DON’T HURT ME
I’M A vir-gin💦
Rated:🔞+
©️ ILLICTIMAGINATION
✍️ Chapter One✍️
plea-se don’t judge me and I won’t judge you. Why is this song in my head? Right, because I am actually doing this.
Well I don’t have any choice; there is nothing else I can do. I tell myself this as I walk into the dark streets. Grasping my coat closer to me as the wind hits my almost n-ked flesh.
The coat is big enough to hide the fact that un-derneath it I’m ba-rely wearing any clothes.
I’m alre-ady feeling the beginnings of hypothermia. My feet are frozen un-der the high black stiletto boots I’ve been f0rç£d to wear. My expo-sed legs are shaking as I swiftly walk down the streets.
I don’t nee-d to check my arms to know that they are full of goosebu-mps. My spine is so tensed with amount shivers I’ve had, I’m surprised I haven’t turned into an ice sculpture.
I continue to walk slowly down the sloppy road.
Where did that woman say the place is again? I ask myself as I check the street name.
Ah just a few blocks left. It’s midnight and the streets are so quiet, eerily quiet.
Only the sound of my boots crunching against the granite ground can be heard. I can faintly hear the sound of barking dogs as I get closer to the buildings and this results in another shiver running throu-gh my b©dy. I clutch myself ti-ghter.
My heart rate speeds up as I get closer to the corner of the building.
She was right, I think.
Just around the corner there are few women in lingerie, br@s, corsets and miniSk-irts standing and waiting.
So swallowing what pride I have left, I move closer to them wishing and praying that I am discreet.
I stand to the far end, putting a distance from them. As the wind b!ows, my nose is met with the pene-trating smell coming near the dumpster where we are standing next to. The stench is mixed with the smell of smoke and a faint tint of cheap perfume.
I wrinkle my noise in disgust but I tell myself to get used to it for I will be coming to this place often.
So clutching myself closer, I look to the women next to me.
Trashy is an un-derstatement.
How can they not be cold with what they were wearing? My br@in wonders.
The woman closer to me has a cigarette on her mouth while she clutches her make-up compact in which she drabs herself withl-ipstick. I hear her curse as she accidently drop her cigarette from her mouth.
“Monica! You have any more,” Her accent is off as she screams to the woman next to her.
The other woman, Monica, is dark skinned and has more curves than a circle. She frowns at her as she searches her bag while the one who shouted at her searches frantically throu-gh her purse.
“No sorry Sav, mines are finished,” Monica tells her.
“Oh Cake $h!t!” Sav curses.
I bite my l!pto hide my laugh but I don’t succeed as a small snicker escapes from my mouth.
“You think it’s funny!?” I hear the menace on her voice and before I know it, Sav is right in front of my face with Monica.
She gives me a disgustingly scowl before she as-sesses me.
“Who are you?” She frowns.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Monica sneers, giving me a dirty look as she regards me up and down.
For some reason I fear these women, they look like they are on their middle twenties and something tells that they must be experienced in these streets.
Suddenly Sav lets out a throaty laugh which tells me about how much cigarettes she’s consumed.
“Monica, look at her, I think we scared her,”
She laughs.
Monica snickers a little.
“She’s just a kid,” She frowns and suddenly she gr-abs me by coat and unZi-ps it. They both g@sp, their jaws dropping.
What? I almost ask.
They are looking up at me in shock. I frown at them as they stare at each other knowingly.
“Monica, that corset,” Sav whines.
“I know,” She replies as she shakes her head.
“What?” I ask.
“Why are you in the streets kid,” Monica folds her arms, regarding me closely. “Where did get this?” she grasps my corset, running her long nails against the material.
“How old are you?” Sav adds.
I swallow the bile that’s beginning to rise up my throat however I keep quiet as I watch them regard me.
“Answer us.” Sav grips my hand.
“The same reason you are here and I’m eighteen years old!” I whisper frantically, my voice ba-rely audible.
“Where did you get this?” Sav asks, “This is new.”
I bite my lowerl-ip, I can’t possibly tell her that I stole it.
“Go home kid,” Monica stares straight into my eyes.
I shake my head in frustration, they don’t know me, how dare they?
