THE MAKING OF A HOOKER

I'd led a fairly normal upper middle-class life until just days after I graduated from high school.

My name is Adora Markham and I, an only child, was headed to an elite university where I'd major in pre-med. On 4th of July weekend my parents were killed in a car accident and my world collapsed.

My parents half-million-dollar house had a three-quarter of a million-dollar mortgage. Worse, the money I thought my parents saved for college, didn't actually exist. "Adora, your parents lived far beyond their means," the attorney handling their estate told me as he reviewed their will with me. "Those European vacations and trips to Hawai'i were paid for with your college fund."

I was devastated. I had no idea how to deal with a situation like that. I didn't even have a car. The note on it was more than the car was worth. I fled.

I had enough money to take a bus from my St. Louis home to Chicago. I had no idea what I'd do there, but I just had to get away from this nightmare.

I'm sure that's not what you want to read about.

I'd been going out with Mitch Wallace since our junior year in high school. He gave me his cock for my eighteenth birthday. I thought it was the best present a girl could get. I was no longer a virgin.

After that I fucked Mitch every chance I got.

Three weeks later, for his eighteenth birthday, I gave Mitch his and my first blowjob. My mouth was no longer virgin either. After that I fucked and sucked Mitch every chance I got. I have no idea if I was any good at either; no, I didn't I know if he was a good fuck.

Then came that 4th of July disaster.

In Chicago, I wandered the streets. I was homeless. I ate out of trash cans and once a week went to a homeless shelter for a shower. I didn't stay at the shelter; they were preaching about Jesus. I didn't need Jesus; I needed the family in St. Louis I thought I had.

At night I slept where ever, but always outside. One day I heard on the street that there was a bakery that gave people like me day-old bread, pastries, donuts and free coffee when they opened at 6 AM, but only until 6:30. I started going there two or three times a week.

Tony, the owner was a good guy and let kids like me know where they could find a hot meal or a safe place to sleep.

I'd been going there for about a month when one morning, the place was buzzing. There were four, maybe five girls, chatting, laughing, having a great time and they were flashing money around. It was six o'clock in the morning. Who's having a good time at that hour? And what kid my age is flashing Benjamins around at any hour?

The next time I saw Tony I asked him about those girls. What did they do and could I get that type of job with just my high school education?

"Adora, as long as you're a woman you can get that kind of job. Do you understand?"

I did, and as hungry as I was, I wasn't that hungry nor that interested. You know I wasn't a virgin, but no. Actually, not no, but FUCK NO!!!!

Two nights later, I changed my mind.

What changed my mind?

I was sleeping behind a dumpster when I was attacked by two men. Both had their cocks out and they almost had my jeans off when we heard police sirens. That scared them off. The incident scared the shit out of me.

The next morning, I stopped at Tony's Bakery. Without telling him the specifics, I told him what happened and asked him how I could get the kind of work those girls did.

To his credit, he tried to deter me, but I stopped in every day for the next two weeks, pestering him.

Finally, one morning, he led me to the back of the bakery, where a man in his fifties was sitting at a table where Tony's staff took their break. "Adora, this is Artie. I want nothing to do with this. I'm just introducing you." He shook his head as he left, closing the door behind him.

"So, you're interested in making money?" Artie asked.

"I'm desperate to make money."

"Do you know how those girls make money?"

"I do. Just so you know I'm not some naïve virgin."

"Stand up, let me take a good look at you."

I did.

"Not bad. I could sell that to my clients if we got you cleaned up."

I blushed. My jeans were the same one I'd been wearing the night those two men attacked me, and my tee shirt was dirty.

Besides, I'd been wearing it for a few days in the Chicago summer heat. I probably didn't smell all that good, either. I was due to stop in the homeless shelter for a shower.

"Here's how it works. I'll pay for a place for you to live, and I'll see that you have some decent clothes. Nothing's free; you'll pay me back out of your earnings. I'll send clients your way, but you need to make sure you show them a good time." I turned redder as Artie talked.

"You know how to give a blowjob?"

I could have died right then and there. I mean Artie was older than my father. "You better get over that embarrassment. You'll be sucking a lot of cock. Many of my clients prefer a good blowjob to a good fuck."

I started to walk out. "Before you go, my girls make over two thousand dollars on a good night."

I'd just unlocked the door. I stopped. I couldn't fathom that much money. Yesterday between panhandling and coins I found on the ground, I had eight dollars in my pockets. I had eight dollars to my name. Eight dollars in the whole world.

"Yeah, that usually seals the deal with a lot of girls. In a day or two, you'll meet some of the other girls and they'll confirm what I just said. Now, how about I take you where you're going to live?"

It wasn't far, but we drove. "You don't fuck anyone unless I give you permission. You got a boyfriend?"

"No."

"If you do, before you start fucking him, you let me know. I get paid to make sure there are enough guys to make it worthwhile for both of us; that the guys don't hurt you; the cops don't hassle you and you're clean. I have a doctor friend' he'll check you out every month. You don't work when you're having your period. Not even blowjobs."

"I understand." I was mostly silent. In high school we made fun of girls who we thought were sluts; fucking anyone with a dick. Now, I would be one of them, and not just fucking them.

The apartment was nice; nicer than any place I'd stayed since I left St. Louis. It was fully furnished including linens and kitchen stuff; it had two bedrooms. "This is where you work." Artie showed me one bedroom. It was clean but spartan.

"This is your bedroom," he led me to the second bedroom. "You don't fuck my clients here; it's your space. Once you make some money, you can decorate it any way you like. This door has a lock on it. No one goes in there but you; not even me. Like I said, nothing's free. You're paying for this out of your earnings."

