Diaries of a Teenage Hooker

08

In a split second, I regretted it. What was I thinking? This could ruin her life, and it wasn't fair. Yes, she'd told on me to the teacher, but what would've happened to me certainly wouldn't have been as bad as what was going to happen to her.

              I went through my porn collection and found some other lesbian videos. I posted them, just to make it seem as if I was posting random porn. Biting my nails, I waited for someone to reply to the new videos. It seemed unlikely, since they were buzzing about the first one I posted.

              I'd never been popular in my class group so it was surprising for me how quickly it had been picked up. Someone sent a new video, and I almost felt grateful, but to my horror, it was Lucy's video.

              A cold terror settled within me and I closed the messaging app immediately. I was about to put my phone away when a notification popped up. My head was buzzing with worry, but I opened it anyway.

              So you don't want us to do that to you, but you think it's okay to do it to others?

              It was the first time they'd said something moral, and I hated it. They were right. I was too impulsive, I let my anger and frustration control me. I kept staring at the phone, breathing evenly in order not to panic. What if they released my videos too as retaliation?

              We'll talk about this later. For now, look up. He's the big guy on the bike, tattoos, dark–brown hair, and you know, dangerous aura.

              I sent them a text of my own before I could talk myself out of it. Now, it was more of self–preservation than actual remorse, and it made me feel even more terrible.

              I didn't mean to... do what I did. I'm sorry.

              You'll pay for it either way ;)

              I shuddered involuntarily and tucked my phone away. I didn't see him at first, because he was obviously trying to make himself scarce, but then I felt the weight of someone's gaze on me, and I turned around.

              He was just as my stalkers described, although they'd pointed me in the wrong direction. He had dark-brown hair, chocolate brown eyes and was mixed, a light–brown tone which glowed in the sun.

              He was on a large, intimidating bike, wearing a tank-top that revealed a toned chest and big, tattooed arms. A leather jacket was slung over his shoulder as he sat there on his purring bike, watching me.

              I gulped, my eyes scanning his massive figure. The thought of what could be between his legs scared me too. My legs started moving of their own will, dragging the rest of my body along with them. He was appraising my figure too, his eyes moving up and down, his head turning this way and that to scan my rear end.

              I stopped beside him, close enough that I could reach out and poke his chest. "Hello," I croaked.

              "You don't seem like a slut to me," he said, wasting no time in replying. He continued to look at me. He seemed particularly appalled by my choice of clothing, and he made this apparent by the way he frowned and touched the uniform lightly. "How old are you?"

              "Eighteen," I answered quickly. His presence was so intimidating that I felt my throat go dry. I had to answer him immediately as he spoke to keep my brain from going blank due to his presence.

              "You're a schoolgirl? A rich kid from the looks of it." He eyed my uniform again.

              "Yes," I said.