“You heard her, Go home,” Sav interjects.
“No.” I glare at both of them.
She laughs at me, “You remind me of me,” she says.
I’m sure as hell that I’m not like you, I think in disdain.
“What’s your name?” Monica asks and I get the vibe that she is the oldest, the way forward she’s been.
“Leyla,” I tell her.
“Well Leyla, trust me when I tell you this, you don’t belong here. You don’t want your life to end up like ours. Go home,” she says firmly.
She is starting to really piss me off now.
How dare she judge me?
“No. I don’t have a home, I have no choice but to do this, I have no one, no one,” My voice falters at the end, and I feel the tears behind my eyes because of my anger.
Stupid Damn tears. Why do I have to cry every time I got angry.
Monica purses herl-ips at me while Sav looks at me in amusement.
“That’s quite a show you’ve put on young Lady,” A new voice is heard from behind us. I have to flin-ch because it’s man’s voice.
I turn around slowly. And standing before me is a dark skinned man who is more bones than a skeleton.
He wears what seems to a be a worn out black suit with matching black shades on his eyes and on his mouth is a cigar in which he engulfs exaggeratedly as he puffs the smoke against my face.
By his sides are two women, who cling on him as if he is a life raft. They wear nothing but br@s and miniSk-irts and once again I wonder how they are immune to this cold.
“You’re cute, what brings you here?” He asks taking out his shades and I have to g@sp at his eyes. They are olive yellow, almost brown but more snake-like yellow against his dark skin. He sm-irks at me and I get the impression, he is used to people having the same reaction because of his eyes.
“I-I—”I swallow looking frantically for words to say.
“She’s with me,” Monica steps in as she grips my arm pu-lling me to her.
The man frowns distractedly at her, and I can tell he is disappointed at something.
“Oh?” His jaw clenches and unclenches.
“Who is she to you?” he asks.
“My distant cousin,” Monica states with a flat tone, no trace of hesitation.
He narrows his eyes at her, “Why is she here then?”
I feel Monica shift hesitantly for a second. “She was just curious…she followed me here?”
I watch him frown at her for a moment before he puts his shades back and su-cks on his unrelenting cigar.
“Wearing that?”
“Yes, she wanted to be… inconspicuous.”He raises his eyebrows in disbelief.
“Okay, next time keep your cousin on a leash,” He spits venomously, emphasising the word cousin.
And with that he gives me one final look and the two girls next to him sneer at Monica, Sav and I as they leave. As he pas-ses, I notice that other girls are now straightening up and fixing themselves at his pres£nce and then he disappears out of sight.
Once he’s out of sight I feel the tension around me sag, the relief printed on Monica and Sav’s face is evident.
“Who is he?”
“Your worst nightmare,” Sav snickers.
“He’s someone you don’t mess with,” Monica corrects. “He owns half of these girls here.”
Owns? As if they were a property. I swallow my fear.
“Why did you say I was your cousin?” I ask her.
“Because you don’t belong here, you shouldn’t even be here, kid,” She says.
I gr0@nin frustration. As far as I’m concerned, I’m an adult not a kid.
“You won’t last in these streets and if he finds out you are nob©dy he will just svçkyou in and you would’ve ended up worse than us,” She continues.
The way she says this is as if she has a genuine concern of me. I snort internally, as if.
“I nee-d the money,” I tell her. “I have debt to pay, and I have next to none when it comes to money or a place to call my own and–”
I’m interrupted by a purring of a car pu-lling on the road. It’s a sleek white Audi, and it tells me that whoever is in the car surely is one rich bastard.
Immediately like rats all the girls run to the car and begin a motion of flaunting and flir-ting with whoever is driving.
I watch as Sav and Monica fix themselves before brushing all the girls aside. Sav coolly di-ps her head into the window and I hear her throaty cigarette laugh. All the while I just stand there discreetly and hvgging myself ti-ghtly as I shiver.
Is this what it will be like? Is this how it’s like all the time? Was Monica right? Did I really belong here?
But I have no choice. The odds are never in my favour or even luck for that matter.
I’ve spent my whole life begging and living off charity until I turned eighteen. I have a decent education but no money to get me to college; I have no relative or even just a friend to help me with my debt to that old woman. I am just an orphan kid who roams alone.
