Pretty Baby Ch. 03

"Holy shit!" Julie exclaimed.

I looked to her, saw the way she had clapped her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were even wider than before. Slowly, she dragged her hands away from her face, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. She was smiling, strangely impressed. "What's it like?"

I shrugged. "I have fun, most of the time," I said. I tapped ash off my cigarette. "Most of the men are pretty cool."

"So, what do you do with them?" she asked, genuinely interested. "Do you do kinky stuff? Like, melted honey and whips and chains and shit like that?"

I laughed. "Sometimes I get kinky," I admitted. "But I pretty much get the normal guys."

"And they pay you?"

I sighed. "Yeah. They pay me."

"How much?"

I looked Julie in the eye. "Why all the questions? What, you wanna do it? 'Cause I can probably set it up."

Julie gasped and reared back, giving me a startled look. "N-no!" she exclaimed. Her eyes bounced up and down. "I-I was just curious. That's all."

"Julie."

"What."

"I was kidding."

She slowly lifted her eyes and tentatively smiled. "Oh."

I pulled on my cigarette, tapped it over the Waterford ashtray. "Look. I'm not gonna try to make excuses for why I do it. I like it, I really do. I'm not gonna do it forever, but for right now, until I get tired of it . . . ."

Julie was quiet, picking her nails. "Are we still gonna be friends?" she asked.

I laughed suddenly. "Of course we are," I said. "Why would you even ask that?"

Julie shrugged and smiled. "I like being your friend," she said simply.

I smiled back. "And I like being yours."

We shared a moment, then, one of those -- and there had been more and more such moments over the course of the previous months -- in which I thought that perhaps Julie and I might become more than just friends. God, she had such full, soft lips, and a cute, round face. In some ways, she seemed even younger than I. She was certainly less experienced, that I knew.

At that particular moment, I felt the urge, which I instinctively knew she would not refuse, to push her back and peel of her clothes. I imagined tasting her, another girl, for the first time, imagined the expression of pleasure on Julie's cherubic face as I pried her open and slipped my tongue—

We were both startled by the loud knock at the door, bringing us out of our mutual revelry.

Who could that be?

Julie settled a hand on her heart as we both looked to the door. My own was pounding, like that of a little girl who was about to be caught, in the bedroom with a boy, by her mother. With a self-admonishing sigh, I got up from the couch and answered the door.

"Gary!"

He smiled sheepishly, standing there in jeans and a polo shirt, his hands in his pockets. "Hi."

"Oh, God!" I exclaimed happily, and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him close. I hadn't seen Gary in months, not since that one and only time we had made love. I squeezed him tightly, pressing my body against his. He seemed startled by my reaction to his unexpected return, but quickly lifted his arms and hugged me back.

I lifted my head, and kissed his lips. "I missed you," I said.

He looked surprised. "You did?"

I giggled, and grabbed his hands, pulling him into my apartment. "Of course, silly," I said.

Gary smiled, looking relieved. He saw Julie, however, and his smile faded. "Oh . . . hi."

I giggled again. "Gary, this is my friend Julie. Julie, this Gary."

Julie lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers. "Hi." Her eyes wandered over him, as did mine. In the months since I had last seen him, Gary had obviously been working out. His pudge was gone, his waist looked more trim, his shoulders a little more broad. Damn, he looked a good four or five years younger.

"So . . . what's going on?" I asked, holding his hands.

Gary seemed uncomfortable talking in Julie's presence. I picked up on that right away. "Come on," I said, and pulled him toward the balcony. Gary followed, and I closed the door behind us. I sat down on one of the folding wooden chairs I had recently purchased, gave Gary an expectant look.

"Terry left me," he said.

My smile vanished. I felt immediate sympathy for him. "Oh, Gary," I said, and shot to my feet, hugging him again. He held me close, squeezing my shoulders.

"I'm sorry, baby," I whispered, rubbing my cheek against his chest.

Gently, he pushed me back. I sat down once again. Gary took out his cigarettes and lit up, pacing as he smoked.

"She found out about us," he said. "Actually, she found about those Sunday afternoons. You remember Saul?"

I nodded, frowning.

Gary sighed. "I discovered he was doctoring tech reports, and falsifying time sheets for some of the guys in shipping in exchange for kickbacks. I had to fire him."

I sighed, understanding the gist of what happened next. "So he told your wife."

Gary nodded. He gritted his teeth, his expression revealing his pain. "She took Steve and Joyce. She took my kids, Alyssa!"

