Secondary Education
Chapter 13
Screen Kisses
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This is a continuation of a sexually explicit story. If depictions of sex disturb you, or if you are under the age of 18, do not read this story. All persons and events depicted herein are fictional. If you like, hate or otherwise react to this story, please email me at the address above or post a comment to the site where you read it. Xoxox, TF
I am squeezed between Ocho Loco and Hector on the sagging, beer-stained couch at the Bella Casa apartment. It’s about 100 degrees. No breeze blows through the bowed, holed screens to flutter the tattered pillow cases nailed up as curtains. We’re wearing only underwear, sitting on a towel still damp from my last shower. My wet hair cools my shoulders, but the fold where my implants droop over my chest is already getting sweaty.
Ocho and Hector are holding half-empty Tecates, and I am holding their sweating, half-hard cocks. The room is lit only by the warm glow of a 42” plasma.
We are watching two cholos face and butt-fucking a young Asian T-girl doggy style. They are rough and careless, yanking at her hair, smacking her butt cheeks, grabbing and squeezing her swaying boobs. She is gurgling strangled cries blending pain and passion. When the one she is blowing pulls his dick out, she gulps a breath and looks over her shoulder at the one pumping her from behind.
Her face flickers a montage of emotion: fear, hope, escape, subjugation, abandonment, helplessness, wantonness, desire. She looks over her shoulder at the guy humping her from behind, then into the camera, as though imploring the audience to rescue her, or else join in the orgy.
“Fuck me harder, deeper, more, more.” She starts sucking again, hungrily devouring one cock as she pulses her hips back to meet each thrust of the other. Thighs slap, flesh compresses and recoils. Her hair flies wild, a fiery corona swirling around a an exploding nebula.
The two cholos laugh, exchange a word, high five each other, and switch places. The bald, tattooed muscle builder kneels behind her, spits on her gaping, but gradually contracting anus, and rams his thick penis into her before it snaps shut. The camera pans from this abrupt penetration to close-up of the Tgirl’s face, capturing a moment of apprehension that melts into watery-eyed agony as she slips into a fugue-state, overcome with sensation.
Her pensive reverie distracted by the grip of two rough hands on her high cheekbones. Her lips are slapped, and then pried open by the cock of the rangy gang banger who had just relinquished his place at her rear. The camera zooms to her uplifted eyes, glancing upward at the skinny, hard looking cholo, as though searching for mercy.
I look away, overcome with empathy, for those beseeching eyes are mine. Ocho, Hector, and I are watching “Ladyboy’s Gang Initiation”, my debut in porn.
“Don’t you love it when she gives you that look when she’s blowing you?” Hector gives his lieutenant a punch to punctuate his question.
To them, it’s like the girl on screen and the Tyla sitting next to them, stroking their cocks, are the same entity, a pretty package whose sole purpose is to filled with cocks and cum, to bring them treasure, and pleasure. I am not a real human in their eyes, but a commodity to be consumed, traded or trafficked.
Ocho pushes me off the couch and to my knees. “Fucking A, do me now, T-Chica, just like you are doing that guy in the movie.”
I fumble at his boxers and reproduce my “helpless look,” and start sucking him. I am grateful for the vanilla scent in the lube, which disguises his sweaty body odor.
“Perfect. This is good. Movie T-Chica and real T-Chica at the same time.”
“Save it for later, Ocho. She’s got to watch the money shot. The director didn’t like it. TChica’s got to learn the right way to get a facial on screen.”
Despite my lapses in the cumshot scenes, Ladyboy’s Gang Initiation” has been Vicious Film’s top download for the last two weeks. The producer had singled out my ass gaping and emotional expressiveness for special praise, and invited Hector to bring me back to make a four-film series, at $1,500 each. My fame as an internet porno star has supercharged demand for me as an escort. My cell’s voicemail and my email chirped incessantly with messages.
