The Birthday Gift

"Uh, Dan wanted me to let you know he stopped by to apologize."

I offered abruptly. She didn't say a word and I noticed she suddenly seemed intent on avoiding my curious gaze. I waited another minute.

"Care to explain?" I prompted.

She shrugged, "I might have mentioned that he'd been an asshole to my mother."

I still could not put the pieces together, "and he would care about that why?"

Now those intense hazel-green eyes met mine and she smiled a little sheepishly, "well, he was bidding on one of the city contracts. My mother might have turned down his bid."

Understanding dawned and for a moment I couldn't figure out how I felt. Certainly I wanted him to regret what he'd done, but I didn't feel comfortable affecting someone's livelihood. She saw the regret on my face.

"Don't freak out, he'll just have to raise his bid a little and I'm sure my mother will re-consider it."

I nodded, "you'll tell her he apologized?"

"I promise," she assured me.

Feeling better, since I would not be the cause of anyone's business tanking, I suddenly remembered I was standing there in a tee-shirt and panties. I hadn't had time to throw on a pair of jeans. Instead of dressing, I simply hurried to the bed, crawling beneath the comforter. The only other chair was piled high with my clothes, so I patted the area beside me on the bed. Vic smirked, but joined me, adjusting the pillows so she could lean against the headboard. I unplugged the headphones from my DVD player and started the movie from the beginning.

"We're watching a movie on that?" She asked incredulously.

"Well...yeah. Is that a problem?" I answered, my voice indicating I was a little insulted.

"Nope, no problem at all," she assured me, moving much closer to me so she could actually see the tiny screen.

I reached down and flicked the switch on the surge protector, shutting off the lights. I'm a Terminator fan, or at least I'd come to realize I was in the last few weeks, so the movie was quite interesting to me. At least the 30 minutes or so I managed to watch. After that, I became hyper aware of who was sitting beside me in the darkened corner of my world. Every time she moved and I caught a whiff of her cologne, every time she took a deep breath, every time she shifted a fraction of an inch closer to me, I was completely distracted. At one point, she grunted a little and radically shifted her position. Once she was done, I realized I was pretty much nestled against her chest, her arm around me. After that, I couldn't tell you what the rest of the movie was about. At first I was almost hyperventilating from being so close to her. But the next thing I knew, I was asleep, enjoying the feel of her muscled arm curved around me. I thought I felt her lower her head to smell my hair. Then, although I probably imagined it, I could swear I felt her finger tracing the outline of the bump on my nose and the shadow of the bruises around my eyes. Before I fell into a pretty deep sleep, I was certain she pressed her lips to my forehead.

When I shifted, uncomfortably, a few hours later, she had maneuvered us into a semi-flat position. She was still fully clothed, her arm around me. I adjusted myself until I was flat, waited as she did the same, although she seemed to still be asleep, and then I turned my back to her, allowing her to spoon against me. Her arm curved around my waist this time and I sighed before falling back to sleep.

That was our second date, watching a movie on my tiny little DVD player until we both fell asleep. When I woke the next morning, relatively early for some reason, she was already gone. It was Saturday and I remembered that she probably had to work, so I tried not to take it personally. Still, I was a little upset that she hadn't even left a note.

When I went into the bathroom to shower, there was a note taped to the bathroom mirror.

"Had to be at the office by 6. Didn't want to wake you. Enjoyed the movie. Vic."

That note put a smile on my face until around 2pm. And then, when the doorbell rang and I managed to reach the door before my mother, my smile faded. Two deliverymen stood before me, a huge box between them. Behind them? Someone from the cable company.

"We have a delivery for Raynata West?"

"Uh, that's me."

He smiled, "okay, where do we put this?"

I looked at the logo scribbled on the side of the box. Was this monstrosity a television?

"I didn't order this."

"Uh, okay. This is," he rattled off my address.

I nodded.

"Then we're in the right place. Where do you want it?"

"But...uh..."

I would kill her. The thought went through my mind before I managed to direct them to the basement. It took them 30 minutes to set up the 42 inch flat screen television, television stand, and DVD player at the foot of my bed. The cable guy took a little longer, needing to drill a few holes, much to my mother's annoyance. Once they were done, and he made sure the cable was working, I sat on my bed and flipped through the channels. There had to be at least a hundred of them, including all the pay channels. I shook my head. It was too much. It was inappropriate. It was...perfect. No matter how uncomfortable it made me, I still smiled as I kept switching the channels.