I trembled, feeling my eyes swell with tears. "I'm sorry," I said amid a puff of air.

Gary was quiet, smoking silently, staring at the wooden floor of the balcony. "Yeah, well . . . can't do anything about it now."

"I wish I could," I said earnestly.

Gary looked to me, reading my face. His eyes drifted down my body, settling upon my hands. He smiled suddenly.

"You still have the ring," he said.

I looked down at the band he had given me, ran my thumb across the top. The diamonds caught the sunlight, refracting light in half a dozen brilliant shades. The butterfly seemed to glow, but maybe that was just my imagination. "Yeah."

"I kept wanting to call you," he said. "I wanted to see you. I just—"

"Gary, it's okay."

His eyes were lined with red. He was trying not to cry. "God, I've missed you."

I stared into his eyes. "I've missed you, too."

He bit his lip, pulled on his cigarette, then flicked it over the railing. "What've you been up to?" he asked.

I shrugged. How could I tell him? "Just . . . you know. School and st—"

"I wanna make love to you," he said abruptly.

I stopped, blinking, looking away. "Gary—"

"I-I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know why I said that."

I stood slowly, wiped my hands on my jeans. I reached for Gary's hands, held them in a tight grip. I looked up at his face. "I'm not the same girl you used to know," I said.

He pursed his lips, nodded slowly. "You got a boyfriend now?"

"Kind'a. It's . . . casual."

He nodded again. "I respect that," he said, then snorted ruefully. I could tell he was disappointed. "Bad enough I cheated on my wife, huh? Don't want you doing the same."

"Gary, baby—"

"Don't."

I frowned. "Don't what?"

He gripped my hands, bore into my eyes. "Don't make me think we could be together again."

I started to speak, then stopped myself. I lowered my eyes. "Okay."

Gary took a breath, let it out. "Um . . . I should go."

"You don't have to."

He laughed darkly. "Yeah, I do," he said, and slid open the door. I followed him back inside. Julie still sat on the floor, watching TV, but I could tell she wasn't paying attention to it.

Gary headed to the door, pulled it open. He stopped and turned back. "Maybe . . . maybe I could call you sometime?"

I smiled. "I'd like that."

Gary matched my smile, just for a moment, then turned and headed down the stairs to his car. I waited until I couldn't see him anymore before closing the door. I leaned against it with a heavy sigh.

"So, um," came Julie's voice from the living room. "Wanna play Scrabble?"

I started laughing. I don't know why, really. Maybe I needed to release the tension somehow. I shoved away from the door. "Sure," I said.

***

Later that evening, after Julie left, I sat watching TV after taking a long bath. Surrounded by the fragrance of the Fa soap I now used -- it made my skin so soft and supple -- I felt relaxed and ready for bed. I was just waiting for my eyes to get heavy. I smoked a cigarette, watching some program on Discovery about Siamese twins.

When the knock came, I wasn't entirely surprised.

I knew who it was. I rose to my feet, not bothering with clothes, and opened the door wide. I wanted him to see me in all my glorious nudity.

Gary stared at me, eyes becoming immediately glazed over in passion. He lowered the bouquet of roses and the bottle of strawberry vodka in his hands.

I gave him a smoldering look. "Wanna . . . come inside?" I asked.

Gary didn't miss the double entendre of my question. "God, yes," he breathed, stepping over the threshold. He dropped the roses and bottle to the floor -- thank God for Berber carpeting! -- and gathered me in his arms. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and smothered my lips against his. His hands cupped my cheeks, supporting my weight. I felt the tips of his fingers brushing my puckered anus and slick lips.

"Oh, Alyssa, I've been dreaming about you," he whispered between fervent kisses.

"I'll make those dreams come true," I promised, sucking on his lips and running my hands over his chest.

Gary chuckled. "Hope you don't have to work tomorrow," he said.

I grinned, staring into his dark eyes. "Even if I did, I'd call in."

***

I cried and moaned as I came for the third or fourth time, shoving my ass back against Gary as he pounded into me from behind. My pussy clamped down hard on his dick, wanting to make him cum as well. He grabbed a handful of my long blonde hair, jerking my head back, and drove his cock deep inside me. I felt his balls slapping against my dripping clit over and over.

"Alyssa!" he cried. "I'm gonna cum, baby!"