Ocho grunts acquiescence to his chief’s command, puts his cock away and helps me back to my feet. I bend down stripper-style and spread my cheeks, slipping the stringy crotch of my thong to the side so they can see my ass.
“Is my butt still tight and rosy after taking all of those cocks?” I tease Ocho, knowing that he will acquiesce to our jefe.
Hector gives my ass cheek a friendly slap.
“It looks perfect. Getting fucked a lot must be good for you.”
I pout. “Only if it’s by big Mara cocks like yours. The fat old men you make me fuck with are going to ruin me.”
Hector beckoned me to sit. “TChica, here’s the law of the Mara. You fuck who we tell you to fuck. Porn producers and fat old men pay the most, so that’s who you fuck for money. For recreation, we fuck you.”
“It’s my job and my hobby.”
I sit back on the couch and resume stroking their cocks. On screen, I am about to get a facial from the muscle guy. He’s slapping his cock against my face and jerking himself with inhuman speed, grunting like a gorilla. I am riding reverse cowgirl with the skinny guy bucking beneath me.
The director had told me to smile keep my eyes open until the cum hit my face. I am smiling and squinting against the bright lights and apprehension,
Hector freezes the frame. My smile is turning into a grimace.
“You look ugly there. You’re supposed to smile, cuz you want that fucker’s cum in your face.”
He restarts the video. I hear my voice mouthing the words the director had commanded. “Mm, baby, cum all over me, come in my face, on my tits.”
Hector stops it again, grabs my chin and gets in my face. “You got to say it like you mean it.” He pokes my ribs, and jabs his fingers in just short of bruising me.
I wince, and push him away. “That guy is so ugly, look at him. I was getting tired. He was number 5. Look how long he’s taking.”
Hector laughs. “Five cock’s are only a half day for you, TChica.”
“I know, but this shoot was done in two hours. I needed break to powder my nose.”
I squeeze the actor’s balls, but he pushes my hand away. I cradle my swaying boobs, pulling them together to catch the shower of semen.
It takes the muscle guy about three more minutes to bust his nut, All the while I am riding on the skinny guy, and his dick is gnawing my insides. Skinny is slapping my ass and calling me a goddamn, fucking whore. My expectant smile fades to a dismayed frown, and I am starting to blink when the first jet of muscle guy’s jism arcs from his urethra into my hair. The next spurt hits me in the middle of my forehead. I try to catch the next one in my mouth, but he jerks, and my lunge misses, so he mashes his shaft against my cheek and most of the load geysers into my eyes and nose. I protest, “Aargh,” and my face contorts.
Hector freezes the frame and glares at me. “What fuck’s with that face. You look like you swallowed shit!”
“The stupid guy missed. Cum in the eyes stings.”
Hector rolls his eyes, mutters “We’re going to have to practice cumshots,” and resumes the video.
I am blinded, but I somehow find muscle guy’s cock, take it in my mouth, squeeze his balls to extract and swallow the last droplets. The spillage drips down my chin and onto my breasts. He grunts, slaps his softening cock my cum smeared cheek and walks away.
Hector stops the video again. “No Oscar for that cumshot.” He restarts the video.
The skinny guy below pulls me back onto his chest and pulls my legs above me to afford the camera and unobstructed view of his cock dipping in and out of my butt. My anus is in extreme close up as he pounds in and out with inhuman speed and power. His retracting cock pulls out of me and reveals a shimmering ring of epithelium. It disappears inside with each inward thrust. The camera zooms to, and lingers on this anatomical detail.
He rolls me over to down doggy, where he can penetrate most deeply. My lips curl into a silent scream as he pulls my hair into a cruel ponytail and arches my back. He releases me, I collapse with a gasp, but he yanks me to my hands and knees, and then pulls out abruptly. I obey an unheard off-screen command, and roll to my hands and knees. My well fucked ass gapes open an inch and a half, revealing a deep, shiny, ruby-walled cavern. The camera moves in close, zooms as I open myself fully. My rectum is slick with lube, dark red, and engorged from the friction of five recent and brutal bouts of receiving anal intercourse. There is an eerie beauty to my exposed interior, like the first views beamed back from a planetary exploration.
