Secondary Education Chapter 14 Betrayal
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Secondary Education, Chapter 5, A Hard Road To Ho free porn video
Secondary Education
Tyla Flowers
[email protected]
Chapter 5
A Hard Road to Ho.
I awake alone, my limbs twisted in rumpled sheets. The tattered window
shade flaps in a desultory breeze billowing in one moment, sucking against
the screen in the next. The cheerful trill of a passing ice cream truck
making its final rounds makes me hungry, and I drag myself from the bed. I
look out the window into the gloaming. It's night. I have slept a couple
of hours. The giddy party that was my initiation has broken up, and the
Casa is quiet except for the chatter of Univision on the neighbor's Spanish
TVs and the wailing of their babies. The floor beside me is littered with
torn condom rappers. I gather them in my hands and count eleven.
I gather my clothes and dress. There is a Target bag by the side of my bed.
I recognize the clothes as some of the mis-priced bargains that Hector and I
had hauled earlier. I smile at my good taste and expertise, and pull on pair
of red lace thong panties, which creep into my tingling crack and alight it
with sensation. I think about the collection of condom wrappers and smile at
my accomplishment. The touch of satin in my ass crack makes me want another
cock there, but I decide I should recuperate before getting it. I pull on a
tiny denim skirt embroidered a pattern of beads on the butt, and a wide
leather belt. Then, I slip on a slightly padded push up bra. My breasts
converge into a pert cleavage. I squeeze them together, and they quiver. I
am surprised at how big I look. I pull on a glittery, low cut halter which
displays the upper portion of my boobs, tuck it at the waist to accentuate
my curves, cover up my slim shoulders with a little silver jacket.
I find at the bottom of the bag a pair of gold, 5 inch heeled Michael Starrs
sandals and a make up bag from L'Oreal. I lace the straps of the sandals in
a pattern that ends just below my knees and carves into the soft flesh of my
slender ankles. I walk to the bathroom, tottering bit but gradually
acclimating to the steep slope of my foot, and look in the mirror. My face
is clear, no bruises or scratches. I am relieved. The Mara have been
careful with their new possession. I comb out the my bed head hair into a
glossy ponytail, and as I put on my make up in the spotted mirror, my beauty
emerges from the brush strokes and colors. I like my new look, edgy and a
little slutty.
In my purse I find another pack of condoms, a few bucks and a fresh supply
of Diane-35. I pop one and swallow it dry. My throat is still raw and it
barely goes down. I listen again at the door to the neighborhoods sound. A
man and a woman argue incomprehensibly in the courtyard of the Casa. But
the apartment is quiet. I emerge from the room, still tottering but with
silent footfalls across the ancient, stained shag carpet. The only cholo
still around is passed out on the couch, so I silently leave the Casa. I
smile at Sonic, still guarding the corner, and he gives me a surly nod and
flips open his cell phone. I walk up Rampart, flinching at every passing
car. I am dressed like a hooker, and my hair is disheveled. I feel like
meat at a market. I want to go home, to take the first bus that comes by,
even if I have to transfer at Melrose. I want to get away. A black Escalade
with tinted windows and spinners glides to a halt and the door opens. It's
Jose and Hector.
"Where are you going, baby."
"Home. There was no one there. I didn't know what else to do."
"You don't go anywhere without our permission, understand? Now get in the
back."
I climb in and he drives away. "I understand now. What am I supposed to
do?"
"Well, here is what you're going do, baby. You're going to stand on a
street corner and smile and shake your booty. Jose will take care of you,
and you take care of the Business. You're Mara's street meat now, baby."
I have always fantasized about being a whore, selling my lips and booty to
horny strangers, taking their money and giving them what they want. Now, I
have no choice. Mara make the rules for me. I am scared, but thrilled.
"I've never done it. I don't know how."
"You were great this afternoon. Jose's turned out a dozen girls before.
He's your teacher tonight."
Jose grunts.
The reality of streetwalking, right here and now, overwhelms me with a
mixture of guilt and excitement.
"Do I have any choice?"
"Sure. I can beat the shit out of you and leave you in the gutter. Or you
can do as I say."
"You're the boss, Hector."
"Jose is the boss too, so you listen to what he says."
"Where are we going?"
"We're going to drive around look for the trannie stroll. Tyla's our trannie
experiment, isn't she, Jose?
"Jefe Hector, if you ask me, we got too many experiments. We should stick
to what we know."