I slipped forward, feeling his hard dick pop out of my cunt, and whirled around on all fours. Eagerly, savagely, I sucked his slick penis into my mouth, moaning at the taste of my own cum. Gary gasped and shoved in deep, pushing his cock into my throat as he came.

The warm fluid rush of his orgasm flowed down my throat, and I swallowed the first few spurts before pulling back to savor the rest of his essence on my tongue. Gary trembled and moaned above me, holding my head close, massaging my scalp, hissing with pleasure as I nursed his sensitive dick.

He eventually collapsed against the bed, supporting himself for a moment on one hand as I continued sucking his spent dick. It flopped out of my mouth, shiny, wet, and dripping. Gary rolled over onto his back on my bed, his feet still on the floor. I kissed and licked all around his crotch, lapping up little drops of pearly jism here and there, suckling gently on his sweaty, musky balls. Gary mumbled something, petting my hair.

I finally lifted up and slid over him, pressing my sticky lips to his. "I really missed you, Gary," I said.

He brought up heavy hands and stroked my back. "I . . . I love you, Alyssa . . . ."

***

We were like a couple, the following day, and for the next couple of weeks after that. Gary stayed with me every night, and we made every single day. He took me to lunch, dinner, movies, and we went shopping together. For those precious, wonderful days, I forgot all about my profession as an escort, forgot all about the dozens of men I had been with. It was just me and Gary, and I loved every little moment.

My nineteenth birthday happened to fall in that time, and after dinner with my parents ("He's such a nice man," my mother told me. "Where'd you meet him?") Gary took me down to the coast to celebrate. He gave me a diamond-studded bracelet, engraved with our initials separated by a heart ('GJ luvs AG'), and a book of erotic poetry. We made love tenderly on the beach. For the first time, with the waves lapping at our feet and the morning sun warming our naked bodies, we told each other 'I love you' at the same time.

It was strange, I remember, as I realized my love for him. I had thought that I would never think of Gary as anything more than a dear friend, a cherished lover. I thought that my love was reserved only for Ian. But I was wrong. I loved both men, for different reasons. And I loved them both equally.

But unlike Ian, Gary was a man I could have.

By the time we returned home, I was seriously considering giving up everything and spending the rest of my life with Gary. I started imagining writing my name as Alyssa Jackson, driving a mini-van full of kids to school, going to PTA meetings and shopping for anniversary gifts. I wondered where Gary and I would go on our honeymoon.

I went out shopping a couple days after we came back from the coast, picking up items to make Gary's favorite meal: steak and potatoes. I loved his simple tastes. I selected the best ribeyes from the meat counter of the supermarket, grabbed a bunch of broccoli and a couple of big, ripe spuds. I thought about picking out a bottle of wine, but wasn't sure if I would be carded. I decided I would let Gary head out for 'refreshments,' once I got back.

The apartment was quiet when I stepped through the door. I knew Gary liked to watch the Sci-Fi channel, and being a Friday, some of his favorite shows were on. Yet Gary wasn't on the couch as I had expected.

"Honey?" I called out.

"In here."

The tenor of his voice bespoke something ominous. I set the bags on the floor and approached the bedroom. I quivering feeling began in my chest. "B-baby?"

I stepped into the doorway, saw Gary sitting on the bed. It was still unmade from that morning's lovemaking. He held a tiny black cell phone in his hand, running his thumb across the surface. My heart fell in my chest. It was my phone, the one James had given me.

"Were you ever gonna tell me?" he asked.

I fell against the door frame, slapping my hand over my heart. "H-honey—"

He shot me an acidic look. "Don't even," he said harshly. "A woman called, asked for you. I asked who she was, and she hung up on me."

I struggled to catch my breath. My world was falling apart.

"That got me thinking," he continued. "I had seen the clothes in your closet, your new jewelry box. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I started looking. And I found . . . ." he reached under the sheets beside him and produced a little moleskin notebook. My moleskin, which I used as a sort of journal for my dates.

He flipped it open, glanced through some of the pages. "Thomas Dunson," he said. "Robert Avery. Mykel Johnson. Alejandro Ruiz." He slapped the little book closed and glared at me. "You've been busy."

"G-Gary—" I began.

"You. Fucking. WHORE!"

I fell to my knees on the floor, the tears flowing down my face.

"I told you I loved you!" he shouted angrily, lurching to his feet. "And now I find out . . . I knew what you were before, Alyssa. That's how we met, I know that. But I never thought . . . I was so wrong about you."