Skinny guy gets behind me in up doggy, rams his cock back in the hole. As he fucks me, a pearly drizzle of mucous spills from inside my and drips down my empty scrotum. Hector freezes the frame.
“What the fuck is that, ass cum?”
I blush and cover my eyes. “This is too embarrassing.”
“Looks like you were enjoying yourself, TChica.”
“That’s just something that my butt produces after a lot of fucking, like sweat. I came here later, with the next guy.” I point to the bulge my pussy stick makes in my panties.
Hector nods, and restarts the video.
The skinny guy pulls out again and kneels behind me, slapping manically at his cock. I look over my shoulder apprehensively, but I am distracted from him by the arrival of a burly, dark skinned Latino with a beer belly and a flat top. He kneels at my face, pulls down his pants and wipes dry my sperm soaked face and using his sweat stained T-shirt. I am already pulsing my face on his cock when the skinny guy orgasms, and his flood spatters my buttocks. The camera zooms to my anus, which is closing gradually like a child’s tired eye. Some of his semen drips a lazy circle around the rim my puckered hole.
Ocho is fondling my breast. “Was that the last guy? Let’s take a break and have a rehearsal fuck with our little porn star now.”
I shake my head. “There were a couple more actors, I think.”
Ocho grabs me, pulls me toward him and starts kissing my neck. It feels good. I am still a little bit afraid of Ocho and Hector. They are high on crack, like they are most of the time. When they are really buzzed they get drunk to crash, and then they get mean, call me a fuck hole or a cum bucket, and are demanding and rough. But that’s the way they treat the real girls too. I am property, but since I got my boobs and my balls cut, I am valuable property, not some junky thing they are going to use up and throw away like a half eaten taco. Ocho pulls me onto his lap and shakes me, so my boobs sway back and forth, He tries to nibble my nipples as they swing by his grizzled, sweaty face.
“I want to nut on her butt too like that porno faggot. Let’s watch the rest of the later.”
A computer on the kitchen counter belches like a bullfrog, the sound of an incoming email. Hector checks it.
“This one’s coming from the Craigslist ad. Our TChica has a meeting at the Royal Viking, near downtown. One of your fans wants a private performance.”
Hector flicks off the plasma and hands me a cell phone. “We need some scratch. Call this number.”
The phone picks up after about half a ring.
“Hi. You emailed me?”
“I saw your personal on Craiglist. Are you really the actress from “Ladyboy’s Gang Initiation?”
“That’s right.”
“I loved it. God, I wish I could take on a crew like that. Can I meet you? I want to reenact the whole movie, with the two of us taking turns on top. Is that OK?”
God, I hate the freaky types that want to have sex with me so they can pretend to be me. I prefer guys who fuck me because they like to dominate and subjugate me, to pound the last vestiges of maleness out of me in order to affirm their own masculinity.
Guys who want to be fucked by me are really twisted. It’s pathetic that a guy wants to identify with me because they are secret transsexuals, to trapped or scared in their fucked up lives to transition, and living their fantasies through me. Being with them makes me feel gay, and I can’t stand it, because I am straighter than most GGs. I want someone who is all male, all top.
Besides, fucking from the top is too strenuous. I am 100% bottom by choice. But trannie chasers are a mixed bag. Some of them want to get fucked by the T-girl. I am more in the mood for a threesome with Hector and Ocho than a fem session with a mixed up cross dresser.
“Um, its kind of late.”
Hector is shaking his head vigorously and pointing to the door. Clearly, he values monetary booty, over my fleshly kind.
“I guess it’s OK. Where are you?”
I write down the address, the Royal Viking Motel, Third Street, and hand it to Hector. He grimaces, but nods assent.
“OK, I can be there in about a half hour.” I hang up, pout, and collapse onto the couch, nestling my face in Ocho’s lap, and fumbling at his fly.
