It's Not Prostitution Ch. 07

Angel wonders how legit the proposition was.

We were both unlike ourselves on the car ride back to Trevor's, the sun just barely dipping below the western horizon when we left the coffee shop, but it would be gone by the time we reached home. It didn't help that Abbie took an unusually long route home, but I didn't say anything, nor did I mind. It gave me more time to mess with all the thoughts jumbling around in my head.

Was it even legit? Why would I have any reason to trust either of them? Actually, I didn't. I had fucked her husband, and whether she knew it or not, both her son and her daughter. Why would I then for a second put any trust in Elizabeth Facelli? And then there was her lawyer. Maybe to the rich they were like best friends, but not from my side of the tracks. Lawyers, police, politicians... someone like me doesn't really get the benefit of the doubt. I had no reason to trust Steven Granger either.

"I can't even believe I bothered to go," I half joked in the face of Abbie's silence part way through the ride home, hoping to elicit a response from her, any kind of response. It wasn't like her to be so silent and sullen, and it worried me. She was always so cheerful, at least around me. It was one thing we had always shared, but now it had seemed to disappear. Still Abbie returned nothing, she just continued to focus on driving the car, as it oblivious to the fact that I was in the passenger's seat.

"What a fucking waste of time," I laughed, but still Abbie said nothing, only furthering my concern. I got this horrible feeling that I was just talking to myself.

"I mean, I don't owe that bitch anything," I snickered, perhaps trying to convince myself of that, or maybe Abbie, or who the fuck knows. Abbie still said nothing in response, but she did at last turn to me to look at me for a brief moment, her expression... well I couldn't be entirely sure. It looked sad, and yet it looked angry at the same time. It looked warm and understanding, and yet it looked cold and piercing as well. If I had to guess, it was a combination of "I love you" and "fuck you" at the same time, a mixture of "I'd do anything for you" but a bit of "get your head out of your ass" too.

It wasn't often between me and Abbie where we didn't have anything to say. It wasn't often when we found more comfort not being with each other. I'd daresay we never got to the point where we couldn't even look each other in the eye, but I guess there is a first time for everything. I slumped back down into my seat and I just sat there, nearly blinding myself as I pulled down my sunglasses, even though night was fast approaching.

I could cry on cue for any client that wanted me to. That was easy. It was a far more difficult task holding back from doing so, so that no one could see.

Fifteen more minutes of complete silence, and me trying to desperately hold on to my composure, and we arrived back at Trevor's. I hurriedly moved to exit the car, only to be held back by the first of Abbie's words to sound out since leaving the coffee shop.

"Celina," she said softly, her voice loving and caring, but her eyes stern and determined. "Take it," she said, at last seeming to come to a decision about her own thoughts.

"Take their offer."

And then she turned from me and from the car, making her way back into the house. We were inseparable most of the time, but we returned to Trevor's as if two separate entities, alone. Abbie went straight to her room and began changing, her "date" only a few hours or so away, our meeting taking longer than either of us had anticipated. Abbie hadn't thought it would last longer than the time it took her to tell Mrs. Facelli to go fuck herself, and honestly, neither had I really. What should have taken thirty seconds, ended up taking quite a bit longer. Abbie didn't have much time left to doll herself up for her own meeting, even though with our "friends" we don't stay dressed for too long, and so we parted ways before even entering the house.

I was glad I didn't have to work this night, sex honestly the last thing I wanted to think about. I went straight to Trevor's and my room and locked the door behind me, glad that he wasn't home. I curled myself into a tight ball on the recliner, hugging my knees hard to my chest, and I cried, unable to get all that had just happened out of my head.

"I want a divorce from my husband," Elizabeth Facelli had said... the entire meeting wouldn't stop playing over and over in my mind.

- - -

"I want a divorce from my husband."

The words set me back, and even though Abbie was essentially clueless towards the situation, the words shocked even her. Why would Elizabeth Facelli set a meeting to tell me this? And why did she think any of it involved me? What made her even think that I should give a fuck what happens between her and her family?