I convulsed, looking up at him through the watery film of my tears. "P-please," I managed to say.

He seethed as he glared down upon me. "Save the begging for when your next client is shoving his dick in your face," he spat, then stomped past me.

"Gary!" I cried, reaching for him. I wanted to chase after, but I didn't have the strength. "Gary!"

The door slammed shut behind him, making the walls rattle. I collapsed on the ground, beating my fists impotently against the carpet.

"Gary . . . I love you . . . ."

***

I didn't answer the phone for days. I knew it wasn't Gary calling. I didn't go out. I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels blankly. I didn't shower or bathe. I smoked cigarette after cigarette, drank every beer and bottle I had, which was quite a bit, and ordered pizza because I didn't want to leave my apartment.

The delivery boy who brought my order stared at me like he was looking at a hag. I suppose I did look like something out of a nightmare, with my runny makeup smeared across my face and the reek of cigarettes and alcohol on my breath. Even flashing my smelly, stubbly pussy didn't have the effect it had had before.

I remember sitting on my couch, surrounded by empty beer cans and bottles of liquor, the Waterford ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, holding a kitchen knife poised over my left wrist. The bracelet Gary gave me glittered dimly in the light. I swayed drunkenly, waiting for the courage to make that decisive cut that would end it all. I was only vaguely aware of the pounding on my door.

"Jus' a minit," I mumbled, and closed my eyes, settling the blade against my skin.

The door burst open.

I cried out, startled, jerking my hand away.

"Ohmigod!" gasped Julie, staring at me. Behind her stood Cleo. Ian leaned against the door, having smashed his way in. Their eyes were wide with worry and fear.

I looked down at my wrist, saw the thick red line of blood as it trickled down my arm. I looked up at them, at my friends, my vision blurry. "Oops." Then the world went black.

***

I stared at the gauze wrapped around my wrist as I sat in the hospital bed. All day long, I had been imposed upon by doctors, nurses, and social care workers. Their questions had become tiresome and repetitive.

"I was drunk and depressed!" I finally shouted at one of the latter, a pudgy little Hispanic woman who shrank back from my verbal assault. "Jesus Christ! Haven't you ever felt like shit before?"

They had stopped coming after that. It was a small comfort.

I glared at the TV suspended from the wall. All it showed was the standard, non-cable channels and a bunch of crap in Spanish. That, and the 'mood' channel, which flickered with fields of daisies and bluebonnets while playing Kenny G-type junk.

Knock, knock.

I looked to the door as Julie popped her head in. She had a cautionary smile on her face. "Hey."

I gave her a sour look, turned back to the TV. "Go away."

". . . okay."

I glanced to the door after a moment. She wasn't there. "Hey!" I cried desperately.

Her head popped around the door again. "Yeah?"

Emotions overwhelmed me, and my eyes became blurry. "I'm sorry," I blubbered.

Julie smiled and stepped into the room. "It's gonna be okay," she said, her round cheeks dripping with tears as well.

I held out my arms, like a little girl seeking absolution in the arms of a forgiving parent. Julie laughed softly, then rushed to my side and hugged me close. I smothered my face against her pillowy breasts and squeezed her with all my might.

"I'll never do it again," I sputtered. "I promise. I'll never do it again."

Julie petted my stringy, greasy hair. "You better not," she said, her voice choked. "Cause you're the best friend I got and I'm not gonna fucking lose you."

Hearing those words was all it took to break down the last of my barriers. I cried uncontrollably, sobbing and choking like a baby against Julie, finally pouring out all my pain and grief. And like the true friend that she was, Julie let me, holding me close and giving me the warmth and support I needed.

***

Julie, Cleo and Ian stood in my hospital room as I signed the release papers. I had declined the option to seek psychiatric help, despite my doctors' and nurses' urgings to do so. With my complete sobriety had come a sense of acceptance over what had happened. I had let Gary back into my life, only to push him away again once he had discovered what I had become. In a moment of drunken depression, I had almost given in to weakness.

I vowed that I would never be that weak again.

They took me home, sat with me in my living room for a while. We all tried to be flippant about the whole thing, and even I tried joking about it. But it wasn't convincing.

Cleo left first, giving me a kiss on the cheek. She had a date to meet. I smiled after her as she stepped through the door. Then Julie went, a couple of hours later, leaving me with a curiously lingering kiss on my lips. She told me to call her, "later," after glancing suspiciously to Ian, who sat beside me on the couch.