“That little queer wants us to go both ways. I’d rather stay here and get fucked by both of you.” I kiss Ocho and tug at his cock.
“I’m too tired to fuck anybody.” But now he rebuffs me.
“If you’re tired, take some of this tweak.” He hands me a rolled bill and a vial filled with crystal flakes of meth. “We need money to pay the suits.”
Hector’s gangland activities had been curtailed recently by the City Attorney’s anti gang injunction, which had driven his set of Mara from more lucrative endeavors like street corner meth sales and protection to more marginal businesses like peddling my under-aged flesh to porn producers and perverts. Now that I had become a critical part of his cash flow, Hector’s and Ocho’s desire for cash far exceeded their sexual desire for me.
He produces oval, mustard colored pill. “You’re going to need one of these in order to serve this little fag.”
I chew the Cialis to make it kick in faster. Its bittersweet flavor explodes in my mouth. I will have a functional erection in a half hour or so.
I am hardly taking any estrogen now, only couple of milligrams of Estrace per day, so my pussy stick hardens more easily than before I was castrated. I used to take two powerful Diane-35 every day which kept me soft almost all of the time. I switched to Estrace because the Diane has more estrogen than I need now that I don’t to counteract testosterone. With very little testosterone poisoning me, I don’t need Diane’s antiandrogen component. As a result, I get more erections than before I was castrated. As a eunuch, I am a more versatile whore.
But I never was a very enthusiastic top, and the ad Hector placed misrepresents me. My tool’s only about five inches, much smaller than advertised. Submissive tricks like my new client like to get fucked hard by big shemale dicks, and when I am fucking a fat, hairy ass, I get so repulsed that I have trouble staying hard for more than ten minutes, much less finishing.
As a result, I have gotten some terrible reviews on theeroticreview.com from dissatisfied bottoms, even some 2’s and 4’s, for “I should have stayed home” or “She just lay there”. It’s pretty depressing to read how much someone you were with hates you, although I usually get at least 9’s, “Model Material”, for appearance and for my bottoming dates. Now that Ocho and Hector give me some of the virility drugs they steal, my topping performance reviews are at least 6’s, “Nice time”.
I sniff a small line of the caustic crystalline powder. I feel a stabbing sensation in as the meth permeates my sinuses. I say thanks and go to the dirty little bathroom. The shower’s steam will sooth my nasal pain and cleanse me of the sweaty night heat. My confidence surges as the meth takes hold of me. The drug’s manic power, and the magic of Cialis, will fuel a high rating in the coming bedroom drama.
Watching one’s own onscreen debauching is unexpectedly erotic. The graphic images of filmed sex are different than the remembered images of experienced sex. Until I made the porno, I had never observed the way the flesh near my ass indents and extrudes with the ebb and flow of penetration. Without the camera’s distance, I could not imagine the way my breasts jiggle, my eyes glaze, my toes curl, and my ass expands, contracts, yields and resists penetration. When I watch my performance, the video’s sounds and images blend in my consciousness with the recollections of heat, friction, pressure, and pleasure, and the filmed and internal images of Tyla in flagrante delicto merge.
Porn is powerful. I know now the power Paris and Pamela must feel over the millions of guys who downloaded their sex tapes. With the proliferation of Ladyboy Gang Initiation over the internet, I inhabit the secret libidos of an unknown multitude. I own part of each of them, which they can redeem only in an encounter with me or by finding another more winsome and wanton TGirl to obsess over. To free their imprisoned libidos, they will seek me out and pay extra to fuck Tyla the porn star in real life.
I have a treasure trove of potential clients, but at the moment, I’d rather replay my rape with Ocho and Hector as understudies for my nameless gaggle of co-stars, than take their parts in a make believe scenario imagined by my trick at the Viking. I am still dependent on Hector’s good will and protection. So for him I will go into the dangers of the night to fuck this hairy fairy wearing a wig and bad makeup.
