I Am Whom I Am and Why Pt. 03

I didn't ever return to our home. The neighbours brought a few personal things to the hospital, including my teddy bear, Zac's clothes and a few toys.

Then Zac and I headed straight to the safety of the Convent and Sister Jerome.

I convalesced there for nearly six months. I had regular trips to the doctors, psychologists and various other specialist until they finally all said that they had done about as much as they could for me.

I decided it was time to get on with my life and so one spring morning, Zac and I said farewell to the Convent and caught a bus. It was a long journey but in the end we were in a new city in a new state.

I found a lovely second floor apartment in a quiet leafy suburb. It had two bedrooms, one for each of us. The letting agent was concerned that I might not be able to pay the rent. He was right, lack of money was going to be a problem for me. After paying the fortnightly rent there was very little left over from my welfare payments for food and clothes. But I was determined to make this work and assured him that I wouldn't default. I had reverted to my maiden name and hoped that he wouldn't find out about the unpaid rent from our previous home.

Our street intersected with the bustling Hight Street with it's crowds of people, coffee shops and stores. Zac's new school was only a ten minute walk away.

We settled in and one morning after walking Zac to school I dropped in at a fabulous coffee shop. It had tables and chairs out on the footpath and it was so easy to sit and watch the world go by.

I soon became a "regular" and befriended the owner, Marco. Each morning I would sit in the same seat and Marco would bring me a hot cappuccino for which I would burrow into my purse and find the $3.50 to pay for it.

One morning as I sat watching everyone walk by I noticed a young girl standing on the corner across the street. She looked out of place. She was tall and thin, had long blonde hair and I guessed that she was probably about twenty years old. She stood out from the crowd because of her ridiculously high heeled shoes and her tiny mini dress, the hem of which she constantly tugged down to stop it riding up over her bottom. She carried a large shopping bag and a bottle of water. She had a routine. She would press the button at the pedestrian crossing and wait for the lights to change, but she never cross the road onto my side. She would then walk briskly back down the street to the bus stop and wait, but she never caught a bus. She repeated this over and over again and on each sweep she would try and catch the eye of the male drivers as they cruised by. If they stopped she would lean in the passenger's side window and talk. Sometimes she would get into the car and be gone for twenty minutes or so, other times she would toss her head back in disgust and continue her walking.

I had never seen a street walker before and I guessed that is what she was. I could only guess what she did once she got into a car.

As I stared at her, Marco came up behind me and softly said, "That's Chrissy."

Each morning as I drank my coffee I watched Chrissy go through her routine. I wondered how much she earned. One day when it was quiet in the coffee shop and Marco sat down opposite me and we both looked across the street at her. He must have read my mind as he suddenly said, "She makes good money, that young girl does."

I looked at him curiously.

"You know she is a hooker?" He asked

"Yes I had guess that." I replied

He smiled.

"Each car she gets into, the guy pays her $50 for a blow job or if he want he pays $100 to have sex with her. It's negotiable. They go down behind the primary school and do it there."

I must have looked shocked.

"How do you know how much she charges, Marco?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I just know. People talk you know. I've never been with her, if that is what you are thinking."

He stood up, cleared the table next to us and disappeared to the back of the shop and the kitchen.

The topic wasn't mentioned again.

One morning, much to my surprise, Chrissy did cross the road and came into the coffee shop. She used the toilet. Marco scowled at her. So she bought a bottle of water from the fridge and put it in her big shopping bag and left.

"Lazy bitch." He muttered under his breath. I was surprise, it wasn't like Marco at all.

Marco and I became close friends. We talked and although I had at first thought he was gay, he wasn't. He was just one of those hard working people who loved what he did and had no time for a social life.

One morning as I finished my coffee, I came out of the toilet into the narrow passage next to the small kitchen. At just that moment Marco came from the kitchen and bumped into me. It seemed like an accident, but it wasn't. He pinned me to the wall and lightly kissed my cheek. I was flattered that he found me attractive. It was the first affection I had received in over a year. I turned my head and he kissed my lips. I nearly melted. His hand lingered on my breasts and then slid lower.

"Not here." I murmured as I was fearful someone might come.

He stepped back, took a key from a hook on the wall and unlocked a door that opened into a tiny storage room. He guided me inside and turned on the light. There were no windows and it was dusty. There was a small table at one end that was covered with storage boxes, a couple of brooms and a mop leant up in the corner. It was more like a large cupboard than a room.

