wore, smoothing its wrinkles and its catches on some of my more unflattering curves.

"We're going."

Morgan followed behind, muttering something under her breath. Then, "You know Tate's not going to like this, right? I know that's the whole point of you doing this but I want you to understand he's probably going to drop you. He doesn't share, and he doesn't deal with girls who have pimps."

"I don't care," I said. My heels were going to wear off at the rate I was stomping towards the bar.

It was a tiny dive, smokey and cramped. The scents of cigarettes, spilled tequila, and shame assaulted me as I made my way further into hell. It was empty except for the tall, thin man I imagined to be Thomas, Rebecca, and two other girls. They were all so skinny I wouldn't be surprised to hear they were on coke.

Immediately Morgan's demeanor shifted. She grew quiet, tense, and submissive in a way I never saw before. She moved to stand in front of me and gestured to Thomas in greeting.

"Who have you brought me?" Thomas asked. He grinned at me but there was a calculating gleam in his eyes that made me shudder.

Morgan looked back at me, her eyes softening. She shook her head minutely and then turned back to her pimp. "Her name is--"

"Come here," he ordered, his black eyes focused on me. "I want to see you up close."

On shaky legs I crossed the floor. Rebecca snickered when I bumped my hip into a table. Thomas sighed.

"Rebecca, I'm sick of you. Leave the room."

His words were apparently enough. Rebecca quickly made her way out like a frightened child, not sparing me another glance. Thomas's grin returned.

"I don't like it when my girls fight, and I don't tolerate petty jealousies. Now come here."

I finally made it to him and forced myself to hold still as his soft hands ran through my hair. He fingered my bangs and rolled his eyes.

"I really don't like bangs. You'll have to pin them back."

Finally having a chance to get a good look at him, I wasn't impressed. He looked about thirty and, though he was tall, he was extraordinarily skinny which gave one the idea he was weak. But that one glimpse of what lingered beneath that unsuspecting facade was enough to have me hold very, very still.

He circled around me, touching my hip, stroking my back, poking my stomach. He pressed his hand against my tit and barked out a laugh when I jumped.

"Sit down, baby. Let's go over a few things."

I sat down at a table that looked like any minute it might collapse. He plopped down across from me and gestured to one of the other girls. She quickly ran over to the bar and said something to the aging bartender cleaning up. He poured him a glass of beer which she nearly spilled in her rush to get back to Thomas.

All while this went on, Thomas's black eyes never strayed from my face. He wanted me to see this display of power, I guess, and he wanted to watch every emotion and thought play across my expression.

"What is your name?" he asked.

I had to clear my throat of its nerves before I could answer. "Johanna."

"Why do you want to work for me?"

"I need money. And I'm not making enough on my own."

He smiled briefly. "Of course you're not. You should know I take 60% of everything my girls make. 60%. Sounds like a lot but you're going to be making more than you know what to do with. Understand? I have lots of rules. Going into this you gotta know so you don't make a mistake. I don't like mistakes."

I just nodded.

"From now on I own you. I own everything you do. You're not allowed to do anything without my say-so. You want to buy a dress? You call me first and let me decide if you need it. You want to take a shit? Not before some customer wants anal. You need to ask me first. Got it? You can't say no to anything. I decide what you can do and what you can't."

It felt hot and small in that trap of a bar. I was sweating and probably visibly shaking. I should have run but I'd come this far. I felt Morgan's clammy hand on my shoulder and I took a heavy breath.

Thomas watched the scene, watched my reaction, and nodded. "This is real shit, JoJo. I want you to fully understand what this is before you accept, because once you do there ain't no going back. And one last thing-- I get to sample the goods before I take you on."

Now I knew I was shaking. My knees were knocking together and I couldn't get them to stop. I couldn't even keep up the brave face anymore; I'm sure I looked terrified.

Thomas reached over to cup my cheek. "You look like Little Red Riding Hood in that dress, baby. I like it. I like feeling like the Big Bad Wolf. I want you to wear red every day. That's your first test, little Red."

I swallowed down bile and forced myself to hold still. He brushed his fingers against my lips.

"I'll try you in two days. Saturday. Be waxed. Come back here and I'll take you. You can go, JoJo."

I stood too fast and almost fell on my face. Morgan steadied me and took my arm. We started to leave but then Thomas called us back.

"Morgan?"

She slowly slid her eyes in his direction.

"Good job."

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When we got back to our apartment I had three messages from Tate. All were asking me where I was, and that he wanted to do dinner tomorrow night at 7. I had a message from Lou, my boss from the diner. He wanted me to come in during the weekend to work a bunch of odds and ends shifts no one else wanted to take. I made the decision not to call him back. I didn't need to work there anymore, anyway. That part of my life was gone. That Johanna was dead.

I headed straight for the shower, tearing off that red dress and jumping beneath the boiling hot spray. I wanted to wash off his handprint from my cheek, the sickening sensations of his touch on my body. I wanted to wash away the memory of that whole bar.

I thought about sleeping with him and dry heaved. How the fuck would I ever go through with it?