The gleaming, bright lit towers of downtown attract not only hordes of laptop bearing accountants and latte sipping, loft dwelling artists, but also an even greater population of the homeless and the criminals who prey upon them. Downtown is part of the realm of the Mara’s deadliest rival, the 18th Street Gang.
As we cross the contested, ever shifting border between Mara’s and the 18th’s turfs, Ocho has his Glock tucked between his thighs and Hector a shotgun at his feet. I too scan the side streets for an ambush as we turn from Vermont and make our final approach through the bodega and swap meet lined Third Street to the Royal Viking, a shabby low rise motel which advertises a pool and air conditioning.
A dubious-looking, but well-armed security guard patrols the entry and glances up suspiciously as we drive by. We circle the motel to reconnoiter, agree to meet at the dark intersection of Miramar and Bonnie Brae, in the shabby residential neighborhood behind the motel. Ocho pulls in at a gas station at the corner of Third and Alvarado.
I walk back a long uphill half block from Alvarado to the Viking. My stilettos are killing my feet as I plod up the hill. My skimpy silver hotpants and slinky black tube top make me conspicuous. A couple of car loads of passersby catch a glimpse of a scantily clad girl and slow down to check me out. Through down-rolled windows I am inspected, offered rides and easy money.
When I see a car full of black gang bangers in Crip colors, I am tempted to go with them. At least I can see who I am dealing with out on the street. But my Mara obligations make me reject them. The two dozen red roses quoted in my craigslist ad is four times what I would get from some arrogant blacks for blowjobs on the street.
But who knows who’s really in that room. After the door closes behind her, a girl on an outcall is beyond help if the trick turns on her. Thousands of dead TGirls learned too late that outcalls can be even more dangerous than streetwalking.
The security guard knows all too well the purpose of my visit and demands to be shown a room key. When I hand him ten bucks he waves me in. I avoid the lobby and follow a winding driveway to the room where my date awaits me.
I tap on the door. I hear rustling through the open screens. I step back. The door opens to a darkened room. I hesitantly enter, gripping my pepper spray.
“It’s OK, I’m nervous too.” The voice tries to maintain a feminine octave, but it’s a guy’s hoarse croak. The door closes and locks.
The room illuminates. My eyes quickly survey the room for danger, and then turn to my host. He’s short, pudgy, bespectacled, and made up like a twenty dollar streetwalker. He’s African American, so his red lacquered nails, jet black wig and bright silk kimono look incongruous even by the most extravagant drag queen standards.
He blinks nervously. “Teela, you are even more gorgeous in person than on screen. The donation is on the table over there.”
I ignore his gesture. Until we get naked and start something, I can’t be sure he’s not LE.
“Can I get you something to drink?” He walks to a battered half refrigerator and retrieves a couple of Sparkletts, and settles beside me on the bed. The meth is raging. My ears ring, my tongue writhes between my dry lips. The scruffy motel room is an ugly tableau of stark, harsh contrasts: landscape print of a Spanish mission, stained carpet, lumpy bed, battered microwave, stained coffee maker, garishly lit by an overhead, circular florescent. My hosts red lips, rouged cheeks and mascara-ed eyes appear cartoonishly gaudy.
I swig enough water to moisten my mouth, get to my knees, pull open the kimono, pull down his panties and find his cock. He shaves, and there is a little stubble that scratches my chin as I suck his cock. The Cialis has completely congested my nose, but his cock is small enough so I can mouth-breathe even as I suck him. It seems fitting, but sad, that this small-cocked Black is a queen. By his community’s standards, he’s pathetic.
His small size makes him really easy to deep throat. I close my eyes, pretending that the penis belongs to a real man, and try to get into it. But his smooth shaven flesh and aroma of eau de toilet return me to this lesbian repulsive reality. I wonder if the Mara viewed the early Tyla with the same contempt that I have for my client.
But he’s really into it. His body is quaking with pre orgasmic spasms.