"Mrs. Facelli," it was Steven who eventually came to elaborate, I suppose noting our completely dumbfounded confusion. "You see, had filed for a civil annulment to her marriage six years ago," he laid out. "However, her husband refused to grant her one, and had the very existence of the divorce filing destroyed."

"In order for my client to now present a case to the courts to get her marriage annulled without the consent of the other party is to..." Steven went on, before I could not help but interrupt.

"Wait, you're her divorce attorney??" I gasped in surprise, once I realized there was probably nothing this guy knew or could hold over me.

"Yes," Steven returned simply, stammering a little bit with his words before continuing on. "Umm... it to provide evidence of wrongdoing against their traditional wedding vows, such as..."

"Fucking a hooker?" I interjected a bit too loudly, garnering even more attention from the surrounding eyes.

"Umm..." Steven muttered nervously, nodding his head slightly. "Well, yes," he acknowledged. "Evidence of infidelity would suffice..."

"You see, with your help, Mrs. Facelli could..." Steven went on, only to be interrupted by me again. He had a horrible inability to get to the fucking point.

"So you want me to go to court and admit to fucking her husband!?" I almost laughed, wondering how these rich, "educated" folk could be so fucking stupid. "So she could get her happy little divorce, and I could go to jail?" I snickered, having heard enough and standing as though ready to leave as I took Abbie's hand.

"You would not go to jail," Steven assured me, almost desperately rushing out the words to keep me from leaving. "that I can assure you of," he went on, but I couldn't help but not be convinced. Again, lawyers I had found through experience were never really on my side. It was honestly only Abbie, who still remained seated, gazing at the two of them from behind her dark sunglasses silently that kept me from leaving. She was my ride, after all.

"We already have a judge lined up who is willing to hear the case, one who can commit to a sentence of mild rehabilitation, and..." Steven went on, as though any of this was still working to my favor. Again I turned to leave, nearly yanking on Abbie's arm to get her to stand.

"Please, wait," Steven this time sounded to simply beg, seeming more endeared to this case than Mrs. Facelli was herself. What the fucking rich wouldn't do for a buck, I thought. "Monthly check ins with a parole officer, for no more than six months," he laid out, at least for once in his life able to be blunt with his information and get straight to the point. "Please, it would cost you no more than three hours of your life over the next six months."

I stopped, but just for a moment, and not because of anything that he said. It was really just kitten-like curiosity that just had to make me ask.

"What's in it for me?"

"Well, Mrs. Facelli and I have discussed this," Steven began again, still speaking in haste, noting my readiness to simply disappear at any given moment. "And after her case I would be willing to represent you as a client. Pro bono of course," he finished, a hopeful and expectant look upon his face.

"Pro what?" I blinked, not understanding.

"Pro bono," Steven repeated. "It means for free. I would represent your interests in court for free, Miss Marsdan," he went on, and I don't know what made me angrier, the word "free" in response to my question, or the fact that this whole time they had known my real name.

"What the fuck use do I have for a divorce attorney!?" I returned bitterly, feeling my time entirely wasted now. I should have taken Abbie's advice and never come here.

"Um... well, while I am representing Mrs. Facelli in her divorce," Steven tried to explain, though even at this point Abbie could not help but see futility in this entire endeavor, at last rising to her feet to leave with me. "It is more as a favor to a friend," he went on hastily, before we could leave. "You see my actual area of expertise is gender equality law," Steven added hopefully. "You know, women's rights."

Both Abbie and I stopped for a moment and turned. I could see Steven's face grow hopeful, and almost shine in pride as though he had at last convinced us to hear them out. For such an idiot I almost felt bad about popping his little bubble. Yet again it seemed as though I had to spell it out letter by letter to get him to understand.

"Let me rephrase," I snickered rather harshly.

"How much is in it for me?"

Steven sighed. He glanced down to Mrs. Facelli dejectedly, though the emotionless expression upon her face never changed a bit. I don't know why I waited to hear his answer, I could already tell by his face that the amount they were prepared to offer me wouldn't even be worth my time. I knew it because they knew it, yet if I thought I couldn't be surprised, at least they proved me wrong there.