"Jose, what we know isn't enough. Mara has got to get bigger and stronger.
I want to be like one of those Moslem militias, what do they call it, the
Mahdi Army. Get some bombs and rockets and shit, a kill the fucking mayate
and drive them from our hoods. Like those Shiites killing the Sunni's. Grab
up the mayate, torture them, kill them and dump their bodies on their
doorsteps. That's what I want Mara to be.
"Where we going to get those bombs, Hector?"
"Maybe we hook up with some terrorists, get the shit from them."
"Bring the FBI down on us. Let's stick to Ice and Ass. Kill the mayate one
at a time, drive by shooting, walkups, like we always have.
I am frightened and confused. "I don't understand. What's amayate."
"What we call the black. Means dung beetle, or shit eater, cuz that's what
we think about the blacks." I gasp, astonished the violence Hector's hatred
toward another minority.
"You don't feel that way about Asians, I hope."
"Don't worry, we won't kill the Asians. We'll keep them around to get
vegetables from, and rob. And fuck." Hector laughs at his own joke. "But
the mayate, they're just like dirt, and they compete for our street." He
drew is finger across his neck. Then he slows as he spots a figure
pirouetting in the glow of his headlights. It's tall, large breasted Latina
with red hair piled high on her head. She is wearing a tight mini dress and
heels even higher than mine.
"This looks like a good spot." Hector pulls over. Jose gets out of the
car, and smashes the streetwalker across the face. She tumbles to the
ground and cowers, whimpering.
Jose stands over his crumpled victim. "We're Mara. And this is our corner."
He kicks the hooker in the stomach and she doubles up into a fetal position.
"Now get the fuck out of here, puto, whore."
The injured hooker pulls herself to her feet and hurries away into the
shadows, bleeding profusely from the nose. I get out of the Escalade and
Jose guides me toward a little pool of darkness between the street lights.
Hector waves and drives off into the night.
"How much do I charge?" I wonder how little they value me...
"Fifty for a covered blowjob, a hundred for bareback, hundred fifty with
CIM. Anal top or bottom is 200, covered only."
"I can't top. I don't get hard any more."
He hands me a blue pill. "This will do it for you."
"Where will I perform?"
"Do it in the customer's car, and don't let them take you far. Get in and
tell the customer to turn right and cruise to the end to the alley." Jose
gestures in the direction of a narrow, trash strewn alley. "There is a
parking lot at the end. We'll take care of any trouble. You just take care
of the customer, take his cash, and walk back to this corner. I'll take
care of the money. Easy enough, huh?"
"I'm tired from this afternoon."
"I figured. Here's something to rev you up."
He hands me a still-warm pipe. I turn away from the oncoming headlights and
take an acrid puff of smoke from the pipe. In a few minutes, my jaw sets
into a forced smile, and my body tingles with a manic energy that demands to
be sated by sex. The gusting Santa Ana winds caress my skin and carry my
spirit away from this dingy corner to a jeweled paradise of light and sound.
I am a princess on an adventure in the night. I am living a dream that has
lurked beneath my consciousness for all of the months that I have been
remolding my flesh into the contour of a lithe young woman. I am a whore.
I will be paid for my beauty and my sexual prowess. And I am glad. I flash
my eyes and waggle my mini-skirted butt into the glare of the traffic. Jose
lurks in the shadows.
The cars drive by in a choppy river of light and noise. I stare into the
headlights and their glare makes my eyes halo and water. I try not to squint
or tear, but the constant ebb and flow of bright lights strains me, and I
attract no attention at all. From the darkness I hear Jose chattering
commands over the phone. He pauses, and says "C'mon, chica boy, shake your
booty. Let's get some action before I fall asleep."
"I'm trying. The cars are going too fast here."
"This is the best spot on the street. You make something happen, bitch."
I reach into my purse and put on the Dolce and Gabbana shades from my day at
Target. They must make me more enticing, for now a few of the passing cars
slow to take a look at the new street meat in the mini skirt and silver
jacket, but none stop for me. I feel naked and alone poised on the curb.
The speed courses through my vain, and makes me hyper alert and jumpy. I
need some action too.
I look up and down the street. Just beyond the pools of light from the
nearest streetlights I see other figures tottering on high heels at the
curbside, my competition. I watch my neighbor intently, to imitate her
methods and improve my own. She waves and blows a kiss as a car slows, and
throws back her hair. A big black sedan slows to a stop, she steps off the
curb and leans into the passenger's window. She shakes her head, and backs
away. The car eases away from the curb, and slows again when it reaches me.