“Stop, please stop, I am not ready to cum. I want to suck you, and then for you to fuck me.”
The Cialis has my boy clit aroused to its five inch maximum. I strip as my client settles back on the pillows, head propped on the wicker headboard. I mount his chest and thrust myself into his mouth. Holding the headboard, and imitating the way guys use my head, I ram myself into his mouth as fast as I can. The rickety old bed shakes and squeaks.
Face fucking from the top is tiring. My boobs are swaying, and starting to ache from the commotion, so I cup them. He wants to hold them too, so I press my hands over his. After a hundred or so thrusts, I am out of breath. My head is throbbing from the combined effects of exertion and chemicals.
I give him a little kiss, and he wants to DFK, but I avert my lips, and offer my cheek. He slobbers on me, and then whispers “I want to lick your poor little hole.”
I turn around, straddle his chest the other way. He fondles and pulls apart my buttocks and licks my anus. His tongue is tentative and week, and tickles more than titillates. I play with my boobs and my pussy pole to keep it hard.
His tongue takes a rest and he fingers me. “You taste so nice and clean, and it’s such a pretty pink color. Were you afraid when all those Mexicans raped you?”
“Not really. They’re just talent, like me. It was a long day, but worth it. I got paid a lot more than they did.”
“You are so brave. Let’s suck each other now.”
I lie beside him and we 69. I finger his ass, loosening it up. I am worried that my erection will fade, so I want to get the topping over with. I put on a lubricated cover, splash lube on my fingers, and work it into his crack. It’s dark and hairy. I guess he can’t see to shave there. I kneel between his legs, prop his ankles on my shoulders, and slap my cock against his taint, and make an exploratory poke into his hole.
“Ouch. Please don’t hurt me.” He looks up with imploring eyes. I look back with the cold, merciless glare that I have so often received when my ass is up-tilted and exposed.
“You deserve to be hurt, you little slut.” He braces himself, and I ram myself all of the way in. He bites the pillow to silence his scream, and I rip myself out. The I nail him again.
“Please don’t, please stop.” His eyes are bulging with fright.
I slap his buttocks and flip one leg over my head and take him from the side. I press my tits into his back and massage my nipples on his back fat. I pinch his nipples, and he yelps some more. Now, I just want to cum before my erection goes away, so I flip him onto his belly and take him in down doggy. I search out his cock as I flail in his ass. I cradle his cock in my lube-slicked hand and masturbate him as I fuck him. He is crying and moaning and making little girly noises. His moans are too low and hoarse, but sound very authentically submissive. I grind myself into him as hard and deep as I can.
I close my eyes and imagine that it’s me getting fucked. I conjure images from my past, flicking through my back pages to find my dream fuck. Once again, it’s Antoine. His cocky smile, athletic body and massive member are embedded in my libido. I know he’s gone, probably dead. But somehow he symbolizes a life that seemed freer and more promising than the corner of hell that I am trapped in with Hector and Ocho.
Antoine crushes me beneath his huge, athletic frame and is nailing my G-spot with his big black truncheon. I am crying, “No, stop, please, don’t” in the voice that I know will only incite him onward. Then I feel a gushing, like a burst fire hydrant, inside me, and I melt into and explosive climax of my own.
And that is the image I need to bring myself to completion. With a voice strangled with sensation, I cry out that I am cumming. I pull out, uncover, and let dribble of clear liquid exude from the pin hole of my pussystick onto the rim of his greasy hole. He reaches back, scoops it on his finger, and licks his finger clean. I collapse forward, my boobs crushing against his back.
“God, that was good. Now I need to cum.” He shrugs my limp body off to the side and I try to ignore him, to cling to the fading remnants of my Antoine vision, but he is insistent. He hands me another condom and a tube of lube.