"Any umm..." Steven attempted to choose his words thoughtfully. "Monetary reimbursement for your testimony could be construed as a bribe, and as a result have your testimony deemed as inadmissible," he went on. I wasn't honestly able to understand every word that he said, but I laughed anyway. I understood well enough the essence of what he was saying to know he was essentially saying that I wouldn't see a single cent, even though Mrs. Facelli stood ready to claim half of her husband's fortune.

It made more sense to me now why they couldn't even buy me or Abbie a cup of fucking coffee.

I just couldn't help but laugh. I'm well aware that I can be a bitch sometimes, but I like to think that I'm not often downright cruel. At least I'm aware of the times when I am, and this was one of them. I just boiled so much inside that I couldn't help but mock the two of them as scathingly as I could, maybe for wasting my time, maybe because I just needed to yell, or maybe because I just didn't care about anything anymore.

Maybe it was because I fucked her daughter. Maybe it was because I fucked her son. Maybe it was because I fucked her husband that I figured I might as well tie up loose ends and fuck her too.

"Did you really think this would fucking work?" I laughed my bitchiest, most scathing laugh. "Do I look like the kind of girl who works for free?" I laughed even more, not caring to hide to them anymore that which they already knew I was, a very high priced whore. "What did you think I was just going to help you out of the goodness of my heart?" I laid on the sarcasm just as thick as I could.

Just as I had expected Steven fell silent, as if afraid to even open his mouth.

What I didn't expect, however, was to hear Mrs. Facelli speak, her voice soft and gentle, oddly unthreatening given the situation, and almost... caring... tinged only ever so faintly with a sadness she couldn't fully hide.

"I thought that you might understand," Mrs. Facelli spoke quietly, lowering her sunglasses from her eyes and holding them in her lap. "Feeling trapped," she continued. "Feeling powerless, as though you have no say in the world that shapes your life for you," she went on, a deep well of sadness and loneliness in her voice, and yet her elegant composure never wavering or breaking. "the fear of being so confined, and the despair of one failed attempt after another," Mrs. Facelli sighed softly, slowly rising from her seat as if preparing to leave.

"I suppose I had hoped that we might want the same thing," Mrs. Facelli finished, though she had no reason to, smiling a soft, gentle smile at me before stepping away from her seat.

I don't know why but I froze. This time it was my own turn to stand speechless in the small coffee shop, unable to say a word or even pull away when Mrs. Facelli approached me and placed her hand upon my left temple, her delicate fingers brushing back a few strands of my blonde hair.

In most cases I would have snapped. I've never shown anybody, not even Trevor, not even Abbie. I've always felt it to be ugly, the ugliest part of me, the inch long scar just barely hidden by my hairline, and so I kept it hidden. Mrs. Facelli knew exactly where to look, and the thought made me shiver with a deathly chill of just how much information her lawyer must have dug up on me to know about this...

"It seems to have healed well," Mrs. Facelli smiled at me softly, speaking almost with a motherly concern. Far more than my mother had ever spoken with anyway. She clasped my hand gently and gave it a soft squeeze before taking just a single step back.

"I wish you all the best, Celina," she said, her farewell short, succinct, as elegant as always, and I could not help but feel that it was genuine as well, as much as I wanted to believe otherwise.

And then the two of them were gone.

- - -

And I was still alone within my room, curled up in a teary ball in Trevor's old recliner.

I reached into my back pocket and I pulled out my cell phone, punching in the seven digits I knew by heart and would never forget, yet hadn't used in such a long time. My thumb lingered over the call button for what felt like an eternity, shaking with an anxious fear that nearly felt to be nauseating. For long minutes I tried to gather up the courage to push that one damn button, but every time I thought I had, my body froze again.

And then I realized that I had lost my chance to be brave when the doorknob rustled and I heard the sound of keys jingling on the other side of the door.

I flipped my cellphone shut at the sound, and I frantically tried to wipe away all evidence that I had been crying from off my cheeks, hoping that I had succeeded by the time Trevor stepped through the door.

He was fucked up, on what I did not know, but his eyes were bloodshot, he stumbled in his step, and he could barely hold himself upright. I suppose I should have been grateful that it kept him from noticing how I'm sure my mascara had run. With any luck he would fall straight into bed and pass out immediately, but sadly I've never been overly blessed in the luck department.