I throw my little jacket open and lean forward, to afford the occupant a
glimpse into my modest d?colletage, and to make a decision on whether to
negotiate with them.
It's a late model Beemer, and he's a white guy in a business suit. He flips
on his dome light so I can see him. He's gray at the temples, and good
looking in a lawyerly way. I decide to go for it and give a thumbs up to
Jose behind my back.
"Hi baby, you looking for a date?" I lift my shades and bat my eyes. His
car smells like air freshener. Bocelli sings wistfully over the Bose.
"Yeah, but how old are you? You look young."
"I'm 18, barely."
"OK, get in."
"Let's talk about business first. I'm trans. Is that OK?"
"Why else would I be driving this block?"
"What's your interest?"
"Just some of your pretty little head. I'm in a hurry."
"Turn the corner and go to parking lot at the end."
"I'd rather take you over to the park."
"OK, it's 50 covered, 100 bareback, 150 CIM, up front."
He hands me seven twenties and a ten. I roll down the window. Jose
approaches and I tell him the plan. He takes the money and nods approval.
"Make sure you bring her back by 11:00." The car's clock says 10:10.
"Fine with me. I'm in a hurry."
We drive in silence for a couple of blocks as the opera drones on.
"Could we listen to something else? This is depressing."
He switches to the radio. Fifty Cent is dissing hos. I reach across the
console and begin rubbing my date's thigh.
"My name's Tyla. What's yours?"
He pauses a bit before he answers, "Jack."
"That's perfect, I love Jacks. Sharp pricks and bouncing balls. My
favorite girly game."
He laughs. "You're a funny one."
The speed is making my mind and body race with wit and sexual energy. I
shift my hands to his crotch. His cock is already hard, pointing down his
pant leg.
"Oh, that can't be comfortable, being trapped like that. Can I help free
the trapped beast?"
"Wow, you're hilarious. Do the jokes cost extra?"
"Everything's included. Except this." I point to my ass. "That's extra.
Get it while it's hot."
"I'd love to try it but I'm in a hurry."
He pulls into the parking lot at Wilshire and Alvarado finds a spot away
from the lights.
He opens the door, rolls his seat forward and gets in the back.
"Back here, Tyla." I sit next to him. His pants are already pulled down.
He puts his hand on the back of my scull and presses my face into his lap.
"OK, baby. I'm late and in a hurry, so you'll have to finish your monologue
when you're done here."
I take him in a gulp and push him past my tonsils. He's clean and smells
great, like he's just showered. It's the most delicious cock I've ever
tasted. His pubes are soft and fragrant, and his skin is silky but his
flesh is firm. I begin bobbing my head, craning over him, and arching my
neck so his cock slides past the gag point and deep into my esophagus. I
want to impress him, to make him think he's with a real pro instead of a
first time streetwalker.
He grunts appreciation. "Oh, yeah, that's a good little cocksucker, that's
good, you little whore, oh yeah, oh yeah."
His grip tightens around my neck, and he digs his fingers deeper in my hair.
I glance at the clock, it's 11:32. I pump harder at him, trying to ignore
the pain as he tears at the hair at the nape of my neck, and the twisting of
my back as I lean over him and piston my head onto his up thrusting thighs.
His cock spews a telltale flume of precum, and I pump even faster, hurrying
him to the finish.
He spasms and grunts. "I'm gonna cum, I'm cumming, and I slow and pause as
his motion become too rapid and jerky to coordinate with. Then his back
arches up as a geyser of ropy cum jets into my mouth. He tastes like spray
of salt from a breaking wave, and I suck and squeeze until my cheeks ache,
to fill my mouth with him and gulp it down as another wave crashes into my
mouth, and then another.
I want to keep my top clean, so I suck down every drop until my throat aches
with the effort. Then is squeeze his scrotum and milk out the last drops.
I sit up give another swallow, to make sure it stays down. As I do, I burp
quietly, and then giggle. "Excuse me."
"You're excused, baby. Where did a sweet little young thing like you learn
to give a blowjob like that? That was amazing."
"I guess it just comes naturally to girls like me."
"You mean, because you have a cock of your own?"
"No, I think I feel like I just have to try a little harder to please,
because I'm different."