I was tempted to call her, but didn't want to bother her at work. Besides, I had to be at work by four. So, I figured I would wait to kill her. I quickly changed into a freshly washed uniform, shoveled some food in my mouth, and hurried up the stairs. I was swinging the keys around on my index finger when I realized my mother was standing in the kitchen, doing absolutely nothing. That meant she was waiting for me. I knew instantly this day was going to go from a little odd to really bad. I tried to brace myself for it.

"What do you think you're doing?" She bit out. "Victoria Saunders comes from a good family. She's done well for herself, a multi-millionaire in her own right. You really think she needs to be with a whore?"

I sighed. She had a point. Yup, it was gonna be a really bad day.

"I already told her it was a bad idea." I defended myself.

"Yeah, right. Living the way you lived for all those years, you really want me to believe you have a conscience? Like you didn't seduce her? I'm sure you're an expert at it by now."

"Just leave me alone," I muttered, swallowing back tears. I tried to move past her toward the front door, but she blocked my escape.

"You're a dirty little whore. You always have been. And you'll take her down with you." She spat the words at me.

I swallowed and tried to count to 10 in my head. It wasn't working. Nothing was working. If she didn't let me leave, I knew I was going to lose it. I tried to get past her again, but she wasn't having that. I closed my eyes for a moment, weighed my options, and decided to just say what I wanted to say.

"If I'm a whore, you helped make me this way. He raped me day after day and you did nothing to stop him. Not a damn thing." I said softly, angrily.

I could see she was taken aback. But it didn't take her long to react. She smacked me right across the face. Hard. I repressed the urge to return the favor. When I tried to pass her this time, and she didn't move, I simply pushed her out of my way, slamming the front door behind me. I sat in my father's car for a few minutes, wondering if my cheek was red, wondering why I had returned to Stroudsburg, wondering why I was trying to change my life. I was a whore, and a damn good one. I could most certainly make a decent living at it. So why was I trying to go legit when I kept encountering obstacle after obstacle? What was the point?

I sat there for a few more minutes, risking a late arrival at work, trying to figure things out, when my cell phone rang. She had good timing, I had to give her that. I took a deep breath, wiped my tears, and answered the phone.

"Hi."

I could hear the smile behind her words, "hi. How did you sleep?"

I also smiled, albeit halfheartedly, "okay. You?"

"Great...", she paused. Then asked, "what's wrong? You okay?"

Tuned in. I would give her that also.

"N-nothing. I was on my way to work. Thanks for the TV and stuff."

She was silent for another moment. "You want to tell me what's wrong now or later?"

I sighed, "later, I guess."

"Okay. Have a good day at work."

"Okay."

When she was gone, I wiped my tears again, started the car and drove to work.

Work was fine. No one else from my past appeared and I was kept pretty busy, a good combination. I decided not to call Vic on my break, not wanting to bother her. When I finished cleaning up the concession area, punching out at 11:30 on the dot, I was amazed at the difference between this Saturday night and the many others I'd had. When I was in New York, I would just be getting started. Not punching out, exhausted, ready to go home. And, of course, I would have a mouth full of cum right now. I laughed bitterly at my own little joke.

I waved, calling out goodnight as I made my way to the front door. When I stepped outside, I pulled my jacket closed, wondering if it was time to get a winter coat. I was walking toward the Taurus when I noticed a black Mercedes Benz SUV parked right beside my father's car. I wondered what type of person drove a Mercedes to shop at Target. I had just finished the thought when the rear door opened and Vic stepped out. She raised a finger as she finished her phone call.

"No, I said fire him. It's the third time he's accepted a bid that I didn't agree with. Fuck him."

She pressed a button, ending the call.

"Must get pretty expensive," I commented, raising a brow.

"What?"

"Renting this car all the time." I bent down to peer through the front window. "You even have the same driver."

She didn't say a word, just looked at me with curiosity for a moment before understanding dawned. Jeez, it was her car and he was her driver. My mother had just shared that she was a multi-millionaire, hadn't she? Jeez.

"Okay, before you freak out—"

"Have you noticed how often you have to say that to me? You're giving me lots of reasons to freak out." I complained.