"It's nice." Then I said it, "thank you, Artie." I really was thankful. It wouldn't be long before winter would come to Chicago. I had no idea where I'd sleep then. Now, I knew, but the price was high. You know I'd only fucked Mitch from high school, but if fifty-something-year-old Artie wanted to fuck me right now, I would have got on my back or my knees. That's how thankful I was.

"The rest of the day is yours. Take a shower. There's a laundry in the basement. Here's some money for the washer and dryer. I'll be back tomorrow about nine with a couple of my girls; they'll take you shopping. Adora, tomorrow night, you'll be working, don't forget that."

I took the longest, most luxurious bath you could imagine. There was even bubble bath. I hadn't shaved my legs in three weeks. I killed two razors. I spent a lot of time trimming my bush, knowing that some guy was going to see it; it was still full, just not running wild.

I hadn't slept much or well, even in the shelter. I set the alarm on the clock radio (yes, a clock radio) for seven and slept like I hadn't slept since before my high school graduation; just three months ago.

Heather and Charity were nice enough. They helped me pick out the right clothes for going out and for working. I mean when I answered the door for one of Artie's clients, I had to have something on. Not much, but something.

They helped me pick out a few things for my bedroom; things to make it feel like it was really my room; a teenage girl's room.

All too soon, it was time. Starting at 7 PM, there were a series of men knocking on my door; five in all. That's right, my first night on the "job" I fucked five guys. Well, three fucks; two blowjobs.

They were all in their forties, fifties and sixties. The two oldest ones were the ones who wanted me to suck their cocks. The others got on top of me.

The way it worked was they didn't pay me; they paid Artie, but they all left me some money. Ya' know like a tip. "Adora, that's a fine pussy you've got there, and I'm going to want to play with those titties again."

That's right, I haven't told you about me. Those tits my client was talking about were 34CCs. I let my high school boyfriend, Mitch play with them all the time, but once he discovered my pussy, he didn't pay much attention to them.

I'm 5'8" tall with long legs. Tonight, I'd put them on the back of those men I'd entertained. I think they liked it. I'm not skinny, but I ran track in high school, so I'm not fat either. I have light brown hair, and my bush was about the same. One of those clients held me by the ankles and watched his cock go in and out. I was so thankful that I'd done some grooming.

You might think that the way I make it sound that I had a good night. I didn't. Those men that fucked me were drooling, grunting, groaning. They were older than my father and they were rough. By that I mean, they handled my tits harshly and their hands were heavily calloused. They stuck their fingers inside me; more than one at a time. Even high school Mitch who didn't know anything, knew enough not to finger fuck me like that.

After the last guy left; a blowjob. I was ready for some sleep. I'd made two hundred dollars. That to me was like a gold mine.

Then came the best part, Artie knocked on my door. I was really hoping he didn't want me to fuck him; I was exhausted.

"You'll get use to the hours and the guys. Nobody hurt you, did they?"

"They were a little rough but no, I wasn't hurt."

"Good. Now, Adora, once you're on your feet financially, I pay you once a week, but for now, I'll take care of you every day." He handed me five hundred dollars.

Five hundred freaking dollars!!!!!

"I said some nights the girls make as much as two thousand dollars. I wasn't lying. You're rent's paid for the month, and most of those clothes and stuff you bought are now paid for. Tonight, I have at least five more guys; maybe six lined up, we'll see."

That's how my first week went. The guys always left me some money, and Artie showed up with a wad of bills. One night, I fucked six guys and my pussy was so sore.

Heather took me to the pharmacy where she picked up a lubricant. "I call this pussy cream," she laughed. "Use it between guys and at the end of the night. It helps."

Charity interrupted, "Adora, blowjobs help, too." They both laughed.

I still blushed. I still wasn't used to the life I was now leading. Heather, Charity and the other girls seemed to take it all in stride.

Artie stopped by and wanted to know how my first week went. I didn't tell him that I barely tolerated it. "Artie, I never knew I could make so much money. I feel so relieved."

"Adora, I asked some of my good clients about you. They also said the same thing. You're beautiful and a decent fuck, but you need to learn how to give a blowjob."

Like when Heather brought up blowjobs, I blushed.

"Here's what I'm going to do. I know my clients. This week, all your clients will want you to suck their cocks. With practice, you'll get better, and blowjobs pay better," he smiled.

Artie let Heather, Charity and the other girls know. Now, once or twice a week, we met for coffee at Tony's Bakery, but not at 6 AM. Most of us were still sleeping; one or two were still working. "Adora, Artie told me that this is a blowjob week for you. Here's a lip balm I use. It'll help."

"Oh," Charity added, "Adora, men like it if you use a bright red lipstick," she giggled. "Try this one tonight."

"Except the black guys. They like pink. Here's the one I use. I call it pussy pink," Sandy smiled.

I was shocked. Not just that they talked so openly about all of this, and we were in Tony's Bakery, but Sandy mentioned black guys. Artie hadn't sent me any black men yet. I wasn't sure I could.

Heather saw the look on my face. "Adora, they're just like white guys, and contrary to rumor, they're not any bigger."

The others nodded. "In fact, I'll talk to Artie and ask him to send you Jeremiah. He'll take good care of your pussy," Heather laughed.

Sandy started laughing, "real good care of your pussy."

The others were laughing loudly. "What's so funny?"

"Adora, Jeremiah loves to get his cock sucked, but first . . ."

"He likes nothing better than eating white pussy," Charity interrupted.

"Only guy I've ever done who wants to eat my pussy," Sandy smiled.

The look on my face must have said it all.

"Oh my God, Adora, you've never . . ."

"That's right. You're only eighteen."

These other girls talked like they were veterans or something. None was older than twenty-one, but had two to three years' experience.

TO BE CONTINUED