Suddenly a whistle catches my attention and I have to look up to see the source.
I g@sp in shock as the man in a black suit comes over to me. He is tall and sturdy and looks well in shape however his impas-sive expression tells me a different story.
“Come with me,” His voice is firm, authoritative and even in my shocked state I find my feet following him meekly to the car.
From the corner of my eye I watch as the girls give me dirty looks and some even have the audacity to give me a middle f!nger.
The man opens the back door for me and I have time to dote his manners.
But before I get in the car, I take a quic-k final glance at Monica and Sav because something within me tells that this may somehow be the last I see them. Sav gives me a smug smile while Monica shows a concerned expression; I wave at them as I nervously get in the car.
I almost scream when I realise that I’m not alone in the back. Another man is sitting with arms folded, glancing to his window, a scowl marring his face. He sighs inwardly before he turns to me and I find my breath hitch once he turns.
The first thing that registers is how good looking and young he is.
Good looking is an un-derstatement.
The man must be a S-x model or something. He has floppy che-stnut brown hair against his forehead which is almost covering his eyes. In the dark, I can’t tell the colour of his eyes but they are sleek against his long lashes, they sparkle a little.
His face is the most handsome face I’ve seen. His jaw is sturdy containing a little stubble in which I had a sudden urge to run my f!ngerson his jaw, just to know how the texture will feel against my hand.
I feel myself heating up a little, I am getting way ahead of myself. This man is a stranger, a stranger I know what I have to do just to get his money.
I quic-kly as-sess that he is wearing a grey suit with a white linel shi-t, a few bu-ttons opened to reveal his che-st.
“Hello,” He says, his voice a de-ep slurry tone.
I blus-h quic-kly, only thankful that it’s dark. I nod meekly at him.
“What’s your name?” he asks me.
And for a brief second I wonder if that’s how it worked.
Don’t they usually just take you to their house or h0tel, do the deed and get over it, money paid after, no exchange of contact whatsoever.
“Um…Leyla, Leyla Levy” my voice comes out croaky, ba-rely audible.
“Nice to meet you Leyla, Leyla Levy, I’m Jeremy Lawson” He sm-irks at me, taking out his hand.
Is he laughing at me?I wonder, mesmerised by his condescending sm-irk.
I stare at his hand for a moment before I realize that I have to shake it. I eventually do but then I have to g@sp again.
His hands are soft but his grip is very firm and a spark of electricity shoots up my hand, ricocheting throu-gh my bones and I quic-kly break the contact as if I’ve been burned.
I watch as he frowns, his mouth forming an “O” and I wonder if he felt it too. However he soon changes his expression to one containing a sm-irk and wary amusement.
“Um…” I shift in my seat uncomfortable.
“Do you mind if we go now? I don’t know how these things usually work,” He frowns momentarily before hiding it with a chuckle.
I nod, not sure what to say. I don’t know how these things usually work either.
“Good… Hails, to the h0tel,” He orders the man who c@m£ to me, and I realize that he is his driver.
“Yes sir,” Hails answers with a cli-pped tone.
And he drives us away from the streets and out of town.
The journey is quiet and awkward and each of us seems to lack anything to say to one another but I can’t blame the situation.
I mean what do you say to the man you’re about to sleep with for money?
In your case lose your vir-ginity to. My conscience decides this moment to make her pres£nce known.
I sigh inwardly. What am I doing?
Do I really want my first to be with a stranger, well now a handsome stranger, I know next to none about, and worse he is meant to give me money afterwards?
How did I really come to this? Isn’t there any other options?
No not really there isn’t.
For the past months I’ve been turned down by so many jobs, even a local restaurant as waitress couldn’t even take me.
The rent is piling up and the lady that took me in is becoming very persistent about her money and so I’m led to this… this disgusting fate.
Why oh why did my life have to svçkthis bad?
No, svçkit up Leyla, now’s not the time to wallow in self-pity. I tell myself.
✍️ Authoress Ricky ✍️
To be continued…
I started this story with don’t judge not everyone choose their path of life some don’t have choice.
What do you think about Leyla Job?.