"You get an A+ for that effort." He buckles up his pants and returns to the
front seat, gesturing me to follow."
"We have a few more minutes. Would you like a bottled water or something?"
"Yeah sure."
He hands me a twenty and starts the car. "Get one for me, too."
He pulls up in front of a little bodega on Alvarado and I buy two Crystal
Geysers and a pack of gum for three bucks. The owner, a squat Salvadoran
woman, gives me a dirty look as I pay and mutters "Puta" under her breath.
I don't care. At least she thinks I'm a woman.
Jack pops open the locks for me and I hand him his water and his change. He
waves his hand and says "Keep it, it's a tip. Great service."
"Thanks. You were great too."
"Hey, I'd like to hook up again without looking all over the street for you.
Got a phone number."
I have a throw away prepaid phone that the Mara used for drug deals and
discarded. There are a few bucks left on the card. "This is only
temporary, I am getting a new phone soon." He types the number into his
phone while he waits at a light. He pulls up to the corner where we met and
says goodbye, and screeches away. I take my place on the curb and resume
flirting with the torrent of oncoming headlights. The girl up the block
from me is still there, and she turns my direction and makes an obscene
gesture, I am competition for her and I have taken a customer away from
her. I feel a bit smug and my confidence is up. I roll my hips at the
passing cars. Soon, a big black SUV with tinted windows and spinners rolls
to the curb. I step of as the window rolls down.
Inside sit four black bangers. My heart leaps as I peer into the car.
Freeze is driving, and Antoine sits behind him, on the passenger side of the
towering Suburban. The acrid stench of crack smoke wafts from the open
window.
If they recognize me behind my shades and where my streetwalker clothes,
they don't let on. I hear a question barked over the cacophony of hip hop
throbbing from the open window. "Where are you from, ho?"
I back away from the car. I hear Jose stir behind me, and curse. "Get the
fuck off my block, mayate."
Antoine swings the door open and grabs at me, saying something that's
inaudible over the thump of subwoofer powered rap, but I spin away from his
grasp. I collide with Jose, who thrusts me aside. I stagger to the ground
and look back as Jose points a Glock into the car. A voice from within the
car shouts, "Fuck you, Salvi." I look up as Antoine hoists a shotgun and
fires a blast, just as Jose dives to the ground. The Suburban screeches its
tires and speeds away. Buckshot from the ricochet rattles across the
pavement and the sulfurous stench of gunpowder assaults my senses. My eyes
water, and my ears ring in the aftermath of the deafening shotgun blast.
I pull myself to my hands and knees and crawl over to Jose. His head is
sticky with blood, and his eyes are rolled back. I grab his cell phone,
stagger to my feet and run as best I can down the alley, away from the
bloody scene on Rampart. I find Jose's last received call and push send.
Hector picks up.
"Hola Jose, que pasa?"
"It's Tyla. Jose got shot and I think he's hurt really bad. He's down at
the corner of Rampart and Third."
"Grab his ID and gun and walk away from there as fast as you can and go to
over to the Park, Sixth and Park View. I'll pick you up."
"What about Jose? He needs a doctor. I'll call 911."
"No, don't do that. We take care of our own." Hector barks orders in the
background. "What the fuck happened?"
"I think it was some Crips. I recognized a couple of them from Fairfax."
"Do these Crips have names?"
If I tell him their names, he may ask questions, and find out about me and
Antoine. So I lie.
"I don't know them really, just their faces."
Hector barks more orders in the background.
"Then, you're going to help us find these mayate bastards. You're going
back to Fairfax and point them out."
I take Jose's wallet, already sticky with his blood and begin walking back
down to MacArthur Park. My thoughts are racing, and they keep hitting a
terrifying dead end, for I have trapped myself with my own lies. I must
keep secret my encounter with Antoine in the locker room. I can't risk
telling the Mara now, if I be revealed as the old sexual conquest of Jose's
murderers, the sloppy seconds of their worst enemy. I will be ostracized, or
worse. But now, I need the Mara more than ever. Will Antoine or Freeze make
the connection between the streetwalker witness and Tyler Flowers, the femme
boy from their PE class? If I return to Fairfax and to finger Antoine, he
may recognize me first as the witness to his crime, and kill me to silence
me. For the first time of the night I feel a cold dread of fear. But I
live now under the orders of the Mara. I will have to confront my
tormentor, Antoine, and set him up to be slaughtered by the Mara. Unless he
slaughters me first.
TBC
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