The Perplexed Procurer

3

Toni Giselle Knoks

I heard about her when I was 12, the age I came to womanhood. With no father, my mother raised me until she decided whoring was too much. Some white man had set her up, bringing her immune system to a complete halt. It was a disease that was known as something widely spread by those of homosexual backgrounds. My mother was a whore and at 12 I had no choice but to be too.

For that, I had never slept with anyone outside of my race and never did I indulge in men that could take me out the same way one took my mother out. But, despite the small morals a whore was allowed to have, I had been preparing for the biggest pimp of all under and above ground dealings.

There was nothing she could do that would keep me away from choosing her. Besides, selling twat was all I knew, and as long as she could bring in wealth for the both of us, my two children would be well taken care of. I didn't know either of their father's, as most night I worked the club I was high out of my ass and shot up with drugs that kept my pussy running like a faucet.

I knew to get checked every month giving my circumstances, and I knew to never mix sex and drugs again. Out of two rapes I conceived my two blessings, and took home with whatever man would fall for the hazel of my eyes or the span of my hips. Luckily, the disease that plagued my mother had remained foreign to me. I took to stripping and left whoring alone until she showed up at the club that only millionaires invested in.

She held the door opened for me as I stood in the soft air of Houston dawn as I held my newborn to my breasts. My little girls were my world and I would sell my pussy until my walls stopped gripping if I had to. No college funds, and an 11th grade education, I had to use what I knew and what I had. We wind up leaving together, entering the car and heading to wherever in silence.

Sweetness held my first born in her arms, taking quick fondness to her. Not that of a child toucher or molester, but almost that of a parental figure. I didn't question it, instead when she walked up the stairs of the big home I followed her with my baby in tow.

"Ma!" She yelled, opening the screen door with ease like an entire toddler wasn't in her arms. She held the door once again and allowed me to walk into the home.

Food ran past my nose and I felt my stomach rumble. "You'll eat soon," she mumbled with no emotion. I wouldn't know how her teeth looked, she never opened her mouth wide enough to emote what she was feeling. She was robotic.

"Now what blessings my baby bringing me this homecoming," an older woman, dark and lovely, as tall as Sweetness, walked into the front part of the home. Her eyes met mine as she spoke, completely ignoring what I believed to be her daughter. I smiled and allowed her to take the baby from my hands.

She smothered the new born with kisses and I heard little grunts and laughs of approval from the tiny human who had only slept and ate when in my presence.

"She's beautiful, and who is this beautiful big girl? You are?" The older woman asked my oldest daughter who was still a bit sleepy from the road-trip. "I am Minnie, ma'am."

The older woman smiled and I nearly caught Sweetness grinning, but I knew it was a figment of my imagination.

"Well spoken and well mannered, I didn't know they made them like this anymore," the older woman nearly took pride in my big girl as if she were the one who taught her instead.