He doesn't even greet me. He doesn't even say my name. He merely looks at me and then looks over at the bed, snapping his fingers as though I should understand his wordless command.

Sadly, I know it all too well...

I stand up from my seat on the recliner and I reach down to the button on the side of my skirt, undoing it and letting it fall to my ankles, as Trevor wordlessly demands. I slowly take the hem of my tank top and I lift it up over my head, standing before him in only my bra and my panties. I reach behind my back to unclasp my bra as Trevor approaches me and yanks my panties down roughly, making me step out of them before running his tongue hard up against my pussy, licking me all the way up to my clit, and biting down so hard it makes me scream.

He snaps his fingers once more as he points to the bed, and obediently I climb into it, laying for him on my back as he strips himself of his clothes. It isn't long before his hand is on my chest and his fingers are on my throat, holding me down as he puts his weight on top of me, pinning me to the bed. He kisses me hard and I immediately taste all the liquor and cum from who knows what girl invade my mouth. He wastes no time in spearing me with the entire length of his cock and I can't help but scream out as he viciously and violently thrusts into me over and over, his grip around my neck making it difficult to breathe.

Trevor has always been rough during sex. He gets off on it, but at least when he's sober, or at least not completely fucked out of his mind on drugs and alcohol, there is that part of him that remembers that I'm still a human being. He wraps my neck with his large fingers, squeezing erotically at times, but he always lets me breathe. He always eventually fits his whole length into me, but at least he lets me get wet first to handle it. That part of him gets lost when he's like this, however, and I don't even know if he's aware that I'm alive. As good as I can fake a scream to get guys off, these ones are real as he ravages my pussy, shoving his foot long cock into me deeper and deeper. He gets off on making girls struggle, but it's no longer pretend tonight as I claw and pull at Trevor's hand, trying to loosen his grip enough to draw in a breath as often as I can.

I'm a warm hole for him to fill tonight, a sweet flavor to taste, a place for him to cum. Nothing more.

Despite how violent he fucks me... no, let's be honest, probably because of it, I'm quickly brought to orgasm as he pounds into my cunt. I shudder two more times down the length of Trevor's cock before he finally moans hard and bites down onto my neck viciously, causing me to scream. And then like that it is over. Trevor slumps down almost lifelessly on top of me, and I have to use all of my strength just to roll his weight from off of me. He falls instantly into a deeper sleep and I realize that this is the only time that I actually, truly feel free.

I slide over to the edge of the bed and I reach down to my skirt on the floor, fishing my cell phone out of the back pocket. I flip it open to see the number still waiting on the screen. Still crying, and cum dripping down my thighs all the way to my knees, I walk over to the window of our bedroom. I don't try to gather up the courage anymore to hit the call button, I failed too many times for that already. I simply close my eyes and hit it, jumping in headfirst, not sure really if I'll sink or swim.

It has been nearly two years since we last spoke, two years since I left, speaking words that I can never take back. What will things be like when I hear his voice again? Will he even pick up? I wouldn't be surprised if he hated me. I wouldn't be surprised if he let it ring forever, shunning me from his life as I had so arrogantly done so two years ago.

It surprised me thus how he answers on only the first ring, it scares me even, so much so that I don't even know what to say. Neither does he, for there is nothing but silence for several long moments, until at last one of us finds the courage to speak.

"Celina?" the voice says to me on the other side of the phone line, and instantly I am overcome by a wave of tears I cannot keep from streaming down my face in horrid rivers.

"Celina? What's wrong?" he asks anxiously, caringly, lovingly... fatherly... as if nothing bad had ever happened between us...

"Hi, Dad..." I say meekly, sniffling back my tears, and actually for the first time this day feeling like I might be able to smile.

"What is it, Angel?" he asks me with worry, calling me what he has since as long as I can remember, his angel.

"Dad..." I begin softly, taking several long moments to voice all my words. "I was wondering..." I half whisper, finding my voice lost in my throat. "Do you remember the scar I got on my left temple when I was four...?" I ask of him, and his worry sounds only to increase, but so too does his love.