I cover his cock, which has finally become hard, and lube myself. I lie flat on the bed, face down, unable to look again at his horrid, smeared make up. He pushes in easily and starts fucking me. My own orgasm has left me feeling indifferent and numb. I barely feel him, so pale and weak is he compared to the powerful memories that fueled my climax. When he pops inside the rubber, I barely notice the up tempo throb inside me. He vocalizes his climax extravagantly in falsetto and collapses off of me.
I catch my breath and collect my thoughts as he slips into post coital coma. I go to the dingy little bathroom, wipe myself clean, refresh my make up, dress, and collect my donation.
He hears me, and protests my leaving.
“I paid for two hours. It’s only been one.”
“I think you’re done. You were great. Now go back to sleep.” I give him a consolation kiss on the lips.
He smiles and says “OK, I got my money’s worth.”
I text Hector and let myself out of the hotel room. The security guard grunts as I pass by. I walk further up Third. The traffic has abated. It’s lonely, and the passing cars are hurrying home now, taking no notice of the tricked out tramp in silver hotpants and stilettos. I turn on Bonnie Brae, a dark, overgrown street chock a block with run-down apartment buildings. My cheap plastic Casio says it’s 2:00 a.m. Outside, the air is still sultry, barely stirring.
Bonnie Brae is deserted and quiet, but for tinny banda wafting from an open window high above me. Two police helicopters buzz in the distance, their spotlights scanning like the searching eyes of predators. The balconies of the looming apartment blocks are dark and empty. Apart from the buzz of traffic on Third, my footsteps and their echoes are the loudest sounds. I turn on Miramar. Here, it’s even darker. The stillness, and the emptiness are spooky, I am relieved to see Hector’s Escalade. As I draw near, I peer through the gloom for their silhouettes, but the car seems empty. I silently curse them for their negligence in leaving me alone in this scary place. I pull open the passenger door.
When I do, Hector tumbles to my feet, knocking me to the ground. I pull myself from beneath the dead weight of his body, clamber to my feet, and back away from the carnage. In the passenger compartment, I see Ocho, slumped over the steering wheel. I hear a rustle from the bushes behind me. I try to run, but it’s too late to escape. The night’s gloom turns to complete darkness as a hood descends over my head. My unseen assailant drags me away.
I hear a screech of tires and the thud of a subwoofer, a car door opens, and I am flung into the back seat. The air inside the car is pungent with marijuana and deafening thud of hip. The car zooms off, heaving me from side to side as it goes through a quick series of evasive turns.
My guts twist with fear. My protectors are dead. I am being abducted. My mind searches for the right tricks with which to seduce my captors. But I fear that when my secret between my legs is revealed, I will be just another trannie corpse by the side of a lonely road.
We are on the freeway now. I am pulled upright, and my hood is removed. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust and focus. When they do, I feel a thrill of relief and joy.
“Antoine, I am so happy so happy that it’s you, that you’re alive. How did you find me?”
“Tyla, you left me with a lifetime love of trannie booty and porn. When I saw your Ladyboy Gang Initiation, and what a fine little ho you had become, I had to look you up on the internet. When I found that you could lead me to that Salvo cocksucker Hector too, it was just too good to be true. So we worked out this plan, got that pansy in the hotel room to act as bait, and here we are.”
I lean over the car seat and kiss him.
“Thank you for rescuing me.”
“You’re not upset about me capping your boyfriends.”
I felt a twinge of regret. Hector and Ocho had changed my life, and helped make me what I am. And I had in some small way changed them, as they had found a way to accept into their tribe the maricone they had once despised. Now they were gone, beyond the possibility of any further growth or redemption.
But I never would be anything more than a small stream in the Mara’s cash flow, a minor component of Hector’s brutalizing, destructive business model. The moment I didn’t fit into his strategic plan, he would traffic me again just like he did to Roberto. If I resisted, he would kill me as an example to the others. In the wake of his and Ocho’s passing, I feel a rush of conflicting emotions, but the strongest of them is relief. I am glad to be free of the Mara.
“I think I can find a way to forgive you, Antoine.” I kiss him again.
TBC
