tagIncest/TabooHard Times: Don't Ask Alice Shit

Hard Times: Don't Ask Alice Shit

bysusansnow©

Since the incident, I've started to view men as meat or a means to an end. I started first by getting casual partners via craigslist. Straight sex for sex. Then one guy contacted me and offered money and I was, pardon the pun, hooked.

I built a small clientele, a couple of lonely older men and a handful of young ones. I filter some in and some out; I guess that's the nature of this game. Some talked, some didn't discuss beyond what they wanted. For the most, part the client's desires were communicated through online correspondence.

All was well until I took my first beating one night at a local motel. There wasn't much damaged outside of a multitude of bruises which kept me away from my side job for nearly two weeks. Perhaps this business wasn't all cum and games. That's when I hired Paul. I put out an ad, on craigslist, for someone with personal security experience and kept the terms to myself until he called. This was strictly under the table. His voice was deep, masculine and sounded as if it had the potential to ward off potential violence. I asked him to text me a picture and when my phone chimed, I smirked a little.

Big, built, bald and blue eyed. This used to be my weakness before the realization of men as meat, since the incident. I am not above feeling or desiring, everyone does. I can turn it off. Actually, I have to work to turn the feelings on. I don't need anyone to this day. I wish I would have never touched him.

The incident simply is that I was ill treated for a long time, decades, in fact, by someone I invested all my love and trust in. I can't blame only that for my choice to be a craigslist hooker. The money is good for now. My little one is a sophomore this year in high school back home. She needs braces, glasses, check-ups, trips to the state capital. I have not touched the skin on her angel face in three years. My last relationship fucked me up; I can't get emotionally close to men. I have physical needs and, with some clients, those needs are satisfied.

I work full time as a hospital ER clerk, rotating shifts. This works well with my calendar for clients and with Paul. Although, having a very public legitimate job sometimes gets you recognized for the other work. In those cases, most clients pretend to not recognize me and in all cases, I pretend to not recognize them. One stood out more than the others, a man with a fetish for pony tails and short pleated skirts. I saw him once in the mall with what I could only assume was his daughter. Our gaze met and his face turned purple.

"What is it, Daddy?" she chirped, looking more concerned as the bruising in his cheeks beamed and radiated through his skin. I walked away and reveled in my own power. I vomited later when I realized the skirts I had worn for "Daddy" were hers. Looking back, my mind makes our resemblance uncanny and twisted. He liked it from behind, pulling my hair at the base of the ponytails on either side of my head. He called me a name under his breath. More chunks of lunch on my bathroom floor.

"Fuck, baby girl, your pussy's so tight!" Now the dry heaves. I meet with him again next Thursday. I settled on imagining the lesser of two evils. He was doing to me what he wanted to do to her. As long as I was available and willing to dress like his precious, was it Michelle? I was doing a service to the community.

Paul talked about the kid a couple of times, when drinking or when I talked about mine. He said his friend was a decent father. The mother sounded like a piece of shit to me, fucking her husband's best friend when her man was out working overtime to feed Paul's kid. The guy didn't even know. I don't know how because in the picture Paul carries, the boy has cornflower blue disc eyes just like him. This made Paul a piece of shit too but, I gave him points for feeling, for sharing. The more I got to know him, the more I had to fight the attraction to maintain a business relationship. I involved him in the act for more money but really, I wanted to see him jerk off for me; to me and in my honor without connecting emotionally. As I would suck a john and Paul would watch, I would imagine Paul as the recipient.

I would look for those eyes in the room, the same blue and shape like a little boy who had no idea that Uncle Paul and his Mexican mother had snuck away to a trailer bathroom to conceive him...

Despite being a shit heel of a friend and a worse father, Paul was an innocent mess. I guess the innocence was what I wanted. In the game of 'be this for that one and that one for this one' it was nice meeting someone else who wore a mask. He was kind to me and dent-busted a guy's head through sheetrock. How could I not fall in love with him? Paul's purposes for keeping Aaron as a friend were sinister as well, Aaron and the Mexican mother grew the best pot in the county. Paul's other job was shearing the leaves from crops of cannabis. When it wasn't harvest time, he carried the supply for Aaron around four counties and helped raise his son in that way.

I can't remember how many times I had to hear the story of the summer snowman. Paul loved the kid, says not the woman, but had no idea where to begin. I had no suggestions as my daughter was over two-thousand miles away, and had been for many years. We bonded over our unconventional ways to raise our remote offspring.

We bonded over a case of Chlamydia. We laughed hysterically in the clinic office after Paul quipped in a whisper, "I never watched someone contract an STD before!" I added, "Maybe you have, Mr. I Haven't Fucked in a Year. How many bareback porn clips have you watched? Amateur? I assure you, someone has contracted something and you've seen it!"

Paul kept me in high spirits in more than one way. Quarters for thirty bucks—he couldn't smoke all of his salary from his horticulture job so I got great deals on weed, which I only smoke during essential oil and Epsom salt bath time for maximum relaxation and before sex with a non-paying partner or lover.

Fuck Paul. I wished I would never have traced the tattoos on his body or had him watch me with clients, even though it did raise my profits substantially. I was able to provide for my daughter in ways I hadn't ever expected. Senior trip to Portugal. Wow, I just realized that Paul and I were together, I mean, worked together for two years...

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