When it seemed I used all the hot water and I was pruning up, I turned off the faucet and pulled back the shower curtain. Morgan was there, leaning against the wall. Her face was so sad.

"Do you see now, Jo? Not as glamorous as you thought."

"I never thought it was glamorous," I muttered. My voice was unrecognizable.

Her lips twisted. "You want revenge, but like Hanzo says in Kill Bill, revenge is never a straight line."

I rolled my eyes. "Leave it to you to quote a Tarantino movie."

"Seriously. I know you're pissed at Tate. Good. Fine. But don't do this. You can still back out. I'll find you someone else if you don't think you can deal with Tate anymore and you can just be on our own. You don't need Thomas."

I sat down on the edge of the tub, still dripping from my shower. I was cold as the air blew against my wet skin but I didn't feel like getting dressed. I didn't feel like doing anything. I was bone-tired.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know who I am."

Morgan laughed. "You'll find that everyone feels that way, hooker or not. Now get dressed. Let's go get drunk."

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I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was because Thomas had instilled enough fear in me that he would somehow know if I complied. Maybe because it was the only outfit I had clean. Maybe it was because I was still punishing myself. Whatever the reason, I pulled on another red dress I had. It really suited me.

Because I felt like I was betraying him, I put Tate's necklace on, too. That way I was equally paying tribute to two men who wanted to own me.

Morgan frowned when she saw me wearing red but she didn't say anything.

The club she brought us to had lots of flashing lights and people who were barely dressed. It was the kind of place I'd never dare go to before. Now I walked up to it, not even thinking about being uncomfortable. Slowly but surely I was growing more confident with my body, and with those eyes that followed it. They were considerably less harmless than other monsters I'd encountered.

The bouncer let us in. We hauled ass to the bar. I ordered vodka; she got tequila shots for the both of us. We were already feeling loose-limbed and happy by the time we skated out to the dance floor.

A hypnotic beat began to vibrate through the speakers, humming through the floors and pulsing through our bodies. We writhed against one another, laughing when our breasts touched. Guys came and went around us, pounding their hard pelvises into us to the music. We paid them little attention; they were faceless.

Morgan moved away to dance with a handsome guy who asked to buy her a drink. She laughed, waving at me before she disappeared into the throng of bodies. I danced alone, winding my arms up above me and rocking my hips back and forth.

I felt the chest of a man press into my back. I rested against him. The exertion of dancing for God knows how long plus the vodka and tequila working its way through my bloodstream made me weak. His rough hands ran down my arms, resting when they found my own. The man intertwined our fingers and set us on a slow erotic dance that contrasted with the slamming quick song currently playing.

His hips pushed into my ass and I gasped when I felt him there, hard and hot. He was wearing trousers, not jeans, so it was much easier to feel the outline of his cock. In spite of not knowing who he was or what he looked like, my body responded. My nipples hardened, my pussy prepared itself, and every inch of my flesh wanted this man inside me.

I twirled in his arms, the liquor loosening my inhibitions enough to suggest just that. Then I saw who it was. Tate continued to dance, his glare murderous in the flashing lights of every color. He dragged my body back to me, grinding his cock against my stomach as the music went on. He said something but I couldn't understand him, so he moved his wet lips to my ear.

"Found you."

We danced like that, angry but desperate for the feel of our bodies rubbing against one another, for what seemed like hours. He licked the sweat from my neck and I scratched at his back. He roughly stepped between my legs, fucking my hip as I rode my pussy against his strong thigh.

His lips found my collarbone. His tongue snaked out to wind its way up and down. Then he blew against the sensitive and damp skin and I shattered into pieces.

"Take me home," I begged in his ear.

He moved away from me and took my hand, practically dragging me to the door. We took a cab and he mauled me in the back, heedless of the driver watching us in the rearview mirror. He murmured the address to the driver while I collapsed against the seat. Then Tate turned back to me, eager to exact his revenge on me avoiding him.

"I don't like having to chase you," he grunted. He popped my breast out of the dress, concealing me from the driver's eyes. "Morgan told me you were going to a club when I called her. I didn't know where you were, that's why I called her, so don't freak out about that."

Dimly it occurred to me the cabbie might crash over the show we were giving him, but then I remembered we were in NY. He probably saw this all the time.

"I do like when you don't wear a bra, however." Tate's tongue circled around my nipple, sucking it into his mouth. It would have been painful if it were anyone else, but the sight of the back of Tate's dirty-blonde head made my pussy even more drenched than before.

He took his mouth away. The cool air against my wet breast made me moan.

"You're mad at me."

I just nodded.

"Because of last night."

I nodded again.

"I'll have to fix that, I guess. But in the meantime..." His hand reached between my thighs. I tried to clench them, consciously aware we were speeding along city streets and stopping at endless red lights. I didn't want anyone to see, in spite of how the thought of someone watching Tate fingering me surprisingly made me wetter.

"Wait. Please."

He just shook his head and kissed my lips, pushing his tongue through them to dance with mine. His clever fingers tickled the soaked panties that were practically sticking to me now.

"How I want you. I'm going to fuck you so hard tonight you're not going to remember anything in the morning but my name and my cock."