His groped me above and below. Then he turned me around and beckoned me to lean over the table, which I did obligingly. He lifted my skirt to my waist and tugged my panties down to my knees. He tried to enter me from behind but I was dry. He grunted and rushed out. Moments later he returned with a bottle of virgin olive oil in his hand. He smothered his cock with it and wiped some onto my labia. He worked the area until he could slide his finger inside me. Much to my surprise the oil worked and at the next attempt with his cock he slipped inside me quite easily. I was a little tentative at first as this was the first time I had had sex since I had been sexually violated and damaged. But thankfully there was no pain.

He finished and quickly left, leaving me to clean up. By the time I got home my panties were soaked in olive oil and semen, but thankfully there was no blood. My insides must have recovered from the trauma I had suffered at the hands of Sean's two friends.

I decided to be ready, should there be a "next time." So, I went to the pharmacy and bought some condoms, lubricant, wet wipes and some tissues all of which I carried in my purse. It was better to be prepared than to be smothered in olive oil again.

Christmas was approaching and Marco's coffee shop was thriving. He complained about being too busy and he would most likely have to put on staff. That was going to cost him money and effect his profit margin.

I needed money as I desperately wanted to buy Zac a Christmas present. So one day I confronted him and asked if he would employ me. I had no training in hospitality but it would be ideal, just two hours at lunchtime while Zac was at school. perfect!

He smiled at me and said, "I was going to ask you if you wanted a job, but I can't pay you much. Maybe $15 an hour, cash, two hours a day, 5 days. In Australia at that time, $15 an hour for a "casual" was quite good money; not brilliant but OK.

I was so excited. That would mean an extra $150 a week to my budget! I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips in my excitement. He was taken aback by my response. We agreed that I would start at noon on Monday and work through the busy time until 2:00pm, when I would walk down to the school and collect Zac.

My tasks in the coffee shop were simple. Waiting on tables, clearing tables and washing dishes in the kitchen. I could do that and set about my work enthusiastically.

I loved talking to the regular customers, finding out about them. Most of them had such interesting lives.

After a few weeks I was on first name terms with many of them.

Christmas was soon behind us and life in the coffee shop became a less hectic. I was a little fearful that Marco would no longer require me and would let me go.

Then one day he was in the kitchen and beckoned to me, "Jen can I have a word with you?" He solemnly asked.

I thought the moment had come and I was about to lose my job and my income.

He looked at me so seriously as fumbled in his pocket and took out a $50 note. He took the storeroom key from it's hook on the wall and laid the key on top of the note. He looked me straight in the eye.

"Jen, the gentleman on Table 6 would like to spend some time with you. But only if you want to."

My jaw must have dropped.

"You only have to do what we did in there before Christmas." He said.

"Now?" I croaked.

"Yes, I have some oil if you need it." He quipped.

"That won't be necessary." I assured him.

I went out to the front of the shop to see who was on Table 6. It was Martin, a retired engineer. He was a lovely guy and we had spoken quite often. He was married.

I went back inside where Marco was waiting and nodded.

"OK, I'll do it."

I picked up the money and the key and unlocked the door to the storage room, turned on the light and went in. I put the money in my purse and took out my lubricant. I slid my panties down and put a little dab between my labia, then pulled them up again.

Just as I was opening a condom, Martin appeared at the door and closed it behind him.

"Are you OK with this?" He asked. I nodded.

He kissed me on the cheek and squeezed my boobs through my t shirt. I lifted it up and slid the cups of my bra up so that he could touch my boobs. He leant forwards and kissed my nipples, which had become quite hard. He fondled me for a few moments while I unbuckled his pants and slid them down to his knees. I massaged and rubbed his cock to hardness and rolled the condom onto him. I pulled down my panties and turned around and leant forwards across the table. I reached back and guided the head of his penis inside me. I felt very little as he entered me, but I was aware of his grunts and groans as he satisfied himself inside me. When he was finished I wiped myself with a tissue and pulled up my panties. I turned and slid the filled condom off his now flaccid cock, tying a neat knot in the end so that the semen wouldn't spill everywhere. I cleaned him with a "wet wipe" and dried him with a tissue. He pulled his pants up, thanked me. kissed my cheek again, saying "That was $100 well spent, my dear." and left. I was miffed, Marco had only given me $50 to go with him.

I looked at my watch. The whole episode had taken less than ten minutes.

I returned to the kitchen where Marco was waiting.

"Was everything OK?" He enquired.

"Yes, he was fine." I told him.

"Are you happy with this arrangement?" He asked shrugging his shoulders

"Yes." I said softly, not admitting that I knew I had just been hired out for $100 and only paid $50 for doing all the work.

I looked him straight in the eye. "Tell me Marco. Does Chrissy work for you to?"

A wry smile came over his face and he winked at me as he raised a finger to his lips.

"Shhhhh."