Streetlife

1 - Lena's Story

LENA POV

"Jesus, there is nothing like fucking you, Lena. Nothing at all." I hear Daddy Warbucks, my pimp, say as I flip open the monogrammed sterling silver lighter he had gotten me last week to celebrate my year and half with him. At times I couldn't believe how fast the time had gone for I was only supposed to do this for a few months tops, but that had gone out the window along with many other things, mainly my values and morals.

Lighting my smoke, a nasty habit I had picked up, I turn to grin at him as I look back out the third floor window of the Palace Motel on 42nd Street. It was July and hot as hell everywhere as I stand here fully naked with my wild light brown curls and my slim mocha colored body dripping from sweat despite the AC that was running. Never in a million years did I think I'd become this woman but I had.

"Same goes for you, suga." I wink at him as he leans back against the headboard and sniffs a line of coke as he holds it up for me and I simply shake my head as I take a long drag from my smoke.

I wasn't into drugs by any means, and I wasn't about to start now if I could help it. At the most, I'd smoke weed, but nicotine was my main thing since I had no desire to become an addict like many people in my field became if they didn't watch it.

Truth be told I was two people. I was Lena Elizabeth Adams, the good girl from Jamaica Queens, who took care of her aunt and all the household needs and expenses. I was the girl who smiled all the time. I was the girl who did well in school, graduated at 17 a year early as Valedictorian from Jamaica High in 1976, and did what I was told. I was the girl who had planned out her life to the T and according to my timeline I should have graduated from Columbia University by now with a dual degree in Sociology and Teaching.

But that didn't happen because I wasn't just Lena Elizabeth Adams. I was 21 year-old Pixie who walked the streets of 42nd Street every single night, except Sunday nights, and into the wee hours of the morning when the sun began to shine and most people were just getting up for their day jobs.

I was sweetie, baby doll, sugar, foxy, baby, or whatever other kinda name these Johns liked to call me. And Pixie wasn't innocent by any means. She had stopped being innocent when she sucked her pimp's dick off in the back of his Cadillac and had a threesome with another one of his girls he loved to rotate fucking.

It didn't take me long either and before I knew it I had learned to be sexy, I had laid on my back, gotten down on my knees and rode five to ten dicks a night like a damn machine. Pixie let men fuck her in the ass and play games and fetishes she knew they desired. She allowed them to touch her anyway they wanted, but for a price, and she knew how to make money quickly.

This other woman I was had dropped out of school and no longer waited tables even though she told her aunt that's where she was everyday. She didn't smile, ever, and she didn't do what she was told. She did the opposite and she wasn't with a nice man. She was with a pimp who had given her so many things in the last year and a half from diamonds, to furs and designer handbags and shoes that cost more than a penthouse in the city, and she had to hide it all at her friend Julius' place where she lived.

That was really my story and it was ever changing for my position in Warbucks circle was changing. I had become his top girl and working many high class parties and he was even talking about taking me off the street altogether, thankfully.

"You did good tonight, baby. Real good. Clients liked you. Keep that shit up and I'll have some more lined up for you every week. I know you like bringing in that money that you can't make on the street."

"Yeah? That I do, but could I have done anything better, baby?" I smile and walk over to him, my lips pressing against my cigarette, as I wrap my arms around his neck and place one of my legs beside him on the bed as he rubs it up and down with his hands finding their way back to my begging, wet pussy.