Like the little whore I was, I made a whimpering noise. Tate snuck his thick middle finger around the side of my pants and slipped the whole thing inside of me. I shook around it, an orgasm just in reach. Then the cab stopped, and Tate stopped, and I nearly cried. Tate paid the driver with his sticky fingers and then he pulled me out into the blistering cold. It almost sobered me up enough to forget the delight Tate's body could bring me. Almost.

Then I looked around me and realized I was not at my apartment building.

"Tate, what--"

"Shush. We're at my place." He yanked my arm and dragged me up the stairs, nodding at his doorman as the older gentleman opened the large doors for us. My mouth dropped open. I'd never seen such a magnificent apartment building before. Not even my father lived in such a place. I was still a little drunk so I wasn't even sure where we were in relation to my apartment.

And why the hell was Tate bringing me there? We got on the elevator with a few other couples. I stared at his profile the whole time, trying to figure him out with my clouded mind. While we made the ascent, I got out my cell to text Morgan.

"Am with Tate. Are you okay?"

She texted me back right away. "Figured. I'm home. Have fun. :)"

We got out on the thirtieth floor. I followed Tate, completely mystified. He unlocked the door to his apartment and practically pushed me inside.

It was dark and he didn't bother turning on the lights. He took my hand and lead me to his bedroom, tossing me on the soft bed. It was pitch black so I couldn't see him, but I could sense him standing in front of me.

"You can snoop around my apartment tomorrow. I need to fuck you tonight, and I need my cock in your mouth right now."

He turned on a lamp that shed a little faint light on his bedroom. It was simple and very masculine with dark grey walls and black bedsheets. A painting of a flower in full blossom hung above the back of the bed. A dresser with a large mirror on top was to the right of us. Other than that, the bedroom was unadorned. I liked it. It was very Tate-- understated but refined.

He pulled my head toward him so I could refocus. He removed his shirt and lowered the zipper of his trousers to reveal the silk grey boxers underneath. I could make out the wetness his precum caused and I just had to squeeze my legs together. He smiled at me, cupping my face.

"Suck me," he whispered. It was half-command, half-plea.

I was eager to. My mouth watered at the thought of sucking him in. I wanted to make him as unhinged in my hands as I was in his.

I violently tugged his boxers down, using much more force than I normally did. I was drunk with the desire to possess him; there was little room for bashfulness now.

His hard cock presented itself for licking, and lick I did. I even traveled down to his balls, sucking one and then the other. I licked at that tender spot behind them, twirling my tongue around and rejoicing when he thrust his cock into my face. I held his balls while my mouth made its way back to his cock. I kissed the tip of the head just gently with my lips. When I pulled away, a long stream of precum came with me. I glanced up at him and licked my lips, drinking it in. His whole face dropped with agonized pleasure as he groaned.

And then I took him in, squeezing his balls just as his cock lodged in my throat.

"Fuck, Johanna," he screamed. His hand grabbed the back of my hair and he pulled me off of him.

I opened my mouth to complain and he took that moment to push me right back. It dawned on me what he wanted. He wanted to fuck my face.

"Fuck, yes. Take that cock."

I did. I took it all the way down, lathering it with my saliva and loving it with my tongue. He really pumped his way in now, going too far down and making me gag. My eyes watered. He pulled out and muttered "sorry".

We went on like this for a while until I felt his balls tightening. He was going to cum.

He ripped his cock from me. "I want to fuck you," he panted. "It's gonna be hard and fast."

He threw me back on the bed and tore off my red dress, tossing it somewhere behind him. He stroked my necklace, his eyes glowing possessively. Then he savagely pushed down my panties until they just reached my thighs.

He hunched between my legs and penetrated me deeply in one slick slide.

"Shit!" I screamed, feeling that orgasm that had been taunting me peek its head back up.

His hands grabbed my sides. "Scream for me."

I moaned every time he sunk into me. It was slow at first but he quickly gained momentum, slamming into me with a grunt.

One of his hands left my side to circle around my soaked clit. "You're gonna cum around my cock, Johanna. And soon."

He sucked on my nipple. I shook around him. "Oh God. Oh God, oh God."

"Yes," he yelled, fucking me with ferocity. "Cum now!"

My pussy trembled. Every muscle in my body tightened. My glazed eyes met his. I released, cumming and cumming. It wouldn't cease. I could feel me leaking out around his cock, dripping onto my thighs.

Then he pushed further and harder into me, stopping and shaking all over. His cock leapt and then pulsed out streams of cum.

He removed himself after he caught his breath. He muttered something complimentary and ran a lazy hand over my body, catching on a nipple. I gasped when the sensation made my pussy clench again.

We rested for a while. I stared at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck I was going to explain Thomas to him. He was going to be furious. My body was still buzzing from the fabulous fuck we had, but dread was thumping hard in my chest. I had to get rid of it.

"Tate. I did something. Something really--"

"Shut the fuck up. We'll deal with it tomorrow. Everything tomorrow." He pulled me close to him, laughing when he felt his still-warm cum spilling out of me. "You're such a good girl. You make me cum so good."

"Tate. Seriously. I--"

"Tomorrow," he mumbled sleepily.