"Okay, but keep in mind my mother is the mayor and my father is a United States Senator. It was either drive my own car, with my own personal security, or Secret Service."

I nodded, "tough choice, I guess."

She shrugged. "So, come on. Let's get a drink and you can tell me what's wrong."

I sighed, glancing at my car, totally freaking out that she owned a Mercedes and had a personal driver. "Maybe I'll just follow in my car."

"Come on, I haven't seen you all day. Don't make me beg."

She smiled that winning smile, which I'm sure encouraged people to bend her way more often than not, and I sighed, sliding into the backseat. This time I looked around at the plush, velvety seats, the tiny television, and the control center that held a number of beeping and blinking devices. It must be some life to have this kind of car at one's disposal. I leaned back and closed my eyes.

"So?" She encouraged me as the car pulled out of the lot.

"My mother knew what I was doing in New York...may have known where I was all this time. She thinks I'm the devil. She thinks I seduced you. You're supposedly bewitched by my charms, and I'll ruin your life and your career...maybe even steal all your money, who knows."

My voice was level and I was trying to hide the hurt beneath the words, but I don't think she bought it.

"Well...she sure hasn't changed, has she? She always was a mean bitch."

I opened my eyes, a smile on my face, "hey, you can't talk about my mother like that. Only I can call her a bitch."

She smiled, reaching out for my hand and squeezing it.

"Well, she's wrong. You're not the devil, you didn't seduce me and you won't steal all my money. I'm much too wealthy for you to take all of it," she teased.

Except I didn't find that funny at all. "You know it totally freaks me out when you say stuff like that. I mean...I don't even want to think about it. We're driving around in your Mercedes Benz for goodness sakes. I mean..." I stopped myself, trying not to go there.

She was silent for a few minutes before squeezing my hand again, "okay, I never thought I would say this, but here it goes. I'm sorry I'm well off, okay? Does that make it better?"

If she was trying to get me to laugh, that did it. It was such an absurd statement, all I could do was laugh. She raised my hand to her lips and kissed my knuckles tenderly. My heart flip flopped again.

"Look, let's just get a drink and then I'll take you home so you can wallow in self-pity all night long, okay? Or..."

"Or?" I took the bait.

"We could drive in Phily."

I raised a brow, "really?"

"Sure, why not. I'm off tomorrow."

"But I'm not."

"Yeah, but you don't go in until 4."

I looked at her with surprise, "did Jessie give you my entire schedule?" I asked.

She shrugged, "we go way back...of course she did."

I smiled, pleased that she had taken the time to get my schedule.

"Okay, Phily it is."

"Cool."

She gave her driver the new destination and then we sat back, watching television, as he drove us to Philadelphia. She took me to a cute little dessert place and bought me the largest slice of pie I'd ever seen. We shared it and still didn't put a real dent in it. Then she took me to an upscale club, with a live jazz band, and we sipped drinks as we listened to some amazing music. We didn't head back to Stroudsburg until 5am and by then I was zonked out in the backseat, leaning against her shoulder, probably snoring. I could have sworn I felt her kiss my forehead yet again, but I was too tired to think anything about it. My heart, on the other hand, wasn't too tired to respond with a flip or two.

My days, for the next two months, followed this same pattern for the most part. If I had to work, and it was a weekday, Vic would meet me afterwards and we would go to my place to watch a movie until we fell asleep. She always slept fully clothed, on top of my comforter. If I was not working, I would meet her for lunch or dinner. And if it was Sunday, she would drag me to Philadelphia or New York (which always had me on edge, but we avoided Brooklyn) and we would go clubbing or just have dessert.

She helped me study for, and pass, the GED. She helped me enroll in my first college course, an introductory writing class, that began in a few months. She was becoming such a staple in my life, I started getting uncomfortable. The only other people I had been able to rely on, for good or bad, were my pimps. I didn't like that my brain was putting her in the same category as them. She wasn't like them. She didn't expect anything from me. She wouldn't demand I "prove" that I cared for her by fucking strangers for money. In fact...I wasn't even sure why she was hanging out with me. What about her other friends, her family, her own life? Why was she spending so much time with me?

Still, I couldn't say it wasn't nice to have someone like her pay attention to me. We'd been hanging out for months and other than a few tender kisses against my forehead, usually when I was half asleep, she hadn't even made a move in the direction of sex. And now that I was thinking about it...that was strange, wasn't it? I mean...oh. The thought popped into my head so suddenly I couldn't stop it. And it hurt. She probably didn't want to have sex with someone like me. I mean, after all, I had fucked hundreds of people. God only knows what disgusting diseases I might have, right? I sighed...jeez. I couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to me before. She was turned off by my past. That was probably the reason she hadn't invited me into her home, or her bed, yet. She probably just wanted to be friends and here I was reading more into it. When would I learn that I couldn't escape what I really was? Why was it taking me so long to actually get it?

I was off tonight and was supposed to meet her for dinner, but I called and begged off. I left a message saying that I wasn't feeling well and that I would call her tomorrow. She told me she'd be really busy at work today anyway, so I didn't think it mattered. I should have known better when it came to Vic though. I heard the knock on the front door around 7:30, the time she usually picked me up, and hurried upstairs to answer it before my mother could make her way down from her bedroom. I was wearing a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, my usual attire, and my feet were bare, my toenails painted a shocking red. I worried about my hair, which I'd just pulled back into a ponytail this morning and hadn't thought about since. But what did it matter? We were just pals, right?

She was still dressed for work in slacks and a jacket, both from a designer I didn't recognize. She kept a few things in the bottom drawer of one of the oak chests she'd bought for me. She was still on the phone when she walked by me and started down the stairs. I was wondering what she was doing here. Maybe she hadn't gotten my message? She tossed what I knew to be very expensive jacket onto a chair, pulling a pair of jeans out of a drawer and undressing without giving it much thought as she continued her conversation. I always enjoyed the opportunity to watch her when she was distracted. She truly was a specimen...tall, toned, her dark brown skin pulled tautly over delicious, sinewy muscle. Her breasts were rather small, hidden only by the hint of black lace, and she wore, of all things, boxers. I shook my head, watching her discard the expensive pants and pull on baggy jeans. Within moments she was dressed like the Vic I remembered from high school...and I was in desperate need of a cold shower. Not the first time when it came to Vic, but certainly the first time I felt sexually overheated in a while. When I was in "the life," I had to clamp down on those feelings. It was business, not pleasure. The sooner I'd learned that, the better. The one or two times I'd met someone who stirred me up, I avoided them like the plague. It was dangerous to mix those feelings up in that life.

I stood, still watching as she sat in the nice, plush arm chair she'd bought recently, pulled on a pair of socks and then reached for one of the pairs of overpriced sneakers she kept under my bed. Finally she pressed a button to end her call, looking at me as she finished tying her sneakers.

"What's wrong?"

I shrugged, "nothing, I'm not feeling well."

She looked at me carefully for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. "Rayn, come on. We're past that polite, lying bullshit, aren't we?" She asked, throwing me off guard.

I decided to return the favor. "Why don't you want to have sex with me?" I blurted.

She stared at me in silence for a moment and then she burst out laughing. I frowned.

"What's so funny?"

She shook her head, "I should have known you'd go there. You probably think I want a medical record saying you're disease free or something, right? Or some other bullshit?"

I looked away, avoiding her laughing face, wondering why my heart had started hammering in my chest at the look in her intense eyes. I said she was in tune with me, right? It figures she would guess what I was thinking in a matter of seconds. She could fluster me so easily, it was quite amazing considering.

I shrugged again, feigning disinterest, "I'd probably want to know," I muttered softly.

I was looking away, so I didn't know she'd approached me. But I could smell her now, could feel her in the close confines of my tiny, dark corner of the world. I often felt this way when she was here with me, as if being with her would suffocate me. The intensity of my feelings for her...it got worse every day. And now, she was standing right beside me, reaching out a hand to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. I watched as she leaned down, her lips just an inch from mine. I longed for the feel of those lips. I remembered that soft, gentle kiss after the ball...she hadn't tried to kiss me again since then. I wanted it. I wanted to feel her against me in the worst way. But she just paused there, waiting for something. Waiting for...I moved to close the tiny distance between us, pressing my lips hungrily to hers. She tasted wonderfully cool, clean, almost sweet, like the first bite into juicy fruit. I moved closer, into her warmth, my arms curving around her neck as I pressed myself against her. And I heard her moan, a sound from deep inside her chest, as she wrapped her arms around my waist to pull me even closer.